#my partner/artist said i should break it up so i was waiting a bit for this one

[shadow-of-gehenna]

Introducing the Kalashnikov - The Scrapyard Underdog

The first Kalashnikov dates back to Locksteel’s original uprising, the frame’s initial design - which was penned by Adrian Lock - was based on a subterranean mining frame, capable of enduring the worst the deep crust of the planet could throw at a piece of machinery. It was easy enough to mount weapons to the frame and make some minor improvements to it’s plating to help deal with large scale weapons but as Locksteel continued to expand so too did the Kalashnikov, eventually it became host to an advanced frame that was magnitudes more durable than others in the locksteel catalog. 

Along with its core, the Kalashnikov is equipped with a range of redundancies coupled together with emergency backup systems that activate in cascade to mounting pressure, creating a frame that almost grows stronger or at least faster during longer engagements.

-

The Kalashnikov is like many Locksteel mechs, built for risk and reward, however this frame takes it to the extreme; Thanks to its Underdog, True Grit and Lightweight traits, the more damaged, hindered or even outclassed in size the Kalashnikov is, the harder it fights and the harder to bring down it becomes. With the activation of it’s core power nothing less than complete annihilation can hope to bring this pit-brawler of a mech down. The systems and weapons the Kalashnikov buck the trend of Locksteel systems being useful for most if not all types of pilots; Each system granted by the license is ground up made to support melee-range, bloody-knuckled brawling. With weapons that hit hard and some that are just as indestructible as the frame itself. 

[lint-beetle4]

Shadowpeach “paint me like one of your French girls” where Wukong uses Mac as a model for a series of increasingly explicit artworks. He also uses his clones several different outfits ( possible cross dressing?) rope and a variety of toys to complete the “scenes” maybe Mac even swaps sexes for some of them. Mac has to struggle to stay still enough for the artwork while getting destroyed from the pleasure and praise ( the dude almost definitely has a thing for being complemented imo). He just has to sit there take it and look pretty what else could you want from a muse?

The Perfect Muse (Shadowpeach Lime)

(I drew a picture for this, because I'm a simp for Macaque being pretty)

(Suggestive content below)

"Wukong--out of all the hobbies you could've picked up, why painting?"

The monkey in question shrugged, twirling a paintbrush between his fingers. "MK said I needed hobbies aside from watching TV and doing nothing, so he taught me how to paint--thought I'd give it a try to see how it works out."

"And how do I come into play?" Macaque rolled his eyes. "I doubt my artistic skill could aid you in learning how to paint."

"That's just the thing!" Wukong grinned, wrapping an arm around his partner. "You're my muse!"

"You're what--?"

"Y'know, my muse--I'm going to paint you." Wukong tilted his head, "How about it?"

Macaque stared at the sage, shock and confusion fading into slight curiousity. "...So do I just stand here or--?"

Wukong stuttered slightly, becomingly strangely bashful. "Well, actually-- Remember those outfits we got for you to try on?"

"The skirts--yeah, I remember them. They were pretty."

"Yeah! You looked really good in them, so I just wanted to--y'know--paint you with them on."

Macaque's ear twitched, the glamour shifting around them as he processed Wukong's words. With a slight flick of his tail, Macaque grinned slyly, eyes piercing into Wukong.

"So you want a show then?"

Wukong stammered more. "It's not like that, just for practice!"

"Right, Wukong." Macaque stood behind the blushing simian, whispering in his ear. "Wait for me, I'll pick out my favorite outfit just for you."

Macaque left, hearing the sounds of Wukong rushing to prepare various supplies.

The darker monkey pulled on the skirt that barely covered him, fishnets stopping at the tips of his thighs. Darker clothes lined his wardrobe, the simian finding that he looks best in them with red and purple running through them.

Examining the clothing on his, Macaque adjusted the collar of the loose dress shirt that outlined his body far more than it should--Wukong always eyed him more when he wore it.

Outside of the room, Macaque heard Wukong muttering about various paints, and Macaque ran out of the room at the mere, heart-breaking words of Wukong about to dunk his expensive oil paints into a cup of water.

"Wukong, if I see that paintbrush has anything but paint, I'll rip your fingernails out." Macaque called out, seeing the the brush dangling inches above the cup.

Wukong smiled, a blush appearing quickly on his face. "You look amazing! Are you ready?"

"Sure, what pose do you want?" Macaque played with the tips of his black skirt.

Wukong hummed, circling Macaque briefly. "How about you sit on the ground and do what's most comfortable for you?"

Macaque shrugged, laying on the ground, legs crossed as he leaned back. "Like this?"

"Yeah!" Wukong beamed, starting to mix his colors. "You looks great like that!"

Macaque blushed slightly, turning away from Wukong as the monkey began painting, his eyes glancing at Macaque intensely. Macaque felt a familiar stirring in his core with each bit of eye contact they shared. He only hoped that the skirt would hide anything. After a semi-painful hour or two of Wukong muttering to himself, giving Macaque those damned, piercing glances, Wukong hummed, a signal he was done.

Macaque stood up, wiping off his skirt. The painting was modest--hell, Macaque even looked good--

"Not bad," Macaque nodded, looking closely at the painting. "I see MK taught you about anatomy as well. Everything looks solid."

Wukong's tailed swayed happily, his face full of pride. "This old monkey still has a few tricks to him, huh?"

Macaque chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned against Wukong subtly. "Sure, you do. You gonna keep this up?"

"Yeah!" Wukong chirped, "Actually, I wanted you to do one more thing--this was a bit of warm up before I tried anything else."

"Oh?" Macaque tilted his head, his tail flicking with slight interest. "Do you need another pose?"

Wukong averted his eyes slightly, a blush growing strong on her face. "Well--this is just for us to see, first of all! Second, I was wondering if I could tie you up--and maybe paint you like that?"

"And you're sure this isn't 'like that?'" Macaque smirked, hiding the excited shock coursing through his veins.

Wukong laughed, his face still red. "Well--It wasn't supposed to be."

"Okay, Wukong." Macaque rolled his eyes. "If you're going to tie me up, I'm getting red rope-- It's my color."

Wukong nodded, shaking away his blush as he went to grab another canvas. When Macaque returned with the rope, his body felt strangely weak, his limbs unusually shaky. Under his breath, the monkey hissed--trying to will his body to compose itself.

Macaque shifted a leg--still intent on hiding his slowly growing issue-- as Wukong came back, hands reached out for the rope.

"So," Wukong's voice boomed loudly in Macaque's ear, the darker monkey's heart rate growing fast. "What designs do you think would look good? You're the artist, right?"

Macaque hummed, clearing his throat slightly. "Tying my hands back behind my face will draw more attention there--maybe something intricate for the legs, and relatively simple for the body."

Wukong nodded, beginning the first set of knots.

Macaque felt as if the gods had finally given him their graces. Wukong's hands trailed through his clothing, light touches feeling like electricity in his skin and eyes continuing to send waves of intimidation and excitement through his blood. Macaque's heart beat loudly in his ears as Wukong made final touches, tying Macaque to a rather sturdy wood beam that none of them fully trusted.

Wukong quickly returned to his canvas, a grin on his face.

"Wow, you really do look beautiful, y'know?"

Macaque tensed slightly, forcing his body to quickly relax as more waves of pleasurable emotions flowed through him. "Um--thanks."

Wukong's painting took forever to Macaque. The first time he was on the floor, able to discretely conceal his growing boner. Yet now?

"You're doing great! Just stay there like that!"

He was suspended in the air, skirt hiking in the wrong places and draping heavily over certain parts. Macaque felt as if he was dying with each second, but despite everything, Wukong seemed to take longer.

"The light captures you really well, y'know. You almost look ethereal!"

Wukong hummed as he looked at Macaque's body, one eye closed as he painstakingly measured with his paintbrush and thumb.

"I like the face you're making. You always look so pretty when you're angry."

Macaque's breath shuddered slightly.

It was the damned compliments--every single bit of praise sent pleasure through his core, his cock twitching against the rough fabric of his skirt.

"Hey, let me see those beautiful eyes of yours. I want to get the color right."

Even the way the sage looked at Macaque with those piercing eyes examining his limbs and position, it excited Macaque--like he was a statue being admired by eyes around him.

"Alright, I think I'm done." Wukong grinned, walking up to Macaque.

Macaque had stopped trying to fight his body at some point, trembling with shaky breaths as Wukong merely looked at his slightly disheveled form with a strange gaze...A knowing gaze--the damned ape.

Wukong knelt down, holding Macaque's chin to look into his lover's eyes. "No painting could ever replicate how nice you look now."

Macaque groaned under his breath, huffing at Wukong whose hands were trace along the ropes decorating Macaque's body.

"A real piece of work." Wukong chuckled, purposely avoiding macaque's groin. "You deserve a treat for being so patient."

Macaque stayed silent, eyes pleading Wukong as he stared expectantly. "What do you say now?"

"Please--" Macaque stuttered, legs now quivering in the air. "I would like a reward."

"Good boy."

[kirchefuchs]

GET CLOVERED MOTHER SHUCKER

NEHEHEH

Okay, break from the fish talk show. Time to talk about my week! That's a very pretty clover btw.

Okay so first off, I did join the Narrator Swap discord for the month of June and I posted my first art for it two days ago. That has been super fun and I can't wait to get my partner for next week!!!

Now the big thing was yesterday. Because yesterday was my oldest brother's birthday and he wanted to bring us to a convention, so some of us joined him for that, myself included. I don't know if this is surprising or anything, but this was the first big convention I've ever been to and my goodness, it sure was something. I didn't know a whole ton about the convention going in so I didn't go to any of the panels. (Though my sister in law told me they had a Sandman panel, but I lowkey forgot and only remembered 30 minutes after the panel started. Pretty upset about that). Anyways! I did end up getting some cool things, though most of what was being sold seemed to be more anime focused there were some other cool things I found.

I ended up getting two charms, an Ineffable Husbands one for myself and a Dreamling one for my sister. I also go a really cute Blackbonnet print signed by the artist (it's so cute!!), a little sewn keychain of my favorite little dragon Figment, a really cute Ponyo sweater, and an adorable strawberry frog keyboard for my computer (cuz I really needed a new one).

So overall, a super fun experience!! I definitely have determined that next time I go to a big con I definitely need to look into everything happening the day I'm going and figure out what events I want to participate in. Also, I should probably try to finish up some of my more casual cosplays, such as the Narrator or the RK900 hoodie I've been very slowly working on. This is because I went to this con in my Ghostbusters cosplay. Since I had a proton pack I couldn't have my backpack with me, which got kinda annoying when I had some downtime and didn't have my sketchbook to draw in. So more casual cosplays would work best for me.

Another thing I've discovered. I walk really poorly. My legs and ankles are so sore right now because of how I walk and how much I was walking yesterday. I realized a few hours in as my feet were starting to hurt, that I walk in such a way that I have a little bit of a limp and it puts a lot of strain on my left leg. Along with that, when walking my ankles are very fluid in their movements in such a way that I tend to put more pressure on the outer edge of my feet. In short. I'm super unbalanced and it wrecks my ankles when I walk like this for a while. So. Oof. This explains why every once in a while one of my ankles kind gives out and I either fall or almost fall. It's very rare, but it happens sometimes. Don't really know what to do about that other than trying to be more conscious of how I'm walking.

So that's about if for con related stuff I guess, though this next thing is a tiny bit related I guess. I have noticed recently, both on Tumblr and at the con, that Trigun Stampede is really popular right now. I don't know much about the anime though my sister did show me an episode or two of the original Trugun series. I did notice a lot of really cool art of Vash while at the con, along with some amazing cosplaysm there was this one person selling the cutest little tiny acrylic standees of him and I kinda wanted one, but I felt like it would be kinda weird to get art of a character from a fandom I'm not in. Anyways, this whole thing has a point. That being, I talked to my sister about it and she said I definitely should watch both Trigun series, sooo.... might end up doing that in my free time. I will probably start with the original Trigun then watch Stampede, cuz that just makes sense to me. I don't know how into it I will get, but I guess we will have to see.

I will have you know you most likely won't have to worry about me dropping TSP since I have a lot of people, both friends and you guys, keeping me into it. So don't worry!! I will not stop drawing TSP art for a long while!!! I just thought that would be important to say.

But yeah, that's kinda been the hughlights of my week. Fun things :)

[randomshyperson]

Can I request a celebrity AU with Elizabeth Olsen and Female Reader? Where R is Vision in the MCU. And like throughout a series of interviews and behind the scenes shots, you can see how the two actually fall in love in real life. And in like the final interview they ask “Are you two dating?” And this time they can finally say yes

Hello darling, how are you? I hope well. This took me a while, and i’m not sure you’re even going to like it. But i hope you do. It was honestly kind of strange to write for Lizzie, i kept mistaken the name as Wanda. Also, i changed your idea a bit, because i could find the right way to write the interviews. But anyway, here it is. Good reading.

Elizabeth Olsen x Reader - Love is outside the screen

Summary: The one where Reader plays Vision in the MCU and she falls in love with her co-worker Elizabeth Olsen.

Warnings: None.

Words:  4.308 words  //// Read on AO3

Marks:  @wandamaximoffpuppy

Part. 2  || Part 3

Eight years ago

Your agent was calling you for the third time, and you thought you should answer before you lost your contract.

Letting out an impatient sigh as you reached for your cell phone, you left it on speaker.

- Hello, Sara. - You say with a slight irony as you relax your body in the water of the jacuzzi again.

- It's not polite to ignore someone who keeps you employed. - she said irritated, making you laugh.

- Sorry, but I told you I was on vacation. - You reminded her. - And what did you keep doing? Oh yes, calling me.

- Don't be so grumpy, woman. - She replied with a light humor in her voice, and you could hear the clatter of keystrokes, suggesting that she was working. - I have an opportunity for you.

You raised your eyebrows in curiosity, but said nothing. And by your silence, Sara kept talking.

- Tell me, have you ever thought about being a superhero?

You let out an incredulous laugh, thinking it was a joke. 

- I'm not going to make any weird latex movies, Sara. - You warn her, and she lets out a laugh.

- Actually, honey, it's Marvel.

You blink in surprise, and then turn to rest your arms on the edge of the jacuzzi and look directly at your cell phone.

- What are you talking about? 

- Ah, caught your interest, huh? - She remarks. - You actors are all the same, one famous name and you fall to your knees.

- Sara...

- No, it's okay. - She giggles. - They want a openly queer actress to play a lesbian heroine, I think. And then they called me.

- Wow, Marvel doing something like that? - You comment. - It sounds like a lie.

Sara giggles.

- It pays well anyway. - She says, and then a notification pops up on the screen. - I just sent you the script. Let me know if I can confirm your audition.

You let out a sigh before saying goodbye and hanging up, grabbing your cell phone to read the script.

It is the scene description of your character's appearance, and there is also a note for the chemistry test. You bite your lips thoughtfully. You were known in the media for roles in international, indie and cult films, mostly lesbian romance. You had a few academy nominations, and had been awarded twice by the critics. Superheroes were not really what you were looking for. But then you remembered how much you missed having a lgbt reference in media like this, and then you are sending a message to your agent confirming your audition.

//-//

Present

You are twiddling your thumbs in your dressing room. It must be the ninth interview in less than two weeks. Letting out a sigh, you stand up, momentarily looking at your appearance in the mirror. The make-up team did a good job, you look well. And then you are walking outside, to the dressing room next to yours. 

You knock on the door, and are soon answered. But Elizabeth doesn't smile when she pulls you inside.

- Hey, Lizzie, what's up? - you ask worriedly as you close the door. The next second she's hugging you tight, and you sigh. - You're anxious, aren't you?

- I feel like my heart is going to burst out of my mouth. - She grumbles and you start stroking her back, trying to calm her down.

- Remember that exercise we practiced, okay? - You ask her tenderly as you move your feet so that you move together toward the sofa in the living room. You break the embrace slowly, to sit Lizzie down on the couch as you kneel in front of her. She looks on the verge of tears, and you place your hands on top of hers. - Breathe with me, okay?

It will take you many minutes to calm her down, but you don't care. And then she smiles, and brings your foreheads together.

- Thank you. - She whispers before kissing you. She walks away too quickly in your opinion, but you can't say anything because the producer is calling you next, announcing that the interview starts in two minutes. You smile at Liz before getting up.

//-//

Seven years ago.

You had just finished filming your last scene in Age of Ultron when your agent called you. Scrolling your finger quickly across the screen, you answered while your cell phone rested on the table in your dressing room, and you kept your hands busy trying to pin up your hair.

- I'm leaving the studio, Sara, what's up? - you told her.

- I wanted to congratulate you on the affair, although I'm surprised it happened so quickly. - She says and you frown in confusion, finishing up with your bun. You pick up your cell phone next.

- What are you talking about?

Sara giggles, and sends you an attachment. You pull your cell phone away from your ear to look at it. It is a photo of you and Elizabeth, your teammate and romantic partner in the franchise, taken the same day you discovered Liz had social anxiety and took her out for coffee with you to take her focus off the celebrity world for a while. The paparazzi managed to capture the exact moment when you kissed her on the cheek in farewell. 

- This is all over the gossip sites as Marvel's mysterious romantic couple. - Your agent commented, and you rubbed your fingers across your forehead in irritation.

- You want me to publicly deny a relationship, is that it? - you ask, walking around the dressing room and gathering your things.

- What? No! This is great for advertising. - she says with slight excitement in her voice. - Especially after the movie comes out! Fans love couples who fall in love behind the screen.

You roll your eyes, switching your cell phone to your ear.

- I'm not going to make a relationship contract if that's what you're thinking! - You say with irritation and can imagine Sara rolling her eyes on the other end of the line.

- Yes, yes, we've been over this, Miss Morally Correct. - She scoffs lightly. - But I really called to talk about the premiere. We have details to discuss.

Sighing, you ask her to wait. Then you finished putting your things away, and grabbed the phone as you walked out the door.

//-//

Six years ago, California

Interviewers can be motherfuckers when they want to be, you thought as you bit the inside of your cheek, trying to keep your face impassive as you watched the woman in front of you list the "missed moments" from the Avengers set. You knew that your agent had talked to the show's staff about the authorized questions, and yet here you were on live television, having to declare whether the timely photos taken on the Avengers set meant that you had a secret relationship with your best friend Elizabeth Olsen.

A slideshow was playing on the screen behind you. There were pictures from the footage, many where you and Liz were laughing together, or having lunch together. There were some where she was sitting on your lap, or vice versa. Your expression softened when you noticed one where she was looking at you adoringly. It was so strange to be an artist sometimes. You smiled politely at the presenter.

- Come on, Ellen, you know how these things are. - You said. - Things are different on camera, Lizzie and I are friends.

