#might use this in the background when I start writing him though

[sparticus2000art]

I would like to say congratulations to cross xtale for coming out as trans.

[honey-tongued-devil]

Got a request: Jinx x Piltover reader who comes to the undercity a lot to see some action and excitement with Jinx thinking they’re from there only to find out that they’re from topside.

[Arcane preference zaunites] with a s/o from Piltover (viktor, ekko, silco, vander, jinx, vi, sevika)

In less than a week, I’ve gained 500 followers and over 20 requests, so I’ll ask you right away to please be patient. English isn’t my first language, and I don’t think I’ll be able to post more than two or three headcanons a week (since I also draw). I’m sorry to keep you waiting, but I just ask for a little patience. In the meantime, if you’d like to support me, you can follow me HERE (bluesky) even though I haven’t started posting seriously yet, or you can leave a tip HERE. That said, enjoy!

Viktor:

- The most versatile on the subject. He’s the first one who is constantly around the people of Piltover, studying and having his room at the academy, which is even located in a wealthy area.

- Generally, he doesn’t pay much attention to someone’s origins, but as the relationship grows more serious, memories of his early academy years become more vivid.

- Viktor is a chill guy, until he’s no longer chill, (at least the original one).

- Most heated discussions are likely to revolve around politics or events in the city. But as long as you don’t call the people from the Undercity “beasts,” “creatures,” “monsters,” “beings,” or “animals,” his anger won’t be directed at you.

- At some point, he won’t remember anymore that you’re from “different neighborhoods,” and since he needs a hand carrying things to the academy, he’ll start asking you to accompany him to the Undercity when he needs to make purchases or pick up pre-ordered items.

- And although it might scare or intimidate you at first, it won’t take long for you to get used to it.

- Although sooner or later, you’ll learn to change your clothes before going down to Zaun.

Ekko:

- The first meeting with Ekko is straight out of a book: you get caught in a crossfire, and before you can even begin mentally writing your will, an arm grabs you around the torso and pulls you away at such a high speed that you feel like throwing up.

- He can’t take people directly to the hideout, but he can offer you assistance as soon as you’re somewhere safer.

- This is why, the second time he saves you, he can’t help but joke about how it almost seems like you put yourself in danger on purpose, and that you could ask him out in a less dramatic way.

- Of course, he’s just joking to break the tension, but when you actually propose it, even just as a way to repay him, it’s the beginning of the end.

- Between your outfit and the fact that, having run into you twice in a crossfire, you were in some pretty dangerous places, the last thing he expected was for you to ask him to meet up at the bridge and then show up dressed like a Piltie.

- Before his meeting with Cait and the one with Jayce, this would’ve been a breaking point; he wouldn’t have shown up and would’ve just gone back. But now, even if he’s not thrilled, he’ll at least come over to complain that you didn’t tell him you were from the upper city.

- He’s resigned to this fate, but he still remains a bit suspicious and on guard, not knowing your political stance, why you were down there, or how you see the people from his city.

- Even as you become closer, he’ll never stop teasing you about your background. You’re drinking, and you drop your cup? “What a strange way Pilties have of drinking.”

Vander:

- Going down to Zaun without stopping by the Last Drop is a waste, which is why you’re lucky enough to run into the Hound of the underground right away. Not only is he one of the most influential people, but also one with a lot of connections.

- At Vander’s suggestion, you stay at the counter, and he uses the opportunity to ask you a few questions, curious: for example, why is someone from Piltover down in Zaun alone at that hour? What do you study, if you study, or what do you do for work, if you work.

- Vander is extremely sociable, and since he handles negotiations, he doesn’t hold hostility toward upper-city residents, though it’s rare to see them in these parts.

- It’s not even about flirting; he just wants to keep chatting and make sure he won’t have you on his conscience. He asks you to wait until closing, checks in on the kids to make sure everything’s okay and says goodnight, then walks you to the bridge.

- The more regular your visits to Zaun become, the more the other regulars at the Last Drop start to recognize you and get used to you, making that place quite pleasant. And then there’s the deal with the bartender: if you offer him a good chat, he’ll treat you to a good pint of beer.

- The toughest part of getting close to Vander is learning that he’s a single father to four kids, and seeing the hostile and shocked reaction of the younger ones when they find out you’re not from their city.

- But hate is taught, and even if it takes some time, they slowly start to get used to you. Maybe they won’t jump into your arms, but if you decide to stay over, they’ll make room for you or bring you something to dry your face with, in strict silence.

Silco:

- This man, though he may not look like it, is the embodiment of patience.

- It’s his goons who bring you to his office, and the first time, all it takes is a quick glance for him to know you’re not a spy, a rival, a drug addict, or a threat.

- Silco kills, but generally not without reason. So, the first time you have a heart-pounding panic attack from being dragged there, you get off with a warning: if they catch you poking around his business again, it won’t go so well for you.

- But today, Janna’s on your side, and you’re safe.

- The issue is much simpler than it seems: if you live in the Undercity, you know which places to avoid and which gangs control which areas. But if you’re just a foolish Piltie who likes wandering outside your own city, the odds of ending up in one mess after another are high.

- That’s why, the second time they catch you near one of their shipments, his goons already have their weapons drawn.

- This time it’s not even Silco who spares you; instead, a firefight with the Firelights breaks out nearby, and you’re just lucky that bigger problems show up at the right moment.

- It happens repeatedly: either you run into his goons and instinctively wave like an idiot, or you end up in restricted areas, and one of them who’s taken a liking to you motions for you to leave, or you start frequenting the Last Drop and see them all more often.

- Gradually, this brings you more often—and with less dread—to the kingpin’s office, who, since even his daughter likes you, first makes sure to get you a map of the Lanes because “you’re obviously so clueless you must be from Piltover” to keep you from getting yourself killed.

- Then he realizes you’re pleasant enough to let you hang out in his office on weekends, when the noise downstairs is so loud that he couldn’t work anyway.

Jinx:

- You’re essentially the “dumb Piltie” stereotype that comes to mind when people in Zaun talk about those from the upper city.

- Deciding to venture into the alleys without any experience or knowledge of the area purely out of curiosity wasn’t your brightest idea, but at this point, it’s too late to turn back.

- That’s why, after hours spent looking for something interesting—colorful explosions that have been common recently near the docks, some chase scenes—you find nothing, give up, and throw yourself into a bar.

- If it were evening, you might hope for more than just a jukebox playing country music, four young guys playing pool in a corner, and a girl sitting at the bar who looks half-asleep while the bartender cleans glasses, but you still decide to sit down and order something local.

- Everyone’s eyes are on you, but the moment the girl with long blue braids lifts her head, the others snap back to what they were doing, and she looks at you, still drowsy and a bit confused.

- Meeting Jinx is the beginning of the end; she rambles on, is relaxed, and the moment she hears you wanted action, she jumps off her stool and drags you out before you can even sip your drink.

- She has no particular reason—it's just rare to find someone who wants to have fun, although you quickly realize that her idea of “fun” involves risking your neck.

- The first time ends like that; you don’t even exchange names. When it gets late, she vanishes, leaving you no choice but to return to the bar in the following weeks, where you meet her again and pick up on that fun “tour.”

- This “tour” brings you closer, even if you never talk about deeply personal things because there’s never time.

- It’s one night when you’re sitting together on a rooftop, watching the distant lights of Piltover, that she learns the hard truth: you’re from the other side of the river. This single piece of information seems to destroy everything you had built. Without a word, she runs off, and you don’t find her at the bar at the usual time anymore, but you don’t stop trying.

- The bartender probably tells her, or she sees you, who knows, because weeks later you meet again, and she almost looks sad to see you.

- She expected you to give up, not to keep coming back despite how difficult she’d made it, which is why when you pull her into a hug, she stiffens, taking a while to hug you back.

- The closer you get, the more she becomes like a ghost. You even find her at your place, but you never see her on the streets in Piltover. She rarely stays over, but you know it’s because of personal issues.

Vi:

- Vi isn’t for everyone: she’s for those with a “savior complex” or hotheads who can take a couple of punches to the face.

- The reason you’re in Zaun, dressed incognito, is because your colleagues told you there’s some interesting stuff in the underground city’s shops.

- What you didn’t expect was that the “interesting find” curled up behind an abandoned building would be a person.

- Nothing too serious, just a brawl gone wrong. She’d hidden to tend to her wounds in peace, probably in that vulnerable “cornered wolf showing its teeth” state.

- Cooperation isn’t her strong suit, and, not to rely on Undercity stereotypes, but you imagine it’s also rare for anyone to help strangers wounded on the street.

- She becomes more docile after you simply stand by, “covering her back”—basically just staying put and shielding her from view. 

- whenyou blurt out, “Forget gin; I need something stronger.” she starts to like you

- Once she recovers, she gestures for you to follow her, suddenly motivated by the urge to drink. Surprisingly, she takes you over the bridge to your own city, to a cozy pub that smells of wood.

- Drinking there becomes a habit; after a few drinks, you tell her you hate that the evening has to end, and she chuckles, flattered, before saying you can always do it again.

- And you do it again.

- You keep doing it until you end up kissing clumsily in the pub’s restroom, nearly knocking heads together, until she pins you to the wall and your brain signals a warning.

- You tell her you live nearby, suggesting you take things to your place, unknowingly revealing something you thought was obvious.

- She stares at you for a few confused seconds. “You didn’t tell me,” she says, but the truth is, Vi doesn’t hate upper-city people, so once the confusion passes, the alcohol and hormones work their magic, leaving that conversation as a problem for the next morning.

Sevika:

- Her only interactions with people from the upper city have been with Enforcers, but contrary to appearances, Sevika is a big, intimidating dog that’s actually quite tame.

- She doesn’t get her hands dirty unless necessary, so even though she has no fondness for Pilties, she’d never start a physical fight with one.

- You first see her in the Undercity, at the Last Drop, playing cards for a hefty sum of money against two shady types: one bald with a metal nose, and the other dressed like an out-of-place gentleman.

- It’s only when the game ends and she gets up to head to the bar that you clumsily manage to strike up a conversation, receiving nothing but a scrutinizing glance in return.

- She lets you buy her a drink despite the large sum she just pocketed, and when you compliment her on her play, she puffs up with pride and starts talking about how those two just cheated but still couldn’t win.

- For a moment—just a moment—she realizes she’s never seen you around here before, but then she goes back to talking and listening, fueled by the alcohol.

- Getting her out of your head becomes impossible, and if you catch her at the end of her shift, she’s even more relaxed. It doesn’t take many weeks before you find yourself with your knees over her shoulders in the Last Drop’s basement.

- Emotional or mental intimacy with Sevika comes at an incredibly slow pace, but she starts approaching you in the bar, and your “private encounters” become more and more frequent—until you try to make things more serious by inviting her up.

- Her reaction seems angry, but it’s more surprise; she hadn’t realized and didn’t expect it.

- She becomes a lot more guarded around you, until, in time, she learns to trust you again.

[darkmatilda]

𝐩𝐞𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 | 𝐬.𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your boyfriend decides he’s going to start calling you a cute pet name, but the problem is, none of them seem to suit you perfectly

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬/𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐰: glasses reid x baumember!female reader, so sweet you'll puke, case in the background, unsub is abducting elderly people, text messages, reader is kinda clingy, use of y/n because i had to

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 4k

𝐚/𝐧: requested by @trulymadlydarling <33 sorry if it ended up a bit too long again, but im starting to suspect that im physically incapable of writing a drabble lmao

"I'm tired. When will this week be over?"

"It's 9:13 on Monday."

With a groan, you leaned back against the seat in the corner of the jet, feeling the caffeine craving slowly take control of your body. 

"Just the thought of going to sleep sends intense shivers through me, caused by a heart-wrenching longing, and heavy tears slowly start gathering in my eyes," you complained, resting your head to the side.

Slightly turned, so you could look at Spencer sitting right next to you. His eyes, behind his glasses, also seemed a little tired, though he didn't manifest it as loudly. When you sat down next to him, he partially closed the book he was reading and rested it against the edge of the table in front of him.

"When you're sleep-deprived, you tend to get a bit dramatic," he pointed out in an analyzing tone, though you could catch a slight twitch at the corners of his lips.

"It's not drama, silly. It's the personification of pure exhaustion speaking through my lips."

"I love it when you try to argue with me and end up agreeing with me."

"You just love being right, don't you, smarty?" you huffed. "You love me too, but that's just a side note."

"Oh, now you're teasing. That's good. Means the sleepiness is wearing off," he diagnosed.

Sometimes you were genuinely amazed by how well he knew you, despite being together for such a short time—though maybe you shouldn’t have been. He was a profiler, just like you. Both of you were exceptionally good at reading each other, picking up on moods and small, everyday habits. You used to worry a little that this might make your relationship boring, stripped of surprises. But you quickly realized there’s nothing more captivating than another mind that matches your own and deeply understands its struggles. And sometimes, that feeling itself was a pleasant surprise.

"Next weekend, we're not going anywhere, okay?" you asked in a dreamy tone. The day before, you’d gotten back way too late, which was mostly to blame for your sleepiness. "Not even out of bed."

A look crossed Reid's face, somewhere between eagerness and a grimace.

"I’d love to," he assured with a genuine sigh, but then quickly added, "But I’m afraid I’ve already got something planned."

You tried to keep up the facade of your role, not showing too much excitement. You raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at your lips.

"I'm starting to suspect you have plans for every weekend for the rest of our lives."

"Actually, just for the next fourteen weeks," he admitted with a slight shrug, as if it wasn’t anything to be impressed by.

You weren’t sure if he was joking, and you didn’t get the chance to find out.

"Hey, lovebirds," Morgan called from the other end of the jet, where the whole team was gathered around a small table, ready to start discussing the case. "We're waiting for you."

For a while, you kept it a secret from them that you were starting to expect, but eventually, you had to come clean. Especially when Penelope, who knew everything, started taking every chance to send you suggestive glances or drop not-so-subtle comments. The rest of the team’s reaction wasn’t particularly emotional. They didn’t start screaming in surprise or jumping up and down in disbelief. They were profilers—they had figured it out. But they had enough decency to wait until you told them yourselves. No hard feelings, sweet Penelope.

You took the empty seat next to Gideon, right across from your boss and JJ. Reid settled into a chair on the side, where Morgan immediately poked him with his elbow.

"So, how’s it going in love land today?" Morgan asked, smirking. "Are puppies falling from the sky, and is it going to rain hearts this afternoon?"

You’d gotten so used to these kinds of jabs that, in perfect sync, you both rolled your eyes and opened your mouths to defend yourselves. It wasn’t like you two were constantly all lovey-dovey, exchanging kisses and holding hands at every chance! Morgan just loved to tease you, knowing how much it irked both of you when someone accused you of being unprofessional.

“Take it easy, it’s just the honeymoon phase," Gideon warned, not even looking at you as he adjusted his small square glasses, focusing instead on the folder in front of him. "You grow out of it."

On the laptop screen, Garcia’s face appeared, complete with an orange rose headband in her blonde hair.

"Well, hello there, babygirl," Derek greeted her, a small smile spreading across his lips.

"Hello, you charming, sweet, handsome thing…

Hotch exchanged a knowing look with Gideon.

“As you can see, not always," he muttered under his breath so quietly you almost didn’t hear it. JJ, sitting shoulder to shoulder with him, briefly lowered her amused gaze, trying to hold back a smile. "Shall we get started?"

The atmosphere shifted instantly, as if with the snap of fingers, when you began discussing the case. This time, it was a series of murders targeting men around the age of seventy-four.

"Are we sure this is the work of a serial killer?" Derek asked, his earlier light tone replaced with focus and seriousness. "I mean, looking at it, these guys don’t have much in common aside from their age."

“They’re all from the same area,” you noted, flipping through the victims' files. ���But yeah, they don’t have much else in common. Different jobs, some married, some not…you think age is the reason the unsub picked them?”

“Looks that way,” Hotch said.

“About two weeks ago, his granddaughter reported him missing,” JJ informed you, pointing to a photo of an older man. “Ben Murphy, seventy-six years old. He’s from the same area, and all signs point to him being the unsub’s next victim. Each of the victims was held for an estimated three weeks, so there’s a good… a good chance he’s still alive.”

A brief silence settled over the room, heavy with the pressure of time.

“But why keep them alive for that long?” Spencer muttered, his brow furrowed in thought. “None of the bodies show signs of physical torture. They were killed with a lethal dose of insulin. If he chose that method, it doesn’t seem like he wanted to hurt them directly. The motive…the motive is unclear.”

The rest of the discussion revolved around trying to find connections and similarities to other crimes you were all familiar with, but you didn’t come up with anything groundbreaking that would significantly push the investigation forward. However, this didn’t stress you. You were just heading to the place where everything had taken place; you hadn't yet spoken to the victims' families, which often turned out to be crucial.

Just before the jet landed, you found yourself next to Reid, resting your elbow on his shoulder like it was some kind of convenient armrest while you pondered which card to discard from the ones laid out by JJ. This position made it much easier for him to sneak peeks at your cards, which he took full advantage of whenever he thought you weren’t looking (you were looking), so you had to hold them in a very awkward way to prevent him from seeing.

“C’mon,” JJ urged, as the time you were taking to think started to drag on.

You bit your lip.

“Easy for you to say. You’re winning,” you huffed, to which she flashed you a confident smile. “Great minds need time to come up with a solution. Right, Spence?”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, shaking his head slightly.

“I don’t think that’s how the saying goes…”

"Ugh, I wanted you to defend me, you silly..."

“Guys, do you know what I’ve been thinking?” Morgan appeared above you, pulling his headphones off his head.

“Scientists haven’t figured out a way to peek into other people’s thoughts yet,” Reid answered him, staring at the card you had just discarded and raising an eyebrow. Seriously? You shrugged. You knew it was a pitifully bad move. “So no, we don’t, Morgan.”

“I went over the case files again…” Derek continued, completely ignoring the ironic comment from his friend. “Mr. Murphy went missing right after a date with his wife…”

“...And may I ask why you’re sharing this incredibly sad fact with us?” you interjected.

“They went to the botanical garden,” Derek continued.  Everyone stopped, staring at him with completely baffled expressions. “Then they hit up the American Revolution Museum. And I couldn’t help but think of you two. Sounds like the perfect date for you, right?”

You were the first to react, rolling your eyes dramatically. You placed your cards face down in front of you, then rested both hands on Reid's shoulder, leaning your chin on them. You let out a long sigh.

"Can we get just one day without fighting off the nerd allegations?"

"Hey, I'm not mocking you," Morgan said, raising both hands in the air. "Just pointing it out. So, what did you two get up to over the weekend?"

Reid turned his face slightly toward you, exchanging a look. Given how you were positioned, the frame of his glasses lightly brushed your forehead. Well, if you answered your teammate's question honestly, you’d be proving him absolutely right. Before you could manage to turn the question back on him, you were preempted.

"We went up to the hill to try and watch the meteor shower," Reid answered, sticking to the truth. Morgan tilted his head, staring at both of you with interest. "But the sky ended up being too cloudy, so we ended up finding a night exhibit at the museum about space..."

You could see the victorious expression slowly spreading across Derek's face.

"You’re sinking us, silly," you muttered into your boyfriend's arm.

"She's right, silly," Morgan echoed the nickname with exaggerated emphasis. "Anyway, I won’t bother you any longer. Enjoy your game. Oh, and by the way, JJ peeked at your cards when you weren’t looking…"

 "JJ!"

 "That’s a lie—"

"Did he really come over here just to compare us to a pair of retirees?" Reid wondered, watching Derek walk away.

"And to expose a cheater," you added, shooting a look at your friend across the table. You’d lifted your chin from Reid’s shoulder, but your hand still rested there, your fingertips lightly brushing against him—not that you even noticed. Did that even count as touching?

You pointed at JJ with determination. "We’re starting over."

"We’re about to land," she noted, placing her cards on the table and revealing her hand. "So I’ll let it go. But you’re getting your rematch, trust me."

 "Oh, I can’t wait."

She walked off, leaving the two of you alone in the corner of the jet. You noticed Reid had been watching you for a while, his expression unreadable. When you finally caught on and raised an inquisitive eyebrow, he just shrugged and gathered the cards from the table. His fingers shuffled them with effortless precision, the motion smooth and almost hypnotic.

You shook your head, tearing your gaze away from the cards and focusing on his face again.

“What thoughts are you hiding in that brilliant mind of yours, smarty?”

“Those exactly,” he replied almost immediately. He fell silent for a moment as he tucked the cards back into the box. You watched him closely, curiosity piqued, waiting to hear what he’d say next because you didn’t fully understand his response.

“You always call me something,” he added after a pause. “You know…”

“Pet name,” you supplied the term he was missing.

He nodded, and you stayed quiet for a brief moment, wondering if you really used them that often. You’d never given it much thought—they just slipped out naturally when you were teasing him. He’d never reacted to them before, and it had never even crossed your mind that it might cause him any discomfort.

Your expression grew a bit more serious as you shifted in your seat to face him directly.

“Does…does it bother you? Because, you know, if it does…”

“No!” he denied quickly, a faint hint of embarrassment flashing across his face, as if wondering whether he’d been too eager. He shifted into a calmer expression, letting out a small sigh. “No, that’s really not it. Actually…I like them. I like when you use them.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as he admitted it. But the question still lingered in your mind—if that wasn’t it, then what was?

"I just realized…" he continued slowly, with a hint of hesitation. You noticed that both of you had lowered your voices compared to the lively chatter during the card game. It was as if, unintentionally, you'd created a small bubble, separating this moment from the rest of the team.

You liked his whisper. Sometimes, it felt stronger than his regular voice, mostly because whenever he lowered it, it was usually tied to some genuine emotion.

"That I never use them myself. I mean, I don’t call you anything other than your name."

"I don’t…I don’t expect that from you."

"I know. I know, it’s not like I thought you were expecting it. I just started wondering if maybe you'd like me to... to start doing it too. I admit, it’s not something I’m used to—"

"If you’re comfortable with it," you interrupted him without meaning to, feeling the need to emphasize it. Until now, it hadn’t mattered how he addressed you; it didn’t bother you when it was just your name. After all, hey, it’s not really the most important thing in a relationship. But when he suggested it, you felt a flutter of excitement in your stomach. "I’m serious, Spence. Don’t force yourself if it feels unnatural," you added, slowing down a bit, feeling the slight tremor in the corner of your lips. You noticed how his brow furrowed slightly when he caught that movement. Usually, it meant there was an idea forming in your head, and this time, it was no different. "But if you really want to…you should know I have some requirements in this area."

"Requirements?" he repeated, sounding confused, as if he thought he misheard. "Sorry, but what kind of requirements could you possibly have when it comes to pet names?"

“Oh, you have no idea how many,” you scoffed, leaning slightly toward him with a mischievous gleam in your eye. Reid blinked, clearly both curious and a bit apprehensive. “I know you, your mind... so I guess you shouldn’t be surprised that I’m expecting you to be creative. I mean no babe. No honey. 

Spencer stared at you for a moment, a look of disbelief crossing his face, before he let out a soft laugh.

"Alright, I’ve got it. No babe, no honey. Anything else to add to your list of demands?"

"Hmm, let me think," you murmured, to which he rolled his eyes. You didn't actually have anything else in mind; you just wanted to keep him in that state of uncertainty. But then, an additional thought occurred to you. "Oh, I know. It has to really fit with me. And with you. I want using it to come as naturally to you as possible. And I don't want you complaining to Penelope later, saying I forced you into it."

"Seriously, do you think I'd complain about you to Penelope behind your back?" he asked, pretending to be offended. He shook his head as if disappointed. "It's obvious I go straight to Morgan with stuff like this..."

You lightly tapped his arm.

"Is everything clear?" you made sure to ask, keeping your hand on his shoulder.

He glanced at your hand briefly before nodding.

"As clear as the sun. Has to be original and fit," he recited the two demands in their briefest form. He left his mouth slightly open, as if he wanted to add something, as if he was about to come up with the perfect nickname, but clearly, he hadn’t thought of one yet. He let out a short sigh of surrender. "This...this might take a while."

"Take your time, babe."

"Hey, you said we're not using that..."

"I only said you’re not using that”

"So what’s the point of giving me all these demands when..."

You both fell silent only when the jet neared its landing.

*

Working on the case had put a bit of distance between you. Well, it wasn’t unusual—there were often plenty of witnesses to interview, multiple locations to visit or search, and the team simply had to split up. Whenever Hotch assigned you somewhere, he always paired you up in the most complementary way possible, ensuring that your skills and experience balanced each other out. As the youngest members, relying more on brains than brawn, you and Reid rarely ended up partnered together.

And this time was no different.

You sat in the front seat of the car beside Gideon, who was driving. The two of you were headed to one of the victims' homes in silence, and you used the moment to glance at your phone—only to spot a message from none other than Reid.

spence: I’ve been thinking about what we talked about on the jet, and I think I have a few suggestions that meet all of your conditions.

spence: Sorry for texting, but I’m not sure if we’ll get a chance to see each other today, and I wanted to tell you that.

y/n: tell me

y/n: i mean u should be thinking about the case rn not about me

y/n: but i’m just gonna assume ur brain is multitasking enough to do both

spence: Because it is.

y/n: wow so humble

y/n: so???

y/n: what’s with the pet names

y/n: surprise me, genius

spence: Sorry, I don’t have time to write proper explanations for all of them or explain why I think they suit you.

spence: But a few of them are love, dear, darling.

y/n: sweet, but kinda basic

y/n: anyway up to you

y/n: u’ll be the one saying them

spence: Yeah, but you’ll be the one called them, and it has to be something you like. What do you think?

spence: Maybe something less typical like pumpkin

y/n: pumpkin HAHAHA

spence: ?

y/n: sry, i just can’t picture u saying that out loud

y/n: u browsing some top 100 pet names for ur gf site rn?

spence: No

y/n: i’m telling garcia to check ur browsing history, silly

y/n: don’t even delete it she’ll find it anyway

spence: I admit, pumpkin is awful

spence: I really like daisy, but i know you're allergic to pollen

y/n: how do u know i’m allergic to pollen?

spence: 👍🏼

It was truly an exhausting yet enlightening response. Anyway, you didn’t dwell on it too much. Sometimes he just knew. Together with Gideon, you had already arrived at the right address, so you shoved your phone back into your pocket and got ready to get back to work.

*

The words we are ready to deliver the profile were a milestone in every case you worked on.

They marked a gathering of the entire team, where you would collectively organize the information you had gathered during the investigation. Together, you had managed to uncover the unsub’s identity, but there was still the task of determining their motive and locating where they might be holding their still, as you hoped, victim. 

"The unsub spent most of his life caring for his severely ill, mentally abusive grandfather, of whom he was the only relative, which is why he now targets victims of a similar age," Derek began, crossing his arms over his chest. "He holds them for twenty-three days, mirroring the twenty-three years he dedicated to caring for him."

"He sees it as lost time, wasted. He never finished school, he was socially withdrawn. By repeating the same pattern with his victims, he believes he's getting something back," explained Reid, standing beside you, tapping one hand thoughtfully.

"This is all we have,” you muttered under your breath. ‘But we're missing the most important thing. Where is he? Where is he holding this man?”

“Garcia is working on that,” Hotch reassured you, pressing his finger to the earpiece.

“Give... give me some time,” Penelope asked in a distant tone, drowned out by the sound of keys being pressed rapidly. “ I think I have something... I need to check...ugh, fifteen minutes!”

After those words, she fell silent, leaving you all in anticipation. With a sigh, you crossed your arms over your chest, hoping she would find something. Reid stood by your side, slightly separated from the rest. Yet when he spoke, he lowered his voice to a murmur.

You stepped closer to hear him better.

"Vivi," he said softly.

You frowned at him, and his gaze hesitantly met yours—but once it did, it refused to let go.

"From the Latin vivus," he explained. "Full of life, vibrant."

You remained silent for a moment, savoring the echo his words left behind and the look on his face—just a hint of uncertainty creeping in as he waited for your reaction. If it weren’t for the fact that your team members were bustling around and the circumstances weren’t exactly romantic, you might have slipped under his arm. Instead, you settled for a small, sweet smile.

"That’s really pretty, Spence," you admitted, catching the faint shimmer in his dark eyes. "You think it suits me? Do you like it?"

He nodded slowly. You couldn't shake the feeling that something didn’t quite fit, that it didn’t sound natural coming from him. Maybe it was just your imagination? Or perhaps he was distracted, lost in more important thoughts while you were bothering him with pet names? You didn’t really have time to figure that out. At that moment, Garcia’s raised voice cut through the line, announcing that she might know where the unsub is holding his victim.

In the next moment, you were already on your way to the given address, listening to instructions on how to get inside without causing harm to the elderly man being held captive. When you and Reid reached him, he was loosely tied to a chair with rope, his head hanging limp against his chest. You crouched beside him, checking his pulse. It seemed like a simple loss of consciousness, likely caused by the stress and exhaustion of being held captive for over two weeks.

"Untie him," you said automatically to Reid, even though he had already started doing it before you spoke. "Can you hear me, sir? Damn it, I think we’ll need an ambulance..."

"Since when do angels curse?" A hoarse, weak whisper escaped the man's throat.

You exchanged confused glances with Spencer, momentarily frozen in place. The man's temples twitched before he gently lifted his head. His gaze landed on your face, and very slowly, he began to regain full consciousness.

"I died. And you're an angel, right?" he asked.

You sighed with a certain sense of relief. He was a bit delirious, but it seemed nothing serious was wrong with him.

"Don't worry, you’re not dead, sir. Actually, you’re perfectly fine and will be home soon..."

"Whatever you say, angel."

You saw Reid, who was untying the man, try to hide a amused expression on his face. Even after two weeks spent in captivity, Mr. Murphy managed to muster a bit of stubbornness. He told the arriving paramedics that he would only get into the ambulance if the angel who freed him went with him. And since you felt really sorry for the elderly man who had been kidnapped and whose mind was a bit frail, you did it.

You didn’t get back on the jet until late at night. Throwing yourself into the seat next to Spencer, you struggled to suppress another yawn. You didn’t even realize when your temple lightly rested against his arm, but through your partially closed eyelids, you noticed him closing the book he had been reading and placing it in his lap.

"Long day, huh, angel?" he asked. His voice was soft, almost a whisper, brushing your ears as you leaned against him.

"So, you spent the whole day trying to come up with the perfect pet name and ended up just going with the one some confused old guy called me?"you asked, opening your eyes and turning your head to look at him. Or rather, from the position you were in, at his jaw. "Watch out, Spencer Reid. I might accuse you of being lazy."

"I'm not lazy," he denied. "I'm just looking for inspiration in unusual places. Besides, it fits, don't you think? Angel."

"Mhm. Lazy."

With those words, you closed your eyes again, snuggling against him more comfortably. Spencer shifted slightly in his seat, using his free hand to tuck the hair falling onto your face behind your ear.

"Sweet dreams, angel."

[brunchable]

How To Impress a 21st Century Girl.

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x f!Reader

Themes: Rom-Com, Fluff, Mutual Pining(Heavy?), First Date, Flirtation and Playfulness.

Summary: Sam had forced Bucky to use Tinder to solve his abysmal love life. Bucky tells himself that if third time isn't a charm, he will officially give up trying to find a partner.

A/N: I'm a sucker for rom-coms, I hope you guys enjoyed this because I enjoyed writing it.

tags: @hzdhrtss @winterslove1917

It had all been Sam’s idea. "Come on, man. You need to get back out there!" Sam had said, way too enthusiastically, while setting up a Tinder profile for him without even asking. Bucky had resisted at first, arguing that dating apps probably weren't his thing. But Sam was persistent, reminding him that it was 2024, not 1944, and that "no one meets in grocery stores anymore."

Reluctantly, Bucky had gone along with it, figuring it couldn’t hurt to try. What was the worst that could happen?

Well, now he knew.

Bucky was starting to think Tinder was out to get him. His first two dates had been disasters—and not just normal awkwardness, but spectacularly bad. The first girl, Jenny, had brought her ex-boyfriend to the date. Apparently, he was her ride, and they were still "good friends." Bucky had spent two hours third-wheeling a reunion he hadn’t signed up for. The second girl, Alicia, had a collection of ceramic frogs. And when Bucky said “collection,” he meant obsession. The girl spent an entire dinner showing him photos of different frog figurines. It was ribbiting. Literally. One of them even made croaking sounds.

So, now here he was, on date number three, standing outside some trendy café, wondering what fresh nightmare awaited him. This time, though, he’d let you plan the date. Maybe handing over control would be better than having to smile through another amphibian-themed dinner.

You showed up right on time, and Bucky was genuinely relieved to see no ex-boyfriend hovering in the background. You were wearing a paneled knit dress with spaghetti straps that hugged you just right, and your short hair was perfectly tousled. You smiled at him, but the look on your face told him you were just as unsure as he was.

“Hi,” you greeted, and Bucky instantly forgot every single normal response. Holy shit he is TALL.

“Hey, I’m Bucky.” he mumbled back. He was really nailing this whole dating thing.

You walked inside, and the café had that minimalist vibe. A lot of plants. A lot of exposed brick. The kind of place where you’re not sure if you’re supposed to sit or admire the interior design.

As you both sat down, Bucky tried to channel his inner suave. He could do this. He had faced way worse than an awkward date. Like alien invasions. Like that one time he lost his arm again. This was nothing.

Except... why was talking to an attractive woman harder than fighting off super soldiers?

“I, uh, like your dress,” Bucky said, already feeling the heat creep up his neck. Nice, Barnes, real original.

“Thanks,” you replied, with an amused smile playing on your lips. “I like your... jacket.”

Bucky nodded, looking down at his worn leather jacket. “Yeah. It’s... warm.”

Warm? That’s what you’re going with? He mentally slapped himself. This was going well. So well. He tried to change the subject and scanned the menu. “Uh... so, what’s good here?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never been,” you said, fiddling with the edge of your napkin. “The internet said they have good coffee, though.”

“Internet reviews, huh?” Bucky raised an eyebrow. “That’s always a gamble. Could be great... could be a disaster.”

Cue the awkward silence.

The waiter had barely placed the food in front of you both before the quiet tension stretched between you like you were sitting in a library, not a café. Bucky poked at his bagel as if it might come to life at any moment, while you took a delicate sip of your coffee, your eyes darting between him and the wall behind him.

You both chewed in the most nonchalant way possible, each of you hyper-aware of the silence that was growing louder by the second. You were mentally cursing every decision that led to this exact moment, and Bucky, for his part, was questioning whether retiring from the whole Avenger thing had been a mistake.

Say something. Anything, Bucky thought, taking another bite of his bagel, which suddenly felt like chewing rubber. Ask about herr favorite food? No, that’s boring. Comment on the weather? Oh, yeah, nothing like ‘Hey, it’s been cold lately,’ to really sweep her off her feet. Real smooth.

Meanwhile, you were trying to figure out how you managed to forget how to make normal conversation. Maybe ask him about his hobbies? No, that’s basic. Compliment his hair? What are you, in fifth grade? Pull yourself together!

Bucky, still chewing the world’s driest bagel, caught your eye for a split second, and you both did that polite half-smile thing that happens when you’re not sure whether you should talk or continue pretending to enjoy the food.

Did she just smile at me because I’m being awkward, or am I overthinking this? Bucky wondered, immediately breaking eye contact and pretending his coffee was the most fascinating thing on the table.

You, on the other hand, were screaming internally. Oh God, did I smile too weird? Was it the kind of smile that says, ‘I like you,’ or the one that says, ‘I’m trapped in this date and don’t know how to escape’?

You both took another sip of your drinks at the exact same time.

Alright, Barnes, get it together. Say something smart, Bucky told himself, putting his mug down carefully.

“So, uh... how’s your coffee?”

You blinked, your brain scrambling for a response. How’s my coffee? It’s coffee. Just say it’s good. Don’t overthink it.

“It’s... good. How’s your bagel?”

Bucky looked down at the circular piece of bread like it had personally betrayed him. “It’s... round.”

Round? Really? You went with ‘round’? Smooth, real smooth, he chastised himself, nodding like he had just made the most profound statement about bagels ever.

Your lips twitched. Did he just describe his food as ‘round’? Okay, maybe I’m not the only one struggling here.

You took another sip of your coffee, trying to hide your smile. God, this is like watching two middle schoolers on a first date.

You both glanced at each other again. Smile. Look away. Silence.

Bucky ran a hand through his hair. Alright, clearly, she thinks I’m a complete idiot. But it’s fine. I can recover. Just... find a topic. Literally any topic.

You picked at your napkin. Okay, maybe I should mention the escape room next. But what if he hates escape rooms? What if he thinks they’re boring? You cleared your throat slightly, ready to speak, but then—

Bucky cleared his throat at the same time. You both froze, staring at each other like deer caught in headlights.

“You go first,” Bucky said quickly.

“No, no, you first,” you insisted, waving your hand.

Bucky’s brain blanked. He blinked, searching for anything to say. “Uh... did you... park nearby?”

You stared at him, and then a smile slowly spread across your face. Did he really just ask me about parking? You nodded. “No I–um took public transport. Did you?”

Bucky gave a stiff nod. “Yeah. Close. Very close. Super convenient.”

You both stared at each other for a beat, and then, in a miraculous moment, you both cracked up at the exact same time.

“Parking?” you laughed, shaking your head. “That’s the best we’ve got?”

Bucky held up his hands. “Hey, I panicked, okay? The bagel threw me off.”

You wiped a tear from your eye, your shoulders shaking with laughter. “And I thought the frogs were bad.”

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh harder. “Okay, in my defense, this date is way better than ceramic frogs.”

“Glad to be the non-frog date.” You raised your cup in mock salute.

You both chuckled, and for the first time, the awkward tension seemed to melt away. Sure, you were a bit of a mess, but at least you were a mess together.

As you calmed down, you leaned forward, a playful grin on your face. “So, what’s next? You ready for the escape room?”

“I dunno. Should I be worried?” Bucky smirked, feeling a lot lighter.

“Only if you’re bad at puzzles,” you teased.

Bucky crossed his arms, leaning back with a smirk. “Oh, trust me, I think I’ll manage.”

And with that, you both finally stood up to head for the next part of your date, the awkwardness left behind with the round bagel and the overly complicated coffee.

× × × ×

As soon as you stepped into the Asylum escape room, the mood shifted from "awkward first date" to "this might be how I die."

Oh, great. Creepy hospital décor. Perfect first-date vibes. You eyed the flickering lights and eerie medical tools scattered around the room, trying not to let on how much it was creeping you out. At least it’s better than ceramic frogs, you thought, glancing at Bucky.

“This is supposed to be the hardest escape room they have,” you said, glancing at Bucky. “Takes most people at least an hour. You ready for this?”

“Yeah, sure. I mean... it’s puzzles, right? How hard can it be?” Bucky shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to appear calm. I’ve literally fought aliens. How bad could a few puzzles be?

“You’ve never done one of these before, right?” You looked at him, a bit skeptical.

He shook his head. “First time. But, uh... I’m good under pressure.” Under pressure? What am I saying? I sound like I’m about to defuse a bomb, not solve a riddle. Get a grip, Barnes.

“Alright. Let’s do this.” You smiled, trying to hide your own nerves. 

The clock started ticking, and immediately, you were plunged into darkness. A loud creak echoed through the room, followed by a voice over the intercom: “Welcome to the Asylum. You have 60 minutes to escape. Good luck... you’ll need it.”

Perfect. Creepy voice? Check. Flickering lights? Check. Yep, I'm doomed. You moved toward a stack of papers, squinting at the dim lighting. “Okay, first thing’s first... we need to find the clues hidden in this room to unlock the door.”

Before you could even start, Bucky was already inspecting a random pipe on the wall. He tugged at it, and it came loose, revealing a hidden key taped to the back. Oh, that was... lucky? Or did I just break something?

You froze mid-step. “Wait. How did you—”

“I... uh... just pulled on it.” Bucky looked just as surprised as you. Did I just accidentally solve this?

“Okay. Lucky guess.” You stared at him. 

Bucky shrugged. “Maybe.” Play it cool, Barnes. Don't look like you’re clueless here.

You both moved into the next room, which had even creepier décor. Faint writing on the walls, jars filled with unidentifiable things, and a mannequin in the corner that Bucky immediately side-eyed like it was going to jump out at you. Okay, I don’t trust that mannequin. Why’s it looking at me like that?

You picked up a piece of paper with some cryptic writing on it. “This says something about finding the light within the dark. I think it’s a clue. We need to—”

“Found it,” Bucky called out.

You turned to see him holding up a blacklight. How does he keep doing this?! 

“They always hide something with a blacklight, right?” He grinned, flashing the light on the wall, revealing a series of glowing numbers. That’s a thing, right? People hide stuff with these lights all the time... right?

“Oh, you’re just full of ideas now, huh?” You crossed your arms, smirking.

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool. “Just... using my instincts.” Yep. Totally knew that.

You worked through the next few puzzles, but by "worked," what you really meant was Bucky accidentally stumbling into the solutions. Every time you tried to figure out a clue, Bucky would casually touch something, pull a lever, or press a random button that—surprise—opened the next door or revealed the next key. At first, you thought he was joking. But as the minutes ticked by, it became clear: Bucky was somehow solving the escape room by sheer dumb luck—or so you thought.

This is starting to freak me out... Am I secretly a genius? Bucky thought.

At one point, you were trying to decipher a complicated code etched into the wall, mumbling to yourself about numerology and patterns, when Bucky—completely oblivious—pulled a book off the shelf, and a hidden door creaked open in the floor.

No. No way. “Are you—” You blinked. “Did you just—”

Bucky glanced at the open trapdoor, confused. “What? Was that not supposed to happen?”

You slapped your forehead. “No! I mean, yes, but—oh my God, Bucky, you’re breaking the game.”

He raised his hands in surrender. “I swear I’m not doing it on purpose!” Seriously, I just touched a book. How is that a thing?

You looked down at the trapdoor, then back at him. “What are you? A puzzle savant? Did you plan this?”

Bucky laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. “Nah, I just thought the book looked weird.” Great, now she thinks I’m some kind of escape room wizard.

You gaped at him. “The book looked weird?” Weird? Dude, I’m starting to think you have X-ray vision.

“I mean... yeah. It was dusty.” It wasn’t even that weird... or was it?

You squinted at him, hands on your hips. “You’re telling me you spotted a dusty book and thought, ‘Aha! Hidden door.’?”

“Isn’t that... what you’re supposed to do in these rooms?” Bucky shrugged, looking genuinely sorry. Please tell me that's how this works.

This man is unbelievable. You stared at him for a long moment before bursting out laughing. “Oh my God. You’re accidentally good at this. You’re just walking around solving stuff like you do this every weekend!”

Bucky chuckled, his shoulders relaxing a little. I have no idea what I’m doing, but I’m glad she’s laughing. “I swear I’ve never done this before.” This isn’t even the weirdest thing that’s happened to me this week.

“I don’t know whether to be impressed or terrified,” you teased, stepping closer to him. “You’re like a walking cheat code.” Sure, Sherlock. Whatever you say.

“Hey, I’m just here to help.” He smiled, clearly enjoying your reaction. At least she’s impressed. That’s something.

I think you might secretly be a robot. You shook your head, grinning. “Alright, escape room prodigy, let’s see if you can crack the last one.”

You entered the final room—a dimly lit chamber with a creepy-looking mannequin in the corner and random medical equipment scattered around. You narrowed your eyes.

“Okay, this is the hardest part. No way you’re going to just... guess your way out of this one.”

“Yeah, this one’s. . . tricky.” Bucky glanced around, clearly trying to look casual. Please don’t let me stumble into the solution again... 

Please don’t let him find the solution immediately. Just this once.

You pointed at the mannequin. “We need to find a code hidden somewhere in this room. The clue says it’s ‘locked in the mind.’ So it has to be something mental, right? Like a puzzle?”

Bucky stared at the mannequin for a second, then slowly reached out and twisted its head off. Inside, there was a slip of paper with the code on it. Oh, come on. You’ve got to be kidding me.

“Are you KIDDING me?!” Your jaw dropped. 

“I just thought... you know... maybe the head comes off?” Bucky held up the paper, looking sheepish. 

Why am I even here?! You threw your hands up in the air. “Of COURSE the head comes off! Because that makes total sense! Sure!”

Bucky bit back a laugh. “Well, it did say ‘locked in the mind.’” Technically, I was right.

You glared at him, then shook your head, laughing despite yourself. “Okay, that’s it. You’re banned from escape rooms. You ruin them.”

“Ruined it?” Bucky asked, grinning. “We escaped, didn’t we?” She’s totally impressed, even if she won’t admit it.

“We escaped in twelve minutes, Bucky! Twelve!” You slapped his arm playfully. “That’s not normal!”

He laughed, ducking his head. “Sorry?” Guess I’m not so bad at this ‘fun date’ thing.

As you both stepped out of the escape room, the staff was standing there, looking like they’d just witnessed the impossible.

“You’re... done?” Pink-haired Girl asked, your eyes wide with disbelief.

Wow. They look like I just told them Santa isn’t real, Bucky thought.

You, just as confused, looked over at Bucky. “Uh. . .yeah, I guess?”

“Looks like it.” Bucky gave a casual shrug. No big deal. Just casually shattering dreams.

Clipboard Guy checked his stopwatch again, his mouth hanging open. “Twelve minutes. No. That’s not possible. People are supposed to break down in there. We’ve had people cry!”

Cry? What is this, an escape room or emotional boot camp? “You want me to go back in and tear up a little? You know, for the full experience?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. 

“People have left that room emotionally damaged. You just... strolled out.” Pink-haired Girl blinked. 

You stared at Bucky, still wrapping your head around it. “I didn’t even get through the first clue, and you were already unlocking half the room.”

“You were working hard. I just sped things up a bit.” Bucky chuckled softly, glancing at you with a playful smile. I mean, you were giving it a solid effort...

The Master of Puzzles guy appeared, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Did you... have the answers beforehand? Because that’s the hardest room we’ve got. We’ve had people rage-quit in there.”

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, looking amused. “Nah, just good at finding my way out of things.”

“I didn’t even do anything. You solved the whole thing!” You shook your head, still half-laughing, half in disbelief.

“Hey, you were a great moral support.” Bucky smiled at you, nudging you lightly. Seriously, though, it’s good to have someone to watch while I dismantle a room’s dignity.

Clipboard Guy muttered, “We’re gonna have to ban him. He’s banned.”

Oh no, I’ve ruined their sacred puzzle temple.

“He broke the hardest room we’ve got. Who even does that?” Pink-haired Girl nodded, still dumbfounded. 