The audience let out a chorus of displeasure, and Ellen laughed lightly.

- You know that many of the fans would like this rumor to be true, especially since you two play a couple and you are openly queer. - She says, and you wiggle your fingers in your lap, uncomfortable with where this conversation is going, but you nod in agreement. - Furthermore, you say that the paparazzi cameras are deceiving, but what about the stories you post on your personal networks?

She asks with a chuckle, and then other videos are playing on the screen, and you force yourself to smile and watch.

The vast majority are harmless, and platonic. You spend a lot of time at Liz's house because when she moved in, you were her reference and tour guide, and so you got into the habit of checking up on her. And then you became friends and you spent more time at her house than at yours.There were many videos and pictures on yours and her instagram where you two were tending a garden, playing board games, cooking together, or watching sports.  You bit back a smile as you watched the memories through the images. 

- See?It's hard to believe that this is just platonic. - Ellen insisted again, and the audience laughed.  You tried to cover it up with a smile. - But since you claim to be single, we're going to play a game now. It's called "Who Would You Rather?

The audience applauded and you giggled, straightening your posture in your chair. And then the studio screen had a sign with the name of the game.

- It's very simple, you just have to choose which of the artists you would rather. - She explains, and you blink.

- Rather what?

Ellen lets out a giggle, and you understand, nodding in embarrassment. The audience laughs. The picture changes to two pictures.

- Who would you rather, Scarlett Johansson or Chris Hemsworth?

- Wow, that sounds like a trap. - You comment awkwardly, making the audience laugh. And then you bite your lips. - I think Scarlett.

Ellen gives you a suggestive look, and the audience chuckles, you force yourself to imitate them. The picture changes again.

- Scarlett or Sebastian Stan?

You laugh, smoothing your hair slightly.

- I don't know, I think Seb. - You answer. And then the picture changes again, and you want to run away when the audience gives a chorus of excitement.

- Sebastian Stan or Elizabeth Olsen?

- There it is the trap. - You comment clumsily, causing the audience to bust out laughing. You swallow dryly and look down at your lap before saying. - I'd say Elizabeth Olsen.

You played for a few more minutes, and then the game ended with you choosing Elizabeth at the end, which got the audience cheering and celebrating. When the interview was over, Sara was calling you, and you were massaging your forehead when you answered.

- I thought you said you two weren't dating. - She teased, and you grumbled in irritation. 

- I thought you had discussed these matters with the staff. - You retorted, slightly irritated. - She only asked me about Lizzie and dating the entire interview.

- Honey, you're America's sweet couple. - She sneered. - Ellen wants viewers and will ask the questions that the audience wants to know.

- That's ridiculous. - You said and then sighed. - Why did you call me anyway?

- I have your new shooting location, so get your coats and jackets ready.

//-//

Six years ago, Berlin.

You are laughing at Anthony's imitation of Robert. Sitting in the shared dining hall, you were having a good time over lunch with your other colleagues while you were recording Civil War.

And then you were in scene again, many minutes later, and you found it strange that the nervousness was crossing beyond your character during a specific scene in which you were counteracting with Elizabeth. 

You saw her laughing at a comment your character made, and you should have this expression of surprise and embarrassment, but you didn't even have to act it out. Your cheeks reddened naturally at the image of Liz laughing. And then the director said cut when you were done and you were rushing out to clean up your makeup.

Later that day, after the shoot was over, the team wanted to visit a local pub, and you accepted the invitation, ignoring the previous event, and smiling when Elizabeth touched your arm to get your attention.

- A toast to the Avengers! - shouted the camera crew chief when you were all gathered at the bar, you thought maybe he had had too much to drink, but you joined in the toast. 

You stood next to Lizzie and Chris at a table while sipping a dark drink that might have been craft beer, or something German.

Your cell phone vibrates with a notification and you choke in surprise at the content of the message. Sara had sent you a note from TMZ, stating that your secret romance with Elizabeth Olsen was threatened because you had been seen leaving a coffee shop with Katie McGrath. 

Chris and Lizzie look at you curiously, and you just lay your cell phone down on the table for them to see while you turn the entire glass of beer in your mouth.

- Wow, so your type really is super heroines. - Chris commented with a smile, and you laugh, pushing him away slightly. 

- I swear, I can't be seen talking to any woman that she is automatically my girlfriend. - You say irritated as you put your beer glass back on the table. Your gaze returns to Lizzie, who has picked up your cell phone from the table and is reading the news. Then she hands the phone back to you, and gets a strange look on her face that you can't read very well, but she forces a smile.

- At least you cheated on me with a pretty girl. - she says and you frown in surprise. Chris laughs at the joke, but before you could have any other reaction, the rest of the team is joining you.

//-//

Five years ago, California.

You gave up fighting the questions about your relationship with Elizabeth. They would happen anyway, whether your agent talked to the teams or not, so you just smiled politely when you told people you were just friends and remained truthful in your statements. 

Usually the interviews with Lizzie were easier, because you went into protective mode and your brain was ready to give sharp, snappy answers to keep Elizabeth from being embarrassed. 

So here you were on the Night Show, with one of your favorite interviewers, and your best friend by your side. Jimmy was asking good questions, and he was funny. You hoped he wouldn't ask anything too embarrassing.

After many questions about employment, and worldview, which was refreshing, he finally asked you about the rumors of your secret relationship.

- Girls, you know that the public wants to know. - He began with a smile, and you laughed lightly, exchanging a look with Lizzie. - And actually, we have arguments this time.

- Here we go. - You commented with light irony which made the audience laugh. 

Your latest posts on instagram were visible on the big screen.

- Last Tuesday, both of you posted these stories on your personal accounts. - Jimmy started with excitement. - And it rocked the internet completely, because the location was visible on your instagram, Elizabeth.

Lizzie let out an embarrassed giggle.

- Well, if the public's doubt is whether we were together there, they can confirm it. - She said, and Jimmy let out an excited exclamation. Lizzie waited for the audience to stop their celebratory chorus before speaking again. - But this was a special celebration, since it was my birthday. 

- And I took her on a trip to Mexico. - You completed the story with a slight smile. The audience let out a chorus of happiness and you looked at them in confusion. - Guys, friends do this!

Jimmy and the audience laughed for a moment and then the image came off the screen.

- Come on girls, you're giving us material. - He remarked with a smile. - And you're still going to deny the relationship like you always do, I imagine.

You and Wanda exchange a short chuckle.

- Look, Jimmy, all I have to say is that Lizzie is amazing, she really is. - You saw yourself confessing. - Anyone would be lucky to date this brilliant, spectacular, sweet, fun-loving woman. But that person is not me.

Jimmy lets out an exclamation of sadness along with the audience, but then they applaud your words, and you smile wryly. You risk a glance at Lizzie for a second, and she has slightly flushed cheeks, and looks surprised at your words.

You ignore the nervous feeling at the pit of your stomach, and decide to keep your posture polite as you answer the next questions.

//-//

Four years ago.

You had to kiss Lizzie. And then you shook your head. No, not you. Vision. Your character, Vision, had to kiss Lizzie's character, Wanda Maximoff. And you repeated this like a mantra as you walked from your dressing room to the set.

The day you read this scene, you smiled politely at your agent, and disguised any apparent nervousness. And then you spent the last few weeks pretending that if you didn't think about it, eventually the director would make a change and the scene wouldn't even exist. But here you were, trying to have one last drop of professionalism.

You weren't even recording the scene officially, it was just the rehearsal of lines and marking, and you had sweaty hands. 

As you walked through the studio, the staff smiled and greeted you, and then you spotted Lizzie and ignored the uneven beating of your heart.

- Let's get started girls. - announced Russo as soon as he caught sight of you. He signaled for you to follow the team's prearranged schedule. You smiled at Lizzie as you took your place. - We can test the order of the scene directly. I need to know which angle is best to have Vision ask Wanda to stay with her.

And then you started recording. And now you were Vision. There was no time to think about how naturally your hand fit into Lizzie's, or how good it felt to feel her hugging you. And then Russo shouted cut again.

- That's pretty good. - He commented, looking at the monitor. - Let's shoot the stone scene okay, then the action scene.

The scene started, and you said your lines the way you were supposed to. And then you were looking at Lizzie, and she kissed you as the script said. You held the sigh in your throat, and pulled away. Vision doesn't sigh, so you shouldn't either. And then you are smiling as written, and the director closes the scene again.

You were getting pretty good at hiding how affected you are by Lizzie the more you kiss her onstage. And then you wrap up the day's shooting, and you are mentally exhausted. You want to sleep in your dressing room, but you decide to go home.

And as you are walking back to your car, Lizzie calls out to you.

- Hey, partner. - She greets me by walking beside you. - Don't you want to go for a drink tonight?

You let out a sigh, ignoring the urge to shout that you would go anywhere with her, and thinking about how tired your body is.

- I'm exhausted, Lizzie. - You tell her, and she looks upset, but you add with a smile. - But I'll take it if it's something at your place.

Lizzie's face lights up quickly, and she nods, and then says she'll leave something in her car. She returns when you are already in yours.

- All set? - You ask to confirm, and she smiles and nods. And then you start the car and drive out of the studio.

Lizzie turns on the car stereo a moment later, and you begin humming the song.

- You've been distant lately. - She comments distractedly as you drive away. - You know you can talk to me, right?

You smile, ignoring the feeling in your stomach.

- Yes, Lizzie. - You say without taking your eyes off the road. - I'm just busy, that's all. It's nothing.

Lizzie makes a noise of agreement and looks away. You think maybe she believes you're not telling her the truth, and you feel guilty. So you decide to change the subject.

- How are things at home, Liz? Are Mary-Kate and Ashley well? - you ask, and she looks at you quickly.

- Everything's fine. - she says, and then she bites her lip. - Did I do something?

You frown, glancing quickly at her before looking down the street again. The light was red. And when you turn your head toward her, she lets out a sigh.

- You don't talk to me anymore. - She says seriously, looking at you. - Since Berlin, you're just distant. Always busy, and with ready-made answers. And now you try small talk, even though you hate it. I wish you would tell me what I did wrong.

Your heart is racing at the accusations, because she is absolutely right. And then you swallow dry, and prepare to speak, but then Liz is pointing ahead, the headlight has opened. And you have to drive, and she crosses her arms and looks away to the window.

You drive the rest of the way to her house in silence, and when you park the car in the driveway, she mumbles a goodnight before getting out. 

Squeezing the steering wheel in your fingers, you take a deep breath. And then you get out of the car, and the noise of the door opening surprises her because she turns to look. But you are walking toward her, and raising your hand to the back of her neck, bringing your mouths together. Lizzie chokes in surprise, but in the next second she melts against you as she kisses you back.

You part breathlessly, holding your foreheads together.

- I am in love with you. - You confess. - I'm sorry I was a complete idiot, but I was terrified.

Lizzie giggles, kissing you again quickly before hugging you. And then she is breaking the embrace to look at you, a shy smile on her lips.

- I'm in love with you too. - she says. - I'm glad that's the problem and not something else.

You laugh, and kiss her one last time before entwining your hands and walking toward her house.

You decide to take things slow, so naturally, two weeks later, you ask her to be your girlfriend over dinner. Lizzie smiles all night, but you know that if this is a secret, she can't wear the ring.

Public relationships mean contracts, and agents, and unwanted questions, and lots of opinions about your lives. And you two wanted to keep that to yourselves for the time being.

So when directors comment that your onstage chemistry is amazing, you two just nod and thank them. When the interviewers ask if you are together, you deny it as before.

The first time you sleep with Lizzie, you almost break the bed. And it's all right, because you two are laughing with happiness and pleasure, and she pulls you in for another kiss. And you entwine your hands, the commitment rings on your fingers.

A year and a half later, you are getting very busy with your participation in a youth series, and there are many rumors that you are dating your co-star, so Lizzie is jealous and you can't blame her. 

You decide that the secret cannot go on any longer, at least not to your friends and employers. So you talk to Lizzie, and you both call your agents. Sara laughs for ten minutes when you tell her, but she is happy to talk to Lizzie's agent. You are not public yet, but it is important that all parties are in agreement. You hate bureaucracy, but you don't mind as long as Lizzie's hand is in yours. Your friends are very happy, and the other cast members tease you constantly about it.

When you shoot the last movie, you think you are going to be fired because your character has died. But then you and Lizzie get a series together.

You try not to overthink how you will deny the rumors on television, but Lizzie kisses you on the cheek and tells you that you will face it together. 

It takes three more months for you to propose. You think your chest will explode with happiness when she accepts.

And then you are calling your agents again, and Sara almost faints when you tell her that you got married in secret at some registry office in the Caribbean and she needs to get the paperwork sorted out. When you get back to California, there is a small ceremony with your family members.

//-//

Present

You and Lizzie are sitting side by side in the interview. The questions about WandaVision are over, and now you know from Jimmy's expression what he is going to say.

- The last time you were here, I had only an instagram post as an argument for your secret relationship. - He says, making you, Lizzie and the audience laugh lightly. - But now I have talked to the production and they prepare a presentation.

- My goodness. - You remark, making him laugh. And then he waves to the big screen, and you try to disguise your nervousness.

A presentation of images began to play to the audience to the sound of "honeybee" by the band "The Head and The Heart". There are several studio shots, from photo rehearsals to behind-the-scene moments. There is a picture from the day you met, from the first cast test, from the Avengers taping, paparazzi shots of you laughing in the parking lot, or in the open areas. There are pictures of you walking around Los Angeles together, pictures of your rides, or your travels. There are clippings from instagram stories where you spend time together, laughing and hugging. The presentation ends with the BTS photo of WandaVision from the first day of recording where you have your arm around Lizzie, and the two of you are laughing.

You clear your throat away the emotion, but Lizzie wipes her eyes lightly.

- That was very beautiful. - She comments as Jimmy hands her a piece of tissue paper. The audience bursts into tears of excitement.

- I guess we can get to the part where you deny everything now can't we? - Jimmy jokes and you smile and straighten your posture.

- Actually, Jimmy, we have something to announce.

[damonalbarn]

Hey I was wondering if you knew the article that Justine spoke about suzi in?!

It was in The Guardian in 2000. Here you go:

Sweet revenge

In the mid 90s, Justine Frischmann and Damon Albarn were the First Couple of Britpop. Then he used a Blur album to rake over their break-up, while she languished in obscurity amid rumours of heroin addiction. Now she's back with a new album, and it's her turn to exorcise her demons.

Caroline Sullivan

Friday March 24, 2000

As Alison Moyet once said, it's hard to write a decent song when you're happy. Rock bands thrive on romantic turmoil in their private lives, without which they would be reduced to padding out lyrics with football scores and the weather.

Thus it was for Blur's Damon Albarn in mid-1998 when he sat down to write what would become the 13 album. His eight-year relationship with Justine Frischmann of the chart-topping Elastica, whom he once described as **"the only person who's ever been completely necessary to me" **had just ended, at her instigation. Pained and humiliated, he decided to exact revenge by exposing their most intimate details to public scrutiny.

The outcome? Embarrassment for Frischmann, a number one album for Blur and a bit of a result for Albarn.

Break-up albums are by definition both embittered and yearning - in the case of Marvin Gaye's vindictive Here, My Dear, they're just plain nasty - but 13 got more up-close and personal than could be considered gentlemanly. Albarn portrayed his former partner as neurotic, even slipping apparent drug references into the single Tender: "Tender is the ghost, the ghost I love the most/Hiding from the sun, waiting for the night to come". Frischmann was the ghost, supposedly, who was on the verge of being consumed by what one music paper euphemistically called "the darkness at the heart of Elastica".

Frischmann's response can be found on a song called The Way I Like It, which appears on Elastica's first album in five years, The Menace (out next month): "Well, I'm living all right and I'm doing okay/Had a lover who was made of sand, and the wind blew him away".

This is unlikely to be her last word on the subject. As she ambivalently begins her first round of interviews since 1996, she's finding that everyone has the same three questions. Why did Elastica nearly sabotage a promising career by taking so long to follow up their million-selling debut? Had Frischmann taken leave of her senses when she walked out on Mr Britpop? And what about the drug rumours?

"One journalist said to me, 'Dahling, I heard you were on heroin - Mahvelous!' " she says with some amusement. "Drugs are around, but I'm not that interested and never have been, although there have been elements of party animal in my band. The rumours are a lot to do with rock'n'roll mythology, where people want to believe you're having a more exciting time than you are."

The only drugs on her person today, as she perches on the edge of an armchair in her publicist's north London living room, are Marlboro Lights. Her other indulgences are two cups of herbal tea and a Cadbury's Flake cupcake, which she nibbles with well-bred pleasure. Her dark eyes are clear, and her long, tanned body is a testament to the virtues of a daily swim in a pool near her Notting Hill home. Only Elastica know whether they really succumbed to heroin and hedonism after their self-titled debut made them more famous than they'd ever expected to be, but if they did, Frischmann, 30, seems little the worse for it.

Given the current predominance of damnable boy bands, the Britpop mid-90s are beginning to seem like a halcyon period for English music. It was a time when the underground went overground, and a self-described "little punk band" like Elastica could sell 80,000 albums in a week.

More than a few loser guitar groups saw Britpop as a licence to print money, but Elastica, led with cool elan by the androgynous Frischmann, were one of its gems. The Blur connection was a marketing godsend (Frischmann and Albarn met on the London indie circuit, she as guitarist in an early line-up of Suede and girlfriend of frontman Brett Anderson, he as a cherubic baggy hopeful), yet the spiky-haired Elastica LP embodied that euphoric time like nothing else.

Frischmann, guitarist Donna Matthews, drummer Justin Welch and bassist Annie Holland were unprepared for the album soaring to number one in its first week. When they signed their record deal, Frischmann, whose great-grandfather was a conductor of the Tsar's orchestra at the Summer Palace in Byelorussia, was five years into an architecture degree at London University. A liberal north London Jewish upbringing - her engineer father built the Oxford Street landmark Centrepoint - had instilled expectations of success, but the reality of being photographed in the supermarket and having her rubbish stolen was a shock. Fiercely independent, she also resented her unsought role as half of Britpop's First Couple.

There was more. Two of Frischmann's musical heroes, The Stranglers and Wire, decided that two Elastica songs were suspiciously similar to two of their own tracks, and won royalties. Meanwhile, there were malicious rumours that Albarn had done much of the work on the record. He hadn't, but he did find Justine's success in America, where she was substantially out-selling Blur, hard to endure.

"It was very hard for him to deal with and he's very confrontational," she says, with the flattering openness of someone who prefers interviews to be more like conversations. She admits she often says too much, but in an era of image control and spin, her honesty makes her a one-off. Not that she's likely to land herself in it too badly - she possesses the intellectual ammunition to look after herself, which must have been instrumental in attracting two of rock's more articulate stars, Albarn and Anderson.

She's been accused of being a professional rock girlfriend, though it was probably they who were lucky to get her. She spent the cab ride over reading the Sylvia Plath letters in Monday's Guardian, and muses on the irony of the poet's subjugating herself to Ted Hughes when she was the more gifted. (Her new boyfriend, by the way, is an unknown photographer, "though that'll probably change, because men seem to get famous when I go out with them".)

"I reacted the way a lot of women do, by being passive," she continues. "He put a lot of pressure on me to give up Elastica. He said, 'You don't want to be in a band, you want to settle down and have kids.' " In so many words? "In so many words. He kept putting on pressure till I started to believe him." She adds bemusedly: "I've met his new girlfriend, and one of the first things she said was that he wanted her to give up travelling with her work to stay home with the baby [Missy, born last autumn]. I'm surprised he's got away with being thought of as a nice person for so long."

After 18 months, during which they did seven American and three Japanese tours, Elastica came off the road to record company demands for an immediate second album. Annie Holland's response was to quit the group, while Donna Matthews became renowned for hard partying on the nocturnal west London scene. They lethargically recorded some demos, but their heart wasn't in it. By 1997, when a second album should have been ready to go, Frischmann and Matthews were barely speaking, and there was nothing useable down on tape.

Holland's replacement, Sheila Chipperfield (of the circus Chipperfields), was deemed not good enough and left by mutual consent. By 1998, their continued lack of productivity was being likened to the Stone Roses' lengthy and ultimately self-destructive holiday between their first and second LPs.

"I didn't think Elastica were going to continue at that point, and we did kinda split up," she says, absently stroking her publicist's cat. Frischmann is a cat person; she's owned a tabby called Benjamin since she was 10. "Unconditional love," she coos. The pet's place in her life is so assured that prospective boyfriends are subjected to his feline scrutiny before she'll go out with them.

On top of everything else, in early 1998 her relationship with Albarn was in trouble. Frischmann retains enough of the indie ethic to detest the phenomenon of celebrity couples, and was dismayed when they became one. "I really hated the tabloid interest, and I went out of my way not to be photographed with him. Only about three pictures of us together exist, I think. In many ways, I think the media interest broke us up, because it made me feel the relationship was quite ugly, and I had to get away from it. There were other factors, too, obviously, because we were together for eight years, and I finally felt it was better the devil you didn't know, really."

Albarn's ego seems to have been severely undermined by having a girlfriend who was nearly as successful as he was, and something of a sex symbol to boot. Despite adopting a resolutely boyish T-shirt-and-jeans uniform, she's thoroughly feminine, a mix that got her voted fifth most fanciable woman in a lesbian magazine.

"I'm completely heterosexual, so I didn't know how to take that. It scares the shit out of me, the idea of being with a girl. I'm glad I've narrowed it down to half the people in the world."

She seems to view Albarn with indulgent exasperation these days, simultaneously praising his intelligence ("The Gallaghers just couldn't compete") and ticking off his flaws. "Damon adores being in the press, and sees all press as good press. He orchestrated that rivalry thing with Oasis. He really wanted kids, and I didn't feel our relationship was stable enough. He was a naughty boy, and he wasn't the right person to have kids with. I had this cathartic moment..."

At which point they split up. Albarn wrote 13 and then met Suzi Winstanley, an artist. "She was pregnant within three months," Justine observes wickedly.

Of the acclaimed 13, she's tactful, describing several songs as "really lovely". She studies her cigarette for a while before adding, "but I'm cynical about selling a record on the back of our relationship". But you're doing the same now. "It's true, but at the time I had no right of reply."

Elastica finally pulled themselves together last year, just as the music industry was about to write them off (their American label had already "very kindly let us go", as she puts it). Holland rejoined, Matthews went to Wales to sort out her life and the band banged out an EP and played the Reading Festival. Things came together quickly after that. They spent the last £10,000 of the recording budget on re-recording a dozen tracks, finishing the album, after years of procrastinating, in six weeks. They've called it The Menace "because that's what it was like to make".

It's dark and resolutely uncommercial - all wrong for 2000's pop-oriented climate. It's unlikely to match the success of the first one, which is fine with them. Call it (though Justine doesn't) their White Album. Its 70s punk aesthetic brings to mind angry girls such as the Slits and the Au Pairs, although the defining mood isn't anger so much as catharsis. None of the songs is specifically about Albarn, she claims. "The dark feeling is due to the sense of isolation, tasting success and getting frightened by it. I was questioning whether I wanted to be in a band any more, and there was no one I could ask for advice. Getting success and everything you ever dreamed about is hard to handle, and makes you question everything."

She's better prepared for success, if it comes again, this time. Already the privacy-preserving barriers are in place. The next interview of the day is with Time Out magazine, which wants a list of her favourite restaurants. "I'm not telling them where I eat," she says reflexively. "I'm gonna lie."

[beetsandskzreads]

silent bright summer night

bang chan x gn!reader, y/n works with skz and became their friend (the ultimate dream haha)

genre: tooth-rotening fluff, slight angst with a happy ending

notes/warnings: nothing intense, this is very fluffy, there's brief mentions of cheating, long distance, y/n's exes, fear of abandonment, slight insecurities, deep talks, reader and chan are slightly wine drunk, y/n and chan are whipped, y/n makes it explicit they want to date someone very warm and caring (aka chan), i don't think that's a warning tho djsjs just saying

scenario: on a balcony, at a beach apartment on a summer night of vacation, y/n opens up to chan about their past and current lovers. what y/n doesn't know is why chan is so interested listening to it.

It was 1:01 am when chan and I found ourselves in the balcony that overlooked the city and it's bright lights on a summer night. Skz had gone to sleep right after all of us came back from a night out of lots of fun, buying stuff on stores by the beach, having ice cream, seeing the view of the city lights reflecting on the sea water, appreciating street artists...

The two of us had been talking the whole evening, we hung out as a group but mostly just spoke to each other and laughed at the members jokes, both of us having a sparkle in our eye every time we saw the group happy. There was this unspoken pleasantness, a bliss, calmness in the air but with a lot of excitement. Chan was so happy to be around the sea with "the kids" as he refers to them and being at the beach almost 24/7 this week, it was like his natural habitat, his home, a comfort place. It left you feeling even softer for him, and as you shared your love for the sea, your feelings were at a peak. You liked Chan, and you loved this place as much as he did.

The night was so great, everyone was out like a lightweight as soon as we arrived to the vacation apartment we're in. Chan and I were testing the theory that a glass of wine would help us get drowsy and help us fall asleep as well, since we both have trouble falling asleep and felt nothing but a remaining excitement from the night out. It came to me especially because of the enthusiasm of talking to him, we were connecting so well, I didn't want this to ever end.

And so we drank (one glass quickly becoming the whole bottle) and we talked for what felt like hours on end, that neither of us wanted to cease.

- My ex best friend, she never quite knew how to choose guys, she always went for the ones that would never turn her way, the ones who obviously wouldn't care about her, not because of her, but because they were really careless guys, walking red flags. - I told him, I couldn't remember where exactly the conversation started but we were talking about nice people picking shitty people to date.

- What about you? - he asked

- Me? I barely even like guys, I mean I do, but I'm really picky actually, I don't allow myself to fall for cold people, I wouldn't forgive myself if I took interest in someone rude, I try so hard to take care of myself so I either stay alone that way or I find someone who makes me feel better, who knows how to take care of me, after all we chase happiness, I think a caring person could do that, someone gentle who isn't scared of emotions or who at least is open to face that fear with me by their side.

- I get it, it's hard to get by if you don't have emotional support, a partner should be able to provide that support, yeah. Did you ever... find someone like that?

- Yeah, in the past I did and even now I do know someone more than ideal... I guess my ex partners when I was young were going through a soft phase tho... I guess everyone has an emotional limit they were scared to cross... once I found that barrier the relationship stoped evolving, reached a dead end and so there was nothing left for me anymore and I left, plus, you know, cheating, long distance, a bunch of stuff really... it wasn't meant to be and I'm okay with that.

- What about that someone right now?

Silence ruled for about 3 seconds before I knew what to say. That someone right now is him. Ever since I've known him feels like he's the only man ever, but I don't think I'd tell him that, not soon anyways.

- What about 'em?

- What's that person like? What makes you trust they're any different from your exes?

- Sometimes I fear they're not, but I set the bar really high and I reset it constantly, to make sure I'm seeing it right, sometimes they seem so perfect to me that I wonder what good have i done in my past life to deserve to be around such a bright person. Of course they make mistakes too, but even the way they deal with them is so... mature, it's so easy to just solve things communicating, it's insane to me. Then I remember it's probably because they're eventually gonna leave me too, or just not reciprocate my feelings and after they break my heart I'll probably loose all hope in love, be heart broken for two years until I decide I'm gonna focus on myself again... it's a cycle after heartbreak, but with this person I'm really scared, because they mean more. I'm way too deep in before I've even expressed my feelings, it's gonna be devastating. - I'm rambling, the wine made me do it.

- What makes you think they wouldn't like you back tho?

- I'm not sure I just... it would be too good to be true and it's complicated... he's amazing and I'm just not sure if he'd be into me, I mean, I think I'm lovable and I think I'd be a great lover, I just don't know if I'm his type or if he'd consider me. We have a bit of an age gap, I'm not someone who's typically pretty or specially good looking, I have my charms but I have no idea if that's enough for him to be in love. It's complicated with each others work too... - I notice chan's gaze on me, he has his head leaned on his hand on the table and he's looking at me with bright eyes, eyes that look tired and a little drunk but somehow, he manages to look at me in a way that makes me feel adored, I don't know why you have to make me feel so much love, Bang Chan - Why are you looking at me like that?

- You have no idea how other people perceive you, do you? - he ignored your question, probably because of his drunk-ish drowsy state - Everyone I know likes you, see, you're a naturally kind and caring person, you're attentive to people's needs, you make sure everyone feels comfortable around you... that's so appreciated by everyone. I think you're exceptional y/n, you have this charismatic way of existing, a refreshing and comfy presence everyone can feel, but to me... it feels like home. You feel like home y/n. So... I have no idea who that person is but I sure as hell know they'd be more than lucky to have you as a partner and they're definitely dumb if they let you go.

- Are you dumb? - my heart's pounding quicker as I'm about to do something I didn't plan on doing ever.

- Huh? No, why w-

- Because that person is you... I like you, Chan. In a more-than-friends way - I interrupt him quickly before I lose my newly found courage.

Chan could've sworn his heart stopped for a few seconds. Suddenly sobriety hit him like a truck. It was the alcohol that made you say that, he thought, but he wished it was true and you didn't drink enough to be lying about this kind of stuff, you had a full on conversation and you seemed pretty sober.

- Y-y/n are you sober? - he tries to navigate through the situation.

- Oh my... yeah I am, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything, it just rolled out of my tongue. I'm sorry... - you said as you panicked and tried to go back inside, regret filling up all your organs.

"I messed up" your brain keeps repeating as desperation starts entering your body, until Chan grabbed your hand, stopping you from leaving.

- Wait! You don't need to apologize, I'm glad you told me... You didn't think I'd say all that about you if I didn't like you as well, did you? - he asks suggestively.

- I don't know - you blush as you realize what he's getting at - You're just so nice to everyone, I didn't make a big deal out of it.

- Well, you should've made it a big deal, the biggest deal actually because I've been trying really hard to show you how I feel these past few days and you were so clueless I thought you were purposefully ignoring the signs because you didn't like me back.

- I'm sorry Channie, I just didn't want to assume stuff and get heartbroken if it wasn't true.

-Well it is true, so you don't need to worry anymore. I really like you too, y/n. And I've wanted to say it for a while too, I was just wondering if it was a good idea since you work with us, but I can't contain my feelings anyways... you always treat me so softly and you look after the kids really well... It just feels like you were made to be by my side, you're the embodiment of the person I've always dreamed to be with, and these past few days with the kids and you... it just felt like we were the perfect family you know? I don't think I could be without you by my side anymore... - he stops, he's been staring at your eyes the whole time and now they're starting to water.

How could you not cry when he's saying the things you thought you'd only ever hear in dreams?

- Why are you crying sweetheart? - he whispered, as he wipes a tear with his thumb, the other hand holding your hand as he stands closer every second.

- It's just... I'm so... happy - you smile through your tears - I'm so happy to hear that, you said it in such a beautiful way too... I feel exactly the same, it's like I've gained a family with you guys but you... I've grown really attached to you, feels like some parts of you are tangled in my heart in ways I couldn't tear apart if I wanted to... I'm drawn to you and when I'm with you it's comfortable, blissful, it's right. You're so good to me, it's unbelievable, but it's true, and it warms my heart. - you say as your foreheads touch and your smile grows, his eyes showing so much adoration for you, you could melt.

Suddenly you share your first kiss together, a soft yet passionate mix of sensations, and it felt like everything you ever felt around Chan but better.

You stare into each other's eyes, smiling like the little lovely goofballs you both were, noses touching, ocasional little pecks filled with giggles because you were whipped for each other.

- So this means we're exclusive lovers now, yeah? - he asks with a blushing face, a very silent giggle and a huge, uncontrollable smile.

- Definitely, yeah - you answer biting your lip until eventually you let out the largest smile you ever had.

Needless to say, you didn't leave that balcony to go to sleep that evening. In fact, you two watched the sunrise kissing and cuddling, talking about the feelings you had for each other, when they started, why you liked each other, covered by a blanket, not wanting to let go of each other now that you were openly romantic.

Han found you both sound asleep, you on chan's lap, head on his neck as his arms wrapped around you gently, on a chair in the middle of the morning. He obviously called all the members to watch you two as they assumed you two finally got together. All of them saw it coming, Chan wouldn't shut up about you and had written what could be an entire album about you.

They were happy at least you'd be around more often to cook your delicious food. And you both blushed really hard once you woke up to lot's of teasing from the kids, it was fine tho, you liked it just like this, it was home.

[gale-gentlepenguin]

ML Fic: Soulmate Survey Part 36

Sorry about the delay. But now its here and its ready for consumption.

Also, Shout to @asongeverlasting for beta reading for me and making sure I actually got this out.

Check her writing out on AO3 as ShamelesslyRomantic,

(Master post)

(Read the fic in a more condensed on Ao3)

_____________________________________________________________

“Finished,” the artist akuma stated as he addressed his master.

Masquerade got up from her throne to look at the room. The classroom had been transformed into a rather spacious throne room. The artist had erased and redrawn walls to ensure the room was much larger. This new space also had several large windows adorned with elegant black and white curtains hanging from the top. Reflekta servants decked out in masquerade themed armor stood at attention on each step leading to her throne. Beautiful artwork of her decorated the walls, including an imposing portrait of her behind her throne that made it look as if she was looking down at everyone looking up at it. To her that came off as self-interested yet tasteful. The masked akuma even loved the addition of a red carpet that led up to her throne.

“This is quite satisfactory, Evillustrator. Just be sure to reinforce the walls of the room then head to the roof and locate Simularé. I want this place to be a fortress,” Masquerade ordered

“Understood,” the akuma nodded, his expression unreadable from the white face mask. He quickly headed to the door out of the room and Stone heart was guarding the door with his large frame and had to let the artist out.

“Gamer! Robostus! Status report!”

“We have made it so we could hack into every screen in Paris that is connected to the internet, as per your request,” the Gamer responded in monotone.

Masquerade smiled at that.

“Excellent. Do we have the cameras ready?”

The Reflekta copies near the robot akuma were being outfitted with recording gear.

“Affirmative, we will be ready to go live at your request.”

The masked akuma smiled at that news, she turned her attention to Princess Fragrance and the original Reflekta, who had just finished turning the last of the captured individuals into obedient copies of her.

“Has everyone in the school been rounded up and handled?”

“Dark Cupid and Reverser are doing a final sweep of any runaway stragglers. Stormy weather is going around flooding and freezing any empty hallways to flush out any that are hiding. There are Reflekta copies guarding the blocked off exits should anyone try and escape. But over 96% of the student body has been accounted for and 99% of all Faculty.” Princess Fragrance answered.

‘The missing ones are likely Marinette and Adrien. Those two never did make anything easy for me, did they? But it didn’t matter, their luck would run out soon enough. Once Ladybug and Chat noir were handled, then I could focus on making them pay,’ Masquerade grinned to herself.

She could picture how it would be, finding them and seeing their desperate faces as they realized that no hero would be able to save them. The first thing she would do was show them both her little empire. They thought she was bad when she had the school wrapped around her finger, they will be mortified when they see Paris. She would have all their friends and family captured, their best friends leading the cruel treatment of the rest. This would have them in tears and begging for mercy.

She did once consider letting Adrien be her boyfriend, with some perfume to sway him. He would have been a perfect boytoy to taunt Marinette with, but Masquerade realized how far above him she was now. She didn’t need him anymore, and truthfully, he was just as bad as Marinette, if not worse. Marinette had the audacity to dislike her and challenge her, but Adrien, he was so condescending, acting like she should be better than her actions. She could swear she saw pity in his eyes, and that was so much worse.

Though she wasn’t completely heartless, if they begged to be her personal servants and apologized for standing against her, then maybe she would let them have some mercy. Having Marinette clean up after her and make those admittedly delicious baked goods would be nice and having Adrien wait on her hand and foot like a personal butler would be quite fun. Maybe they would think if they did a good enough job their families would suffer less.

She did want to daydream about that idea more but she knew that she needed to focus on the present.

“Alright, Let’s start moving to stage 2. Gamer! I want a comprehensive list of every akuma victim outside of the school. Robostus! Make sure the cameras and broadcast are ready when I tell you. I want everything to go off without a hitch.”

“Affirmative!” Gamer and Robostus responded in equal robotic unison.

“Reflekta! Princess Fragrance! After all of the copies pick up the stragglers, I want you scanning the area for Ladybug and Chat noir. Bubbler and Lady Wifi… wait. I think I remember something.”

She paused to check her charm, she noticed the question mark charm and touched it, allowing her to focus and see what akuma it was.

“Cancel that order, remain on standby unless we get approached.”

“Yes… so this is what that voice meant by merging. How very interesting. I think I will let that new akuma keep its directive. Ladybug and Chat noir will have no chance of beating...”

An akuma merged with Lady Wifi, Bubbler and Oblivio. Combined to make something new. Something that she knew even the heroes would have trouble fighting.

“Deadzone.” Masquerade said with a devilish grin.

______________________________________________________________________________

Ladybug and Chat Noir made their way down the hall. They easily dealt with a few Reflekta clones without much effort and continued moving.