“Well, I’d offer to go back and struggle a bit, but... I don’t think it’d be convincing.” Bucky smirked, leaning casually against the counter. Trust me, I can’t fake being bad at something. Even if I tried.

As you headed for the exit, Bucky held the door open for you, giving the staff one last glance before he leaned over to you, voice low. 

“What? You wanted to be stuck in there all night?”

“Honestly? It would’ve been nice to solve at least one puzzle.” You groaned, though you were smiling.

“Next time, I’ll let you have the first clue. Promise.” Bucky chuckled softly. And by let you, I mean I’ll stand far away from everything and try not to accidentally win.

 “You better.” You laughed, shaking your head as you both stepped out into the night.

× × × ×

The arcade was buzzing with lights, sounds, and the faint scent of popcorn. It was a complete shift from the eerie asylum escape room, and you were already eyeing the rows of flashing machines and claw games with glee.

Alright, this is more like it. No creepy mannequins here, just good old-fashioned fun.

Bucky, on the other hand, looked around like he had just entered a foreign world. The last time he’d been in an arcade, they didn’t have all this flashing neon or half the games that were here now. What happened to the simple stuff? Pinball machines and jukeboxes. Now I’ve got ten-foot robots staring at me while kids slap buttons like their lives depend on it.

Still, he couldn’t help but smile at how excited you looked. Okay, if she’s this excited, maybe this won’t be so bad.

“Okay, so... how does this place work again?” he asked, watching a kid furiously slap buttons at a nearby game.

You laughed, giving him a gentle nudge. “It’s simple! We just play a bunch of games, earn tickets, and then trade them in for really weird prizes. Easy.”

Bucky nodded, though he still looked a little confused. “So, you win tickets by—?”

“By being amazing at games, obviously,” you said, your eyes already darting toward a nearby basketball shooting game. “Let’s see if you can keep up.”

Bucky followed you, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Oh, I’ll keep up.” Alright, let’s see if I remember how to be competitive at... basketball?

You started with basketball, and while you had a decent shot, Bucky quickly became the Michael Jordan of arcade basketball. He tossed shot after shot into the hoop with ridiculous ease, barely even looking like he was trying.

Oh, come on. Seriously? Why is he good at everything? You shook your head in disbelief. “Oh, come on. Are you serious right now? Are you even aiming?”

“I dunno. I just... throw.” Bucky shrugged, not missing a single shot. 

“This is what I get for going on a date with someone who’s literally built for accuracy.” You playfully narrowed your eyes at him. Why am I pretending like I’m mad? It’s honestly impressive.

He flashed a boyish grin. “You wanted to see if I could keep up.” Oh, I’m keeping up, doll.

You crossed your arms, pretending to pout. “I wasn’t trying to lose in record time.”

When the game ended, Bucky had a ridiculous amount of points, and you had... well, significantly fewer. He collected your combined tickets from the machine, glancing down at you with a playful glint in his eyes.

“Should I carry these, or do you want to hold on to the three tickets you earned?” he teased, raising an eyebrow.

How is he still charming even while teasing me? This is unfair. You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you snatched a couple of tickets from his hand with a grin. “You know what? Fuck you.”

“Careful, doll. You keep talking like that, and I might just take you up on it.” Bucky’s smirk widened, and he leaned in a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to make your pulse quicken. 

Okay, that was a little too good. I should not be blushing right now. Your eyes widened for a second, a flush creeping up your neck before you shot him a playful glare. “You wish.”

“You know I don’t have to wish for anything.” He chuckled, stepping back with a wink.

Well, that escalated quickly. You tried to bite back your smile, but it was impossible with the way he was looking at you. “I’m starting to regret bringing you here.”

Bucky held up the stack of tickets, grinning like a kid who just won the lottery. “You’re only regretting it because I’m walking away with all the prizes.” Did I just turn an arcade into a battlefield?

“Yeah, yeah, keep rubbing it in.” You huffed, shaking your head, though the smile on your face said otherwise. 

Bucky shot you another wink. “Oh, I plan to.”

This guy is dangerous with that smile. You smirked, leaning in a little. “So... what happened to the awkward guy who pointed out that bagels are round? Because this,” you waved at the arcade tickets, “does not feel like the same guy.”

“What? You weren’t impressed by my bagel observations?” Bucky chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. I was doing my best back then, okay?

You laughed, giving him a playful nudge. “Oh, I was very impressed. I just didn’t know you were hiding this arcade legend behind all that bagel wisdom.”

He grinned, eyes glinting. “I’m full of surprises, doll.” You have no idea.

“Clearly,” you said, still teasing him as you walked toward the next game. “Let’s see how many more surprises you’ve got.”

You dragged him over to the shooting gallery game, where you were met with an array of plastic rifles and paper targets.

“I’m kinda good at this,” you declared, grabbing one of the rifles with renewed determination. “You can’t have a crazy aim for everything.” Finally, something I can win.

Bucky raised an eyebrow, amused. “Okay. Let’s see what you got.”

You aimed and fired... missing every single target. You winced as the targets flipped back and forth, mocking you with their tiny, evil faces. Are you kidding me?

“You’re holding it too tight.” Bucky stepped up beside you, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips. 

“Oh, great. Here we go. The expert.” You groaned. Of course, I’m holding it too tight. Leave it to Bucky to know everything.

Bucky smiled, but instead of saying anything, he stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around you, his hands gently guiding yours on the plastic gun. You froze, your heart skipping a beat as you felt the warmth of him so close. His breath was soft against your ear as he leaned in to guide your aim, his voice low and steady.

Why does he have to be so good at this? I can barely think straight.

“Relax,” he murmured, his hands adjusting yours gently. “Don’t grip it so hard. Just like this.”

How am I supposed to relax when he’s practically wrapped around me?

Your pulse quickened, your senses suddenly overwhelmed by how close he was. His cologne—woodsy and warm—filled your lungs, making you a little dizzy. You swallowed hard, focusing on anything but the way your back pressed against his chest. “Okay... relax. Right. Got it.”

“You’re not relaxing.” Bucky’s voice was low, almost teasing.

Yeah, no kidding. Not exactly easy when you smell like a lumberjack dream. 

“I am relaxed!” you shot back, though your heart was racing so fast you were sure he could hear it.

Bucky chuckled, and the soft rumble of his laugh vibrated against your back. “If you were relaxed, you wouldn’t be holding your breath.” 

If she’s holding her breath, I must be doing something right.

You blinked, realizing that yes, you were in fact holding your breath. You exhaled slowly, trying to focus on the targets instead of the fact that Bucky was basically wrapped around you.

“Good,” he said quietly, his hands still steadying yours. “Now, pull the trigger. Nice and easy.”

Yeah, this is totally normal. Just shooting targets, totally not thinking about how close we are.

You followed his lead, squeezing the trigger gently. The shot rang out, and the sound of a hit echoed through the machine. The target flipped backward, signaling a perfect hit.

“I did it!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over as you turned your head to look at him.

Your faces were just inches apart. Bucky’s eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, neither of you moved. The air between you was thick with tension, the good kind—the kind that makes your heart race and your stomach flip.

God, she’s close. Just a little closer...

Your gaze flickered down to his lips, and Bucky swallowed hard, momentarily forgetting where you were or what you were doing. All he could think about was how easy it would be to lean in just a little more, to—

“Uh, sorry!” A kid nearby bumped into the machine, jolting you both out of the moment.

Of course. Great timing, kid.

You quickly stepped out of Bucky’s embrace, your face flushed. “Well, um... thanks for the lesson, Barnes.”

Bucky cleared his throat, his ears a little pink. “Yeah. Anytime.” Anytime? Seriously, Barnes? That’s all you’ve got?

You moved on to a few more games, but the tension between you still lingered, electric and unspoken. After a particularly intense game of air hockey (where you almost won, thanks to Bucky being a little too distracted by you), you found yourselves at the prize counter.

Your eyes scanned the shelves, but one prize in particular caught your attention: an absolutely massive goose plush sitting at the top of the prize display. It was ridiculous, almost comically large, but it made you smile instantly.

“Oh my God,” you muttered, pointing. “That goose is so cute.”

Bucky followed your gaze and raised an eyebrow. A goose? Really? She could pick anything, and it’s that giant bird?

“You like that thing?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“I mean, look at it. It’s the size of a couch,” you said, laughing. “No one’s ever gonna win enough tickets for that.”

Bucky looked thoughtful for a second. Then, without saying a word, he handed all of your tickets to the guy at the counter. Challenge accepted, doll.

The kid behind the counter stared at him. “Uh, you know this isn’t enough for the goose, right?”

Bucky nodded. “Yeah, but... what’s it take to win that thing?”

Because clearly, winning giant plush birds is my new priority in life.

The kid blinked. “Like... a thousand tickets.”

Bucky smirked, then turned to you. “Wait here.”

“What are you doing?” You frowned, confused. 

Please don’t say you’re going to try and win a thousand tickets... oh my God, he’s going to try and win a thousand tickets.

Bucky said nothing and disappeared into the crowd. A few minutes later, you saw him at one of those old-school, rigged basketball games. His face was calm, determined—like he was about to go to war.

One after the other, Bucky sank shot after shot, racking up points so fast that you had to rub your eyes to believe it. Within minutes, he had earned a mountain of tickets. He moved on to another game, this time skee-ball, and then to another. Every single game, he dominated, earning enough tickets to make the counter kid’s jaw drop when he returned with what looked like a roll of tickets big enough to use as a belt.

“Holy crap,” you muttered, watching as Bucky handed the tickets over, a satisfied smirk on his face. The kid counted them, eyes wide, then slowly reached for the giant goose plush.

The oversized goose was practically half Bucky’s height as he carried it back over to you, grinning.

“Here you go,” he said, handing it to you with a proud look. “You said you liked it, right?”

Who just... casually wins a giant goose plush? How did he do that?

You stared at the giant, fluffy creature, then at him, your heart flipping over itself. “Bucky... this is insane. It’s huge.”

“Well, I couldn’t just leave without winning you something.” He shrugged, his grin boyish and a little shy. Yeah, Barnes, act like you’re not insanely proud of yourself right now. 

He’s... adorable. Stop. Focus. “You really didn’t have to... but I love it.” You laughed, hugging the goose to your chest. 

“Good.” Bucky’s eyes softened as he watched you smile. Worth every single ticket.

Your heart raced, your face heating up as you looked at him over the massive plush. “You’re full of surprises, Barnes. Who knew you’d be this good at arcades?”

Just trying to impress the girl, no big deal.

“Maybe I just wanted to impress you.” He smiled, a little more reserved this time.

Well, mission accomplished, buddy. You blushed, the air between you crackling again with that familiar tension. “Well, mission accomplished.”

You stood there for a moment, just smiling at each other, the absurdly large goose between you, until you laughed and nudged him with your elbow.

“You know, this might be the best date I’ve ever been on,” you said, your tone light but sincere. Was that too much? Did I just over-share?

Bucky’s smile grew, his eyes softening. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, holding the goose a little tighter. “Definitely the best.” Okay, that was smooth. Not awkward at all.

You left the arcade with the giant goose plush between you, its goofy face almost mocking the awkwardness that had suddenly crept back into your steps. Bucky walked beside you, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets, trying to figure out what to say.

Do I say something? Or just... keep walking?

The sounds of the city filled the silence around you, but neither of you spoke. The playful energy from the arcade had faded into something quieter, more uncertain.

Why am I so bad at this? Just say something, Barnes.

After a long stretch of quiet, Bucky cleared his throat. “So... is this the end?” Smooth, real smooth.

You blinked and glanced over at him, trying to keep your heart from doing a flip at his words. “Well, that’s all I had planned. Why?”

Bucky hesitated, his jaw tightening slightly as he looked ahead, his mind clearly weighing something. Okay, don’t screw this up. Don’t sound too eager.

For a moment, you thought maybe he was going to say goodbye, that maybe this was the end of your date after all. But then, he spoke quietly, almost as if he was embarrassed to admit it.

“I kind of don’t want to go home yet.” Well, there it is. Now she knows.

You felt a flutter in your chest, your face heating up as a small, shy smile tugged at your lips. You ducked your head, looking down at the sidewalk to hide the blush creeping across your cheeks. The way he said it—so simple but sincere—made your heart skip.

Why does that sound so much cuter than it should? You bit your lip, an idea suddenly coming to you.

“Well...” you started, glancing up at him. “There’s a new building by the riverside with a sky deck. It just opened recently, and it’s supposed to have the best view of the city.”

“Sky deck, huh?” Bucky raised an eyebrow, intrigued. A sky deck? Yeah, that sounds better than awkwardly walking home.

You nodded, a little more excited now. “Yeah. It’s pretty high up, and overlooks the whole city. I haven’t been yet, but I heard it’s amazing at night.”

“Sounds better than going home.” Bucky tilted his head slightly, his lips curving into a soft smile. Thank God. I’m not ready for this to be over yet.

“Then let’s go.” You grinned, feeling your heart race just a little faster. 

You shared a quick, almost nervous glance at each other before walking in the direction of the riverside. The awkwardness wasn’t completely gone, but now, it was laced with anticipation, a kind of giddy energy that made your stomach flutter. You hugged the plush goose a little tighter, trying not to let your excitement show too much, but inside, you were buzzing.

× × × × 

The city lights shimmered below you as you lounged on the comfy chairs, drinks in hand. The night air was cool, but it didn’t come close to breaking the warmth buzzing between you and Bucky.

She’s... something else, Bucky thought, leaning back slightly. His gaze kept shifting between the breathtaking skyline and you, but he found himself more captivated by you. How am I supposed to focus on the view when she looks like that?

Noticing the quiet, you smirked. “So, you were really gonna end the night without showing off more of your endless talents?”

Oh, she’s teasing now. Alright, two can play this game. Bucky raised an eyebrow, amused. “What, beating you at arcade games wasn’t enough?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re a walking cheat code, Bucky. But I feel like there’s more you’re holding back.”

His eyes flickered over your face, lingering on your lips for just a little too long. More than you know, doll. “Maybe I am.”

Your breath caught for a second, but you quickly recovered, tilting your head and flashing him a grin. “Oh yeah? Like what? Some secret talent I should know about?”

Keep your cool, Barnes. Don't blow it now.

Bucky leaned in just a fraction, his voice lowering, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. But I only show them to people who ask nicely.”

God, does he have to sound that smooth? Your heart flipped at the way he was looking at you, intense, as if he was seeing through every joke and teasing comment. How am I supposed to keep this casual?

“Nicely, huh? And what do I have to do for you to show me?” you asked, your voice quieter now, the playful banter fading into something more charged.

“Keep hanging around,” he said softly.

I’m in deep now. Bucky's eyes dropped to your lips again, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur into nothing. Should I kiss her? Maybe I’m reading this wrong...

His eyes dropped to your lips again, and for a moment, the world around you seemed to blur into nothing. It was just him—his voice, his presence, the way he was looking at you like he wanted to kiss you but was holding back.

You swallowed, feeling the tension build like a slow fire. You sipped your drink, trying to cool yourself down, but it did little to shake the feeling that something between you had shifted. Stop overthinking, just go with it.

“I could do that,” you murmured, a small smile playing on your lips. You felt his eyes on you, and the air between you felt electric. You glanced at him, catching him staring at your lips again. Your pulse jumped. He’s really staring... isn’t he?

“You’re staring,” you said, teasing, though your voice had a soft edge to it, your heart thudding in your chest.

Bucky blinked, caught, but instead of pulling away, he smirked. “Am I?”

Yeah, Bucky, play it cool. Like you haven’t been staring for the past five minutes.

“Mhm,” you teased, though your voice was barely steady. Why does that smirk make my heart race? “I mean, I get it. The view’s great and all.”

Bucky’s smirk deepened, his voice dropping lower. “You could say that.”

I can’t believe this is actually happening. You felt your face heat up at the way he was looking at you. The intensity of his gaze made your stomach do wild flips. Why is this so... intense?

“You’re not just talking about the city, are you?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, sending shivers down your spine. Just kiss her already. “Maybe not.”

Your breath hitched. “And what are you looking at?”

He leaned in slightly, his gaze locked on yours. “What do you think?”

She knows exactly what I’m looking at. 

Your heart raced, the pull between you growing stronger with every passing second. His eyes kept flicking down to your lips, making you wonder if he was going to kiss you. I really shouldn’t wait any longer...

Bucky cleared his throat suddenly, as if shaking off the trance he’d been in, and leaned back into his seat, looking almost embarrassed. Okay, maybe I’m rushing this.

“Sorry... I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” you interrupted quickly, your voice softer, gentler now. God, why did he stop? “Don’t be. I didn’t mind.”

His gaze snapped back to yours, the tension flaring again. She didn’t mind? Well, maybe I didn’t screw up, after all—or I did because you didn’t kiss her you idiot. He opened his mouth to say something, but instead, a soft smile tugged at his lips, and his expression softened.

“So... orthopedic ward, huh?” he said, shifting the conversation, though his eyes were still locked on you. “How do you handle that? All those broken bones?”

Smooth, Barnes. Talk about bones to distract yourself from the fact you were just about to kiss her.

You took a deep breath, relieved for the break in intensity but missing it instantly. Great, now I’m thinking about how close he was... “Well, it’s mostly convincing people not to do dumb things. Like skateboarding down staircases. You wouldn’t believe what people put themselves through.”

Bucky chuckled. Yeah, I believe it. Considering I’ve done dumber things in my time. “I can believe it. I’ve been there.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’ve skateboarded down staircases?”

“No, but I’ve done some pretty stupid things in my time,” he admitted, leaning in again. Pretty sure falling for you might top the list. “But if I did something dumb, you’d patch me up, right?”

You smirked, your eyes twinkling. He’s flirting again. I can’t take this seriously. “Oh, I’d patch you up. But I’d make sure to remind you how dumb you were the entire time.”

“Fair,” Bucky said, the distance between you shrinking again. Patch me up, lecture me—just keep talking, I don’t care. “But I think I’d be a good patient.”

You shook your head with a grin. Good patient? Doubtful. “I doubt that. You’d probably complain the whole time.”

“I wouldn’t,” he replied, his tone teasing but soft. I’d let her take care of me, no problem. “If you were the one taking care of me, I’d be on my best behavior.”

He’s definitely not just talking about broken bones... Your heart skipped at the way he was looking at you again, his voice dropping to something more intimate. The banter was light, but underneath it all, there was that same intensity. Okay, now I’m thinking about kissing him again...

“You don’t strike me as someone who’s ever on their best behavior,” you teased softly, though your breath caught in your throat.

Bucky smirked, his eyes flicking to your lips again. “Maybe you bring it out in me.”

God, I hope so.

The words hung between you, heavy with meaning. Your pulse raced, and you leaned into the moment, letting the tension simmer between you, unspoken but undeniable. He’s close again…

“I’ll have to see that for myself,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heartbeat.

She’s close, too. Just lean in, Barnes. Bucky’s gaze darkened, his voice low and rough. “You just might.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as the tension between you crackled, thick and electric. You shifted slightly, leaning in with a playful smirk. “So... tell me, you got any other dates lined up after this one?”

Bucky’s eyes flickered with amusement as he leaned back, crossing his arms. Dates? I can barely keep up with this one. “Why? You worried I’ve got someone else lined up?”

You grinned, holding his gaze. “Maybe. Should I be?”

Not a chance. He leaned in closer, the space between you shrinking as his voice dropped lower. “I don’t know... do you have any other dates lined up?”

He’s really turning this on me, huh? You blinked, your heart racing, but you quickly shot back, “Well, maybe... maybe not. Depends on how this one ends.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his eyes dropping to your lips again, the intensity rising. Alright, Barnes, time to end this date right. “Guess I better make sure it ends right, then.”

Before you could respond, Bucky reached out, his fingers gently tilting your chin up. His other hand slid to the back of your neck, his thumb brushing tenderly against your cheek as he leaned in, your lips so close you could feel his breath.

Your heart was pounding, your breath shallow, as his parted lips brushed against yours, soft and slow, his head tilting just slightly. The kiss was gentle at first, his lips locking against yours in a way that made everything around you fade to nothing. He could taste the faint sweetness of your daiquiri on your lips, and with a soft groan, his tongue did a slow, savoring lick against your bottom lip before slipping past, deepening the kiss.

Your hands instinctively moved up, cupping his face as you kissed him back, your fingers sliding along the scruff of his jaw. The warmth of his touch, the way his thumb stroked your cheek, the way his lips moved against yours —everything about it was intoxicating, pulling you under.

Then Bucky pulled back for a quick gasp, his breath mingling with yours , before diving back in, capturing your lips with even more intensity. The kiss deepened, more urgent this time, as though neither of you wanted the moment to end. His hand on your nape tightened slightly, pulling you closer as the kiss intensified, his lips pressing more firmly against yours.

They didn’t stop until they couldn’t breathe anymore, finally pulling apart when the need for air overtook you, both of you breathless and flushed. Their foreheads rested together, the cool night air doing little to cool the heat between you. Bucky’s thumb gently stroked your cheek as he whispered, his voice rough, “Definitely no other dates lined up after this.”

You smiled, your hands still cradling his face, your heart pounding. “Good. Neither do I.”

× × × ×

As Bucky’s motorcycle came to a slow stop outside your house, and glanced up at your front porch. You hopped off the bike, shaking out your hair with a satisfied grin.

That ride was way too short... you thought, glancing at him as you handed Bucky his helmet, which he stubbornly told you to wear instead of him.

Bucky, being the gentleman, didn’t just let you off with a wave. He slid off the bike and stood up straight, dusting his hands like he was about to help carry your groceries.

Alright, Barnes. Play it cool.

"I’ll walk you up," he said casually, like it wasn’t 2024 and people usually just waved from their cars.

You raised an eyebrow, your lips quirking into a smirk. "You’re walking me to my porch?"

Bucky nodded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. She thinks it’s weird? Hell, I thought that’s what you’re supposed to do.

“Of course. What kind of guy lets a lady walk to her door alone?” he replied, shrugging like this was completely normal.

You tried not to laugh, biting your lip to hold back a smile. He’s serious. Oh my God, he’s really serious. "Wow, okay, Mr. 1940s. What’s next, you gonna tip your hat and call me ‘ma’am’?"

Bucky smirked, taking a step closer. Alright, go with it, Barnes. “I could, if that’s what you’re into.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes but smiling as you walked together toward your porch. He’s ridiculous... and kinda sweet. You couldn’t help but notice how he slowed his pace just a little, like he was savoring the moment, hands tucked into his jacket pockets, casual yet somehow... considerate.

When you reached your porch, Bucky stopped, glancing at your door as if making sure it was safe territory. This is it. Play it smooth.

You turned to him, unable to hold back a laugh this time. "So, do I get a secret code to get into my own house, or...?"

Bucky grinned, leaning casually against the porch railing. “Just making sure you get home safe.”

Alright, Barnes, she’s not buying it. But hey, it worked.

“You know, they invented porch lights for a reason.” You shook your head, amused. He’s seriously acting like my personal bodyguard right now.

“What can I say? Old habits die hard.” Bucky shrugged, leaning in just a little closer, that playful glint in his eye. Please don’t laugh, please don’t laugh.

You looked up at him, crossing your arms with a smirk. “You know, there’s a fine line between being a gentleman and babysitting.”

Bucky chuckled. She’s killing me with that smirk. “Hey, you never know. There could be a rogue bagel out here, just waiting to trip you up.”

Oh, not the bagels again. “Oh my God, not the bagels again!” you burst out laughing, shaking your head.

He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. “You know they’re round, right?”

This man is unbelievable. You groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. “I think we’ve officially come full circle.”

“Just like a bagel.” Bucky gave a slow, dramatic nod.

You couldn’t help but laugh again, but you shook your head, standing on your porch with your hands on your hips. Why do I like this guy so much?

“Alright, alright, you’ve escorted me safely to my door. Anything else, or are you going to salute me goodbye?”

Bucky’s grin softened, and with a playful twinkle in his eye, he gave a small, mock salute. She’s gotta be messing with me right now, right? “Goodnight, ma’am.”

“Goodnight, soldier.” You couldn’t stop smiling as you opened your door, turning back to look at him. Don’t walk away, don’t walk away yet...

As you slipped inside, you peeked out one last time, watching as Bucky lingered for a second, that charming smirk still on his face before he finally turned and headed back to his bike. Say something, Barnes. Don’t just leave like a dork.

But then he stopped, halfway to his bike, and turned back around, something flickering in his eyes.

No, I’m not leaving yet. Not without...

Before you could ask what he was doing, Bucky closed the distance between you with a few long strides. Without hesitating, he gently tilted your chin up, his thumb brushing your cheek as he leaned in and kissed you—soft, quick, but just enough to make your heart race. His lips parted against yours, and for a split second, you tasted the warmth of him before he pulled back, just enough to meet your eyes.

That... was... wow.

Your breath caught in your throat, your heart doing a somersault. Did that just happen? You were still processing when Bucky grinned, his voice a little more hushed. “I guess I couldn’t leave without a proper goodbye.”

Smooth, Barnes. Real smooth.

You blinked, trying to find your voice, but all that came out was a soft, “No complaints here.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his hand still lingering at your neck for a moment longer. Then, he cleared his throat, stepping back a bit. “Hey, uh... you got a number I could call sometime?”

He’s asking for my number after that?

You smiled, feeling your heart flutter as you reached into your pocket, grabbing your phone. “Yeah, here—let me put it in.”

As you typed in your number, Bucky watched you, that familiar twinkle back in his eyes. Best decision I’ve made all night.

When you handed his phone back, your fingers brushed his, sending a small jolt up your arm. Yep, I’m done for.

Bucky pocketed the phone, flashing that boyish grin again. “Alright. I’ll call you.”

Yeah, you better. “I’ll hold you to that.”

He took a slow step down from the porch, but not without glancing over his shoulder one more time. “Goodnight... again.”

You stood there, grinning like an idiot. “Goodnight, Bucky.”

As Bucky made his way back to his bike, you slipped inside your house, leaning against the door as your heart raced. Did he really just kiss me? Again? Oh, this is definitely not over.

You peeked out one last time through the crack in the door, watching him as he swung his leg over his bike. Even from your doorway, you could hear him muttering with a smirk, “Just trying to keep the rogue bagels at bay.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly as you finally closed the door behind you, your heart racing a little more than you expected. I’m never going to forget this night...

[nefastnefertiti]

WHY CHAPTER 431 OF MY HERO ACADEMIA SCREAMS CENSORSHIP

First let's start by the "afterword", the note Horikoshi left after 430 and before the extras, chapter 431.

Original japanese for those who understand.

The best traslation I found and most people are agreeing with.

Key sentences are:

1.The real final chapter is 429, 430 is more like a curtain call.

2. PS: For chapter 431, I turn off the cameras and free the characters from their dramas.

This note being left after 430 and before the extras is so important. . The clarification of "the real final chapter is 429" and 430 is the curtain call is screaming: the show has ended here. This is further stated by "i turn the cameras off" by the man who use to refer himself as the camera man, I leave you with an example.

(They're talking about Vol 37 cover)

And back to point number 2: "and free the characters from their dramas", which could perfectly be understood as "the characters are no longer tied to their previous plots and drama" no longer connected to the main story.

It may seem like a reach until here, we're just trying to convince ourselves that's not canon, right? They´re delusions, right?

The problem is how far away everything about 431 antagonizes the whole story, the characters doesn't feel like themselves, they even regress back all their development, the drawing style looks totally different and there are many irregularities that call for our attention.

Dabi, 431 and by Horikoshi

Toga and Ochaco in 431:

Toga and Ochaco by Horikoshi:

All Might's signature for Katsuki (Horikoshi would never mess this up):

Kirishima with 6 fingers lol, Horikoshi loves drawing hands, he would never.

Katsuki's odd teeth what the fuck. (His hand looks good to me)

Ochaco and Shoto just look, weird. It's clearly not Horikoshi's art style.

And this awful background (center) was the main giveaway.

Horikoshi's backgrounds are so professional:

At this point I'm getting tired since the difference is astounding, don't believe me, just check the manga.

I don't think Horikoshi would've allowed those mistakes had he have a role in the making, maybe he did, there's no saying about that, but clearly if he did his involvement was very low.

Character's development wise now.

Seriously? "Deku"? And Katsuki complaining for picking him up. He cried his eyes out when Izuku lost his quirk and now he's back at season 1?

Izuku would never in a million years turn down that offer. And if he did, it would never be like this, so devoid of emotion and empathy.

430 showed us an Izuku aiming for his dreams again and at 431 this Izuku ¿? It's okay with being a teacher? Ok. And if that's not the problem, why he outright rejects Katsuki out of nowhere? When their rivalry was one of the main points of the plots for 430 chapters and now just um over? Without justification? Ok.

Ok.

Now specifically about that ship canonization and bkdk.

Horikoshi has been doing this for 10 years. The choices he took the whole manga were incredibly intentional, all those romantic tropes given to bkdk, his interviews, all stand in direct opposition to what happened in this last chapter.

I, myself, don't know much about Jump but what I've heard is they end lot of shonens with the same heterosexual formula. I don't think all of this is a coincidence.

Something really important that needs to be adressed to is what happened back in June (I think), when suddenly MHA announced it was ending in 5 chapters could've something to do with this. The manga was suddenly rushed to its ends with unsatisfying resolutions and as if that was not enough, one month later (at most) the same happened to JJK and all of this came accompanied by a switch of one of the heads of Jump.

About 431 again though.

I was just thinking what would I do if I was pressured to write something that ruins the biggest project of my life and goes against everything I was hoping for? Refuse. Tell them to write it themselves. If I can't do anything to stop it and it'll be there, alright, but I WON'T DO IT.

And I think this could be Horikoshi's case.

I've never seen a shonen manga come so close to implying his male protagonist and his male deuteragonist are in love before. Yes, it was not EXPLICIT but it was so fucking clear if you knew how to read, all the way up to 430. All those cliches tropes he gave them, he knew, we know.

I thought I'll die trying to explaineverything that seems wrong with this with nothing to back me up but the fact that he added that note is clear for me. I'm surprised they allowed him to publish it, I thought we wouldn't even have that.

PS:

It's interesting this being posted the same day 431 comes out. Also "heroaca is pretty dark, huh?"

I'll not go into this anyways because it's kind of a reach but the conclusion is: I think it's a "soft" censorship and Horikoshi did his best to relay his message given what he had.

Thanks for reading!

[kxsagi]

heyyyy, how are you doing???:)

so I've been seeing a lot of bllk x fem!reader fanfic yk those typical "sneaking in" and "dressing up as a guy" to fit in blue lock. may I request about what the blue lock 11 starters' reaction would be when they found out? i can picture isagi making up different possible scenarios as to how reader hasn't been found and lock off by ego considering he's very VERY meticulous with every player's information? please don't mind this request if you're uncomfortable ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡ thank youuuu, have a nice day:)

“𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬”

a/n: heyyy, i'm doing good! i hope you are as well, pretty

thank you for the request, this was more fun to write than i expected!

(art credits go to kaziris_ on x)

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, nagi seishiro, karasu tabito, otoya eita, yukimiya kenyu, aryuu jyubei, bachira meguru, chigiri hyoma, niko ikki, gagamaru gin

isagi yoichi

spirals. immediately. 

“wait. no. that’s not – wait. how?? ego checks everything. he runs background checks, medical records, locker room rotations –" 

cue isagi pacing like a madman at 2 AM trying to piece together how you avoided getting caught. 

at one point he’s literally scribbling plays on a whiteboard like it’s match analysis: “okay, so if she never showered when anyone else was around, and faked voice cracks at key points… wait. WAS THAT WHY YOU NEVER CHANGED IN FRONT OF US???” 

he’s not mad. he’s actually kind of amazed. 

"you're like... the greatest tactical deception of blue lock."

itoshi rin

“... i knew something was off.” 

lies. he did not know anything. he’s just salty that you were better than him in the last scrimmage. 

lowkey respects your ability to deceive the system. no one else could’ve pulled it off. 

“well, if you're still here, guess it doesn’t matter. just don’t think I’ll go easy on you because you're a girl." 

surprisingly neutral, but his eyes linger on you more often now.

nagi seishiro

“oh. huh. that’s why your hands are so soft.” 

not phased in the slightest. 

honestly thinks it’s kind of cool that you tricked everyone. “that sounds like a pain. but also kinda genius.” 

keeps accidentally calling you “dude” out of habit and then awkwardly correcting himself: “uh. dudette? nah that sounds weird…”

karasu tabito

laughs SO HARD he literally cries. 

“bro. BRO. you mean to tell me you were out here breaking ankles and gender norms???” 

starts making up fake backstories about how you smuggled a fake mustache into the dorms or used voice-changing tech. 

100% wants to know how you did it. every detail. for science (and blackmail).

otoya eita

the flirt switch FLIPS IMMEDIATELY. 

“so you're saying i wasn't crazy for thinking you were kinda hot?” 

annoyingly smooth about it. calls you “princess” just to see you get flustered. 

absolutely refuses to stop flirting. even more now. 

“if you needed help keeping the secret, you could’ve asked me. i’m great at keeping things under wraps, baby girl.” 

yukimiya kenyu

dramatic gasp. glasses off. slow-motion blink. 

“you… you’re a her?” 

the poetic side of him kicks in: “like a rose blooming in a battlefield…” 

would never admit it, but he starts fixing his hair more often around you now. 

supportive as hell though. tells you he respects your drive and the risks you took.

aryuu jyubei

strikes a pose and fans himself with his own hand. “mon dieu… the betrayal… you mean to say… all this time… i wasn’t the only icon here???”

says you’ve raised the standard of beauty and elegance in blue lock. 

insists on giving you a makeover “to match your true self,” even if you’re like, “bro please no.” 

might actually fight otoya for flirting too much.

bachira meguru

gasps in dramatic anime fashion. 

“NO WAY! you’re a GIRL?! THIS IS AMAZING!” 

he’s totally hype about it. takes it as a challenge, like, “you were able to sneak by the whole blue lock team?? you’re a legend, let’s be best friends forever!”

starts calling you “mystery girl” and constantly refers to you as his “partner in crime.” 

“i knew you were special, but this is next-level. no one can keep a secret like that and still play like a monster!!”

chigiri hyoma

goes very still. blinks. stares. 

“... wait. you're serious?” 

he has a lot of emotions. probably more than he expected. 

part of him’s like, “hell yeah. girl power.” and the other part is like “oh no she’s hot.” 

quietly covers for you when needed. he gets what it’s like to be underestimated.

niko ikki

poor boy.exe has stopped working. 

you tell him and he literally just stares with wide eyes like a deer in headlights. 

doesn’t know what to say for the longest time. then mutters, “i... always thought your voice was kinda nice.” 

gets super flustered afterward and avoids eye contact for three days straight.

gagamaru gin

“HUH???”

pure confusion. “but… you tackled me last week. and cursed at me. in a super deep voice. i thought you were just… intense?”

he's like a golden retriever trying to understand algebra. but he means well. 

“wait does this mean we weren’t supposed to share toothpaste???”

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[sleepymarimo]

I have this head cannon that I’ve been thinking of for awhile and just had to share with you.

Imagine y/n growing up with zoro in the village and she’s a couple years younger than him and called him zoozoo once, but he kinda liked it so he let her keep calling him that.

Fast forward to them running into each other at a random market while he’s out shopping with sanji and sanji hears her call him zoozoo. Once they leave, sanji makes fun of him by calling him zoozoo and Zoro just pulls one of his swords and looks him dead in there while saying, “call me that again and I’ll cut your tongue off. Only one person can ever call me that and it’s not you.”

𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬.

summary: read above! pairing: zoro x fem!reader cw: none! mostly fluff, perhaps a bit bittersweet an: hi anon!! i just had to write this bc it was too cute :) also pris try not to write something under 1k words challenge go!! ugh i need to tone it down fr... anyway, enjoy some fluff and thank the anon for their sweet hc.. also im going for a new theme soooo... wc: 2k

you were like a little fly, always buzzing around him.

technically, it was kuina that you clung to, but it might as well have been him, too.

every duel and training session, you were there. you'd clap your hands and cheer on kuina, the girl you'd come to see as an older sister of sorts. "get him kookoo!" came your chant, a toothy grin on your face as you watched the green-haired boy lose his temper once again. "y'can't beat kookoo, zoro!"

even as he barks at you to shut up, you can't help but grin. you know that you'll be scrambling to get him bandages later and you know that he'll refuse your help, all while kuina laughed in the background. this was the dynamic, the camaraderie you had all shared. kuina, zoro and you.

then it all came to an abrupt halt.

kuina's death hit everyone hard. you were inconsolable, missing her so dearly that it made your heart hurt. not knowing what else to do, you turn to the green haired boy who was the closest thing you had to her.

the two of you stand at her grave, one of your tiny hands balled into the fabric of his shirt as if he'd disappear at any moment. your free hand rubs at your tender cheeks, red and swollen from the tears you'd been shedding. "i-i miss-s her, zoozoo."

he fights back the tears in his own eyes as he keeps his gaze locked on the stone slab in front of him. this whole body is still as he utilizes as much of his willpower as possible. he's enraged. he's in mourning. he doesn't quite know how to cope in any way that isn't fighting.

your new nickname for him doesn't go unnoticed- a play on the same one you used to call kuina. he takes it with pride, not bothering to correct you.

he grabs your hand and roughly tugs you along to the training area. there was no way in hell that he'd give up, so he was going to drag you with him.

years later.

same scene, different atmosphere.

the two of you are in front of her grave, paying her respect. zoro is leaving yo- the island. he's leaving the island to fulfill his promise, to make a name for himself and become the greatest swordsman. of course you're wishing him the best, hell, you know that he's going to do it, but still, it stings a tad.

first your beloved kookoo, and now...

"zoozoo..." your arms cross and you sigh, trying to remain cheery and playful but unable to hide the concern in your tone. "y'feeling ready?"

he isn't fazed by the nickname, not when you've been calling him that for years. raising a brow and giving you an almost incredulous expression, he answers your question. "doesn't matter if i'm ready or not, i ain't gonna be the greatest swordsman if i stay here."

the two of you start the walk to the docks, a small ship ready for him. you're side by side, shoulders brushing against one another every now and then. he doesn't put any distance between the two of you. why would he? at that point in time, though he'd never admit it, you were probably the person he'd trusted most.

the silence isn't uncomfortable by any means, but there is a tension of sorts that you try your best to ignore.

when you get to the boat, you take a breath to keep cool and calm. but you're so, so bad at it. maybe a few years ago you could've gotten away with it, but zoro had grown so damn perceptive that it wasn't even funny.

"b-bye zoozoo." you nod with a shaky smile, struggling and failing to keep a straight tone as tears prick your eyes. your hands are behind your back and zoro has no doubt that they're clasped together in a bid to prevent yourself from grabbing him.

he rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue in exasperation. "y'such a pain in the ass." one of his arms slings around your shoulders and begrudgingly brings you into his chest. of course he made sure no one else was around as he did so, opting to look off toward the sea instead of down at your teary face. "i'll be fine. grow up, will ya?"

your hands unclasp and you cling to his shirt, small laughs mixing with your sniffles. "shut-t up, zoozoo."

he doesn't say anything, but if you'd quit being a crybaby for two seconds you'd notice how his grip tightened on his wado ichimonji, his knuckles whitening. the swordsman is determined to do this, but hell, even he'd be lying if he said that this didn't... well, suck.

soon after, the two of you say your final goodbyes.

he catches sight of your smile as the waves took him away, and he has to turn around. his focus is on the horizon, ending the chapter of his life that had you in it.

you're damn persistent though, like a little fly. he can't help but smirk at your words, yelled and carried by the wind.

"you're gonna be the best damn swordsman ever, zoozoo!"

such memories only come to the swordsman when he's had enough booze. when he looks at the moon and the ship is quiet except for the sound of creaking wood and crashing waves.

the thousand sunny had been docked on this island for around a day. it was a nice place, lively and sporting a plethora of shops with goods ranging from tropical fruits to exotic spices.

zoro curses when he swears he passes by the same stall for the hundredth time. "damn cook, always gettin' lost..." he grumbles, not acknowledging his notorious tendency to lose his way.

before he could take another step, he freezes at the sound of a voice that he'd only heard when he was dreaming or completely shit-faced.

"zoozoo?"

the way he turns around is almost mechanical. at this stage of his life, things like this didn't really pull a reaction from him. hell, he hadn't felt this way since he'd ran into that marine in loguetown. it was like seeing a ghost, but you're not one by any means.

he says your name, the sound almost foreign on his lips.

then he straightens up, his rational self catching up to him. you. here. in the new world?

one of his large hands makes a grab at your wrist, pulling you to an alleyway where the two of you could have some more privacy.

he has too many questions, too many thoughts and he'd be damned if he said it, but too many feelings, too. his tone is unintentionally gruff when he speaks, presenting as irritated to mask the protective urges simmering beneath the surface. "what the hell are you doin' here, huh?" you're still like a damn fly...

you take a moment to assess him, his new scars and his physique and everything. it's not like you hadn't seen him... but you're not going to admit to him that a few of his wanted posters are very much in your possession.

he still seems to be as brash as ever. headstrong and bull-headed and caring, in his own blunt way. it's not like you expected him to change much, but still, it's a relief to hear him speak to you as if you hadn't seen him in years. "well i wasn't gonna stay there either!" you defend, stubbornly crossing your arms.

that sparks a conversation about what you've been up to. he's always been alright with just letting you chatter away, but he makes sure to pay extra attention to what you tell him. your goals, your plans and where you'll be going. damn you, making this harder for him by not staying at shimotsuki village.

he's proud though, he really is.

as you continue to speak, he finds his focus directed on your expression and body language. now that the shock has worn off, he gets a closer look at you. your fingers twitch lightly, your arms snuggly crossed over your chest as if you were holding yourself together.

he remembers you being rather comfortable and relaxed around him, only growing restless when you were struggling to hold down the torrents of emotion that you were prone to feeling.

the last time he saw you like this was when he left, when you were too prideful to reach out and...

something about your little mannerisms is comforting in itself, like you haven't changed. a small wave of nostalgia crashes into the stone walls he's constructed around his heart these past few years.

you're still that teary eyed kid clinging to him like a remora, and he's damn sure that that won't ever change. you can hide it all you want, but unfortunately, he knows you.

you're good, but he's better.

"oi, c'mere, you damn crybaby." he huffs, expertly masking his satisfaction as he slings an arm around your shoulders and pulls you into his chest. a smirk tugs at his lips as he looks down on you, hell, he even wraps his other arm around you too. "thought i told ya to grow up, dumbass."

your arms wrap around him and you hide your sniffle with a scoff. "yeah, and i think i told you to shut up, zoozoo." you instinctively hold him a bit tighter. "bet you didn't miss all this crybaby stuff."

oh, if you knew how wrong you were.

the moment is cut short when an exasperated yell fills the air. "oi, marimo, what the hell are you doing with a gorgeous woman!"

zoro's grip tightens on you for a split second before he releases you with a growl, his expression morphing into one of annoyance. he turns around to face the blond, hand reaching for his blade. "mind your damn business, cook! i'll cut you up like a-"

they bicker for a few minutes while you watch on in confusion, before the cook tells him that there are marines on the island. the blond, not wanting the swordsman to get lost again, firmly grips his arm and tugs him along.

zoro's gaze flickers back to yours, hardened and glinting with determination. yet, beneath that, you can see the underlying emotion.

it makes you smile, and even as he's being tugged away, you give him a big grin letting him know that you'll be okay. a smile that says you believe in him and that you know he'll be the greatest swordsman this world has ever seen. most importantly, it tells him that you'll be there waiting for him when it's all done.

your lips part and you yell out. "bye, zoozoo!"

it's a while later when zoro and sanji finally quit their running, the thousand sunny go just up ahead in the distance.

"tch, can't believe a beautiful woman like her would want anything to do with a brute like you." sanji huffs, clearly envious and annoyed as he pulls out a cigarette and lighter.

zoro's scowl deepens, not quite up for discussing any sort of feelings with the cook. "shut the hell up, curly brows." he says, his eye subtly sneaking a final glance at the town. "it's not like that."

sanji breathes out a large puff of smoke, his form relaxing somewhat. "yeah, yeah... sure. whatever you say, zoozoo."

the air changes, going almost still as sanji finds himself looking down at a blade being held to his neck. zoro holds his sword up to the cook, glaring at him with a murderous intent.

they've had their fair share of fights, never actually meaning to harm one another, but zoro makes it clear that this subject is not up for debate. “call me that again and i’ll cut your tongue off." he growls, inching the blade a little closer. "only one person can ever call me that, and it’s not you.”

[youunravelme]

meant just for you // part two

author's note: thanks for all the love you showed part one! here's part two (and the final part, though i'll probably write some follow up fics about this couple later).

summary: you have a history of dating around and hooking up. after seeing your teammates start to settle down, you and mat make a bet to see who can fall in love first.

pairing: mat barzal x pwhl!reader

warnings: mentions of sex (though no actual smut because i can't write that to save my life), cursing, toxic boyfriends

guy three: peter (cont'd)

when you woke up early the next morning, it wasn’t because you wanted to, it was obligation to your team that had you getting on the road by eight to get back to your apartment in jersey. and maybe the time you got home coincided with peter’s work schedule, but if he asked, it wasn't intentional.

you didn't like lying, and you for sure didn't like that you were so comfortable doing it to him, but after the way he'd talked to you last night, part of you felt like he deserved it. besides, you were about to go on a roadie, you could afford to go a few more days without seeing him.

“i don't know that it should be like that,” your mom commented over facetime while you packed. “don't you want to date someone you wanna be around all the time?”

you scoffed. “don't you get tired of dad?”

“sometimes, but that doesn't mean i want to go days without seeing him.”

“even when he messes up?”

“i might go an hour with the silent treatment, but we usually try to talk about things that upset us before going to bed.” she pauses, then says, “are you sure peter is the one you want to be with?”

you blinked and took a second from throwing clothes into a suitcase to look at her. “what’re you saying? of course he is. he’s the right person, college was just the wrong time—”

“or maybe he was the wrong person then and is the wrong person now,” she said with a conviction you'd seldom ever heard from anyone.

you wrote your mom off after hanging up the phone, but the entire flight to ottawa, it was all you could think about.

wrong person then, wrong person now.

“what’s wrong, twitch?” jess nudged you. “you look lost.”

you blinked before looking at her. “i think i might break up with peter,” you said. 

“oh?”