They were expecting to see more akuma lurking about, but strangely, the halls they were walking down were all either empty or only covered by Reflekta duplicates.

“Masquerade likely has her stronger forces consolidating after bringing in as many people to her as they could. Those that didn’t hit the mark likely got turned into the copies we bumped into.” Ladybug answered.

“That does explain why they were singing, like when Princess Fragrance made servants,” the cat hero added.

“This might be our only time to catch a break before confronting her.”

“So, since we have time, do you mind if I ask if you're free to go on Patrol tonight?” the cat hero casually inquired.

Ladybug stopped.

“Tonight? That is quite sudden. Plus, we still don’t know how this will play out.” Ladybug gestured to the school.

“Well I am going to assume we stop the akuma and save the day like always.” Chat noir commented. “Call it a safe bet, but we usually win.”

“Always the positive outlook, Chaton. I’m glad you have so much faith in us despite our numbers disadvantage.”

“You said it yourself, most of the servants are pushovers or just puppets. The only real threat is Lila. And we have faced worse."

“True, but not anything this sinister,” Ladybug tacked on.

“Didn’t we fight Hawkmoth a couple of months back?” Chat noir asked with a twinge of confusion. Was Ladybug implying what he thought she was?

Ladybug held her tongue.

“You’re kidding right? You think Lila is eviler than Hawkmoth!” Chat Noir exclaimed in shock.

“No no no! Not eviler … just a bit cleverer than him,” Ladybug confessed.

Chat noir looked at his partner skeptically, but then considered her words.

“She is manipulative. Considering even without being akumatized she has done some rather twisted stuff. But thinking she is evil is a bit much. Especially when there is someone responsible for forcing emotionally vulnerable people to do his bidding,” Chat noir pointed out.

“Isn’t that what she is doing right now?”

“Yes, but she was akumatized. If we started blaming people for their actions as akuma we would have to throw innocent people in jail.”

“Right… but you read that article on the Ladyblog right? She could be more than just a victim of Hawkmoth, she could be an ally.”

The Cat hero thought about it more but was still not entirely convinced.

“I guess underestimating her would be dumb, but maybe she isn’t completely evil. I mean Chloé ended up showing a bit of humanity and did some good, maybe Lila is capable of it too.”

The crimson clad heroine smiled a bit.

“That’s what I like about you, Chat, you always focus on the good in others.”

The black clad hero gave a Cheshire grin.

“When it comes to the team, you’re the brains, and I’m the sidekick who brings the smiles and the heartfelt speeches.”

“You aren’t my sidekick, Chat Noir, we are partners. And you could be the brains too, if you would use yours outside of pun making.” Ladybug playfully bonked his noggin.

The cat chuckled at the playful teasing.

“Fair enough, but I can’t help it if I FELINE making a quip.”

Ladybug could feel herself groan at the lame joke.

“I take it back… you are the sidekick,” Ladybug deadpanned, her tone of mock annoyance causing the cat to chuckle.

“Alright I’ll…” He stopped speaking as he noticed something was amiss.

Chat Noir’s left ear twitched. He heard approaching footsteps.

“We better get moving, this abandoned hallway isn’t going to be so abandoned in a minute.”

“More Reflekta clones?”

Chat Noir extended the staff to the ground, his face showing a sudden sternness.

“No… Winter is coming.”

______________________________________________________________________________

Viperion peered through the door of the locker room.

“Clear.”

The snake and dragon heroes entered with their akuma prisoner.

“Pick a locker and let’s toss her in,” Ryuuko commented as she held the squirming akuma.

The two paused their movement when they heard a rustling in the lockers.

“Do you hear that?” Viperion questioned.

“How could I not?” Ryuuko replied.

Just as the two stared at the rustling lockers. The two shaking lockers doors flew off their hinges.

And stepped out an akuma that neither hero recognized.

“I don’t remember seeing that akuma before,” Ryuuko stated.

“Neither do I, but it seems vaguely familiar,”  Viperion responded.

As the Akuma was gathering its bearings, the heroes tried to gauge its powers. It had broad shoulders that had spherical, dark purple balls around them, which were connected to tight black sleeves with 3 white circular stripes at the end that ended at his wrists. Its left hand had a fingerless black glove which showed its skin akin to a purple silhouette. The other hand was what appeared to be a black laser canon with a phone attached to it. On its back was a large red, purple and black pipe which seemed to act as a holster to a blue bubble wand.  Its face was obscured by a large white theater mask much like all the other akuma. But there was the impression that it had distinct features. Its chest had a rounded purple bubble on the top half of its body akin to round armor and it had a logo that appeared to be a WiFi signal within an eye in a cage. The lower half appeared more akin to a skintight jumpsuit that was black with white stripes at the feet.

The akuma turned its attention to the two heroes.

“So umm… what are you doing in the locker room?”

“Merge complete, Deadzone is active. Mission objective, Capture Ladybug and Chat Noir,” The akuma answered in a robotic tone less as a response to the question and more as a statement, their voice sounded like the mix of two people.

“Well, Deadzone, we can’t let you do that!”  Ryuuko exclaimed as she glared at the akuma.

The akuma pointed its blaster at her.

“Your opinion on that really doesn’t have an impact on us.”

Deadzone’s left hand touched the phone on their blaster, and a purple bubble with a pause insignia shot out. Ryuuko and Viperion both jumped back as the bubble had direct contact with their akuma prisoner, causing her to be motionless as the bubble turned green and floated to the roof of the room.

“Okay, so don’t touch the bubbles,” Viperion noted.

“Positive side, we don’t need to worry about that one akuma,” Ryuuko commented.

Viperion and Ryuuko knew this akuma would be trouble if it got to Ladybug and Chat noir. They were going to need to find a way to stop it.

______________________________________________________________________

Fu had been observing the spoiled Mayor’s daughter after her confrontation with the Reflekta replicas. Using it as a means to help him find Ladybug and Chat Noir. He was aware that this girl had a knack for getting into trouble and making akuma target her, so it would not be too far off to assume she would be useful in locating his chosen. He would have called her, but communication was down, so he would need to adapt. But now he had a rather interesting quandary.

“Should I lend her the miraculous or not?” Fu spoke quietly as he pondered.

It was a tougher question he had initially thought. If he was asked if she was worthy of being a miraculous user, the answer would undoubtedly be negative. She was clearly a spoiled brat who saw herself above others. But after the events when the bee miraculous temporarily fell into her hands, he had started observing her. He did this with all of the chosen ones that Marinette had picked. Not because he didn’t trust his student, but more out of curiosity of why Marinette picked these individuals.

With the one she picked for the fox miraculous, Fu could see that the girl valued justice, but was cunning and saw the importance of distinguishing truth from illusion, an ideal pick for the fox miraculous. As for the Turtle miraculous wielder, Wayzz spoke highly of Nino, which really made him curious about the young lad. That boy showed a willingness to protect those close to him even if it meant getting hurt, and the calm to be ready to wait and roll with things. The miraculous of protection required someone that can keep a cool head and be ready to defend at the drop of a hat.

The other temporary heroes matched pretty well with the traits of the Kwami and were all good people deep down. Fu had no doubts that Marinette had the instincts of a guardian. The only one that brought doubt was Chloé. After the incident where she found the miraculous and got akumatized, Chloé was trusted with the bee miraculous 3 times. And her record had been mixed but overall she was decent when she fell in line and worked with Ladybug and Chat Noir.

Marinette mentioned that she didn’t want to trust Chloé with the miraculous after the last time. But has admitted to Fu that if needed she was a decent Bee heroine.

But if he was wrong and she decided to use this chance to stay being a miraculous wielder, he would have to deal with her as a rogue. Though, considering the circumstances, that would honestly not be the worst situation, as her identity was public and Ladybug and Chat Noir would deal with her like before.

“Wayzz, what do you think?”

His kwami companion popped out of his shirt pocket.

“This is quite a dilemma, Master. The situation is dire, but putting the miraculous in the wrong hands would also make things worse. Perhaps Pollen would be able to give better insight.”

“Very true, my friend.” Fu patted the kwami.

Fu cautiously went into the cleaning cart and pulled out the Bee Miraculous. The bee kwami popped out.

“Good morning, Master,” Pollen greeted the guardian with respect.

“Good afternoon, Pollen. We have a situation and I would like to know your opinion.”

“Very well, I am happy to serve,” The bee kwami replied.

“What do you think of Chloé Bourgeois? The one that used your miraculous recently.”

The kwami put her little hand to her face as she compiled her thoughts.

“She is complicated, Master. She didn’t talk to me much but I kind of got to feel a lot about who she was as a person. She is brash, she is confident, yet she is insecure. She is blunt, stubborn, and set in her ways. But I can tell that she is at a crossroads in her life. There is some small part of her that wants to be good and do good for others outside of herself, but her upbringing has made such a mindset seem like weakness, and she is scared of letting herself be vulnerable. Ladybug has been a good influence on her, but she is still immature in several aspects. She has the potential to be a good queen. If she could break through that self-imposed selfish mentality, she could be something extraordinary,” Pollen explained, finally.

“I see, well that is quite informative. Thank you,” Fu responded, nodding thoughtfully.

He put the Bee Miraculous back in a tiny box, causing her to go dormant.

“So, she is at a crossroad.”  Fu repeated as he stroked his chin

He turned his attention back to Chloé, who had continued walking towards another dead end. When he caught the eye of approaching Reflekta clones. And with that, Fu figured out a way to know.

“I think I just found a way to know the correct answer.”

______________________________________________________________________

“I swear this place is a maze.” Mayura grumbled to herself as she walked the halls.

She noticed her fan shake, notifying her of someone calling. It was Hawkmoth

“Yes?”

“Mayura what are you doing?! You were supposed to find the target and get out!” Hawkmoth exclaimed angrily. “And why did you transform? You knowutilizing the Peacock Miraculous is dangerous.”

Though she wouldn’t admit it, she was somewhat touched by the concern in his voice. Unfortunately, she did not have time to dwell on that so she was going to ignore it, as she had a task at hand

“Some unforeseen circumstances have caused some rather unfortunate delays. I am going to locate the sentimonster and gather information regarding the target. Afterwards, I will assist in getting Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous.” Mayura responded.

As she was speaking, an akuma with black wings flew into view along with an akuma riding a paper airplane.

“Seems the akuma servants have located me.”

She notices the akuma began preparing to attack her. They were practically mindless puppets that saw anyone who wasn’t their master as an enemy. This was quite an oversight, but it fit with the motif of the akuma villain. She felt the emotions of that girl, she knew exactly the type of insecurities Lila held. Thankfully for her, it meant they could easily be exploited.

“Get out of there this instant it is too dangerous. You are in no shape to…”

The akumas aimed at the unidentified villainess and fired off paper airplanes and arrows.

“We will discuss this later.” Mayura hung up before turning her attention to the two servants of Masquerade.

Mayura dashed through the hall, expertly avoiding projectiles and blocking with her fan those she couldn’t dodge. She jumped onto Reverser’s glider, grabbed the akuma and threw him at the flying Dark Cupid, leaving the two dazed and tangled together.

“I’m weakened, not helpless,” Mayura commented as she dusted herself off and hopped off the floating paper airplane.

She noticed that the two akuma that attacked her were slow in getting up.

‘Seems the akuma created by Masquerade aren’t just mindless, they are also rather slow in reacting. Ladybug and Chat Noir can exploit that. I suppose with the number of servants she made, this was to be expected. I should locate Simularé and get some details on our akuma’s little plan. I should step in and seize control if she gets too distracted like the last one. Gabriel has always been far too cautious when it comes to his plans, it’s time we were more active.’ Mayura mentally concluded.

She closed her eyes and focused on locating the sentimonster.

“She is on the roof. Odd placement for her most powerful ally, but I suppose there must be some sort of logical reason for what she is planning,” Mayura rationalized.

The peacock themed villainess noticed that the akuma that attacked her were starting to move again, and she decided to pick up her pace a bit.

______________________________________________________________________________

“This is super ridiculous! Utterly ridiculous!” she exclaimed with anger. “Not a single exit in this place! Why is every exit coated in icky slime?”

She checked her phone.

“And still no signal.”

She ended up chucking her phone out of frustration.

“I wish Ladybug would just get here and beat the akuma, or better yet, come here and give me the bee miraculous so I can help kick butt,” she grumbled as she went to go see where she threw her phone. She'd remembered she actually liked the case she just bought for it and losing that would be a waste.

“H-help me please!” The wails of a person in danger caught Chloé’s attention.

“That sounds like a non-me issue,” the blonde told herself. As she continued walking to her phone.

“If only there was someone here to save me!” the voice called out again.

Chloé stopped moving for a moment.

“Well I am not a hero without the Bee, so I guess he better hope Ladybug and Chat Noir are nearby, or maybe those other two costumed nobodies that I saw earlier,” she said, clearly trying to convince herself not to do anything.

“Please! Ladybug! Chat Noir…. “

"The heroes will handle it." Chloé reasoned with herself as she picked up her phone. Now getting ready to go somewhere else and likely away from the screaming.

“ And a…Queen Bee.”

Chloé’s eyes went wide. Did someone call out for… Queen Bee?!

Chloé started dashing down the halls to the sound of the voice.

“Did someone call for a hero!” Chloé called out, looking confident.

She arrived to see an old man in an ugly Hawaiian shirt being cornered by 3 Reflekta copies. The akuma copies turn to Chloé.

“Surrender,” they sing-songed as they began to approach.

Chloé ran right at them, and proceeded to push them into each other, and let the impractical heels make it hard for them to get back up.

She rushed to the old man.

“Don’t worry, old man with good taste in heroes and nothing else. I, Queen Bee, am here to save you,” Chloé blustered.

“Thank you.” Fu said with a forced smile. She clearly only came when he mentioned her name. But she did show up. In hindsight, maybe his test was not as conclusive as he thought. But then again, he actually planned those out more.

Chloé looked around.

“Alright old man, normally I would have just left you to get saved by Ladybug, but you have good taste in heroes, so I am going to help you out. We need to move before those creepy akumas get back up. So follow me, I know a place you can hide out.” Her tone tried to come off as abrasive, but it did show an inkling of care.

Chloé began moving away from the cluster of Reflektas. The old man shrugged and followed behind. He supposed that this would be another good test for her. Maybe he will get a more definitive answer by keeping an eye on her. And if worse comes to worse, he had a feeling she would make a good distraction should he need to escape a band of akuma.

______________________________________________________________________

“Did you just make a...”

Ladybug was able to pick up on the sound of harsh wind heading their way and decided her scolding of lame references could wait for later. She grabbed her partner's arm and pulled him into the nearby science lab.

She quickly closed the door just as a cold front blasted right past them. The window on the door was covered in ice.

“Stormy Weather?”

“Stormy Weather.”

The two both look at each other with a bit of worry. The storm akuma was one of their more powerful foes, and with complete control of the weather in such a tight space, things were going to get tough.

“Any ideas?”

Ladybug weighed her options. Would now be the time to use her lucky charm? or should she save it for when they are in front of Masquerade? It was starting to get harder to make that call.

“We can’t have her roaming the halls, we will need to incapacitate her. So I say have your ice power up ready, and be ready to swap power ups at the drop of a hat. Stormy Weather may be tough, but we still have tricks up our sleeve.”

Chat Noir nodded.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Ladybug and Chat Noir both popped their Ice blue power ups and shift into their Ice forms. The two watched as the other’s suit gained ice skates, ice crystal and snowflake accents, becoming Ladyice and Icecat.

(AN: Yes, according to the Wiki, that’s what they are calling them. Personally, I would have called them Ladyfrost and Cold noir/ Cool Cat but that’s just me. This isn’t relevant to the story, I just wanted you all to know that.)

“You know, Ladybug, you really give off the ice skater vibe. Would you say you have experience ice skating outside of this form?” Chat Noir asked.

Ladybug felt her mind flash to her date with Adrien and her cheeks turned red.

“I- I may have some experience. And how about you, Kitty?” she deflected.

“Well, now that you mention it, I…”

They heard a loud bang on the door, cracking the ice that covered the window to reveal the white theater mask that Stormy Weather had covering her face.

“I’m gonna give it to her, she really knows how to break the Ice,” Chat Noir joked.

“Chaton, cool it with all of the ice puns,” she stated.

“Wait, was that a pun? My Lady I... OH SHI…”

A large ice stalactite burst through the door interrupting their banter and almost skewering them.

Chat Noir was about to say something when Ladybug cut in.

“Chat Noir, you are my partner and I respect you greatly. But so help me, if you say we should put this conversation on ‘Freeze’, I will not save you if you get impaled.” Ladybug stated.

Chat Noir paused.

“You know me so well,” he said with a smile.

The two watched as Stormy Weather entered the room through the stalactite hole.

______________________________________________________________________

“Hey Viperion?”

“Yea Ryuuko?”

“We both agree that we need to stop that crazy akuma right?”

“That is correct.”

“Then why are you carrying me away from it!?” Ryuuko exclaimed.

Viperion had picked up the dragon heroine fireman style in order to pull her away from the pursuing akuma.

“Do you want the reasons in alphabetical order?” the snake hero sassed.

“We can take it,” Ryuuko asserted. “We can’t retreat! There is no honor in it!”

“Well considering neither of our weapons can touch them, the concept of honor has flown out the window. Not to mention, I seriously doubt that we can take them on without a plan, and don’t say ‘try to hit them harder’ is a plan. It isn’t.”

Viperion had a smug look as he noticed Ryuuko look away.

“You’re right, but I'm mad about it,” the dragon heroine huffed.

“I can live with that.”

Viperion took a sharp left and noticed a dozen Reflekta duplicates.

“Juleka?”

“Come with us,” the clones sang.

“I’m going to assume they aren’t her,” Ryuuko said as she got off Viperion’s shoulders.

She punched his arm.

“Ow.”

“Your shoulder was bumpy.”

Ryuuko drew her weapon and dashed past the group of Reflekta clones. After a second, she holstered her weapon and all of the clones dropped to the floor groaning.

“Wow.” Viperion was impressed. He had to admit that it was super cool.

“Don’t worry, I used the flat end of the sword. They will be fine, and hopefully they will slow down the akuma.”

The two continued running, but glanced back as Deadzone arrived. He looked at the clones getting up and blasted each one into a green bubble in which they remained motionless and floated to the ceiling of the hall.

“It can’t distinguish between friend or foe,” Viperion commented.

“What?”

Viperion turned to his comrade.

“I think I just got an idea.”

__________________________________________________________________________

“This way,” the bossy blond teen motioned.

Fu pushed his janitor cart as they moved in the hallway.

“Do you really need to move that hideous thing with us?” Chloé questioned with clear aggravation.

“It's very important,” Fu responded.

“Ugh, whatever. Just move faster, then.”