“my mom made a comment this morning, about how maybe he was the wrong person then and also the wrong person now but—”

“your mom is right.”

you blinked again. “...what?”

jess shrugged like what she said wasn’t the equivalent to a record scratch in your brain. “he didn't seem to be your type.” when you said nothing, she continued. “he didn't care about what you care about. god, it seemed like he was waiting for you to give up hockey.”

your stomach twisted at the thought.

jess laid her head on your shoulder and squeezed your knee. “i just want what’s best for you, and i think the best is just around the corner.”

the roadie was long, with you winning as many as you lost. and you couldn't blame anyone but yourself for it. your mind was divided, jess’s words as well as your mom’s ringing in your head, until one night, you were laying in bed, staring at the ceiling while jess was asleep in the other bed.

you glanced at the time and winced when it said 1:40am. 

but still you found yourself hitting mat’s contact.

“hello?” there was a loud bass sound on the other end, but he picked up after two rings.

you glanced at jess before walking outside in the hallway. “hey,” you said.

“what’s up? you okay?” it was music in the background, you figured out. probably some top 40 hit you hadn't heard because no one listens to the radio anymore.

you hummed and got on the elevator to head down to the lobby. “i’m fine.”

“then why're you calling me when you should be asleep? don’t you have a game tomorrow?”

“i think i’m gonna break up with peter.” you blurted out.

mat choked, the loud bass noises got quieter, like he'd walked into a hallway or outside. “you're what? what brought this on?”

“my mom and jess talked to me about it.” you sat in a chair in the lobby, your leg bouncing. “made me think that maybe peter is the wrong guy every time.”

“twitch i—”

“mat? are you coming back in? is everything okay?” grace. you would know her voice anywhere, it felt like.

“yeah i’ll be there in a sec, grace.” he cleared his throat. “listen twitch, i gotta go. let me know how that conversation goes, and good luck at your game. you're gonna do great.”

“no, yeah,” you said. “thanks mat, have fun.”

when he hung up, you continued to sit in that lobby, watching as couples stumbled in from the cold, giggling, drunk, and holding hands. you tried to remember a time where you'd been that happy holding peter’s hand, or when you'd ever been that giggly around him.

you couldn't think of a single instance.

you laughed when you were with him because you were funny. you smiled because you were having so much fun on the dates you planned.

as you made your way back up to your room, you took notice of the hollow sensation in your chest, the idea that it had all been for nothing, that you'd opened yourself up to more heartbreak in hopes that peter would be the one to make you fall in love.

you were in a canadian hotel hundreds of miles from home and mat was in a long island bar with grace.

and you weren't sure why it was that thought alone that kept you up all night.

when you finally made it back to new jersey, you wasted no time in going home and sending a text to peter.

you: we need to talk.

it didn't matter that it was nearly midnight. it didn't matter at all to you, because the truth was, while you were still young, you weren't going to waste any more time on a guy who was waiting for you to be someone you weren't.

you rehearsed a speech after morning skate the next day, trying to get your words right. yet when he came over with daisies in hand, the words fell out of your mouth.

“hey babe—”

“i want to break up.”

peter reeled back, the flowers he was holding out still in his hands, waiting for you to accept them. but the truth was:

you hated daisies.

“what?” he asked.

“i can't keep doing this anymore. i thought maybe this was our second chance, but maybe there shouldn't have been one at all.”

peter tossed the flowers on your coffee table and reached for you. “baby, you don't know what you're talking about. we work so well together.”

you took a step back. “do we? because you hardly come to my games, you don't even seem interested in them.”

he scoffed. “this again? i told you i’m busy—”

“doing what? happy hours with your douchebag friends from your douchebag job?” you ran your hand down your face. “god, we don't even care about each other’s passions!”

“passion? getting pieces of rubber flung at you is a passion?” he laughed. “that’s a hobby, you could be making so much more doing literally anything else.”

“it’s not about the money! i love hockey—”

“oh grow up! you’ll play hockey for what? another five years? and then what? you'll have to do what the rest of us do and find a real job.”

you stepped back again, his words striking a chord that hurt more than you anticipated. “we’re done,” you said, hoping your voice sounded stronger than you felt. “get out, and take those fuckass flowers with you.”

“baby—”

“no! stop! you don't get it and i’m done waiting around for you to understand hockey is it for me. i’m not gonna ‘grow up’ the way you think i need to. so just leave and find someone else willing to be what you want.”

peter gaped at you before he spun on his heel and slammed your front door shut.

the pictures on the wall rattled, but your hands and heart were steady.

guy four: ....?

there was no telling what his name was, you couldn't remember it to save your life. but his tongue was down your throat and his hands were wandering.

maybe this is what you were meant for, hookups and casual makeouts with random bartenders on their breaks.

you were halfway to second base when jess cleared her throat, snapping the two of you out of your heavy petting session. 

“the manager sent me to tell you it’s time to get back to the bar,” she said, eyes at the guy you were making out with.

he nodded and, in a flash, had disappeared among the crowd.

“are you okay?” she asked, taking the place against the wall the bartender had occupied.

“yeah, why wouldn't i be?”

jess fixed you with a look that had you shrinking just a little. she knew that you knew why she was concerned. since the break up, you'd been on a bender of sorts, hooking up left and right. which, wasn't bad, but it seemed counterintuitive to falling in love.

“maybe it’s time we go home. do you need a ride?”

you shook your head, you'd only had one drink an hour ago. it wasn't liquor that made you make out with a stranger. “i think i’m gonna go to my parents’ place. i’ll see you tomorrow for practice?”

jess didn't look convinced.

“i’ll be okay, my parents’ house is like the safest place i could be.”

she nodded and hugged you tight to her chest. “i love you, twitch. text me when you get there.”

you hugged her back just as tightly. “i will.”

the drive itself was only an hour, could've been shorter if you were more reckless with your car, but seeing as you weren't a millionaire, you played it safe. that, and you didn't want to have to call your dad to come pick you up if you wrecked your car.

you pulled into the driveway, sighing at the familiarity of it all. it took only a matter of minutes for you to unlock the door and head upstairs to your childhood bedroom. you pulled out clothes you'd never taken to jersey and crawled into bed, letting the sleep take over.

when you made your way down the stairs the next morning, it was to the smell of chocolate chip pancakes and bacon.

“i knew i heard you come in last night, squirt,” your dad said before taking a sip of his coffee. “how was the game?”

you plopped down in your seat as your mom handed you a plate of pancakes and bacon. “i broke up with peter a few days ago.”

your parents, to their credit, didn't choke or show any sign that they were shocked. your dad took another sip of coffee and your mom took her seat at the table.

“how're you feeling?” your mom asked.

you shrugged. “i feel like i should be more upset that it’s over.”

“but?”

you sighed and cut a piece of pancake with your fork and shoved the piece in your mouth. “but i’m not. i guess i’m just disappointed that i wasted more time.”

“it’s not wasted,” your dad said. “did you learn something new about him or yourself?”

after a moment, you nodded, feeling like you were back in high school again.

“then it wasn’t wasted.”

“i thought it would be him. i stupidly thought the right guy would be in front of me the whole time like the movies. was it childish? sure, but i thought maybe it would be my turn.”

the whole conversation felt too intense for breakfast, but your parents weren't showing any signs of backing off. 

“maybe the right guy still is,” your mom said. “we all suck at looking for things when we think we’re running out of time.”

your dad chuckled. “i can’t tell you how many times we found the lucky socks on top of the pile of laundry in the corner of your room after you said you lost them.” he reached across the table and squeezed your hand in his. “you have time to figure it out, squirt. why rush?”

why rush, indeed.

the next few days passed by in a monotonous montage. your social life was suffering and you hadn't heard from mat since the roadie when you called him. part of you was ashamed for bothering him when he was out with grace, but another part was overwhelmed with the idea that maybe your friendship was over.

he'd probably fallen in love first, he probably won the bet.

and for some reason, the thought made your stomach sink.

he was probably holding hands with grace and kissing her after games and bringing her favorite flowers because he took time to know that stuff. he probably opened doors for her and made her walk on the inside of sidewalk. he was probably on the road to falling in love with grace because she was perfect.

meanwhile, there you were, thinking peter was your ticket to a happily ever after like you'd dreamt of when you first watched sleeping beauty as a child. but he was just a guy, a guy who couldn't remember your coffee order or work schedule, a guy who expected you to be at his beck and call when he needed you, a guy who wanted you as arm candy while he waited for you to get a clue and grow up.

a guy you'd wasted time on for reasons unknown to you.

maybe it was loneliness, or a desperate need to be chosen by someone other than your parents, to be someone’s first priority, you weren't sure. it could've been any or all of those things.e all you knew now was you spent too much of your youth on him, you weren't spending anymore thinking about him.

you were laying in a vegetative state on your couch, watching reruns of temptation island when your phone vibrated next to you.

mat: hey! long time no see. are you busy tonight?

you blinked, but your fingers were moving faster before your brain could fully process what was happening.

you: nope! not at all

mat: cool. wanna come to the game tonight?

you blinked.

you: really?

mat: yeah. haven't seen you in a minute. i'd like to see you tonight. maybe catch up after the game?

you: sure!

you drove the hour to your parents’ place who were out of town for spring break. you parked in their driveway and started walking to ubs like you'd always done, this time alone.

mat texted you earlier to let you know that grace would have the passes to the locker room, to just follow her lead. 

she was all soft smiles when you met up with her, greeting you kindly. her eyes looked over your shoulder, furrowing when she didn't see something, you guessed.

“where’s peter?” she asked. “was he busy tonight?”

“oh,” you laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. “we broke up. so i don’t know where he is...”

grace’s smile faltered. “oh,” she said.

interpreting her fading smile as sympathy, you shrugged to diffuse the tension. “yeah but it’s fine, we weren't a good fit anyway. he didn't understand how important hockey is to me.” you sighed and looked around at the fans walking inside. “how're you and mat doing?”

you meant the question to be conversational, but when grace’s face twisted up, you realized you may have overstepped, though you couldn't figure out why. 

“things are...fine,” she said. “we should go sit down.”

you followed her lead to the seats, recognizing a few of the kids and wives mat had talked about before. however, you didn't wave, knowing good and well they probably had no idea who you were. nonetheless, the kids were cute.

over the course of the game, you tried to talk to grace as much as possible. you asked about her work (she works for a nonprofit helping disenfranchised students graduate high school) and complimented her outfit, yet she still seemed distant. there was a look in her eye that didn't quite match the energy you were giving her.

it didn't make much sense either when you followed her down to the locker room. she was quiet then too, which was odd, considering the isles won. thankfully, there wasn't much time to dwell on it because a brown haired woman came over and introduced herself.

“i’m holly,” she said. “i know grace, but i haven't met you yet.” and had anyone else said it, you might have felt insecure or out of place, but holly said it with such inviting warmth that you told her your name.

“but most people just call me twitch,” you admitted.

almost immediately she smirked with a knowing look in her eye. you weren't sure the cause. what could she possibly know just from a nickname?

“it’s nice to finally put a name with a face,” she said. in certain lighting, it looked like she wanted to say more until she realized grace was still there.

mat came out all smiles a beat later, his eyes widening slightly when he saw you talking to holly. he walked over and greeted grace first, kissing her sweetly, if you had to describe it (even if the thought made your stomach turn).

mat hugged you next, squeezing you tightly, before moving on to hug holly. 

“so,” he smiled. “what’d you think?”

“it was fun,” grace said quietly.

mat’s eyes landed on you, something you only knew because you were already staring at him. “you need to shoot the puck more. you’re playing hockey, not ping pong,” you stated. “assists are good, but so are goals.”

he rolled his eyes but smiled anyway. “a ‘good job, mat’ would've sufficed, you know.”

you laughed to yourself. “maybe, but your ego is big enough as it is.” then, a realization that grace was standing there, you cleared your throat. “besides, i’ll leave it to grace to inflate your ego. as your friend, i’m here to keep you humble.”

you glanced at grace who sent you a grateful smile.

mat wrapped his arm around his girlfriend’s waist and nodded at holly as she excused herself. his attention was drawn to the locker rooms as more of his teammates exited. your eyes were drawn to a tall man just now leaving. he glanced in your direction, waved at mat, and walked towards the parking garage.

you blinked once. twice. and turned to mat. “i need you to set me up with him.”

mat choked. “what?” 

“duclair, your teammate, i need you to set me up with him.”

mat blinked, then clenched his jaw and shook his head. “no.”

taken aback, you asked, “why? do you think it’d be a bad idea? is he a douchebag?”

“no.”

“then why?”

mat sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “do you need a ride to your parents’ house?”

“nope!” you popped the p. “i’m gonna walk back.”

mat immediately shook his head. “not happening. i’ll give you a ride.”

“it’s really not that big of a deal, i’m sure you and grace want to go out somewhere and celebrate—”

grace cut in. “let us get you home,” she said. “it’s not safe to be walking alone this late at night.”

you acquiesced and followed mat and grace to his car. the ride was quiet, silent except for the soft notes of a justin bieber song playing in the background. from your seat in the back, you saw mat reach to grab grace’s hand and watched in confusion as she moved out of his reach.  your stomach twisted when you saw the frown on his face, so you looked away quickly to get rid of the sensation. 

mat pulled up to your parents’ house and parked in the driveway.

“thanks,” you said quietly. “for the game and driving me home.” you turned your focus to grace, who was staring out of the passenger window. “it was nice seeing you, grace.”

she managed to turn over her shoulder and give you a slight smile. “you too.”

“let me walk you to the door,” mat said. you tried to protest, but he was already halfway out of the car before you could say anything.

“i’ll see you later,” you said to grace before hopping out of the car into the cold air. mat walked by your side to the front door and waited for you to pull your keys out before he said anything.

“thank you for coming tonight,” he said. “it was nice, seeing you there, after weeks of not seeing you.”

you smiled because you just couldn't help it, not when he looked so sincere. “anytime, mat.”

he reached for you, pulling you into another tight hug. “i’ll text you?” he asked.

“let me know when you get home.”

he nodded and pulled away. “i will.”

guy five: anthony

with the isles clinching a spot in the playoffs, you weren't fully expecting mat to text you any time soon. you'd kept up with his games enough to know he was playing well. and part of you felt smug that maybe he'd taken your words at his last game to heart.

you: congrats on clinching!

you started cleaning your apartment before you left to go to elmont. with the pwhl international break in full force, you were planning on taking advantage of your parents’ groceries and living situation. maybe you'd convince your parents to take off work and spend time with you, maybe you'd drive out to the hamptons or maybe see your cousin in connecticut, but you weren't going to skip town without cleaning first.

you’d just vacuumed the living room rug when your phone rang. 

mat’s name appeared on your home screen.

“hello?” you answered.

“hey! you busy tonight?”

“just headed up to see my parents. it’s the first week of the international break, so i figured i’d go spend some time with them.”

“when are you leaving?”

“as soon as i finish packing.”

“would you wanna come over when you get into town?”

“s-sure, is grace gonna be there? i don't wanna overstep—”

“we broke up.”

you nearly dropped the phone. “w-what?”

his sigh echoed through the receiver. “yeah...it’s a long story. i’ll text you my address.”

clothes were being thrown into a duffel bag. you had no idea if they even matched, you just knew you needed to get out of jersey as soon as possible.

“i’m leaving! i’ll be in town in about an hour?”

truthfully, the drive was the longest drive you'd ever taken. sure, you'd shaved off two minutes from your maniacal driving, but it wasn't fast enough. you wanted to know what happened, why they broke up—

why your heart was leaping in your chest at the revelation.

you arrived at mat’s place, a house in the suburbs, a house much nicer than the one you grew up in, which made sense considering the salary difference.

mat was leaned up against the doorframe of his front door as you pulled into the driveway. you were hopping out of the car as soon as you threw it in park.

“turn your car off, doofus!” he called with a hand framing his mouth.

heat rushed to your face as you reached back into the car to cut off the ignition. “whoops,” you said.

mat came down the stairs of his porch and grabbed your duffel bag from your hands. your eyes must've widened because he nudged you. “relax, you're not moving in, but i don't think it’s smart for you to leave your stuff in the car.”

you rolled your eyes. “this is the bougiest neighborhood around, mat.”

“and? where’s your wallet?”

your eyes widened as you went back to your car, digging around in your center console before pulling out a bundle of cards wrapped together with a hair tie. “here!” you held it up like it was a trophy, something to be proud of.

mat blinked. “you can't be serious.”

“what do you mean?”

he gestured to your hand. “you’re joking right? that’s not a wallet.”

“it’s fine! it works for me!” you waved it around before mat snatched it out of the air and started towards his front door. “hey come back with that!”

“you're not carrying your important information out in the open and tied together with a hair tie, that’s ridiculous.”

you followed him inside and watched as he placed your duffel bag on the ground in the entryway. you continued to follow him into the common area and towards a table with drawers.

“here,” he said, handing you a worn leather wallet out of one of the aforementioned drawers. “take this.”

“i can't take this,” you replied.

“sure you can, i’m not using it, so take it.”

you scrunched your nose up. “but it’s ugly.”

mat ran a hand down his face and sighed. “cards tied together with a hair tie is ugly. now take the damn wallet.”

you crossed your arms and refused to move. “no. i don’t want an ugly wallet.”

“it’s pure leather.”

“and it’s ugly.”

mat looked at you, with something akin to fondness and maybe a little of something else you couldn't place. and when he smiled the bright smile no one had been able to replicate, you took the wallet.

you studied the worn brown leather. maybe it was the lack of eye contact that gave you the courage to ask the question on the tip of your tongue since that morning. “why'd you and grace break up?”

mat cleared his throat. “want something to drink? i’m a little parched.” without saying another word, he walked towards what you assumed was his kitchen.

you followed, because of course you did. you watched as his t-shirt stretched over his back muscles and shoulders as he filled a cup with iced water. “are you gonna answer the question?”

he sighed and turned around, taking a sip of water in the process. “it just wasn't working.”

“but you seemed so happy!”

he shrugged. “she wasn't.” you waited for him to continue, but he didn't.

“are you okay?”

“i’m fine. wanna go sit?” he gestured towards the lush couches in the living room.

“are you gonna answer any of my questions directly?” you asked, following him and plopping on the couch only after he did it first.

mat sighed. “i don't know, i feel like i was so close to having what my teammates have.”

you nodded along, pulling your feet up onto the ottoman. “i get that. sometimes i think there's something fundamentally wrong with me, that's why no one stays.” mat froze next to you, even as you let out a bitter laugh. “i mean, i broke things off with all of the other guys but maybe i’m just not built for this—”

“there's nothing wrong with you,” he said with a certainty you wished you possessed.

you blinked. “huh?”

“there’s nothing wrong with you.” mat looked at his feet, propped up next to your own. “even if a genie gave me a wish, i wouldn't change a single thing about you.” there was something so childish about it that stuck with you, but not childish in a bad way, childish in the innocent sense. he said it with the same conviction as a little kid who still believed in santa claus. you couldn't help it, you looked at him, waiting for his eyes to meet your own. when he did, he gave you a small smile, before it evolved into a smirk. “even if you can't peel your oranges.”

you rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder. “asshole. at least i can stay on my feet on the ice.”

mat made an indignant noise. “that’s not fair! you hardly ever skate as fast as i do.”

you continued on like you didn't hear him. “all i know is the only times i end up on my ass during a game is because someone knocks into me.”

mat ignored your comment and reached for the remote by your feet. he pushed your feet off the ottoman and laughed when you yelped.

“you’re such a dick! i was comfortable!”

“that's what you get for being mean.” he tossed you the remote and hopped off the couch, heading back to the kitchen. “what’ve you been watching lately?” he asked from the other room.

“temptation island mostly!” you called back. “it’s trashy but—”

mat hopped over the back of the couch and landed next to you. “god i love temptation island.” he handed you a freshly peeled orange. “want one?”

there was no telling how long you'd stayed at mat’s place, or how many episodes that equated to. hell, it wasn't until mat woke you up that you'd realized you'd fallen asleep on his shoulder.

“hey,” he nudged you gently. “it’s like 9pm and all you've had since you got here was an orange. do you wanna order in?”

you inhaled and rubbed at your eyes, not realizing that the sun had set long ago. last you remembered it wasn't even six o’clock. granted, you didn't even remember falling asleep either, so who could really trust your memory?

you motioned to your phone which had made its way to the ottoman, though you couldn't remember ever placing it there...

mat grabbed it for you and winced when he saw the missed calls from your parents.

a slew of texts accompanied the missed calls, most asking where you were, if you were safe, if something had happened. one text from your dad said he was close to calling the cops, (a joke if you'd ever heard one, your dad didn't trust cops).

“i should probably get home before they send out a search party...” you were too busy messing with your phone to pull up your mom’s contact to notice the way mat’s face dropped.

“what're you doing tomorrow?” he asked, the words falling out of his mouth.

you stopped texting your mom to look at the way he waited for your answer, the way he seemed to hang onto the next words to leave your mouth. “i don't think i have anything going on...”

“come to my game?”

and when he looked at you like that, how could you say no?

the drive back to your parents’ house wasn't by any means long, but there was a longing in your heart you didn't recognize, like an invisible string was attached to mat’s house and the farther you got from him, the more unsettled you became.

you just didn't know why.

“where were you?” your dad asked the second you unlocked the front door.

“mat’s,” you said simply, missing the way your parents’ eyes widened while you locked the door behind you. however, you turned around just in time to see the smirks adorning their lips.

“oh?” your mom said, an odd tone in her voice. “and how is he doing?”

“he’s fine. i’m going to his game tomorrow.”

your mom’s eyebrows rose. “against the devils?”

“yep.”

“that's an intense game to go to,” your dad commented. “do you have anything to wear?”

you blinked and moved towards the kitchen. “what? is this an interrogation? i’m probably just gonna wear a sweatshirt and jeans, dad. it’s a game.”

your dad threw his hands up and did his best to look innocent. “just asking a question, squirt. how’s he feeling about their chances tomorrow?”

you shrugged yet again and opened the fridge. “we didn't talk about hockey.” your eyes searched the shelves in hopes of something that wouldn't require anything more than 90 seconds in the microwave. all you saw was lunchmeat and a giant ass block of cheese.

guess you'd have cereal for dinner.

“well, you were over there for a long time, what did you talk about, if not hockey?” your mom asked.

you turned around and scrutinized your parents, both of whom were on the literal edge of their seats. for once, your dad wasn't reclined in his chair with a newspaper and his readers on. his elbows were braced on his knees. and your mom wasn't working on sudoku like she usually did.

they both stared at you in a way you couldn't remember seeing before. “what're you two getting at? we just talked. mat and grace broke up and so we talked about that. and then we watched temptation island because mat hadn't seen the newest season.”

you cleared your throat when neither parent had anything to add. “and if that’s all, i’m gonna go shower.”

“tomorrow, tell mat we said hi!” your mom called up the stairs.

because you were a good daughter, you, in fact, called mat when you got to the arena the next day to relay your mother’s message.

“tell her i said hi back,” he laughed into the phone. it was rich and deep and flooded your stomach with a weird sensation you hadn't felt before. “speaking of, did she send the shirt with you?”

you adjusted the gift bag in your arms. your mother gave you strict instructions not to peek, so despite the fact that you wanted to, you respected her orders for once.

“i’ve got it in a gift bag, but i don’t think i’ll be able to take it in.”

“you didn't drive, did you?”

“mat, you've been to my parents’ house. you know i walk.”

a shuffling sound was heard on the other end. “hold on a sec, i’ll meet you outside.”

“you don't have to—”

“i’m not risking you taking a peek at the shirt. just give me five minutes to send an intern or someone to meet you.”

“you don't trust me?”

“not at all,” he said without an ounce of hesitation. “not with this.”

you huffed, but conceded. again, it was only the respect you had for your mother that kept you from looking at the shirt she made for mat. there was only one thing that could be on it. there was no doubt it was a baby picture of you, the real question was though, which embarrassing photo did mat pick?

before you could even go down that rabbit hole, a young woman was rushing out and meeting you by the entrance.

“hi,” she said, slightly out of breath. “you had something for mr. barzal?”

you almost laughed at the formality of his name, but you managed to hold it back. “yes,” you said and held out the gift bag to her. “i think my mom put some brownies in there for him, but i wasn’t allowed to peek so i can’t say one way or the other.”

she nodded but looked at you like you were speaking another language. “anything else i should tell him?” she asked.

you shook your head. “nope. that’s all.”

in a flash, she was gone again, leaving you standing by the entrance of ubs, waiting for the doors to open. there was a small part of you that regretted walking simply because it meant you had nowhere to go until the game started, but then you remembered the expensive ass parking and walking sounded like a better option.

at least it hadn't rained.

when the doors opened, you were one of many people heading straight towards your seats. you didn't make enough money to justify spending money on stadium food, but you were most definitely treating yourself to a soft pretzel anyway. so what if it was a little early, you were hungry and there was nothing like a soft pretzel while waiting for a hockey game to start.

by the time you made it to your seat, most of the wags were already there. mat warned you ahead of time where your seat would be, and it didn't seem like that big of an issue at the time. but standing among them now seemed a little daunting.

until you saw holly.

“hey!” she smiled, one arm holding her daughter on her hip, the other hand holding her son’s. “mat told me you were coming!”

you blinked. “he did?”

holly nodded. “it’s good to see you again. you picked a good game to come to.”

“it’s not quite the battle of new york, but i’m happy to be here either way.” with a quick glance around the arena, it was clear that seats were filling fast. it would be packed in no time.

you were glad you got your soft pretzel when you did. you took a bite as holly led you to your seat which was conveniently next to hers. you put a reminder in your phone to thank mat whenever you saw him next.

seeing him next happened sooner than you expected because as soon as he came out onto the ice, after doing a few laps, he skated in your general direction.

there was no legitimate reason why your stomach should've flipped when he bent down and waved at holly’s kids, or why your knees got a little weak when he threw a puck over the glass for a stranger.

he stopped in front of you this time, and smiled so big you swore you could see his molars. that, you'd decided in that very moment, was your favorite smile of his.  some people, you thought, looked crazy or insane when they cackled like mat did, but it wasn't like that with him. the way mat laughed, smiled, snarked, and smirked made your insides do somersaults.

you'd never felt like this with any of your other friends. maybe it was a feeling reserved for friendship with guys instead?

mat knocked on the glass in front of you and smiled before he skated back to finish his warm ups.

your cheeks felt warm whenever the two of you made eye contact, and you couldn't figure out why. you especially didn't know why holly kept looking at you out of the corner of her eye and then proceed to smile lightly.

it didn't make sense. but you didn't dwell on it either.

the game started shortly thereafter and it was electrifying. the crowd was screaming, yelling, banging on the glass. one guy a few rows over called jack hughes a bitch as he was crosschecked into the boards.

what a time to be alive.

you were almost positive you'd be hoarse and your ears would be ringing for the rest of the night.

once mat scored a goal and you shot out of your seat, you were well on your way to not speaking for the rest of the week. you'd have to apologize to your team later. maybe your mom could make a warm cup of tea for you when you got home to help mitigate the consequences of your excitement.

mat scored again two minutes later, crouching down low and yelling while shaking his fists like he always did for a celly.

right before the end of the third, mat scored again. hats rained down from all parts of the arena. mat’s smile was wider than you'd seen it. there were tears forming in your eyes, joy afresh in your bones.

he'd deserved this, was all you could think about.

he'd deserved it all.

you walked with holly down to the locker rooms and spent time chatting with her. though, if you were being honest, you were just buying time until mat came out.

he didn't leave you waiting for long. he walked out, wet hair, suit on, and smiling. his eyes lit up when he saw you with holly.

your legs were moving towards him before you even registered what was happening. your arms wrapped themselves around his neck, breathing in his body wash. “i’m so proud of you,” you mumbled into his shoulder. “this is so exciting.”

he squeezed you back just as tightly. “thank you for being here.”

you pulled back as much as he would allow and smiled. “wouldn't wanna be anywhere else.”

there was no telling how long the two of you stood like that until the eye contact grew intense and had you stepping back.

a hand clapped mat on the shoulder. your eyes followed the lines of his arm until they landed on anthony duclair’s face.

“good game tonight, barzy,” he said before nodding at you and turning on his heel and walking away.

as soon as duclair was out of earshot, you turned to mat. “i want his number.”

mat’s jaw clenched. “no.”

“why not?”

“no.”

“mat, that's not an answer.”

he hitched his bag over his shoulder. “are you coming over?”

while you wanted to press him more, standing outside of the locker room was not the place to do it, so you nodded and let him guide you to the parking lot. he placed a hand ghosting over your lower back.

and if you’d walked slower just to keep his hand on you, who could blame you?

the car ride was quiet except for the music playing softly over the speakers. mat’s fingers drummed on the steering wheel when they weren't too busy white knuckling the leather.

he didn't say anything when he pulled his car into the garage either. you just followed him inside and attempted to wait for him to say something. but when the silence became deafening, you spoke up.

“mat, what’s going on? you haven't said a word since we left the arena, which, might i add, is unusual given how you're a top tier yapper any other time—”

“i don't get it,” he started, cutting your rambling short. “i had a hat trick tonight and you still want to date my teammate. what do i need to do to win you over? to give us a shot?”

you blinked like he was speaking a different language. what the fuck was he talking about? “i don't know what you mean.”

he ran a hand down his face and sighed. “c’mon twitch, you’re smart. you have to know by now.” mat reaches for his game day bag and pulls out the gift bag you gave the intern earlier in the evening. “this,” he said. “this is what i mean.” he tossed the bag to you, which you caught with ease. “open it.”

“mat, this is for you,” you explained slowly. “my mom said you wanted a shirt—”

“look at it,” he said. “i already know what’s on it. i picked out the picture myself.”

you looked at him with his hands on his hips shifting his weight from side to side. even before rivalry games, before his dates with other girls, you'd never seen him this antsy. you'd do anything to keep him from looking like that, so you pulled the shirt out of the bag and let it unravel as the bag fell to your feet.

and unravel it did.

the picture rendered you speechless. when mat was taking photos on his phone all those weeks ago (or was it months? you could barely remember a time when mat wasn’t in your life at that point. time ceased to matter when you were around him.), you assumed it was the photo of you in your amish outfit holding a candlestick next to your aunt’s antique butter churner. but it wasn’t. no, the picture wasn’t anything goofy or humiliating like you were anticipating.

you were six and missing one front tooth. there were two braids resting on your shoulders. you wore a pair of cinderella plastic high heels. but none of those things caught your attention.

it was the adult new york islanders jersey you were wearing that caught your attention. the jersey was your dad’s and came down to your ankles, but that wasn't the reason you were transfixed.

it was claude lapointe’s jersey.

the number 13 on the sleeve felt like a brand.

you scrutinized the image a moment more before looking up at him. “why this photo?”

mat looked at you, his eyes softening just a little. “don't play dumb, twitch. you know why.”

“if this is about the bet, mat—”

“—who cares about the bet? i don’t even remember the bet! i just know that if you’re gonna date a hockey player, i want it to be me.”

any oxygen left in your lungs suddenly disappeared. you couldn't breathe, couldn't think. there was no way this was real.

“...what?” you squeaked out. “mat what’re you..huh?” you took a step back, the shirt dropping to the floor.

he gestured to the shirt. “i don't remember what the bet was about, i don't remember what i’d get if i won. and i don’t care. because all i want is you.” mat took a step towards you and scooped the shirt off the ground. “i’m not giving duclair your number because if you’re gonna date an islander, i want it to be me.”

“me?” you pointed to yourself.

he laughed just enough to crack a smile. “who else?” mat took another step closer, the distance between you two ever shrinking. “i just want to be enough for you, i want to peel every orange, and buy bags of starbursts to look for red ones. i want to carry your goalie bag after your shut outs and when you give up seven points. i want to see you wear my jersey. i want to wear yours. i want...”

his words faded out as a memory took over your brain.

“it’s time for you to start carrying your own goalie bag and peeling your oranges, now.

draft day seemed so long ago when your dad said it. but standing in mat’s living room felt like that same level of euphoria, a high you'd been chasing since being drafted to the sirens.

in college, you would've scoffed at the idea of some guy confessing feelings for you feeling as important as your draft day. but he wasn't just some guy, was he?

he was mat.

and mat had always been different.

“i know you said you don’t hook up with hockey players, but would you consider dating one?” mat asked, still shifting his weight, looking more unsure than you'd ever seen, even when he went against the rangers a few weeks ago.

“you don’t think i’m weird?” you asked.

he smiled. “i think you're the weirdest girl i know. and i love it.” mat cleared his throat and shifted again. “i love you.”

there was no helping the smile lighting up your face as you closed the distance between your bodies. “even if i sleep with socks on?”

mat reached out and hooked his thumbs in your belt loops, pulling you closer until you nearly went cross eyed trying to maintain eye contact. “mhm,” he hummed.

“even if my wallet is a hair tie holding all my cards together?”

“i thought i gave you one—” he cut himself off and shook his head. “yes, even that.”

“what about—”

“twitch, there's nothing you could do to change my mind. i love you, quirks and all.”

you couldn't stop the smile on your face. “you love me.” a statement, no questions.

“i love you,” he said before clearing his throat. “do you—”

you stood on your toes and pressed your lips to his. you'd kissed a number boys in your lifetime, but nothing could compare to mat. not the way his arms circled your waist and brought you closer. not the way his nose bumped into yours, and certainly not the way he moaned into your mouth that sent shivers down your spine.

“i love you, mat.”

and that smile, that grin you loved so much made another appearance. it made your stomach flip like it always did when you realized you were the cause of his happiness.

“wait,” you said. “who wins the bet?”

mat rolled his eyes and pulled you impossibly closer. “who gives a fuck?”

“i do! i want to win.”

mat rolled his eyes but there was no mistaking the smile still on his lips. “you won. i’ll peel your oranges for as long as we’re both alive as long as you're mine.”

and you couldn't stop the grin appearing on your face, the kind of grin that made your eyes scrunch up.

“you've got yourself a deal.”

the last guy: mat

[callikari]

──────── 🚋 INVISIBLE STRING

。 some invisible string, tying you to me ..

... 이희승 x 𝒻em!reader && fluff strangers to friends to lovers !! 1350 wc (..◜ᴗ◝..) no warnings, just pure fluff > <

【 more like this ☎️ 】

the first time you meet heeseung, it’s at a dinner party your friend hana throws in her tiny west village apartment—half lit by candles, music playing softly from a bluetooth speaker, pasta slightly overcooked but made with love.

he’s wearing a dark sweater, sleeves pushed up to his forearms, hair a little tousled like he didn’t try too hard (but somehow still looked annoyingly perfect). he’s seated across from you, sipping wine like it’s water and smiling gently when you speak.

the conversation flows. not forced, not heavy. just… easy. he tells you he writes music sometimes—just for himself, “nothing crazy.” you tell him about your favorite film, and he jots it down in his notes app like it matters.

you laugh more than you have in weeks.

you both linger a little too long after dessert.

someone mentions going out for drinks after, but you both say you’re tired—though neither of you really want the night to end.

you think about asking for his number.

you think he might be about to ask for yours.

but then—distracted goodbyes, coats being handed out, laughter echoing down stairwells. and suddenly he’s gone.

you never got his contact.

and now you can’t stop thinking about him.

a week later, you’re in your friend’s apartment again, dramatically flopped on the couch, holding a mug of tea like a victorian widow.

“i’m serious,” you sigh. “he’s the one. i know that sounds crazy but trust me—heeseung is the one.”

hana snorts, scrolling through her phone. “you spoke to him once.”

“and it was the best conversation of my life,” you mutter. “i felt it. fate. like, taylor swift lyric fate.”

“you forgot to get his number.”

“that’s the tragic part of the love story, hana.”

you try to let it go.

you try not to check every café window, every bookstore door, just in case.

but then fate does what fate does best.

it’s three weeks later. cold wind, red leaves everywhere. you’re leaving your favorite used bookstore on west 4th street, cinnamon roll in one hand, tote bag in the other. and then—

“hey.”

you look up.

it’s him. heeseung. in a tan coat, scarf around his neck, holding a coffee like he’s walked straight out of a film.

for a second, you just blink.

he looks like he’s doing the same.

“you’re—”

“we met at hana’s,” he says at the exact same time. you both laugh.

“i was hoping i’d run into you again,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “i, uh, never got your number.”

you smile, heart flipping. “well. guess fate wanted a second chance.”

from then on, it’s soft and slow and sweet.

a series of little moments that string themselves together like poetry.

late afternoons walking through the west village, sharing an umbrella when it starts to rain.

heeseung waiting outside your building with a coffee just the way you like it.

quiet bookstore dates, knees brushing under the table.

him reaching for your hand one day without thinking—and not letting go.

you learn heeseung is shy in the warmest way. he writes melodies on napkins, hums under his breath when he’s thinking. he always listens—really listens. remembers every detail, no matter how small.

he calls you on sunday mornings just to say good luck on your errands.

you start leaving little notes in his coat pocket.

the kiss happens on a thursday.

you’re in his apartment—tiny and full of character, walls covered in records and books and fairy lights. the heater’s clanking, the window’s cracked open, and a jazz record spins in the background like something out of a movie.

you’re sitting side by side on the floor, sharing a blanket, both too tired to talk but too happy to move.

“this is nice,” you murmur.

heeseung turns to look at you, eyes warm and unreadable.

“yeah,” he says softly. “it is.”

a pause.

your heart stumbles.

“can i…” he starts, then laughs under his breath. “wow, i sound like a movie character.”

“you were gonna ask if you could kiss me,” you say, smiling shyly.

he nods.

you lean in first.

the kiss is gentle—soft, like everything he is. his hand finds your cheek, your fingers curl into the sleeve of his sweater. it’s not rushed. it’s not perfect. but it feels real.

you pull back just enough to whisper, “told you you were the one.”

heeseung grins. “so did fate.”

and from that moment on—

it’s you and him.

always.

a thread tying you through time, tugging quietly until it brought you home.

“time, curious time…”

and you believe it.

enha taglist :: @ash-engen @chrrific @cheruphic @jungwonbropls @ijustreallylike2read @brazillianqueen123

© callikari — all rights reserved

[kikidoul]

── BEACH WEATHER.

ヾ(´︶`♡)ﾉ 박종성 x fem! reader content strangers to lust trope ᥫ᭡ warning explicit sexual content usage of petnames open ending used jay being a green flag protected sex fingering pussy eating aftercare both reader and jay have experience lmk if i didn't tagged anything else. . .!? 2420— mlist. req

note. second time writing jay and i think i did a decent job writing for him! also would like to share that i kinda cringed when i was writing him and reader's interaction. i hope this meets your expectations hehe. can i count this as a happy belated birthday to jay though... taglist. @tfwbluu @hoonstqr @riqomi

This is a horrible idea. 

You sighed for the unknown time after rejecting a stranger’s offer of him buying you a drink. You knew the implication behind his seemingly innocent, friendly offer and you didn’t want to take the chance. You leaned back in your seat, crossing your arms with a scowl on your face as you scanned the sea of people before you. But it was futile. You couldn’t find your friends, the very same group of friends who promised they will stick with you and won’t leave you alone. 

You were at a beach party, having decided to go on a much-needed vacation to the beach with your friends to celebrate the start of your holidays. When you were told there will be a party happening at night, your friends begged for you to join them. At first, you declined because you weren’t a party person and you wanted to spend your night under the sheets to read your favorite book. But your friends were persistent, which brings you to your current dilemma.

Unlike a regular nightclub, the beach party is open-air with loud, edm music playing in the background. Thankfully, there was a bar that allows you to sit back, have a drink while you enjoy the fresh air. Well, that was the plan until three guys approached you, back to back with the intention of doing something more than just having a drink. 

“Hello, you look annoyed.” 

Ugh great. 

Rolling your eyes, you prepared yourself as you looked to your side, only to pause when a handsome man appeared before you. He has honey-toned skin, messy pitch-black hair from the wind blowing past and a sharp jawline that you might cut your finger with a simple graze and his features were something crafted from the hands of Gods and Goddesses. To put it simply; he was really attractive, enough to make you feel flustered when you realised you had piqued his interest. 

“Was that a question or an observation?” You asked, maintaining your politeness while keeping your guard up. 

The stranger chuckled, his eyes crinkling as he stood beside you while keeping some distance. The small, kind and thoughtful act made your heart skip a beat. “That was an observation. I’ve been looking at you for a while now and I have to say, you’re really beautiful. I don’t think words are enough to do you justice.”

You could only pray that he won’t notice your reddened ears and cheeks at his honesty and sincerity. “Why thank you. You sure have a way with words, don’t you? Do you talk like this to other women too? Or is it just me?” 

You weren’t sure where you got the confidence, but you were pleased with his reaction: eyes widening slightly at your response before he composed himself, eyes gleaming in mischief and amusement. 

He leaned in slightly, a movement so small but you caught it anyways, a sly and suggestive grin stretching across his face. “What if I were to say it’s just you? Would you accept my offer?”

You decide to play along and copy his expression. “And what would your offer be?” 

“How about you and I get a drink later? My treat.” 

You arched an eyebrow, impressed with his bold move. Both of you knew there won’t be any drinking done, considering how he was undressing you with his lust-filled eyes. 

“Sure, that sounds lovely.”

~

As expected, you found yourself in his room. Clothes were hurriedly removed and tossed to the carpeted floor without a care in the world. Unlike the previous hook-ups you have done, he was gentle. The way he treated you was as if you were a fragile piece of glass that could shatter at any moment, if he wasn’t careful enough. You could tell he has plenty of experience with how he ate you out. 

“F-Fuck, don’t stop, please,” you whined, eyelids fluttering shut as he plunged his tongue deeper and at the same time, pushing two fingers in until he was knuckles-deep. 

He groaned at how tight you felt, your velvety, gummy walls clinging onto his fingers without any intention of letting him go. He crooked his fingers, grinning at how you physically flinched and he knew he had hit bullseye. He audibly moaned against your pussy when you grabbed a fistful of his hair, your thighs locking him in place. He didn’t care if you were choking him to death. If this was how he goes out, he wouldn’t mind it at all. 

He alternated between giving sweet, quick kitten licks and harsh, long swipes of his tongue, giving you whiplash. To Jay, your sounds are the sweetest sounds he has heard, like music to his ears and he wants to hear more. He wants to see you falling apart under him. He wants you to remember him when you do this with someone else, someone else that isn’t him. 

He lets you grind yourself on his nose, causing you to gasp when you find the perfect angle. Your back arched off the bed when you felt your orgasm coming. You tried to say something, anything but your mind turned to mush when he gave a harsh suck to the sensitive bud peeking out. And that was enough to tip you over the edge. You tried to pull him away but it was futile. His strength easily overwhelmed yours and it’s like he wants to be buried deep in your pussy.

You let out a high-pitched cry as he greedily slurps away, like he was a famished kitten drinking from a plate of warm milk. Your limbs felt boneless the moment it was over, your thighs slumping on his shoulders and your grip loosened on his hair. Jay finally moved away and seeing how his face was drenched in your slick, his lips glistening under the lights and some had even landed on his forehead made your cheeks flushed red. 

Jay wiped them away with the back of his hand, tongue darting out—the very same tongue that made you feel like you were floating, to clean his damp lips. Your throat felt dry, nervously swallowing as your hands laid by your sides. He shifted backwards so he could get off the bed but you stopped by, grabbing his wrist and he gave you a questioning look.

“Wait, what about you?” You asked, eyes glancing down to the bulge in his pants.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “It’s fine, don’t worry about me. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” 

You light-heartedly rolled your eyes. “I’m fine with you fucking me, but with a condom of course.” 

“Oh.” 

You laughed at how he stared at you, taken aback with your consent and words. You motioned for him to come over with two fingers, a coy grin on your face as you spread your legs, snickering at how his eyes trailed down, lingering in the spot between your legs. “What’re you waiting for, pretty boy? Get to it or I’ll leave.” 

He didn’t need to think twice, fumbling through the bedside drawer and pulling out a small box of condoms. The sight made you raise an eyebrow. 

“Do you always bring that with you?” You questioned, pushing yourself further up on the bed and repositioned the pillow as you laid your head on it, along with sliding another pillow underneath your hips for support. 

“Uh, my friends bought it as a birthday gift to me. It’s stupid—I mean, they’re stupid,” he stuttered, hands managing to tear the transparent packaging. He got to his knees and that was when you saw it. 

Your mouth moved before your mind could process the words. “I don’t think that’s going to fit.” 

He paused in the midst of sliding the condom over his hardened, standing upright cock that stood proudly as it rested against his stomach. “I’ll make sure it fits, princess. Just lay back and look pretty, can you do that for me?” 

You nodded, feeling shy at the sudden usage of the pet name. You watched as he moved with confidence, like he knows what he’s doing. He positioned himself in between your legs, gently gripping onto your upper left thigh and aligned himself with your entrance. Your breath hitched at the feeling of his tip gliding against your still puffy folds, gathering the remaining slick. His eyes softened at the sight of your hesitation, rubbing circles on your skin. 

“Hey, it’s fine. Just calm down and relax for me,” he assures you. “I won’t put it in until you allow me to. I’ll wait for you, princess.” 

Biting down onto your lip, you nodded, nails digging into the soft sheets beneath you. “...Go ahead.” 

Instead of slamming in in one go, he slowly pushes in inch by inch. It felt like decades when he finally bottomed out, eliciting pleased sounds from both of you. Your head spins at how full you feel just from his cock alone. He didn’t move, eyes focused on your face while searching for any signs of discomfort. He was patient and that was something rare in the hook-ups you have done. 

“You can move,” you gave him the greenlight and he hummed, adjusting himself. 

The slight movement caused his cock to rub against your walls, drawing a blissed-out sigh from you. He pulled out until his tip was still inside before pushing back in and repeated the movement, keeping a steady pace but it was enough to draw soft “ah-ah-ah” from you. You tilted your head back, raising your left leg and he got the hint—slinging it over his left shoulder. The small change of angle allows him to slide and hit deeper. He was practically kissing your cervix, with how deep he could go. 

Lewd sounds of skin against skin combined with your moans and his groans echoed amongst the four walls of the hotel room. You were sure whoever walked past would know what you’re doing. The thought of the chances of people hearing you made you clenched down on his cock, drawing a hiss from him. 

“Fuck, you sure you’ve done this before? You’re so tight like a virgin,” he gasped, voice hoarse. He already sounds ragged, his previous calm and collected composure slowly fading away. 

“Ngh, m-more,” you whined, eyes rolling to the back of your head when his cock hit the spot that made your legs spasm. 

“Yeah? You want more? Your greedy pussy is not satisfied with what I’m giving?” He sneers, the sudden change of his personality leaves you speechless. 