Fu nodded and picked up the pace.

The mayor’s daughter led them down the hall and they had managed to avoid attracting attention.

“Okay, we are here.”

Fu looked at the door and realized that it was the nurse’s office.

“Hopefully the nurse didn’t get herself captured while I was gone.”

Chloé went to open the door and noticed it was locked.

“What the…”

“Let me try.” Fu interjected.

“Fine, just hurry up.”

He pulls out a jingling set of keys. Chloé shrugged as she turned around to keep watch.

Fu let his kwami companion out to open the door. Wayzz quickly undid the lock and opened the door before sliding back out of view.

“All done,” Fu said.

Chloé turned around as Fu opened the door.

The two quickly ran inside and locked the door behind them.

“Nurse Arugula!” Chloé called out. “I have a guest for you!”

“Arugala?”

“It was something with an A.” Chloé commented.

The two waited a few seconds, but there was no response.

They moved deeper into the office.

“Are you here?” Chloé questioned.

They flicked on the light switch to see the nurse in the cot.

“Oh, that’s great, I leave to go get help and be a hero and she goes off napping!” Chloé fumed.

Fu moved to the nurse and noticed she had a bruise on her neck, indicating that she was clearly forced into this state. He jabbed a pressure point and the nurse jolted awake.

“HUAGH!”

She nearly fell out of the cot.

“Glad you can join us from your nap,” Chloé hissed.

“Chloé? Did you call for help?” The nurse inquired as she gathered her bearings.

“No, the school is a total dead zone, and I couldn’t find a way out because they are all blocked by slime. Side note, I found this old guy.”

The nurse turned to the old man.

“Hello. I’m Angela.” She politely introduced herself.

“Nice to meet you. I am… Fung,” Fu lied. He couldn’t be too careful.

“Nice to meet you Fung, despite the circumstances,” she tried to make light of the situation.

“Every meeting can have a positive circumstance if one is looking for it.”

The calm in the air died when Angela realized that someone was missing.

“Oh no! The women you left in my care! She knocked me out and stormed out of here.” Angela exclaimed.

“Welp, she is probably captured,” Chloé shrugged.

“We have to find her, she has some sort of strange illness. Leaving her out there might be dangerous, akuma or not.”

Angela prepared to move to the door but was stopped by Chloé.

“Oh no you don’t! I brought this old man here for safety. You stay here with him.”

“But my patient!”

The woman was clearly shaking, but she was determined, she wanted to help her patient even if it meant going into danger. But much to Fu’s surprise, Chloé stepped up.

“I will bring your patient back. Mostly because being stuck in here seems much worse than dealing with a bunch of dumb akuma.”

Angela hugged Chloé.

“Thank you.”

Chloé tried to look annoyed, but a ghost of a smile appeared on the mayor’s daughter’s face. She accepted the hug for a moment.

Fu took notice. He had made his decision.

“Alright, enough touching! You deal with sick people all day. I don’t want germs,” Chloé stated as she tried to give off her usual air.

“That is very brave of you, young one.” Fu spoke.

“Pff, this is nothing. It’s what heroes do.”

As Chloé began making her way out of the nurse’s office, Fu quietly slipped the tiny miracle box into her bag.

‘I hope this was worth the risk.’

_____________________________________________________________

(END OF CHAPTER)

Well things are really heating up.

Will Ladyice and Icenoir be able to deal with stormy weather? Will Deadzone be the dead end for Ryuuko and Viperion? What is Masquerade's villainous plan? Will I update faster than every 40 or so days?

Let me know your thoughts and if you did enjoy the story.

REBLOG it and comment. Likes are nice but they don't really help content creators like they should.

[twentytarot]

hi everyone! i’ve been hard at work with my job this past month but i am finally done and back with a reading. today, we’re doing a reading on marriage in your life in general. pick the tiffiany ring that sets your thoughts off, triggers a memory or invokes a strong emotion and scroll right down for your reading. see you there! 💍

CONTENT WARNING: there are negative piles here. not every pile has a future spouse.

PILE ONE: CUSHION CUT

if you were handed an ultimatum and forced to choose between marriage and work, you’d probably get into your car and go to work the next morning. this makes things a little complicated, because you’re ambitious, you’re feisty, you hate it when your time and attention is used up on something that doesn’t matter to you. if you get married, however, your time will be eroded by many things that don’t matter in hindsight. you see, there will always be ridiculous in-laws, there will always be someone that will want your help so long as it is available. someone is going to want kids, even if that decision is completely irrelevant to them, or something dumb like that. no married couple gets out of having to deal with these things, and no couple gets through it without fighting over it a single time. so, my question to you is: will you have the patience to see this through? or will you fold?

unfortunately, the cards don’t predict the best of outcomes when it comes to your marriage. you probably will decide not to get married in the first place. if you do, you might remarry, or get into a questionable third-party situation. yet, i don’t see this being a huge hindrance on your life as a whole. you seem to me like the kind of person who cares less about having an other half compared to your friends, and i think you are going to have so much going for you in other facets in your life that you won’t be clinging onto this relationship when it goes south. this gives me celebrity vibes, almost, like someone who can never be home and the relationship ends because work is so demanding. so this will be a little sad, but i’m confident you will pick yourself back up quickly. 

astrologically, cancer came out very strong, and the interpretation i want to go with is that your most significant relationship will be very cancerian in nature. comforting at first, but ultimately probably not aligned with what you want to do with your life. that’s alright, you’ll be able to afford your own diamond ring anyway.

PILE TWO: SOLITARE

well, pile two, it looks like someone told you “if no one is going to marry you, i will”, and then they took it seriously. i kid, but i do see an element of your future spouse being someone you didn’t expect at all. perhaps you thought they would just be a best friend that knows all your secrets. and yet, this person knows your darkest secrets and then offers you love in its purest form. i get the feeling you’re not quite used to that, pile two. i’m hearing this underlying feeling of “what if i give too much, wait what if i give too little”, and i think this is partly because you haven’t seen first-hand a marriage that is of the kind you want to be in. it feels like you’re not sure if happy marriages exist in your world. well, they do. it just turns out that you give just the right amount when you’re not trying, which is why a best friend finally becomes your spouse.

this person will be with you through thick and thin, you will feel like they are your soulmate. you will always feel balanced in your relationship with this person because they will always be silently watching the scales, tipping it this way and that whenever something is about to swing out of balance. they will help you feel like you have nothing to worry about, they will bring a childlike kind of happiness into your life. 

now, onto a little bit of warning. no marriage is only ever happy, and i sense that your source of pain will come from outside influences. money is one, health is another. you will be very much together, but it’s a blessing and a curse because when one goes down, the other follows. the advice to you is to try your best to lift each other up through bad times, and know when you have to detach and go do your thing alone for the good of your future with them. you don’t have to always turn around to make sure they’re following, they’re your forever! they’ll be there.

PILE THREE: ROSE INFINITY

your marriage isn’t going to be a very fast-paced one— when you meet your future person, you’re going to be eons away from being ready to get married, and they will be the same. i almost feel like you will laugh at yourself when you start dating this person. the relationship just isn’t... pretty. this person almost brings out the worst in you: you fight them about the stupidest things and rile them up all the time just because it’s funny. there’s ten separate occasions where you’re pretty sure you should have been dumped or dumped them for some iconic out of left field insults, but for some reason it’s just funny after you’ve both calmed down. so it’s fun, and it’s so 20-something, but you’re preparing yourself for the inevitable breakup. and then... it somehow never comes.

somewhere along the lines, you grew up, and so did they. you didn’t know it then, but this person brings the best out of you as much as they bring out the worst. like a tantrum that just has to be thrown before a little child can settle down, you took your growing pains out on each other, and then somehow managed to fit into each others’ lives forever without even thinking about it. you give each other love naturally, flowing with each other and keeping each other sane. after you get married, there’s a feeling of “i can rest when this person is around” kind of energy because you trust each other to come out with the truth when it needs to be said, but you also trust that the person will be there to pick up the pieces if you break.

so this person isn’t as good-looking as you hoped or imagined. or they’re not the type to show you off, and they’re not really the type that wants to be showed off either. so maybe someone made a joke at their expense and you laughed. the beauty of all of that is, despite all of that, they love you and will for a long time. isn’t that already more than we can ask for, as mere mortals?

PILE FOUR: YELLOW HALO

okay... there are two groups of people in this pile. let’s talk similarities first. your partner is going to be quite eccentric. visual arts came up in particular, so perhaps your partner will be an artist? the last similarity is that marriage is unlikely, but as for why, it depends on which interpretation resonates more with you.

for the first group, this is probably my lgbt+ in a place that hasn’t legalised marriages not between a man and a woman pile. for reasons that seem bigger than yourself, marriage is unlikely in your life. i feel a lot of unwelcome judgement coming from this group. i think you might not get too much support around you; maybe your parents have something against people who are not in “professional degree” jobs, or your family and environment as a whole is very conservative. regardless, you will be with this person, but it might be beyond both of your abilities to get married for real. :( i’m sorry, i wish the world were kinder.

if the first interpretation doesn’t resonate, then it has something more to do with your stubbornness. everyone wants someone that will take them for exactly who they are. that doesn’t change the fact that no two people are completely perfect for each other, though. every couple starts by taking apart their schedule and fitting the other’s in. tolerating strawberry shortcakes on their partner’s birthday even if they hate strawberries. stopping their work short even if it means that coming back to it will be hard because their partner needs something. advice here is to rethink your mindset. you could be very successful in your career, but if you think you won’t be able to go home to an empty bed, or you know that family is what you want in the future, then see how you can be more considerate to the people around you. we don’t always like to hear this, but being considerate and selfish is a never-ending balancing game, so don’t feel too bad. you’re not a bad person! these things just take time. whichever way you choose, i hope it’s the one that makes you the happiest!

[lovenona]

and i repeat: anthropo-ceramics geto suguru is the type of toxic where he'd take your virginity, make a sculpture about the experience, then smash it on the ground as a metaphor

this ask is my entire life. this ask is my lifeblood. everyone please saddle up for the ride of a lifetime, otherwise known as 1500ish words of toxic geto featuring sukuna being a good fucking friend – please continue at ur own risk this absolutely contains geto being a pretentious toxic fucker and mentions of virginity/first time but yes i guarantee it does have a happy ending (link to the full college! cinematic universe here) 

let’s begin with the basics – why wouldn’t you fuck geto suguru? he has the type of beauty that lingers on the back of your eyelids even after you’ve long since departed from him; it’s the kind of fragrant, lasting beauty that you think sculptors muse over when they coax life from their marble. he’s smooth, like still water, and calming, like the sound of birds rustling and leaves swaying at dawn. he is helen: a beauty that nations would go to war over. 

and sure, he is pretentious, the kind of toxic pretentiousness that festers inside of all pretty boys who call themselves “leftists” but can’t be bothered to call their mothers or to care about their partners. but it’s the way he speaks, the way he looks at you with such fervor and attention in his eyes that you’re utterly willing to let him break your heart. 

and maybe it’s not often that someone looks at you the way geto does: it’s not often that someone looks at you like they want you, body and soul. and it feels nice to be cared about, to be flirted with, even if the figure doing the flirting condescends you in a way that is different, harsher, colder, than the way ryomen sukuna does. 

so geto suguru takes you on dates. after the avant-garde poetry reading, in which you feigned excitement as he recited a poem on global imperialism that you didn’t quite vibe with, he brings you to local bookstores with overpriced yuppie memoirs, farmers’ markets with organic fruit, human rights protests and philosophy meetings where greasy boys bitterly discuss the communist manifesto. he takes you to dinner, too, to vegan restaurants that you can’t help but rave about on yelp later and to bars where they serve your cocktails in mason jars. 

geto suguru, for all his faults, is incredibly lighthearted with you; he makes you feel beautiful and desirable and warm, even when he’s explaining anthropology to you with such intense vigor that you lose track of his meaning. after everything, you’d be lying if you said you regretted your time with him.

after awhile you let geto fuck you – and yes, he was your first time, which you were naturally quite nervous about. but you appreciated him because he waited for you; he never pressured you into behaviors you didn’t want; he never asked you for services you weren’t ready to provide. and so when you slept with him, after an invigorating open-mic night at the fair-trade coffee shop near campus, you felt ready for the intimacy. geto made you feel attractive, comfortable, safe. he praised you the whole night, gave you caresses that lit you up like fireworks, provided such a level of god-tier aftercare you still reminisce about it, even now. 

but that’s the thing about anthropology-ceramics major geto suguru: he’s quietly toxic. he’s a poison that sneaks up on you, infecting your bloodstream when you least expect it. 

you weren’t sure if geto wanted to pursue a relationship, either. you’d fucked, sure, and you went on dates, but he was always the type to avoid long-term commitments. rumors float around campus of the many partners he’s ghosted, of the relationships he exploited for his own “artistic musings.” they aren’t loud rumors, to be sure, but they hang around his aura like a strange, ghostly scent. 

geto is a pretentious little fuck. you’ve known it and agreed to enter his circle anyway. maybe you hoped, perhaps naively, that the rumors would simply not apply to you.

which was a stupid idea. three weeks after the experience, since which you have only spent one-on-one time with geto only a few times, mostly to talk about school, the art department hosts an art show. it’s a regular occurrence, where the art students show off their best works, grad students display their in-progress theses, and outsiders can browse the displays, drink wine, offer to give outstanding students jobs and internships. it’s truly a big fucking deal for the art department; many of the school’s the most successful artists received their first acclaim here. 

you’ve always enjoyed attending, even if the level of talent and expertise sometimes intimidates you, even if you know you’ll never be on this level. you know sukuna’s got a few paintings lined up to be on display – paintings you’ve modeled for, drawings you’ve watched him labor over for hours on end. you reckon that for all your begrudging time together, you might as well show your face in support. 

but what you didn’t count on was geto’s contribution.

at this art show, there are, every now and then, some interactive performances, speeches, explanations on certain works. so it happens that from the back of the auditorium you watch geto take the stage, wheeling a small, white sculpture behind him. from your perspective it could have been a flower – perhaps a lily, but you can’t be certain. 

(geto always did like sculpting precious, dainty flowers.)

he doesn’t call you by name, but he doesn’t have to. he talks at great length in that smooth voice of his about the construct of virginity, the purity culture plaguing the globe, the emotional sensitivity of having your first time. geto seguru tells an avid audience what you felt about fucking for the first time. he recreates the entire night for two hundred listeners: he recalls the foreplay, the insecurity, the orgasms. he doesn’t call you by name. he doesn’t have to. 

he may have asked for your consent the first time. but he certainly did not ask your permission to do this. 

you’re not sure if you should laugh or cry when geto dramatically smashes his own sculpture, citing the “destruction of virginity” and  the need “to demolish a social desire to classify one’s morality based upon their sexual activity” and “the symbolic popping of the cherry” among other phrases that are utter bullshit. you’re watching the fragments dance across the stage and you feel exploited. you feel used in a way that feels utterly worse than anything else geto could have done.

did he ever like you? or were you simply a muse for this moment? 

you’re about to ditch the art show and go wallow in self pity at your apartment when a familiar presence slides in beside you.

“that’s kinda fucked,” sukuna says, hands in his jacket pockets. he’s looking at you out of the corner of his eye. his tone tells you he’s joking. maybe he just doesn’t know. “no one gives a shit about virginity constructs anymore, idiot.” 

“yeah,” you respond, but the energy is gone. you feel strange, like you’re hovering outside of yourself. your head hurts: you’re angry. you decide you’d like to cry when you get home. “what a piece of shit.” it comes out strangled and lost. 

sukuna notices the dejection in your voice, the sag in your shoulders, the way you’re just barely able to hold yourself together. he may be arrogant, not ryomen sukuna is not mean.

a familiar arm around your shoulders, keeping your sanity together. “shit’s lame. let’s get the fuck out of here.” it’s a phrase that captures everything that remains unsaid between you: i’m going to beat the shit out of geto the next time i see him. that’s absolutely unbelievable.

you never explicitly told sukuna about your weird relationship with geto: you didn’t have to. it was always evident to the both of you. it was written in the way you’d look a little bit longer in geto’s direction, in the way you let yourself be strung along and become someone else. you’ve hung around sukuna long enough that you know his body language and that he knows yours. you’ve hung around sukuna enough that there are a lifetime of stories that never need to be told. 

you nod. “yeah.” thank you. i know. 

you’re both uncharacteristically silent when you exit the auditorium, when you collect sukuna’s belongings that are still lounging by his artwork as you prepare to leave. ryomen sukuna is famous for never shutting the fuck up. but as you button your coat, he’s silent, and it’s strange. comfortable.

“thank you,” you say with uncharacteristic softness as he throws a sketchbook back into his backpack and zips it shut. 

“why?”

“for asking my permission,” you say, gesturing to the gallery wall behind him, to the painting of you – “eros” – that you had posed for awhile back. even now, you find that it captures an essence you did not know you possessed. “he didn’t. ask, i mean.” 

ryomen sukuna has always craved your attention. and maybe he’s glad he’s got it back – but it feels sour. he doesn’t understand why he’s so fucking upset for you. he doesn’t understand why he wants so badly for you to be happy again. what he does understand is that he plans for retribution. 

“that’s fucked,” he settles on. “what bastard doesn’t ask for consent?”

you smile – and he does too, one that’s less feral and almost kind. and so you fall back into routine, already, some kind of weight lifting from your shoulders. ryomen sukuna may be a menace, but you can rely on him, trust him: that much you know. 

“you know,” sukuna says offhandedly as you exit the building and enter the parking lot. “i know where geto’s car is, i’m just saying. and i’d be lying if i said i didn’t have an extra precision knife in my backpack right now.”  

[chudleycanonficfest]

the hippogriffs and the flobberworms

Day 23, Post #2 by @accio-broom

Title: the hippogriffs and the flobberworms Author/Artist: accio-broom Pairing: Arthur & Ron Weasley (platonic) Prompt: slice of life Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): Mentions of sex lives and STDs, very cringe-worthy.

Arthur whistles as he roams the ground floor of the Burrow, searching for his youngest son. Ron’s best friend Hermione is due to arrive any day, ready to spend the latter part of the summer holiday with the Weasleys, but there are some things Arthur needs to speak to Ronald about before Miss Granger joins them.

He’s probably left this conversation a little late—Ron turned fourteen a few months ago—but this is the first time the youngest has shown any interest in the opposite sex. With the rather exciting activities coming up for their fourth school year, including a ball, it’s only inevitable that different feelings will start to stir.