But you were too far gone to think straight, getting drunk on the intoxicating, addictive and heavenly feeling of him thrusting into you. You could only let out a whimper, the sound making him smirked. He readjusted his hands, moving from your thighs to your hips and with new found strength, he increased his pace, fucking into you without mercy. 

“Oh god, s-so good, hah,” you cried out, words borderline slurring as you succumbed to it. 

You knew you were reaching your climax when your muscles tightened, like a rubber band stretched to its limit and how your legs were already shaking. All it took was one final sharp thrust and you came with a cry. He, on the other hand, showed no signs of slowing down and continued snapping his hips against yours as he fucks you through your orgasm. All you could do was to lay there, allowing him to use you to reach his climax. 

You shuddered when he spilled into the condom, able to feel the warmth of his cum through the thin fabric of the condom. He slowly pulled out, making you wince at the sudden uncomfortable feeling of emptiness, quickly tying the condom and tossed it into the bin with terrifying accuracy. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling back some of the strands that were stuck onto his forehead. 

“Wait here, I’ll be back,” he said, not waiting for your response before going to the bathroom. His words made you snort, as you couldn’t move an inch, not after what he did. 

He returned a few seconds later, holding a damp towel and took his care in wiping you clean. When he was done, he passed you a plastic bottle of water, even going the extra mile by helping you in drinking it by supporting the back of your neck, like how a mother would do to her newborn baby. He then removed the stained sheets, tossing them to the floor, which will be a problem for the housekeeper tomorrow. Once you were properly hydrated, he moved to where his luggage was, dug through his clothes and handed you a set of his own. 

“Uh, I’m not sure if you’d prefer wearing your own clothes or if you don’t mind, you could wear mine for the night. No pressure or anything,” he said, looking everywhere else but you. 

“Sure, I don’t mind,” you shrugged your shoulders, accepting the clothes and putting them on after slipping back into your underwear, looking down to see his shirt reaching your thighs. Still, you wore the shorts, which acted more like pants for you. 

“You can stay here for the night if you want,” he said, eyes searching your face, afraid he might be taking it too far. 

Your eyes softened as you nodded in silence and his shoulders sagged with relief. He quickly wore his clothes and the two of you made yourselves comfortable on the bed, pulling the covers up until it reached your chins. It didn’t took you long to fall asleep, sharing the bed with someone who you had just fucked. 

The very next morning, you woke up to an empty room. His luggage was gone too. You looked to your side, surprised to see that your clothes were neatly folded and placed on the bed. But what caught your attention was a note placed on the bedside drawer. Reaching over, you opened it and read the handwritten message. 

Hey, 

I realised that I didn’t get your name and that’s very rude of me. Sorry that I didn’t wake you up as I had to leave for the airport. But if you’d like, perhaps we can get to know one another more? You can text me if you want. I’ve left my number below. Oh and, you can keep my clothes. They look better on you ;)

Regards,  Park Jongseong (Jay) xx-xxxx-xxxx

[tsumuus]

"Wait, you mean-?"

You looked up, meeting his eyes. "Yeah, Bakugou. I mean you."

Bakugou's eyes widened, the weight of your words sinking in slowly. The room seemed to grow quieter, the bustling noise of the celebration fading into the background as he processed what you had just said.

You waited patiently, a mixture of hope and anxiety in your eyes. The noise of the party seemed to fade into the background, leaving the two of you in a bubble of your own.

"You... like me?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper, as if saying it too loudly might break the fragile moment.

You nodded, your cheeks growing even redder. "Yeah, I have for a while. But I didn’t think you’d ever see me that way."

He stared at you, his mind racing. You had always been there, a constant presence in his life. He had just never considered that you might see him as more than a friend, more than a hero.

"I'm an idiot," he muttered, more to himself than to you.

You laughed softly, a nervous sound. "Maybe a little. But it's not entirely your fault. You've been busy saving the world and all."

Bakugou's gaze softened as he looked at you. "Why didn’t you say anything before?"

You shrugged, looking down at your plate again. "I didn’t want to make things awkward. And honestly, I wasn’t sure if you’d ever be interested in anything other than being the number one hero."

He reached out, hesitantly placing his hand over yours. "I... I didn’t know. I’m sorry if I made you feel like you didn’t matter."

You looked up at him, surprised by the gentle tone in his voice. "You don’t have to apologize, Bakugou. I understand."

He shook his head. "No, you don’t. I’ve been so focused on my career, I never stopped to think about anything else. But maybe... maybe it's time I started paying attention to more than just being the best."

A small smile tugged at your lips. "Does that mean you might consider giving us a chance?"

Bakugou took a deep breath, the unfamiliar territory making him feel vulnerable. "Yeah, I think I would. But I don’t want to mess this up."

"You won’t," you assured him. "We’ll figure it out together."

He nodded, feeling a strange sense of hope and excitement bubbling up inside him. "Together, huh?"

"Yeah," you said, squeezing his hand. "Together."

The noise of the party slowly came back into focus, but this time, it felt different. The weight that had been pressing down on Bakugou lifted, replaced by a newfound sense of purpose and possibility. He wasn’t just a hero anymore; he was someone who could also have love and happiness in his life.

As the night went on, you and Bakugou talked and laughed, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing moment. And for the first time in a long while, Bakugou felt like he wasn’t falling behind. Instead, he was exactly where he needed to be, with you by his side.

part two of this fic

a/n never really planned on writing a part two of my previous post. orignally, when i was writing the first part my mind went blank and couldn't continue it any further. but that post blew up and became my most popular fic so i felt as if i had to write a part two😭😭 not really proud of this though, not my best work lol

masterlist

[dreamsteddie]

I might make this into a longer thing later, but I'm listening to my copy of Kid A again and thinking about its background and, of course, my mind immediately went to Eddie Munson.

He makes it big as a rock star, and the entire band has massive success. They tour and write and live on the road and they become a household name. But with that comes commercialism and copycats and a deep understanding of how the industry works as a money machine rather and not a music haven.

As more and more people start copying their sound and turning them into a brand, he starts to become disillusioned by the manufactured idea of a "rock star" that he's been playing into. The guys are all feeling the same way, and with Eddie facing crippling writers block they decide to take a break.

Not from music, no, but from rock and roll. Eddie buys them a big farmhouse in the woods, and they all retreat there. He and Steve have been unlawfully married for seven years at this point, and Steve has been supporting Eddie through everything and is completely on board with the change of scenery.

Eddie spends hours listening to electronic music and fiddling with an old organ he had brought to the new house, immersing himself in unfamiliar territories to recapture the feeling of discovery music used to ignite in him. The guys all do the same, sequestering themselves in different parts of the house to experiment and just be bad at something again.

Steve, though, finds himself feeling left behind. More than he even felt when Eddie was away for months at a time on tour. Eddie is so focused, he spends hours walking along the clifside on the edge of their property, staring out into the wilderness with his headphones on. Sometimes he's gone from sunup to sundown. He still holds Steve at night and tells him he loves him and they have good moments, moments that Steve holds close to his chest.

But Eddie is so focused, on the verge of finding a new sound, that even when he's holding Steve, he's somewhere else in his head. Eventually, the times he feels far away far outnumber the times he feels close, and Steve starts to wonder if maybe a new sound also means a new life, one without room for old lovers.

[am-i-interrupting]

Hi, sorry to bother you but might I request a head over heels, tripping over himself, bumping into things when he hears her name love-struck dumb, old silco? As a former full service SW, he just has puppy dog, clingy written all over him. 🤣

Favors for Favors

Silco had only been half listening to the report that Sevika was giving. It wasn’t anything important. Nothing which needed his direct attention. It was all simply things he should be passingly aware of.

The scratch of his pen was a nice background to her smooth, husked voice. This was a routine the two were both well adjusted to. It hadn’t changed in some time.

Whether or not he should respond to Madame Margot’s request for more funding for guards ran on his mind. She was one of the more competent. Her lady’s brought in a lot of money, very little of which she actually have to the cause and he knew that.

Most of it went towards the luxuries of her business. Keeping rooms nice, pillows fluffed, dolls dressed in a manner of speaking.

He twisted his pen in his hand as he thought.

She was the one he was most familiar with.

Yes, there were others. Renni and her child workers, as she called them, and a warehouse full of shimmer. Chross and his secrets and fast working hit men. Smeech and his loud mouth which didn’t suit the prosthetics he had made. Finn and his. . . Whatever it was exactly he did.

Margot though was something of a collection of all of them. She had the public favor of Finn. She had the will to survive of Smeech. She held secrets and spread shimmer with her workers.

By far she was the most useful of them all.

Silco was in the middle of responding to her request with approval when his ears perked at a name, your name. His pen faltered for a moment. His eyes flicked up to where Sevika stood.

She scoffed. “You really are down bad, aren’t you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Nothing. Forget it. Did you even hear the last ten minutes or just that last name?” she asked with a bit of humor in her eyes.

Silco’s lip twitched upward. His gaze went back down.

“You were saying about the layoff happening in the docks?”

“I stopped talking about that seven minutes ago, boss,” she said.

He cut her a look and she had the audacity to smile to herself. It was a bit smug and not at all subtle.

“But profits have raised since your girl started,” she said.

He continued to write his approval. “The only girl that is mine is Jinx,” he retorted.

“Uh-huh, sure.”

It was rare that Silco got the chance to banter anymore. It’d been years but some days when Sevika was tired and probably at least a bit tipsy and not in an entirely foul mood, she would joke.

He didn’t admit it but it was small moments like these that he was found of.

She leaned against the desk. Her face got close to his. Her arm sat just above the top of the paper which was still wet with ink.

The smell of tequila was on her breath. Not strong but not weak either.

“Do me a favor, just get fucking laid,” she said.

She pushed herself up. She turned and walked out.

“Only if you do the same,” he said right before she closed the door.

He heard her snort right before there was click of lock sliding in place.

It was two days later when Sevika knocked on his door. He welcomed her in but she merely opened it enough to peak her head inside.

“I held up on my favor,” she said, “now hold up on yours or at least go down there and get a drink.”

It wasn’t late in the night when those words echoed in his mind but rather very early in the morning.

Maybe he should. Maybe he would.

He went downstairs.

“Chuck, go home,” he heard your voice say as he neared the bottom.

“I’m fine,” a hoarse voice replied, gravely and that clearly of a chainsmoker.

“No, you’re not. You got a glass thrown at you. Just let me take care of closing up.”

“Not what I’m paid to do.”

“I believe,” Silco said as he stepped into view, “what I pay you to do is serve drinks.”

Chuck’s lip curled upward into a snarl. He took the wordless demand and turned to his other side.

His sleeve was covered in blood, still wet even just looking. There were small nicks and a very large gash. It curled around his bicep and dug into it.

“Should I request the Doctor give you visit or would you prefer your means?” Silco asked as he looked at the wound. Chuck’s silence was reply. “Very well then. I highly suggest you take advantage the kindness being gifted to you. It’s rarity these days.”

“Fine,” Chuck said through gritted teeth.

When the door slammed shut, Silco finally looked at you. You had a small, pleased smile on your face. Your chin was held by your hand. Eyes were fixed on him.

Silco took a deep breath and tried to will down that little jump his heart tried to do, aiming for his throat.

“You’re going soft,” you said in a sing-song tone.

“He can’t serve drinks if he can’t use his arm,” Silco said.

“Uh-huh, sure.”

You spun around and reached for a bottle of whiskey. A glass was picked up in your hands as you turned around to the bar. A small scoop was filled with ice which clinked against the glass as it was plopped in. You didn’t look down as you filled it.

“What gives me the pleasure of your company tonight?” you asked.

That simple question led to over an hour of conversation and Silco behind the bar, helping you clean. All because he mentioned he’d once had experience and you had audacity to challenge that.

[fitzjamesbulletwound]

well i finally made it... here's my episode by episode deep dive into every joplittle moment in the entirety of the terror for all of my fellow joplittle freaks out there. i can't draw or write fiction but i CAN be insane about details :) i did my best to edit this so please forgive me if there's typos or things that don't make sense. and a final note before you start reading- i think i make a point to say this in some instances but it bears repeating at the beginning- i could certainly be wrong about some of these observations as they are largely in the background and usually happen very quickly while something more front facing is happening in the scene. i did my best though!

Episodes 1&2- basically nothing, at the dinner scene in episode 1 we can infer that jopson shuffles behind edward at one point but there’s no onscreen proximity or eye contact. neither of them are in episode 2 at all. 

Episode 3: we have one of the joplittle scenes to end all joplittle scenes in this episode. When edward is talking to crozier, blanky, jirv, and hodgson about his fears of netsilik retribution, jopson knocks and walks in the door. When he enters the room, edward immediately stops talking, makes eye contact with him, then starts tugging his jacket down, almost to the point of squirming and fidgeting. Jopson walks into the room making eye contact with edward with the tiniest smile on his face and his eyes are so bright and interesting in this scene. And i think there could be some arguments made that this is just how these two are but i have some additional thoughts- yes edward is an awkward guy but he outranks so many people in that room, jopson most of all, and yet he immediately stops speaking and becomes visibly flustered when jopson walks in. And their eye contact lingers for such a long time before jopson looks to crozier, the person he actually came to address. And just again with how bright jopson’s eyes are and the tiny tiny smile he has on his face when he’s looking at edward that then turns a little more serious when he turns to address crozier. It’s such an interesting scene! 

later on when the terror boys are going across the ice to sir john’s funeral, jopson is walking behind edward… he might be looking at him but it’s very hard to tell so i hesitate to even include that instance. HOWEVER during the camera pan when crozier is reading sir john’s eulogy, we see jopson looking up at one point, and then his gaze briefly comes down to the person directly in front of him… which is edward. 

Episode 4: When crozier is sitting in the dark drunk and depressed and probably listening to the cranberries and jopson comes in, the script says he shows somebody down the hall five fingers, probably to indicate “give me five minutes”. Since he then says that lieutenant little is asking about the meeting, we can presume they came to see crozier together. 

When jopson is giving crozier the headlines of the meeting, the way he talks about what he knows from edward sounds more like it was from an actual conversation they had vs the other two he mentions- he says “mr reid reports” and “lieutenant irving has what sounds like a pressing issue”- both of these expressions imply that he was doing exactly what crozier says he does- hearing everything. but with edward it’s “lieutenant little is wondering, he says/thinks this this and this”. The language used to describe what he knows about what edward will report on is much more direct and familiar. I think ned and jopson were hanging out before they came to see about the meeting with crozier hehe

In the scene where heather gets his shit rocked it’s very hard to keep track of edward and jopson but there is proximity and it’s very possible a few times that they might exchange glances. It certainly seems that when edward goes below decks to arm the men jopson watches him go. 

Episode 5 ended up being the most fruitful for pretty clear glances and looks that i had never noticed before

when jopson comes in with the tea tray he and edward look at each other the whole time Jopson is walking to the table to set it down

after Jopson says “consider it done sir” edward watches him as he walks out of the room until crozier stops him, then he looks at crozier

Ned could definitely still be looking as Jopson answers crozier, the line of sight is correct and in the script it specifically says that little has to look away from Jopson (not crozier) as they discuss the whiskey because it makes him so sick that this is being discussed right after talking about hornby’s death

A lot of proximity during the Silna and crozier conversation but I don’t think they look at each other.. Jopson might be looking at Edward when he walks in with silna and he might glance at him when he walks past him after setting the tea tray back down but I’m not sure. 

In the script it says that jopson and little exchange a look when crozier says he’ll go to get the alcohol for blanky’s surgery but it looks like it’s him and hodgson looking at each other.. however edward looks at someone offscreen too that would make sense to where jopson is standing at the time. There’s a lot of proximity in that scene where they carry blanky down and set him on the table

Damn that extremely prolonged eye contact when taking the whiskey shots is so interesting too? Especially since it seems like jopson struggles to take the shot.. It seems like he might not drink a lot and that could be for 2 reasons- another callback to historical jopson and him being lashed 30 something times for drunkenness or it could be because of his mother’s addiction which at this point in the story we don’t even know about it. Either one would make sense but if anyone has any ideas please share them

they are right next to each other while blanky gets his leg cut off

In the script it says that jopson brings edward into the room for the meeting with crozier after blanky’s surgery, I believe they are the last two to join but even if not.. interesting for sure.

when crozier stands up to give the whiskey to jopson to pour out, Jopson is looking down but for just a moment before he turns to crozier again he looks at edward

Aaaaaand edward then watches crozier take the last drink of whiskey but then he looks right at Jopson!!!!

When crozier goes to his berth it pans over to Jopson and he eventually looks at ned AGAIN

Ugh I loved this episode because there was truly so much to notice and like it’s there! I need to know why!!

Episode 6: okay we have one of THE joplittle scenes and god fucking bless Liam for his commentary here because there’s just so much to it… like the fact that he’s trying to convey to Edward that things are bad but they will be okay with a single look suggests such a familiarity and closeness and understanding between them because like how would you communicate that with a look to someone that you weren’t on fairly intimate terms with?? (need to make post about other pairs that talk through eye contact in the show, like hickey and tozer). at the very least we have to assume they confide in each other and understand each other to a certain degree and like now we’re slightly straying into delulu land but I love how protective Edward looks when hickey walks over and kinda gets close to jopson lol edward is already watching jopson walk away and he gives hickey this little glare when he realizes hickey is too. also just the simple fact that they were eating together??

When Reid bumps into crozier at carnivale and little tells him to step back he’s looking at jopson and when it cuts to jopson he’s looking back at him

They exchange a glance in the background of crozier reacting to hoar and crispe in the big pot lol

Jopson watches Edward for most of the little clip where crozier is walking away after telling the men to get of the pot

After crozier says they’ll be abandoning the ships and walking Edward looks over at jopson for a long time

When crozier is saying “they are a good people who we can greet as friends” jopson looks over at Edward and looks him up and down twice… that’s 4k babyyyy, that one was crazy

When Stanley sets himself on fire and it cuts to the crowd Edward definitely looks around until he sees jopson in front of him

It’s extremely hard to tell but at one point it looks like ned crozier and jopson are all moving together looking for an exit and ned briefly puts his hand on jopson’s back or at the very least reaches for his back wtffffff

Mmm not sure about this one but in the background of the cleanup scene you can see Edward helping people and it looks like jopson may be with him

Episode 7: ugh the promotion sceeeeene idk what i can say that hasn’t already been said but i will always always always point out that this is the happiest we EVER see Edward in the show, his smile is so huge and throughout the scene he keeps giggling to himself and when he’s still sitting down you can see him kinda do an eyebrow raise thing like “oh my god well I wasn’t expecting that but this is amazing” HE LOVES THAT MAN UUUGH AND THE WAAAAY he looks so fondly at him after he shakes his hand and he just keeps smiling and giggling like everyone is so happy in this scene but Edward is the happiest…

Episode 8: when crozier is yelling at edward for arming the mutiny jopson is turned around watching ned.. Ugh :( 

another shot of jopson turning to look at ned before he looks at crozier in this scene 

eye contact when Edward walks into the tent where Irving’s body is

definitely some potential eye contact when they’re asking hodgson to confirm that hickey lied

jopson watches Edward when he’s explaining why they shouldn’t trust the marines

edward is looking at jopson right before crozier says to find the carpenters

Episode 9: what i believe is the last joplittle scene…. god it’s so rough. I feel like jopson is so hurt because he knows his time is coming and i feel like Edward thinks everyone in that tent including jopson will be able to continue to haul south… ugh and then jopson just stares Edward down the whole time when dundy starts talking :(

Episode 10: when edward is walking to the tent to address the men his gaze lingers on the sick tent where jopson is now…

i also find it very interesting that he was all about going south and leaving the sick behind in episode 9 but completely changes his tune now- i know that this has to do with saving crozier but he makes such a strong argument for not leaving the ill behind (although he of course obviously somehow does) that it makes me wonder if jopson had anything to do with that.. like a big difference between when they first made the proposal and now is that jopson could still haul when they suggested it before but he can’t now

And his reasonings point to jopson a lot too- “9 so ill they can’t walk, only 2 able bodied lieutenants” like he was thinking of him!!

and one last fucking thing before I fucking die- edward’s last word “close?” mirrors some of jopson’s first- “we’re close sir”.. They are the last two to be found by crozier, two of the men who saw almost everything and died last… ugh. 

Final thoughts: i will constantly make the argument that when it comes to the terror, absolutely nothing is on accident. Nothing. Some of the scenes i described can certainly be debated but the simple fact is, edward and jopson spend a lot of their scenes together exchanging looks and watching each other. It is safe to assume based on their roles that they must share at least a small amount of familiarity but i think that these shared glances suggest a deeper connection. They seem to be able to communicate seamlessly without ever really speaking to one another and when they aren’t communicating through their eyes, they are still watching each other in shared scenarios. I would love to know more about whether this was just how liam and matthew chose to act their dynamic or if there’s more to say about them. Either way i’m going to keep being delusional about them because i love them together and i think there’s ample evidence to prove that they are more familiar than we might realize

[imagines-for-the-fangirls-soul]

The Prince - Chapter Seven

A/N: Hi friends! I can't say it enough, thank you so much for all of your love on this story. I was so worried when I was drafting it that I was writing nothing, so thank you so much for your support! I hope you enjoy this chapter! Like before, please see tag list in comments.

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Word Count: 4.8k Synopsis: As their remaining hope dies out, the reader takes Jeyne's advice.

Warnings: smut!

Previous Chapter - Next Chapter

You get on a ship to Dragonstone early the next morning. You don't see Jace before you leave, and you don't even entertain the thought of looking for him.

It’s a two day trip to Dragonstone, and throughout most of the journey you stand against the railing, watching the water crash against the ship over and over. You feel like the water, a little bit. No matter what you do, what actions you take to be careful, it’s hit after hit, to you and those around you.

The trip is a silent one, and when the castle is finally visible, it suddenly dawns on your how alone you'll be here. The castle is mostly abandoned save a few necessary staff. Even the crew that surrounds you now provide some kind of background noise, some escape from inside your head.

The quiet might be a blessing, though, you realize. In the Red Keep, there was always a member of House Targaryen distracting you from your task. After what Jeyne had said about Lord Blacktyde, you needed to finally focus on finding a husband.

The crew lets you off the ship without fuss, dropping your case on the pier next to you. They are on their way to Pentos, and for a moment, you consider running back aboard and going with them. Resettling in a strange country seems easier than navigating through the mess you made here.

The warden is waiting for you at the end of the dock. He greets and leads you towards the castle, saying very little to you on the walk up. As you get closer, you take in the dark castle. It’s not as large as the Red Keep, but the inside is so empty that it might as well be. When you walk inside, your footsteps echo all the way up to your quarters.

You are given a room that looks out onto the bay. Once the door closes behind the warden, you walk out there, letting the cool breeze off the sea fill your lungs. Somehow, the air feels different here.

It’s peaceful here. For a moment you delude yourself that you could hide out here forever. It’s large enough that it would take a little while for anyone to locate you if hidden. But then a cry breaks over the horizon, and you realize why that plan would never work.

A green dragon's silhouette breaks across the horizon. The sight of Vermax does not surprise you. Without realizing it, you knew Jace would follow you. Maybe that's why you had walked out here, you had instinctually known he would be there.

Vermax banks into a landing on the seashore, far down from the dock you arrived at. You watch Jace approach the castle. The wind whips the curls around his face and the cape across his back. The doors to the castle open before he can reach them, sight of his dragon tipping them off as well. The warden greets him, much heartier than he did you.