Chuckling, Arthur reminisces about the conversations with his other sons. Bill, always cool as a frost salamander, kept his focus on his old Dad without any outward discomfort, even though Arthur made a complete mess as he told Bill about the facts of life. All of Arthur’s words came out in a massive jumble—he couldn’t even use the correct terms for various body parts and used all the wrong euphemisms. Arthur had been trying so hard to be a cool dad that he got himself far too worked up to make any sense. 

His second son, Charlie, was dismissive and didn’t seem interested in the mechanics of making love, which was disappointing given the amount of time Arthur had spent rehearsing, determined to get it right that time. Percy approached the conversation with logic and appropriate questions, discussing it as he would an important Ministry policy before thanking his dad then leaving the room without a backwards glance. In stark contrast, the twins cracked inappropriate jokes and turned the tables on Arthur, making him feel awkward as innuendo after innuendo spewed from their mouths.

Ron will be Arthur’s last chance to do “the talk”. Molly is responsible for dealing with Ginny, and they’ve probably already started. He doesn’t baulk at the female aspect of puberty, having lived with a woman for almost twenty-five years, he’s well versed in the potions and muggle contraptions they need to use, but he thought it only fair that Molly gets a go of this, too. It’s one of the essential parts of being a parent, after all. 

Although Arthur is well-seasoned in explaining the facts of life without going overboard with the detail or using cringe-worthy phrases now (although the twins did teach him a few new idioms), he has decided to step away from the ‘cool’ dad persona and go full-on over the top this time. 

He could make this easy for Ron, but why would Arthur want to spoil his own fun?

A flash of red hair leaving the broom shed catches his attention out of the kitchen window, and Arthur’s grin widens. It’s a beautiful day, the sun is shining, but there is a light breeze, keeping the air fresh and cool. It’s the sort of day that would lead to him fishing in the lake at the bottom of the garden, but he has a task at hand that he needs to deal with first. 

Maybe there’ll be time for him to get his rod out later.

Pouring two glasses of lemonade from the jug Molly has left on the side, Arthur uses a cooling charm on them then steps out from the backdoor and onto the patio. 

“Ron,” he calls, smiling as his son turns his head around faster than a niffler chasing gold, looking like Arthur has caught Ron doing something that he shouldn’t. Probably skiving from the long list of chores Molly gave him this morning. “Come up and have a chat with your old Dad.”

Arthur eases himself into the bench under the wisteria with a groan. Although he isn’t all that old, having seven children and living through a war takes its toll on a guy’s body. Now, every joint clicks and complains every time he moves. Forget getting somewhere in a hurry; slow and steady is now the way to go.

Ron settles in the seat next to him. 

“What’s up, Dad?” he asks, smiling at Arthur. He takes the offered drink, gulping almost half of it in one go before letting out a loud, satisfied sigh.

“Hermione is coming to stay with us before we go to the World Cup, I hear? But not Harry?”

Ears turning pink, Ron turns his head to look out at the garden. “Y-yeah. We’re going to collect Harry in a few days, remember?”

“Oh, yes. I’m very excited to be visiting the Muggles. Will they tell me about eckeltricity? Should I take my battery collection?”

Ron laughs. “I don’t think the Dursleys will be too impressed with batteries, Dad. They use them every day.”

“Shame.” Arthur sighs, then turns his eyes to gaze the same way as Ron’s. “So, Hermione is a girl.”

“Er, yes, I guess so.”

“A girl you’re attracted to?” Arthur glances at Ron, whose face has turned as white as a ghost.

Ron reacts with a knee-jerk response, but the look on his face indicates that he’s not telling the whole truth. “No!”

“Are you sure? You and her have gotten close lately. Mum and I like her.” Arthur waits a moment for Ron to take back his first response, then tuts when he stays quiet. “Well, I’m sure you’ll find someone you do like soon. Anyway, as you already know, she’ll be staying in Ginny’s room with your sister, and I’m sure you’re clear on the rules of the house. Your Mum does not want any sneaking around or late-night visits.”

Arthur doesn’t hold the same views as his wife. Sure, he doesn’t want the kids to be sleeping in each other’s beds, but he remembers the conversations he and his friends had during the early hours of the morning when he was their age. If the children wanted to get up to something, Arthur would rather it happen under their roof where they’re safe than have them take unnecessary risks. He and Molly were young once, too, although it feels like a lifetime ago now.

“I know, Dad.”

“Good. And so you know, if you ever find yourself feeling conflicted or wanting some advice on how to ask a lady out, you can always come to me. Because being a teenage lad is a very confusing time, and the magic will heighten this, as well as the fact that you live in proximity to some charming young women. You might not feel it right now, but you’re on the precipice of being a man. Your voice has started breaking. Sure, it’s a little later than the others, but I’m sure that’s nothing to worry about. Everyone develops at their own pace, after all. Pretty soon, you’ll have hairs sprouting all over the place, even in places you wouldn’t expect it. I can’t remember when all of this started happening for me, but it was around your age. And don’t get me started on the wet dreams…”

“Merlin,” Ron sighs, now squirming in his seat, trying to make himself as small as possible. When Arthur checks again, his youngest is looking into the depths of his glass as if considering whether he could drown himself in there.

“Sex is healthy, son, especially if it’s with someone that you admire and love, whether that be a girl or a boy, Your mum and I don’t mind as long as you’re happy. And if you find the right person, then it can be amazing.”

A low groan emits from Ron’s mouth as he pushes himself further down the bench, attempting to put some distance between him and Arthur. 

“Please stop talking,” he pleads with bright red cheeks.

“Having a good sex life is nothing to be ashamed of, let me tell you. The seven of you weren’t delivered by the hippogriffs, after all. Not that we only have sex to procreate. Having you kids out of the house has done wonders for our love life. 

“While we’re on the subject, if you can’t get a partner, then there’s nothing wrong with taking matters into your own hand. Masturbation is very beneficial, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. It’s important to explore your own body and learn the kind of things you like so that you can recreate those moments with a partner. I can tell you some useful charms if you need them—ones for when you’re with someone, and others for when you’re alone. Of course, there are some spells that are vital for you to learn. Safety is sexy, and you don’t want any little accidents happening.”

Ron runs his hand over his face as if trying to erase his dismay. “Dad. Please stop. I know all of this already. Not that I wa-I mean, do that sort of stuff.” 

He crosses his legs with a gulp, and Arthur feels a rush of joy. He’s succeeded in making his youngest son feel as awkward as possible. You have to take delight in the smallest of moments, especially the older you get. 

“Who told you?”

“I have five brothers and live in a dorm with four other boys. Also, Flitwick taught us the contraceptive charm last year.” Ron is still focused on his glass, looking like he wants to be a million miles away.

“Oh, right. ”

An irrational surge of disappointment crashes over Arthur. He should have realised that kids are far more advanced and talk much more than they did in his day. He should have bit the bludger earlier and nabbed him last summer.

“Well,” Arthur continues anyway, determined to see this through, “contraceptive charms aren’t the only things you need to learn. You need to ensure you protect yourself from Sexually Transmitted Diseases, or STDs, as well. Some of these can make you a little itchy, but others can be dangerous. You should go and see Madam Pomfrey if you think you might have one. Of course, you could always get some muggle con-domes. Fantastic little invention they are. Rather than trying to remember a load of different spells while you’re in the heat of passion, you can whack on a rubber and get to it.”

He doesn’t allow Ron’s small squeak to put him off his speech, now he’s in full flow again. “Talking about getting to it. Consent is important. When you decide to take that step, or even before when you snog someone, you need to make sure they want to do it too. Every step of the way. If they say no, you stop right away, even if they said yes only a minute previously. You must understand that. Never force yourself on someone, especially if they are drunk or otherwise intoxicated. If they can’t say yes, it’s a no-go. Got it?”

“I-I d-do,” Ron stutters, his voice strained under the embarrassment of the situation. “C-Can I go now?”

“Yes, yes, of course. But don’t forget that I’m here if you need anything, son. Even if you think it might get you into trouble. And look after Hermione, even if your feelings for her are only platonic. I admire the way you, her and Harry have formed a little group. The three of you are good for each other.”

Arthur reclines on the bench and closes his eyes, letting out a sigh as the sun warms his face. There’s no point getting one’s wand in a knot over spilt potion. He still managed to get Ron squirming like a flobberworm, so it was mostly a successful mission.

The bench shifts as Ron rises to his feet. He finishes his drink with a gulp and sets the glass down on the floor before shuffling away.

“Dad?” a small voice asks.

When Arthur opens his eyes, he spots Ron towering over him. When did he get so lanky? Ron is going to be the tallest of the family, for sure. There’s a smile on his face, though he still can’t meet his Dad’s gaze.

“Yeah, Son?” Arthur asks, shielding his eyes from the sun.

“Thanks for trying.”

Ron shrugs, then wanders back down the garden, his gangly frame hunched over. Arthur marvels at Ron’s response. You think you fully understand your children, and then they do something that knocks you off your broom. But Ron is a decent lad, and Arthur knows he will go far, like the rest of them.

With a happy sigh, he leans back and closes his eyes again. He’s done an okay job at this parenting thing. As long as none of them gets arrested or tries to break into Gringotts, he can die a happy man.

[specialagentsergio]

love, in ink

summary: Spencer wants to do something special to commemorate your relationship. (or, reader and spencer get a couples’ tattoo)

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: fluff

content warnings: tattoos & tattooing, one very light sexual reference bc i'm a hoe

a/n: i recently got my first tattoo and i’ve been absolutely obsessed with tattoos ever since, so here you go. location and design was purposefully left vague so you can imagine anything you want, but i do write reader as already having at least two tattoos.

word count: 2.9k

masterlist

Spencer’s been thinking about it for years.

Two years, eight months, and twenty days to be exact.

Looking back, four months and ten days was pretty early to be thinking of something so permanent. But he couldn’t help it—contrary to how he thinks people perceive him, he’s a romantic. A bit of a hopeless one, really.

In any case, he had been right. Almost three years after your first date, you’re still together and absolutely in love. You live together, your lives are inseparably entwined. Every day has been an affirmation of the conclusion he came to three months into your relationship—you’re the one he wants to spend the rest of his life with.

So really, four months and ten days wasn’t all that early to think of getting a tattoo with you.

He doesn’t have any, but you do, and he’s always loved them. He likes running his fingers over them, pressing kisses to them, rubbing moisturizer into them, and aiding you in making sure they’re all well covered in sunscreen before you’re going to be outside for a while.

He’d never really considered getting a tattoo until he saw how much you loved yours. It’s one of your favorite forms of self-expression, you’ve told him. You say the body art helps you feel more confident, comfortable, and at home in your body. Confidence in your body—that’s definitely something he could do with. But above everything, because it’s something you love, and Spencer loves you, it’s an experience he wants to share with you.

He brings up the idea over dinner forty-five days before your three-year anniversary. You’re reading while you eat—a common occurrence in your home for the both of you. He spins his fork in his hand a few times, then carefully sets it down and says your name.

You hold up a finger to ask him to wait; he watches your eyes move across the page as you finish the paragraph you’re on. Your attention is on him as soon as you’re finished. “What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” He’s nervous—he knows you love him, but what if you say no anyways? What if you don’t want to get a tattoo with him? They are permanent, after all. “It’s… I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” he admits.

Your eyes widen when you pick up on his anxiety. “Oh god, are you breaking up with me?”

He nearly chokes on the water he’d nervously sipped. “Wha—no, no!” he rushes to assure. “I—I love you. I don’t—I don’t ever want that.”

You take in a deep breath, carefully putting your book aside. “Alright. Okay.”

“Why would you think I was breaking up with you?” he asks, concerned about the conclusion you’d jumped to. “Are… are you not happy? Are things not good between us, for you? I thought—well, think, they are. Maybe I’m wrong? I could be. I’ve never been the best at reading social clues. Have I missed something? I’m sorry if I have. I--”

“Spence, Spencer.” You interrupt his nervous rambling and reach across the table, placing your hand on top of his. “Things are great between us for me. I love you, too. You were just so serious when you said you wanted to talk, it caught me off guard. It’s… not an uncommon way for a conversation about breaking up to start.”

“Oh. Sorry. I—I didn’t realize it could come off like that,” he says quietly.

“It’s okay. As long as we’re not breaking up, I’m happy.” You give his hand a squeeze before leaning back in your chair. “So, what is it you want to talk about?”

“Right.” He squares his shoulders and wipes his damp palms on his pants. “Our three year anniversary is in forty-five days, and I was thinking to celebrate, maybe we could… get a tattoo together?”

Immediately you break into the most beautiful smile—he’s happy to have an eidetic memory when it comes to moments like this. “Really?” you ask, body tense with excitement.

“Yeah. Really,” he confirms. “I, um… I guess you’re on board, then?”

“Yes!” you exclaim. “Yes, yes, yes! Oh, Spencer this is so exciting! Your first tattoo!”

He doesn’t bother to correct you about calling it his first. He’s got no plans to get more, so this could very well be his only tattoo. But he doesn’t want to dampen the moment, so instead he says, “I don’t really have any ideas for it. I just want to do it with you.”

“Wait here.” You disappear into the bedroom and return with a folded piece of notebook paper. It’s worn and wrinkled, the edges curled in. He unfolds it carefully to find the page covered in your handwriting. Some of the writing looks more rushed than other parts. Some sections are in blue ink, some are in black. It’s clear you’ve been compiling this list for quite a while.

He reads it at his normal, rapid pace, but it takes him a few moments to understand it. “Is this a list of…?”

You nod. “Tattoo ideas.” He looks up at you in… well, in awe, and you shrug. “I don’t want to just get your name on me, as nice as it is.”

“How long have you been working on this?”

“Um.” The answer seems to embarrass you a little. “A… a couple of years.”

“Years?” he repeats. “But you never said anything.”

“I didn’t want you to feel pressured into getting a tattoo,” you say. “Since they are, you know, permanent.”

“Relatively.” He looks back to the paper, running his fingertips over the indents left by the pressure of the pen. “They naturally fade with age, and can age prematurely through sun exposure.”

“Yeah. Listen, it’s okay if you don’t like any of my ideas.”

Spencer shakes his head—he likes a lot of them, but he already knows which one he wants—he knew as soon as he read it. He points. “This one.”

You bend down to see it and smile. “I was hoping you’d pick that one.”

“It’s perfect,” he says, and presses a kiss to your cheek.

---

You handle pretty much everything, contacting one of your favorite artists and pitching the idea. You’ve been tattooed by her before—specifically, she did his favorite of your tattoos. So he’s happy to have her do this one, too, putting down the deposit without hesitation. The artwork she sends back is everything he pictured and more. She’s taken the idea and brought it to life better than he could ever hope to. A few tweaks here and there, then the date is set. You’ll be getting tattooed the Friday before your anniversary.

Yours will be done first, near the end of his work day—when he arrives, you should be just about done. It’s not exactly how he imagined it happening, but you said it would be better this way. If he sits and watches you get the entire thing done, you think he’ll end up psyching himself out about his own tattoo.

“Is it really that bad?” he had asked.

You shrug. “Well, it’s pain, so it’s obviously not super fun, but it’s tolerable. You overreacted when I stubbed my toe last week, so I think it’s probably best if you’re not there watching me the entire time.”

“I don’t like seeing you in pain,” he defends sheepishly.

“Exactly. I’ll keep you updated with texts and pictures, though, okay?”

He agrees, because honestly, you’re probably right.

Getting into bed with you the night before he asks, “What does it feel like? Besides it just hurting.”

“It’s different for everyone. It also depends on where you get it.” Spencer bumps your arm with his nose, silently requesting for you to adjust your position in a way that allows him to press as much of his body as he possibly can against yours. You place your hand in his hair once he’s settled, as usual, then continue. “It does kind of… vibrate. That’s something I didn’t expect going into my first tattoo.”

“Vibrate?” he repeats. “That’s… well, I guess it makes sense, considering how tattoo machines work.”

“Mm-hmm. But I wouldn’t worry about that part if I were you. Last time I checked, vibration isn’t a sensation that bothers you.” A very slight tug on his hair. “The opposite, actually.”

The squeak he makes is involuntary. “I, um… okay. I’ll—I’ll keep that in mind.”

He’s treated to a little laugh, but then your tone changes. “Seriously, though, Spencer. It’s okay if it ends up being too much, or just not for you, and you can’t finish the tattoo. Or if you just don’t want to finish it. I won’t be mad.”

He’s taken by surprise at first. It is a worry that he’s been harboring, that all the sensory input will be too much, but he’s never said anything about it, so how did you know?

Then again, it’s you. Of course you know. You always do.

“Okay,” he whispers. “Thank you.”

---

“Hey, how can I help you?”

Spencer looks up from his phone to the woman who’s just come into the front of the shop from the back. As promised, you’d kept him updated on your tattoo process with texts and pictures.

“Um, I—I have an appointment?” He doesn’t mean for it to come out as a question, but he’s really nervous—you were definitely right to have him come in later than you so he doesn’t have enough time to get really worked up.

“Who’s it with?”

“Megan.”

She glances over her shoulder. “Megan is currently with someone. I can go ask her how long the wait will be.”

“No, it’s okay, she’s working on my partner. We’re—we’re getting tattoos together,” he explains.

“Oh, fun! I’ll lead you back, then.”

He follows her to an open doorway. Your body is still and unmoving; Megan is hunched over your skin. You smile when you see him. “Hi, Spencer.”

“Hey. Um, how’s it going?”

You sigh. “Well, to be honest, I think this is going to be my last tattoo.”

“I’ve heard that before,” Megan says without looking up.

The little angry huff you make before replying with “I know” makes him smile, and his nerves settle a little. “Why do I do this to myself?”

Spencer can tell it’s just a rhetorical question, asked in good humor, but he can’t stop himself from answering it regardless.

“There are many different reasons that could drive someone to get a tattoo despite the pain, including the adrenaline and endorphins the body produces in response to pain, stress relief, and the need for creative expression.”

“Stress relief?” you repeat. “I haven’t heard that one before.”

“It is a strange concept at face value. An example, though, would be getting a tattoo to mark the end of a difficult period in your life. Some people get them to symbolize personal difficulties or trauma, or to memorialize people they’ve lost. It can be a form of catharsis that helps them process painful emotions, memories, or other stressful feelings.”

Your head tilts as you take the information in. “That’s interesting.”

“Alright.” Megan leans back. “It’s done. Go take a look.”

Spencer follows you to the full length mirror. “Oh, wow,” you breathe out as soon as you see it. “It’s amazing. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“Spencer.” You touch his arm. “What do you think?”

It takes him a few moments to answer because he’s been overcome with emotion. He’s overwhelmed with just how much you love and care for him to have permanently embedded a reminder of him into your skin. “It’s perfect,” he whispers.

“It is,” you agree.

You return to Megan and she takes a few photos of the tattoo, promising to text them to you, then gets started on the aftercare. “You know the drill,” she says, but still gives you the instructions for what to do as the artwork heals. He only barely registers what she’s saying—his eyes are glued to the tattoo.

“Okay, let me get everything switched out and cleaned up, and then we can start on yours, Spencer.”

“Hmm?” He tears his gaze away to find Megan looking at him. “Oh, right. Okay.” He sits off to the side with you while she disposes of supplies, replaces them with new, sterile ones, and wipes everything down.

She works fast—before he knows it, Megan has shaved and cleaned his skin, and has him in front of the mirror as she places the stencil. It takes a few tries to get it just right. He apologizes when she has to print the stencil again, but she waves him off. “It’s your tattoo and it’s going to be on you forever. I want you to be one-hundred percent happy with the placement.”

His nerves spike back up when he’s settled down and all ready to be tattooed. You sit in a chair on the opposite side of him than Megan, and when you offer your hand, he grabs it immediately.

“Breathe, baby,” you say gently. “Try not to tense up too much.”

He does try, but still jumps a little when Megan’s gloved hand touches him. “Sorry,” he says breathlessly. “I’m a little nervous.”

“Oh, no, you’re fine,” she reassures. “I won’t start until you’re ready.”  

“I think I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Okay. I’ll start with just one small line.”

It’s a strange sensation, unlike anything he’s felt before, but it’s… not horrible. He’s been scratched by cats in the past, and it feels kind of like that, but hot. There’s the vibrating you had mentioned, too.

“How was that?” Megan asks.

“Not so bad,” he answers honestly.

“That’s great. I’ll keep going then. Settle in. Just let me know if you start feeling funny or if you need a break, alright?” At his nod, she goes to work, and he switches his attention to you. He knows he shouldn’t, that it’ll probably come back to bite him in the ass, but he can’t stop himself from teasing you.

“I don’t know why you were complaining earlier,” he says in his best innocent voice, with his best innocent expression. “It’s not that bad.”

The way your mouth drops open just a little bit is adorable, and so is the noise of disbelief that follows. “Yeah, okay. Tell me that again at the end.”

“I will,” he replies, mentally adding probably not to the sentence.

You roll your eyes and let go of his hand to sort through your things. You give him a lollipop when you find it.

“What’s this for?” Suckers aren’t really his favorite candy.

“Your adrenaline is probably going to drop now that the tattoo has started and I don’t want you to pass out,” you say. “The sugar will help prevent you from getting lightheaded.”

“Oh. Thanks.”

The tattoo goes well overall, he thinks. It’s definitely painful, but like you said, it’s tolerable. He’s certainly felt worse. Near the end, though, he really starts hurting, and a grimace slips across his face.

“She’s almost done,” you reassure. He hasn’t been looking at it, but you have. “Also, what was that you saying earlier?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles. “It’s not even the needle, you know. It’s the paper towels.”

“A lot of people say that,” Megan says. “Just a few more minutes left.”

He spends those last few minutes questioning every decision he’s made in his life that has led him to this moment, and swearing to himself that he’s never going to do this again. But then it’s over and he’s looking at in the mirror, and it’s suddenly like the past five minutes never happened.

Spencer loves it. He absolutely adores it. Not just the art itself, but how it looks on his body and how it’s making him feel.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you ask, making him jump a little. He’d been so fixated on the tattoo that he didn’t notice you joining him.

He ponders for a moment to find the right words. “I’m beginning to understand why you like doing this so much.”

You grin. “It’s great, huh?”

“It is, yeah. I kind of want to touch it; is that weird?”

“No, but don’t,” you reply. “It’s an open wound.”

“I know.” He looks back at Megan. “This is perfect. Thank you so much.”

“I’m glad you like it,” she says. “Thank you for trusting me with your first tattoo.”

When he drags himself away from the mirror, she goes over aftercare with him, and he listens more intently this time. A few things are going to be a little inconvenient, he thinks, but it’s more than worth the trade off.

You take his hand as you leave the shop. “I’m so happy that I got to do that with you.”

He squeezes your hand back. “Me too.”

You reach the car, but before he can move towards the passenger side, you pull him in close. “I love you.”

His free hand comes up to cradle your cheek. “I love you, too.”

You kiss him, soft and sweet. “Happy three years,” you say when you pull back.

“Here’s to three more?” he offers, a little nervous, but mostly hopeful.

Your smile leaves no room for doubt. “I like the sound of that.”

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

hit up my inbox if you wanna talk tattoos bc i fucking love them. what do you see spencer getting with his partner?

general taglist: @calm-and-doctor​ , @spencerreid9​

[getouswh0re]

pairing: kirishima eijirou x reader

genre: yandere, unhealthy relationships, gaslighting, peer pressure, blackmailing, mentions of school bullying, power play

synopsis: all you want is a peaceful languid life free of trouble, yet everything spirals downhill when a certain redhead wanders into your life out of nowhere. Worst of all, he isn’t planning to leave you for good.

****************************************************

one

“What is it that you want to ask me, Kirishima?” The spiky redhead sucks in a deep breath, feeling the rhythmic thrumming of his heart rising to a crescendo as he shoots a nervous glance at a nearby bush where his squad is hiding. It is going to be alright, he reminds himself. You have practiced the confession with Sero and Kaminari over and over again, all that’s left is for you to say the exact words in front of y/n again!

“I ... I know we have only been friends for a short while y/n, but I really like you! And I was thinking if there would be a chance for the two of us to try things out. Please ... please be my girlfriend! I promise I’ll make you the happiest person on the entire planet!”

For a while, silence dominates the air, leaving you shell-shocked and an extremely flustered Kirishima who turns his head away, refusing to stare at you in the eye. He cognises that this confession must’ve given you quite a bit of shock, yet he is willing to wait for you to reciprocate his feelings no matter how long it takes. Squeezing his eyes shut as he clasps his palms together, the redhead feels like he is waiting for your reply — akin to an answer from the heavens. Not until you open your mouth and what seems like an iridescent future for him has reduced to dust.

“I’m sorry Kiri ... I like you too, but I don’t think of you romantically.”

It takes you forever to muster up the courage you need to politely reject the bubbly redhead; and in all honesty, you can already feel your conscience berating you for doing so. Admittedly, Kirishima is a wonderful guy — with a bright personality, amazing quirk that would guarantee him a promising future in the hero industry. You, on the other hand, have a somewhat decent quirk as well; yet despite everyone around gushing about how great it would be for you to become a hero, your resolve towards being one isn’t as strong as your fellow classmates in UA. And you don’t want your thoughts to affect the other students in striving towards their ultimate goal. 

Including Kirishima Eijirou.

“... why?” Pangs of guilt shoot through your heart when you hears the redhead choking back sobs. “Why can’t we give one another a chance to work things out? Am ... am I not good enough? Did I annoy you? Or do you hate my hair? I — I can dye it whatever colour you want! Just to make you happy ...” 

“It’s not like that Kiri.” You place a hand on his hunched shoulders, attempting to cheer up his dejected spirit. 

“You are not annoying, nor did your behaviour put me off. You are a really nice guy to be honest, and you deserve a lot more. I’m not like you or the others ... I just want to live a normal life, and I don’t want my mentality of not being a hero to affect the rest of you who work so hard to reach for the stars. Plus, I’m sure you’ll meet a lot more amazing people like you out there once you become a professional hero ... and perhaps, you’ll find someone more deserving of your kindness and love. I wish for your happiness Kiri ... may you have the best of things coming your way in life.” 

With that, you spill out apologies one after the other, leaving the heartbroken hero-in-training behind. 

two 

Never would you have imagined that the act of turning down Kirishima’s confession eventually bites back at you like karma. 

Soon after the incident happens, words about how you reject the redhead has spread its way around the school like wildfire. Within the span of a day, you’ve become the number one gossip of the campus; wherever you go, dozens of eyes would trail after you as if they are lurking predators and you being the prey.

Many shoot you harsh dirty looks, raising their voices every time you saunter through the corridor about what an ungrateful, insolent bitch you are to break poor Kirishima’s heart into shambles. 

Insults are thrown your way, slips of paper filled with harsh messages flood your locker; and once in a while, some students would purposely stand in your way, intentionally bumping their shoulders into yours and shoving you out of the way. Even your own classmates from class A whom you’ve gone through thick and thin with side with the disconsolate male, muttering about how all of this would’ve been avoidable if you’d simply said ‘yes’. 

School has become an absolute nightmare for you for the next couple of weeks; and to make matters worse, the school authority doesn’t do much to alleviate the situation, merely giving verbal warnings about how bullying on school grounds is unacceptable before moving on with settling their own matters. You’ve tried to ignore everything that happens in school, you really did. Yet with the weight of it all come crushing down upon your shoulders, you eventually find yourself teetering on the brink of suffering from a mental breakdown. 

For countless nights you would cry yourself to sleep, burying yourself beneath layers of blankets in order to forget about the pain. Still, it does nothing to alleviate your suffering and you wake up to find the dark circles under your eyes growing bigger with each passing day. The vicious cycle continues, with you trapped in the centre of it. Perhaps this is your punishment after all — your consequence for hurting a fellow classmate who is loved by everyone. 

And maybe it’s about time you fix your mistakes before it is too late. 

“Kiri ...” You bow deeply as an apology at the surprised redhead when you manage to drag him out of the classroom during break time under the prying eyes of everyone poking their heads out from the corridor, brushing aside the mean comments reverberating in the air. 

“I’ve been thinking about it ... and I realise I’m wrong. Maybe I was too quick to jump to conclusions, maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give things a try. I’m ... I’m sorry for hurting your feelings, and yes. Let’s give this relationship a try, shall we?” 

Oddly enough, the bullying vanishes into thin air once words are spread around the school that the two of you are dating. 

three

Being in a relationship with the boisterous redhead isn’t as bad as you had imagined, but you wish there is something you could do to get yourself out of this mess. Kirishima isn’t a terrible lover at all; he has been nothing but loving, kind and openly affectionate with you at all times. You would’ve regarded him as the perfect partner for life — if not the fact that he pries a bit too much about your personal space and social circle, making you utterly uncomfortable. 

You totally understand his intentions, albeit thinking that it would’ve been better if he knows not to cross certain boundaries. Regardless, every time you try to bring the subject up, Kirishima would invariably find a way to divert the topic of discussion. Still, you need to make sure he understands the message; and so comes a certain night, when you decide to sit down and settle matters with your boyfriend. 

“Eijirou, we ... we need to talk.” 

“What do you want to talk about babe?” 

“I ... I think I need a break — for this relationship I mean.” Hearing that, the redhead’s smile falters. 

“Why? I ... I thought everything was going perfectly! You’re happy, I’m happy. Isn’t that good enough for you?” 

With tears squeezed forth from the pro hero’s waterline, he lunges forth to grab at your arms, nails digging a bit deeper into your skin than a normal lover should. Despite wincing at the pain, you shift your gaze away from your crying boyfriend, reminding yourself of the inordinate number of occurrences that Kirishima has guilt-tripped you into pushing your boundaries. Seeing the unfazed expression on your face only makes chagrin seethe in the redhead’s chest even more. You love him just as much as he loves you, right? Why would you go to such lengths to destroy everything? Why would you risk all that there is to tear yourself away from his life? 

“Tell me babe ...” The rawness laced in his voice is more than evident to drive your frozen heart on the verge of breaking, his unanswered pleas coming out as a broken record. “Do you hate me that much ... that you want to leave?” 

Taking your silent nodding as a yes, Kirishima’s chest aches more than ever. Being a professional hero is never easy; the weight upon his shoulders increases excruciatingly as he steadily climbs up the ranks. Together with shouldering the guilt of the lives he once failed to save, the suffocation is immense. You are his elixir, his solace every time he returns home battered and utterly drained day after day of repetitive villain fighting. Your presence is all that it takes to save him, and he has become a hero — your hero. He has dedicated his all to protect the city.

So why couldn’t you just do the same for the sake of his sanity? 

“... I understand.” Pulling himself out of his pensive mindset, the redhead finally compromises. “But I have one last request: there would be a hero gala this Friday, and all I want is for the two of us to go as a couple for one last time before this relationship ends. Would ... would that be fine with you?” 

You agree without hesitation, relief surging through you as if a weight has been lifted off your chest. Your wishes have finally been answered, and freedom is just within arm’s reach. 

Or so you thought. 

four 

You hate him for putting you in the limelight. 

Still, you are to blame as well. Perhaps you shouldn’t have been so gullible in the first place, believing that Kirishima Eijirou is a man of his world. 

Staring at yourself in the mirror, a wry grin adorns your face as a team of makeup artists and hair stylists prepares you for the grand wedding, gushing about how lucky you are to charm your way into the chivalrous redhead’s heart and the privilege for you to be his one and only blushing bride (except that all of this is out of your own will — more like enforced onto you). Despite being dressed in the most elegant wedding gown you’ve ever seen and having your features accentuated with powdery makeup, you don’t feel elated to the slightest. Most girls would be thrilled on their wedding days, yet you couldn’t even bring yourself to smile. 

If you had unveiled Kirishima’s lies, would all of these happen in the first place? 

“Everyone ... there is something I would like to announce.” Having said that, the hero gives your hand a gentle squeeze whilst the two of you walk onto the podium situated at the centre of the banquet hall where the gala is held. Thinking that the redhead is about to reveal the breakup to the others, you don’t have much on your mind at that particular moment — that is. 

Not until the entire outcome of the jamboree changes completely when Kirishima gets to his knees without warning and pulls out a shimmering diamond ring before you even get to scream at him about what the fuck is going on. 

“y/n ...” Deceptively adoring eyes that make your stomach churn bore into the depths of your betrayed ones as the redhead shamelessly plays his trickster part well, ignoring your hushed protests while he pulls off an elaborate performance in front of the party guests, his sinister intentions masked beneath the innocent smile and corny confession of love. 

“For as long as I could remember, we have been with each other through highs and lows. You are everything to me and I wish I could cherish this bond for a lifetime ... would you make me the happiest man on earth — and marry me?” 

That son of a bitch —

Following that, claps and cheers resonate in the expanse of the arena, overshadowing the choked sobs ripped from none other than your throat. You should’ve expected this, for a lovesick bastard like Kirishima to resort to such abject measures when he runs out of options to make you stay by his side, forcing you to accept his proposal under the pressure of the gathering crowd. 

You hate him.

You despise him more than anyone else. That said, it isn’t like you have a choice to get yourself out of this predicament; and with a heavy heart, you could only follow along the scripted play, feigning tears of joy as you reluctantly mumble your response. A cheeky smile stretches across your fiancé’s face as he does what every engaged couple would do: slipping the ring onto your finger and showering you with kisses whilst surrounded by incessant blessings of fellow pro heroes and friends alike. 

“You look stunning today, love.” Catching a glimpse of slicked vermilion hair, you cannot think of an alternative response other than flashing the grinning groom a prominent scowl. “Now don’t give me a face like that. It’s our wedding day, we should be happy right —”

“Cut the bullshit.” You spit with raging fury, tears rolling down your face as you back away from your husband-to-be. “You’ve ruined my happiness and my future, yet you have the audacity to act like this? To be all smiles in front of me? I never want to be with you in the first place Kirishima Eijirou! Hell — I never want to date you!” 

Your words pierce his throbbing heart, but the redhead can’t care less. Taking a step closer at a time, he easily towers over you; tenderly caressing your stained cheeks, Kirishima gives his final warning. 

“Love, it’s my word over yours. Who do you think people would believe? An up-and-rising pro hero, or a civilian like you? Also, even if you manage to leave me, how long do you think you can sustain your own living out there? I wonder if anyone would hire you ... if I told them every bit of info I have on you —“

Pupil-blown and legs shaking, you fall limply beneath his intense stare. 

“You ... you wouldn’t dare!” 

“Oh yes I would.” Pressing a kiss to your forehead, Kirishima saunters out of the door. “Now ask your stylists to touch up on your makeup, wouldn’t want to look like a crying mess on your special day. Would you?” 

[yandere-ac]

Can you write a little bit Mondo x Girly! Reader?

Yandere Mondo Owada X Girly Reader

Promise

⚠️ Spoilers for chapter 2 ⚠️

Ever since Mondo was little he’d have one thing drilled into his brain. When a man makes a promise, he has to keep it, even if it kills him. That is what his brother Daiya had taught him and that was something he was never going to forget. And he never did, no matter how difficult it could get he never ever broke any of the promises he made. So when it finally happened, the shame hit him hard.

He had remembered his utter confusion when he first woke up at hopes peak academy. He had rested on a desk in some classroom all by himself, which only confused him more. Why was he here? He was just walking into the school and now he was sleeping on a desk? Had he just...slept through a lesson or something? As he gazed around the room he saw a big clock hanging above the big blackboard. Nope, he couldn’t have slept through any lesson. There was still 15 minutes left before the school started. So why was he here? Never mind, he had to get to the entrance.

Walking out of the classroom he felt a sudden shiver up his spine as dread crept up his back. He didn’t know why, but something about this place was freaking him out. But he hadn’t had any time to process this new uneasiness as he heard the faint sounds of footsteps running towards him. Immediately he tensed up and got ready to defend himself in case anything happened. But he hadn’t gotten any time to process this new threat as something, or rather, someone ran into him. They had turned a corner in the hallway and didn’t seem to see him before it was too late. As they crashed into him they fell backwards and landed on the floor. Mondo was pushed back slightly by the crash but unlike the person before him, he didn’t fall. It only took him a few seconds before he regained his posture. Letting out a grunt he turned to the person still on the floor.

"HEY! WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING DUMBASS!" He could now see the other person more clearly. They wore a puffy white blouse which they tucked into a pink skirt. They had pastel pink knee high socks that reached their thighs and they had a small bow in their hair. They were rubbing their head as they groaned slightly. After a couple of seconds they looked at him and their face immediately turned from dazed to panicked. "Oh my god I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to run into you like that!" They apologised to him profusely as they put their hands together, still on the floor. Mondo rolled his eyes and extended his hand to them. "Quit fussing. I’m not gonna hit you or anything. Just get up." Their face turned slightly pink as they realised they had been rambling. "Oh, yes of course." As they grabbed his hand Mondo could feel something in his chest for a split second. But he quickly brushed it off as he pulled them up off the ground. As soon as they stood up, they let go of his hand and brushed off their skirt. And that for some reason made Mondo a little bit irritated, but he didn’t understand why.