Jace’s eyes glance up for a minute but do a double take when he sees you watching. He smiles, and the look soothes you.

Moments later, he is at your door. When you don’t answer right away, you hear him laugh.

“Y/N,” he says, his voice warm, “I already saw you, so don’t try to hide.”

“I would never dream of hiding from you, Your Highness,” you say, opening the door for him. His good humor falls just a little bit when you close it behind him.

“I heard what happened,” he says.

“I assumed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do anything,” you say, fiddling with a ring on your finger to keep from looking at him. “And besides, it doesn’t matter,” you say with a sigh.

“Why not?”

“Because we knew this was where this path would lead us.”

“Y/N,” he starts with a sigh.

“We knew,” you say quietly, frowning at him. He looks like he wants to say more, but knows that whatever point he'll make is moot.

“I’m sorry,” he says again.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because it’s my fault we’re in this mess.”

“Jace," you say with a sad laugh, "I kissed you the first time.” His dark eyes meet yours.

“I could have left you alone,” he says seriously.

“Could you have?” you ask, studying his face. “Truly?”

“I could have tried."

“Well, it doesn’t matter now," you say, walking into the room, fiddling with the furniture around you, just to keep your hands busy. Nerves build inside of you as you ask, "What did Baela say?”

“Just that she knew. I didn’t argue with her, I just let her get it out.”

“Was she angry?” you ask, chancing a look back at him. He looks tired, you realize for the first time. You wish you could go to him.

“She was angry about the lying, but Baela thinks like me,” he says slowly, “We don’t have what you and I have. Not even close. I think if she knew how we feel. How we truly feel—”

“She’d give up being queen?” you ask in disbelief.

“She’s one of my closest friends, she wants me to be happy.”

“Regardless,” you say, “This doesn’t lead anywhere else but here. I will never be your queen.”

“I told you I’m trying. With my mother—”

“Even if the queen was okay with it, would the realm be? Would Balea and Rhaena? Would their father?” you ask, eyes wide as you fight off frustrated tears.

“They will all get over it,” he says. “ The realm doesn’t care. Not every Targaryen has married within their family.”

“This argument is useless,” you say, leaning against the table in your room with a sigh. “We are simply out of time and options.”

“If we talk to Baela—”

“Baela would have told you already if she wanted to break your betrothal,” you say. “She doesn’t. And I don’t blame her.” He moves closer, the closest you've been since he arrived. You brush a hand over his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?” he asks.

“Because I know that this breaks your heart, like it does my own,” you say softly. Jace’s hand covers yours and kisses your palm.

“We still have now,” he says. You let out a laugh, sniffing back tears.

“How did you even get away?” you ask.

“I’m the Prince of Dragonstone,” he says smugly, “This is my castle, after all.” You laugh gently. After a pause, you stand and wrap your arms around his neck, needing just another second in his. He holds you just as tightly, his hand rubbing smooth circles over your back.

“Thank you for coming,” you whisper.

“Where else would I be?”

You spend most of the day entwined. Neither of you say much, as there isn’t much to say. This fantasy is fast coming to an end.

As the day turns to night and the island cools, you and Jace make a fire in your chambers, and sit close on the couch in the room, wine flowing between the two of you.

“Did Baela say anything to you about what exactly we had done?” he asks, his calloused fingers tracing soft patterns along your wrist. You study his downcast eyes.

“No,” you say, “Nothing specific. Why?”

“When she spoke with me, she alluded to the fact that I had . . . ruined your reputation.”

“Ah,” you say with a nod. Still, his attention is focused on your hands, dancing around each other. “Did you tell her we hadn’t?”

“She didn’t seem to believe me,” he says, “But yes.”

“We know it’s a line we haven’t crossed. If that unburdens our guilty consciences at all.”

“I’m not guilty, Y/N,” he says, “Not really. I’m sorry to have hurt Baela, but my heart never belonged to her. Not in the way it belongs to you now.” You are quiet for a long moment, too long for his thoughts, it seems.

“So, you’ve never thought about it?” he asks, his gaze finally meeting yours. “Ruining yourself. With me,” he adds.

“Of course I’ve thought about it,” you say, smiling at him, “But thinking it and doing it are two very different things.”

“We’ve done other things,” he says. You can hear the strain in his voice. You flip your wrists, playing with the lines of his palm.

“We’ve kissed,” you say. His eyes flick between your eyes and lips. “That act won’t ruin me.”

“Oh no?” he asks, leaning in closer.

“Not more than it already has,” you say, your words on his lips as he kisses you slowly. “Besides,” you say, “It’s not like I haven’t kissed others before.”

“I don’t want to hear about that,” he says, dropping your hand altogether to snake his around your back, closing the minimal gap between the two of you. You curl into his arms as he kisses you again – just as slow, but with more intent, more meaning, behind it. You let him trap you there for a moment longer before breaking away, a hand to his cheek.

“It’s not like you haven’t kissed anyone else,” you say. “You’ve kissed Baela.”

“It’s not the same,” he says lowly.

“Why not?”

“Because I never kissed her like this.” He takes your face in his hands and devastates your mouth with his own. He holds you there while his tongue takes an exploratory, conquering tour of your mouth. You break away with a gasp.

“You still kissed her,” you say.

“Why are we talking about her at all?” he asks with a sigh, running a hand through his unruly hair.

“We’re not,” you say, breaking out of his arms, rising from the chair to refill the wine.

“Right, we were talking about thoughts.”

“Right."

“Tell me about these thoughts of yours,” he says.

“No,” you say with a laugh.

“Why not?” he asks, immediately pulling you closer when you sit down.

“Because I keep those longings locked,” you say.

“In that beautiful mind of yours,” Jace says, smiling as he leans in to kiss your forehead. “Keep those longings anywhere else?” he asks. You let out a breath, smiling at him.

“Here,” you whisper, touching the skin over your racing heart. Jace’s warm eyes are locked on yours as his lips press to your skin. They trail down to your cleavage, leaving soft kisses in a trail.

“Jace,” you say with a sigh.

“Hmm?”

“Thoughts.”

“I’m having a few now," he says.

“Let’s keep them there,” you say, your fingers resting against his temple.

“If they already think we’ve bedded, what’s the harm in actually doing it?” he asks.

“Besides the fact that I would be ruined?” you ask, raising your eyebrows.

“Ruined for who? No one needs to know.”

“Baela and Rhana already think we did, and look how their opinions have changed," you say.

“Your standing with them is the same either way,” he says with a shake of his head, “Whether we do it or not.”

“And what about the man I am to marry?” you ask. Jace’s face falls and he squeezes your hand. “Let’s just stick with thoughts for now,” you say quietly, scooting closer to him.

“What about my thoughts?” he asks. You give him a look and sigh.

“What about your thoughts, Jace?”

“They rarely leave my mind,” he says, looking into your eyes. Just at the intensity in his, you feel your core start to warm. “Especially when I’m in bed, after you’ve left.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“So you’re already good at keeping these thoughts in," you say. He rolls his eyes.

“Just because I don’t act on them with you, doesn’t mean I don’t act on them at all,” he says lowly. Your brow scrunches, immediately imagining who he might— “Y/N,” he says, cutting off your train of thought, bringing your gaze to his with a hand to your chin. “I take matters into my own hand.”

“Oh. Oh,” you say, a blush forming on your cheeks.

"Do you ever . . . do anything like that when we part?" he asks. At your intake of breath he smiles. "We don't have to talk about--"

"Yes," you say. His eyes are wide, the tension growing in the silence of the room. "But Jace--"

"I know," he says, a small smile on his face. "Thoughts."

When Jace opens his bedroom door that night, the room behind him is dark, lit only by one candle. He looks tense, his shoulders tight and worry sketched on his brow. He looks as if he needs a release, the same one you desire now, the one that had kept you up.

“Y/N.”

“Hi,” you say. Your eyes glance at his bare chest, and his linger on the thin nightgown you wear.

“What is it?”

"I've been up in my room thinking," you say, making him let out a tut of laughter.

"Sure."

“And I decided I want more than thoughts,” you say breathlessly.

“Oh, thank the gods,” he says, wasting no time to pull you into his room. The door shuts as he presses you up against it, his lips locking onto yours. You moan quietly, the sound muffled in his mouth. He presses his body into yours, making sure you feel how much he has wanted this, needed this.

He drags you into the room, breaking away long enough for you both to catch your breath.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Completely.”

“You are so beautiful.”

“Am I?” you ask. He makes a strangled primal sound, tilting his head.

“Y/N, you have no idea,” he says. You smile at him, before putting a hand around the back of his head, pulling him back to your mouth. Where there was urgency before, now that he knows you want this just as much as he does, his movements slow. His kisses are just as passionate, his mouth practically devouring your own, but he moves as if he’s got all the time in the world.

His hands move down your back, catching in the soft fabric you wear. You arch into him, whispering a soft ‘yes’ to a question he hasn’t yet asked. He pulls at the fabric furtively, gripping your waist tightly as he does. He tugs the dress over your head, messing your hair. As the dress drops to the ground, he watches you with hungry eyes.

You miss the feeling of him, his lips and body upon your own, but the way he watches you, never in your life have you felt so beautiful.

The dress folds into a pile at your feet, and you stand bare before him.

“Y/N,” he strains.

“Jace,” you say, moving closer to kiss him again. He moans into the kiss, the movements becoming needier again as he backs you up to his bed. You fall back on it with a bounce, Jace’s eyes never leaving your body. He smiles down at you, laying prone before him. When your eyes flit to the bulge in his pants, his smile grows.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” he says, positioning himself beside you, his body frustratingly not touching yours. He puts a hand on your bare waist, the movement sending chills across your skin. “All I want to do is bury myself into you,” he says, leaning in to kiss your lips softly. They are there for only a moment, and you whimper when he pulls back.

“Why don’t you, then?” you ask.

“Because I want to savor every moment of tonight,” he says, once again kissing you too quickly. He watches your face, the look you give him for keeping you at bay. He grins proudly as he takes your face in his hand and kisses you in the slow, devastating way he knows you want. Instinctively, your naked body turns into his, as you wrap an arm around his neck. Jace’s hands trail down your body, gripping your ass with a squeeze that makes you gasp into his mouth.

“I love you,” he says breathlessly, breaking away and then kisses you again, so you don’t have time to respond. His mouth moves across your jaw, and you are about to tell him how much you love this, how much you love him, but then his mouth closes sweetly on your neck, and you only let out a moan.

Jace smiles as he turns you onto your back again, his body laying over yours to keep you pinned there. His mouth on your neck is delicate, so much so that it ignites every nerve along your body. As he kisses and nips carefully, his tongue dancing along your skin, you arch your back, pressing into him. He laughs at the movement, his hand gripping your hip.

“Jace,” you gasp.

He moves down your body, his hands cupping your breasts, kneading gently. Needing to touch him in any way possible, your hands run through his hair. When he lowers himself further and puts his soft lips on your breast, you grip his hair, tugging slightly. Jace smiles against your skin.

“I love you,” you say on a gasp. His tongue flicks at your nipple as his eyes meet yours. He doesn’t have to say anything, you can see the love in his eyes.

You are a bundle of nerves, tension gathering at your core. You need him now, but aren’t exactly sure what you need from him. When you moan his name, Jace seems to know. With heavy eyes, you watch him move even further down your body. He spends a long moment just looking at you laid bare in front of him. His perusal isn’t enough; you miss his touch.

“Jace,” you whine, practically breathless.

“Y/N,” he replies, his breath dancing against your core, making you shiver. Jace smiles, grabbing your ankle when you begin to squirm, desperate for contact again. “I told you,” he says, “I want to take my time with you.” The sound that comes out of you is animalistic, filled with frustration and need. Jace laughs at you, placing a kiss to your thigh.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this before,” he says. “This frustrated.” He kisses you again, an inch closer to where you need him most. You lift your head to look at him. You’re about to say something snarky when his finger gently separates your folds. Immediately, you gasp, arching as he rubs gently.

Ever so slowly, he does pick up the pace, his forefinger circle the bundle of nerves at the apex of your thighs. During his ministrations, his eyes are on your, watching what action makes you wiggle beneath him, which makes you moan.

“Jace,” you cry out, writhing underneath him. Your breathing is becoming more intense, your chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Not just yet,” he says. You roll your eyes in frustration, whining again. Jace laughs as his lips meet your center. Your entire body arches into him as his tongue moves against your core. Eyes still locked on you, he devours you. Most of the sounds you make are incoherent, fading into the cacophony of your gasps and the low noises Jace makes.

“Fuck, Jace!” you groan when finally, the tension within you releases. Jace smiles but doesn’t move from in between your legs. He rides out your waves of pleasure, his tongue still doing things that have you forgetting your name. When you’ve come down, you release your grip on Jace’s hair, not even realizing you had grabbed it again. He moves up next to you, kissing you slowly. The tase of you is on his lips, which leaves you feeling some type of possessive nature over him.

“Jace, that was—”

“I know,” he says with a smile. His hairline is sweaty, his hair out of control from your touch. He is so beautiful, and after what he just did for you, you never want to leave this bed, to leave his side. You pull him back to your lips, kissing him fiercely. When he breaks away, he kisses the corner of your jaw. You sigh and notice with increasing delight that he has kicked off his pants, and now fists his cock. Just the sight of it sends liquid to your core.

“Jace.”

“Touch me,” he says against your skin, “Please.” You don’t have any time to be nervous about what you’re doing, so great is your want. When your hand wraps around his cock, Jace moans directly into your ear. The sound gives you confidence. You mimic the motion he was doing to himself, tilting his jaw with a finger, so that you can taste the sounds he makes.

Instinctively, it seems that your bodies move together. He moves over you and the look on his face as you continue to touch him is like nothing you’ve ever seen or felt before.

“I need you,” Jace pants.

“Yes,” you say, just as breathlessly. You drop your hand and Jace lines his cock to your center. He rubs against you, slicking himself on your folds. You whimper slightly, already over sensitized.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” Jace says, his warm eyes meeting yours. You nod, completely trusting him.

When he presses into you, the two of you let out twin cries of pleasure. You grip his shoulders as you get used to the feeling of him inside of you. He moves inside of you slowly, his eyes watching your face in awe.

“Jace,” you say, “Fuck.” He laughs at the curse, something he has never heard from your lips before tonight.

“You are so beautiful,” he says, gripping your waist as he picks up his pace.

“Yeah?” you ask, arching into him.

“You’re perfect,” he says. He grabs hold of your leg, bending it so he can feel you even deeper.

You aren’t sure how you are even breathing, everything that comes out of your mouth is a gasp or moan or his name. He is slowly dissolving that way, too, his movements becoming sloppier, rougher. Every thrust inside of you is another pang of pleasure, but still, the tension builds inside of you.

Jace’s mouth has been savaging your neck and shoulder, but when his breath becomes more strained, he whispers in your ear, “Touch yourself. I want to feel your release.” At that moment, you would have jumped out the window if he told you to. You do as he asks, sliding your hand between your bodies, touching yourself the way he had before.

“Like that?” he asks. Your other hand clings to his back, scraping softly.

“Not as much as I liked your mouth,” you say back. Jace moans into your ear, his pace picking up. You match it, and quickly the two of you cry out as you come around him. Jace’s release fills you as he rests on top of you, his breathing heavy. For a long moment, you stay like that, just catching your breaths, prone in each other’s arms.

When he turns to look at you, you both let out a breathy laugh. You brush back his sweaty curls and kiss him.

“I love you,” you say quietly.

“I love you.” He kisses you once. He pulls out of you, and you breathe in at the loss. Jace looks smug as he flops down beside you. For a little while, you just lay there, cooling down. But then, you don’t want to be away from him for any longer, and curl into his arms. He is sweaty, like you must be, too, but you don’t care as he wraps an arm around you and kisses your forehead.

“Let’s never leave this bed,” you say with a sigh, placing a kiss over his beating heart. He meets your gaze with a smile.

“Deal.

There is a goddess in bed next to him. A naked goddess, in his bed. He must have been dreaming.

He had dreamed of this. Dreamed and fantasized about you, late into the night with his hand around his cock.

But the real thing, feeling your body under his, getting to touch you, it turned him on now, just remembering the night before. You shift in your sleep, letting out a soft moan. Jace remembers the sounds you made last night, louder and more fervent in his ear. He remembers the way you arched your back, pressing your breasts into him, your hands on his body, and the taste of you.

Twice the night before, he had taken you, his desire for you still too great after that first time. Now even, you are peacefully asleep on his chest, your long hair laid out on his pillow, and he still cannot stop thinking about kissing you, tasting you, fucking you again.

Last night had not been his first, but it might as well have been. He had never felt like this before. Everything he had ever wanted was in his arms, and he vowed right then that he would do anything to keep you like this.

He knows he has been watching you for too long, but he can’t bring himself to care. You shift in his arms, another delicious hum from your lips. When you say his name, your throat is scratchy.

“Yes?” he asks gently.

“I can feel you staring.”

“Can you blame me?” he asks. Your eyes open then, immediately locking onto his. Jace smiles as he puts a hand to your chin, tilting your mouth to meet his. You sigh into the kiss, gently parting his lips, and Jace’s cock responds. He feel like a much younger man, so quickly aroused. You break the kiss first, biting your lip to keep your grin at bay.

“Morning,” you say.

“Good morning. How did you sleep?”

“Wonderfully,” you say, relaxing back into his arms. He pulls you in closer, wanting and needing to feel your body on his.

“How did you sleep?” you ask, tilting your head up to look at him.

“I’m not sure I did.”

“Were you watching me the whole night?” you ask with a laugh.

“So what if I was?” he says, squeezing you playfully.

“I assumed you’d be exhausted after all the activity last night,” you say quietly. Jace smirks as he brings his lips to yours.

“Well, it gave me time to think about everything I want to do this morning.”

“I did, too,” you say, “But I still got some sleep.” You kiss his cheek softly, moving across his skin in a trail of kisses, until you bite on his earlobe. The sound he lets out makes you laugh against his skin, goosebumps appearing.

“What were you thinking about?” he asks breathlessly.

“Something I didn’t get to do last night,” you say, “But I’m not sure I’ll be good at it.” He groans in spite of himself, low in his throat. Your lips meet his in a rougher kiss, a sign that you are fully awake now.

“Y/N,” he says on a breath, pulling back from you.

“I love you,” you say quickly. The sight of his smile makes one grow on your face.

“I love you,” he says, pulling you in for a quick kiss. “And there is nothing you can do that I won’t absolutely love.”

“Okay,” you say with a smile. Eyes locked on his, your hand travels down his chest to his cock, already hard for you. “Jace,” you whisper, delight on your face at the expression on his.

“Yes, love?” he asks breathlessly, groaning when your hand slides over the head of his cock.

“You’re so beautiful,” you say softly. He smiles as he starts to say a response, but you kiss him before he can.

“Y/N,” he moans, his eyes closed, his brow sweaty. “Is this what you had in mind?”

“Partially. Just – it didn’t feel fair that you got to taste me but I didn’t get to taste ou.” The laugh he lets out is strained. You move upright, kissing Jace once before taking your hand off of him. You kiss down his neck slowly, remembering how he tormented you the night before. His hands grip your body, holding you flush to him, but letting you do what you’d like. You move down his chest, your hands and mouth exploring every inch of his body.

When you move down to his hips, you look up at him with a smirk.

“Let me know if I do anything wrong,” you say, kissing his shaft softly.

“Y/N, you couldn’t.”

“You say that, but—”

“What part of this,” he says, motioning to his cock, “Makes you think I wouldn’t like anything you do?”

“Just . . . thoughts, I guess,” you say with a smile.

“Try,” he says lowly, “And see for yourself just how much I love everything you do.”

“Fine,” you say, and when your mouth closes around him, Jace takes your hair in his hands, his moans loud, and falling closer to his release as he falls completely in love with you.

[sakanayasan414]

Interesting facts/possible mistranslation in Japanese translation of Sherlock Holmes

I thought people might be thinking I started my Sherlock Holmes journey by bbc or s&co and while there’s nothing wrong with that, I wanted to clarify that I’ve been Sherlokian since my mom bought me the adventure of Sherlock Holmes in 1st grade and I love the canon the most. Though I don’t really read it in Japanese anymore, I wanted to show my love for the translators and just everyone who made it possible for me to enjoy SH without having to learn English as a child.

Names Changes - The name Sherlock Holmes and John Watson once got translated/adapted to 小室泰六 (Komuro Tairoku) and 和田進一 (Wada Shinichi) because people in Japan at that time weren’t familiar with European names. I find this really fun and actually impressive because the names do fit their criteria; Komuro has that royal feel Holmes has and Shinichi is just one of the most common name in Japan like John.

First person pronouns - In Japanese there are many first person pronouns (I, my, me) to the point linguists don’t even know how many there are but main one being 俺 (ore) and 僕 (boku) for men and 私 (watashi) for women and men in formal occasions. So, deciding which first person pronouns characters use is one of the first yet important part of translation. Holmes in most translations use boku which is typical but has that upper class atmosphere when used by an adult which I think fits his personality and background. But one of the translations I read used watashi when he’s talking about his deduction and I feel like it shows how serious he takes his cases as it is almost solely used by men in professional settings. And also it sort of distances the speaker from the rest, meaning he is in his own world when deducing but he’s willing to interact with others when not in case.

Surname? First name? - in most translations, Holmes and Watson call each other by their surnames like in ACD writing but in one of the translations I’ve read put 君 (kun) after their surnames. It is used to show politeness but also affection in old times. I personally love this addition because calling each other by their surnames in Japanese don’t feel the same as it does in English. It feels too distant, not in Victorian men in way but just plain strangers feel. But then First names are too intimate so putting kun just feels right.

The speckled band - ACD played with a word band in this story but in Japanese it is straight up impossible to do so because we don’t have a word like that so what do they do? As shown below, they put extra words on top of words. (Characters on top (バンド) literally reads bando meaning band and characters below (紐 and 群) mean a string and a group so they both mean band) It is commonly done in literature to either suggest double meaning or just an indication of how to read certain Chinese characters because the characters on top are phonogram unlike Chinese characters. Having three alphabets in one language enables us to have that double meaning in other languages.

Possible misinterpretation of the situation - In “A Case of Identity”, Holmes expresses a deep angst towards Windibank by saying “But between ourselves, Windibank, it was as cruel and selfish and heartless a trick in a petty way as ever came before me.” Up until this point, Holmes called him Mr Windibank but he drops the Mr. However, for some reason some translations keep the Japanese equivalent of Mr (さん) , but then he takes out his whip after this conversation. I just don’t think it was a civil conversation that Japanese translators wanted to write as. I think Japanese translators just wanted to write Holmes as an always-calm-man but he is a passionate man when he needs to be.

Possible Mistranslation - From “A Scandal in Bohemia”, Watson talks about what the woman is to Holmes by writing “In his eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex.” In rather recently published translation, it gets translated to something like “From Holmes’ perspective, she surpasses all other women and makes their presence fade into the background.” Which i don’t think accurately expresses his view on her and women in general. But this might differ from other people’s opinions.

As time passes and many variations get published, translation gets more natural but sometimes they lose the atmosphere of the canon. So I love going back to reading all the versions I can read.

Hope you enjoyed this post! I have A LOT like this in my draft because I’m a language nerd in STEM that can’t find anyone to talk about this with. Also please let me know if you know any fun facts from your language’s translation:)