"Well, since first impressions are out the window," the person began as they smiled at Mondo. "Hi! My name is Y/N L/N. It’s nice to meet you!" As you introduced yourself to him you gave him a little bow. Mondo had eyed you up and down. You looked to be about his age, but you seemed nothing like him at all. You were like the personification of the colour pink, cute, polite, feminine. It wasn’t his style at all. And yet, something about you, it intrigued him. "Names Mondo Owada." He stated bluntly while putting his hands in his pockets. "So I’m guessing you’re a student here. What class do you belong to?" You gave him a slight smirk while you asked this. Something about it seemed almost endearing to Mondo. "Yeah, Class 78th. I was just heading to the entrance ceremony." This made you perk up. "Oh? Me too! I was just going there actually. That’s why I was running before. Sorry about that again." You flashed him a smile as the two of you continued. So you were his classmate huh? He didn’t know if that was good or bad. You sure seemed to like chatting, that’s for sure.

And that’s what you two did on your walk to the entrance. During said walk he learned that you were the ultimate makeup artist. And it really showed, you’re face was full of makeup. And Mondo would be lying if he said that it didn’t look good. But he would never admit something like that out loud. Still, you had given him a compliment about his makeup, the eyeliner he wore specially. Which made him kinda happy, it was good to know he was doing it right. But sooner or later, you came to the entrance. The two of you weren’t the first ones to arrive. There were about 8 other students there, standing around and waiting for something to happen. But what was weird about said entrance was that the door had been replaced by a giant vault door. Suspicion was rising in Mondo as everyone started talking to you both.

The way you two met was...less than optimal. But you hadn’t let it get in your way at all. You hung out with Mondo a lot. You kept reaching out to him, which he appreciated. You made him feel strong. From little things like grabbing his arm whenever you felt uneasy or uncomfortable to telling him you felt safe with him. He felt good around you. Like he was actually as strong as you beloved him to be. But the one thing that you ever did that made him feel good was after the Sayaka trial.

He remembered it clear as day. It was nighttime, a couple of hours after the first ever class trial. And it had hit him hard. That Sayaka was dead, that she had tried to kill Leon and blame it on Makoto, that Leon had been executed in such a horrible and gruesome manner. It fucked him up. He sat up in bed, just staring at the floor while he rested his head in his palms. Sayaka had always seemed so nice, so sweet. She and Makoto very obviously had a thing going on. So to know that someone like her would blame it all on him in order to escape, it made him question who he could trust. Sayaka had been the first to attempt something like this, now that you had gone over the line of comfort anyone could be next. He couldn’t die now, not after years of maintaining the Crazy Diamonds. He couldn’t fail Daiya! He couldn’t-

Knock knock

Someone had knocked on his door. No, he was not answering that. He wasn’t gonna become a victim like Sayaka and Leon. But the knocking continued, and continued, and continued, until he couldn’t take it anymore. He walked up to his door, and opened it slightly. Through the small crack in the door he could see it was you. And you saw him. You’re eyes were glossy and your nose was red. "Could you let me in? I’m not armed I promise." Mondo hesitated for a few seconds, should he? He knew you. You would never hurt someone, let alone him. But...he thought the same about Sayaka. Mondo looked at you once again. You were hugging your sides and wiping your tears off your cheeks. You didn’t have any makeup on, which was unusual for you. But most of all, you just looked so small. You were pretty much cowering together as you waited for him to open the door. You couldn’t be here to kill him. He refused to believe it and mentally cursed himself out for even thinking about the possibility. With a swift move, he opened the door and let you inside. You thanked him as you walked into his dorm.

"Are you okay?" That was the first thing he asked you after he closed the door. You sat down on his bed, clutching your hands together as your eyes fastened to the floor. You didn’t give him an answer, you just stared at the floor, just like he was a couple of minutes ago. After a couple of seconds of silence, Mondo sat down next to you. He let out a sigh and used his hand to stroke your back. "Hey it’s okay, or well- it’s not okay right now but uh..." Damn it. He wasn’t very good at this was he? "Hey, look at me." He cupped the side of your face in his hand as he turned it towards him. "It’s gonna be okay, I promise. This shit sucks, it’s fucking insane. But you’re going to be okay." You let out a sniffle and a sob as he stroked your cheek. "But how can you say that? Two of our classmates are dead! How can I, how can any of us be safe when two of us has died!" You cried out, and as your voice cracked under pressure Mondo could feel his heart break. "...Y/N, do you wanna know the one thing that my brother made sure to teach me? When a man makes a promise, he has to keep it, even if it kills him." Mondo told you, now letting go of your face and grabbing your hands. "It’s something I’ve always told myself, every single time I ever make a promise, I think of that. And I have never in my life broken a promise. So when I tell you this I want you to listen. You’re going to be okay. You’re gonna survive this shit, no matter what. I promise you will Y/N. Do you wanna know why?" You looked at him as you let out another sob. "Why?"

"Because you have me."

You spent that night with Mondo. The two of you keeping each other company and keeping each other calm. That night Mondo not only made a promise to you, but to himself. He had to protect you. It didn’t matter if he thought he could or couldn’t, he had to. He wasn’t gonna loose someone like you.

And for the most part, he was able to keep that promise. There hadn’t been any other deaths until then and Mondo was happy about that. What he was also happy about was that you and Taka got along well. After all, it would be a little awkward if his best friend didn’t get along with his...partner? Friend? He didn’t know. You two hadn’t made anything official or put any labels on your relationship but it was obvious that it wasn’t strictly platonic. You and him have shared a bed multiple times, much to Takas dismay. But it didn’t matter, because you and Taka got along. He wasn’t sure why, but Taka was the only guy that he felt comfortable with you being around. But anytime you hung out with any of the other guys he felt this burning sensation in his chest. He didn’t blame you or anything, he knew you weren’t gonna get with one of them, but it still felt bad. Like they were trying to take you away from him. He wasn’t so sure about the girls since he didn’t know if you were into that, but you were into him, which meant you were into boys. He hadn’t told you about this, he knew that wouldn’t be a smart thing to do. So he just kept all his feelings inside of him. Which also wasn’t a smart thing to do. He already struggled with a lot of self worth issues, so mixing in the paranoia about the other guys only made it worse. What if one of them convinced you to leave Mondo? And what if you realised that he wasn’t as strong and tough as he made himself out to be? What if you left him? He couldn’t loose you. Not now. Not ever.

But strangely, you didn’t spend much time with a lot of the guys. You mostly spent time with the girls. Him and Taka were the only guys you seemed to hang out with most of the time, but most of the time, it was with the girls. The one you spent most of your time with was none other than Chihiro Fujisaki, the ultimate programmer. You and her talked a lot, which at first annoyed Mondo slightly. An annoyance which you noticed pretty quickly. So when you asked him about it and he answered, you couldn’t help but laugh slightly. Which only made him madder. With a quick peck on the cheek, you explained to Mondo that you and Chihiro were like best friends. "Don’t worry Mondo. Chihiro is like my Taka." Chihiro was like your Taka. Once you had put it like that Mondo felt better. He started to wonder why he was even worried in the first place.

But then came the accident.

It had been a rough evening for Mondo. Monokuma had given all of you new motives in order to get you all to kill. This time it was embarrassing or scandalous secrets. If a murder didn’t happen within the next 24 hours he was gonna reveal them all to the outside world. He had wished his motive was just one of the embarrassing things he had done when he was little. But no. His secret was the murder of his big brother, Daiya. He remembered the pit that had formed in his stomach as he read his motive. Everyone in The Crazy Diamonds were gonna find out. After keeping the gang together for so long it was all gonna be ruined. He felt shitty, he felt MORE than just shitty. And he didn’t want to talk to anyone about it. So when you had asked him what was wrong he simply stated that he wanted to be left alone. Maybe a bit more aggressively then he wanted to. And he beat himself up over it. Why couldn’t he just talk to you! Why did he have to be so stupid! That day he spent hours in the gym, working out and releasing his anger. But it wasn’t working. His thoughts kept flowing back to Daiya, and you, and his secret. What would you think of him after you found out? What if you started to hate him? He couldn’t let the last conversation you had with him before you find out be the one you had before. The one when he snapped at you and stormed off when the only thing you did was ask if he was okay. What had he done?! He had to find you!

But right as he opened the door to the gym he was met with Chihiro. She let out a slight yelp as Mondo had opened the door rather violently. "O-Oh! Mondo. There you are. Is this where you’ve been all day?" She asked him. "Yeah, what’s it fucking to ya?" Mondo answered, once again getting more aggressive then he wanted to. Chihiro frowned slightly as he raised his voice at her. Damn it, he knows he shouldn’t yell at Chihiro. "...I’m...did you want something or what?" Mondo asked, his voice a little lower then before. "Huh? O-Oh yes! I wanted to ask you...could I train with you?" This question caught Mondo completely off guard. "...train with me? Can’t you just train with Sakura and Aoi instead? How would you even get into my training room?" Mondo asked. Chihiro looked a little uncertain for a moment before taking in a deep breath. "Because..." she grabbed the door to the men’s room and closed it. Then she pulled out her tablet and pressed it against the automatic door lock. And with a small click, the door opened. Mondos eyes widened as he saw this. Soon he looked down at Chihiro. "I wouldn’t be able to get into the girls room..."

Chihiro told Mondo about her secret, or rather, his secret. How he’s been dressing up as a girl his whole life. How he’s always thought of himself as too weak. How he...how he wanted to change. He told Mondo about how he’s tired of hiding, tired of living a lie. He wanted to be like Mondo. He wanted to be strong like him. He told him that he admired Mondo. Admired him and his strength. As Mondo listened to him, he couldn’t help but think how, how did he have this much courage?! How could he face his flaws like it was nothing? He was so strong...and it just showed how much weaker Mondo was. Chihiro was strong, he faced his problems and wanted to change. But Mondo, Mondo was the opposite. He had hid away the entire day, working out just to distract himself. He had kept it all inside of him and refused to work on himself in any way at all. He had lashed out at one of the people he cared about simply because he didn’t want to be vulnerable around them...he was nothing like Chihiro...Chihiro Fuji-fucking-saki. That bastard. How dared he sit there and act like Mondo was as strong as him. As if he was anything but a coward.

"Are you making fun of me?! I’m strong? Are you fucking with me right now?" Mondo raised his voice slightly as anger seemingly seeped through him. "I’m not making fun of you. You really are strong Mondo." Chihiro tried to explain himself, thinking that Mondo got the wrong idea. "What do you want me to do? What am I supposed to do? Am I supposed to just sit back, let my secret get revealed and ruin everything? Let my best friend and partner know I’m a murderer!?" Now Mondo started to shout. "Wh-Whats wrong?" Chihiros voice became fearful and worried as he tried to approach Mondo. But Mondo quickly snapped at him, turning his whole body towards him rather violently as he looked Chihiro dead in the eyes. "Why did you have to tell me all that? Are you trying to rub my failure in my face!? Huh?! Is that it!?" Mondo started to approach him as more and more fury built up inside of him. "N-No, I just- I really admire you! I admire your strength! I promise Mondo, I just want to become as strong as you are!" Chihiro backed up, but for every step he took, Mondo took one as well. And soon enough, Chihiro was backed up against the wall. He was shaking. Tears spilled out of his eyes as the taller male towered above him. "That’s right, I am strong...I’m strong! I’m strong! Stronger than you ever will be! You hear me?! I’M STRONG!" As Mondo shouted this, he bent down and picked up the object closest to him. A dumbbell. "Mondo you’re scaring-"

THUNK!

Chihiro didn’t get to finish his sentence as Mondo struck him with the dumbbell. With one hit, Chihiro fell down. With one hit, blood started to pour from his head. With one hit, the ultimate programmer known as Chihiro Fujisaki was dead. Dead and gone forever. One hit. That’s all it took. And with that one hit, Mondo came back to reality.

"....o-oh...oh fuck. Fuck! FUCK! CHIHIRO!" He fell down to his knees as he grabbed ahold of Chihiros shoulders. He started to shake him slightly. "Chihiro? Chihiro get up man! This isn’t funny! Wake up!" But his pleads fell on deaf ears. Because Chihiro wasn’t there. Chihiro was dead. He was dead because of Mondo. Chihiro trusted Mondo enough to tell him his secret and ask for help, and Mondo had killed him. Tears started to prickle Mondos eyes very soon. He let out one last breathy "fuck" and brought Chihiro close to him as he realised what he had done. He used to be the one that feared what someone might do to him. He used to wonder who he could trust, who might betray him. But in the end it was him, him who betrayed someone. Someone who could barely defend themselves. Someone who trusted him. And he betrayed that trust. "Chihiro...I’m so sorry..."

•••

And that brings us to where you all were right now. Mondo hadn’t said much during the trial. As everyone was discussing who might have killed Chihiro, the guilt was eating at him. He was a monster. He had killed someone who looked up to him and wanted to be like him. Every time he would try to focus on something else his mind just repeated what Chihiro had told him. Chihiro was strong. Strong enough to not hide away from himself. Unlike Mondo. Mondo did it when he was informed about the motives and he was doing it now...he couldn’t do this. As he looked around the room he saw that everyone was deep in their discussion. He looked at you, you had a frown on your face, he remembered the scream of pain you let out once you found your best friend tied up in the girls gym, blood pouring from his head. And even if this case clearly hurt you, you had to focus. You were gonna find out who did this. Your eyes were intense with raw emotion. That is, until you felt Mondo staring at you. You turned your gaze over to him, and as your eyes met his, they softened slightly. And that broke Mondo. He promised to protect you. And here he was, trying to get away with murder. If he got away with this, you would be executed. But if he spoke up...he would be the one dying. And as his hands started to shake he remembered what Daiya used to tell him. When a man makes a promise, he has to keep it. Even if it kills him. "Even if it kills him...." he said to himself in a very low voice. He had promised to protect you, that you would make it out alive. So even if he had to die, he had to do this. "Hey. Hey!" He said loudly, quickly getting everyone’s attention. Even if it kills him. "I have something to say..." for the first time in his life, for the last time in his life, he was gonna be strong. He was gonna be strong, like Daiya.

Like Chihiro.

Even if it kills him.

“WHY MONDO!? WHY WHY WHY?! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS?! HOW COULD YOU KILL HIM!" As his best friend shouted at him he felt like curling up and hiding away. His words cut deep into Mondos heart, even if all the words were true and justified. But what hurt the most were the words he didn’t hear. Taka was screaming at him, but you, you just stared at him in silence. You looked at him with hurt and betrayal in your eyes, and yet, not a word left your mouth. Tears were running down the sides of your face, tears that he was responsible for. “It would seem like you’re all ready to vote!” Monokuma said gleefully, much to Kiyotakas horror. “W-Wait! No! Hold on!” Taka cried out as he wanted to get answers from his best friend. “No more waiting! No more holding on!” Monokuma trailed on. But Mondo didn’t listen. He knew what was going to happen. He was going to die. But at least he died for the people he loved. He looked at you. You had tear filled eyes and a big frown. Suddenly, the levers you were all supposed to pull appeared. As everyone pulled their levers, only you, Mondo and Kiyotaka had been yet to vote. “Y/N! This can’t be happening! Tell me this isn’t happening! We’re not...WE’RE NOT VOTING FOR MONDO!” He yelled out as sobs escaped his throat. “Hey...Taka...Y/N...” Mondos voice rang through the trial room. You both turned to him. “It’s okay...vote for me...be safe...” and so, he grabbed his lever and placed his vote. “No! Don’t do this Mondo! Don’t do this!” Mondo gave the lever a big yank. Finalising the vote. He looked at you, you looked at him. Through your tears you saw him nod at you. And so, you pulled your lever.

•••

Taka was violently sobbing into the long coat that you had placed on his shoulders, Mondos coat that flew off him during his execution. It was the night after the trial. And Taka was completely destroyed. He was hysterically crying, letting out a sob in between every single breath he took. You stroked him on his back while trying to calm him down. “Hey...shh...shh...it’s...it’s not okay right now. I know that. But it’s going to be okay. We’re gonna get through this Taka. You and me. For Mondo. For Chihiro. He looked at you for a second before pulling you into a hug. “It’s gonna be okay. You and me, we’re gonna get out of this alive. Because...” you trailed off for a second. “....because you have me.” Kiyotaka only started to sob more after you told him this. And you just kept stroking his back. “And I have you. We have each other. And we’re gonna be okay....”

“I promise you...”

[donutloverxo]

Nude

Run through - Steve wants to try new things so he takes a painting class with a nude painting subject. Only the woman he has to paint are you, Peppers assistant and his crush.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 2k

Masterlist is linked in the bio!

Steve Rogers was many things. He was an artist, an amateur cook (who really does try), a loyal friend, a good citizen, a soldier. Yet when people looked at him, they only ever saw the captain. His friends called him cap. He'd go weeks without hearing his own name. Sometimes he felt the lines were blurred. When did Steve Rogers end and Captain America begin?

He had a big wake up call when he confronted Tony, saying he wasn’t iron man, it was an alter ego. To which Tony said that Steve was basically captain America. And Steve couldn’t argue or disagree, because it was true. He didn’t want to lose himself in his work anymore than he already had. His therapist told him to make healthy boundaries, which is what he’s going to do.

So he ordered some colors and pencils online and got to work on his art, for the first time in a long time. It was exhilarating and freeing. He could lose himself in it, go on for hours without thinking and seeing anything but the colors and his canvas. Which was extremely rare for him. He could rarely ever shut his brain off or run from his traumatic memories.

Everyone could see the visible change in him. How he seemed happier. Clint even joked about it saying

“Cap must be getting some”

To which Steve only snorted. There was no room for anything as complicated as a relationship or sex in his life, not right now.

But wouldn’t it be nice? To have a woman to hold and to paint. To love and care for. He didn’t let himself delve too much into that fantasy. Because even if it was a nice escape once in a while, he knew that while Steve Rogers might make a good partner, Captain America would certainly not. He would never subject any woman to deal with either of them.

With some encouragement from Sam and his old friends he started attending painting classes at his alma mater, the Brooklyn College, every Saturday evening. It helped him make some friends. He didn’t know if he could call them friends. Most of them were too different from him. They seemed like different types of 'tortured artists'

When he heard that there would be a nude subject to paint the next class, he was a little bit hesitant. Such a thing would’ve been scandalous in the 40s. But he was trying to open himself up and that meant pushing his comfort zone, even just a little bit.

When he set up his canvas, oil colors and brushes that Saturday he expected male subject. He didn’t however expect to hear a woman’s voice. He was too focused on his set up to look up, whatever. He didn’t care if it was a man or a woman. There wouldn't be anything erotic about it. This was strictly professional and educational.

He looked up to take a good look at his subject, when he felt as if his soul was knocked out of him. There you stood, his crush, Pepper Potts' assistant, and the woman who turned him down.

“You know back in my day they used to play elevator music” He said to drown out the awkward silence. Even after all this time, he still didn’t know how to talk to women. He had had a crush on you since the moment he laid eyes on you. You were always so funny and sweet. Asking him and everyone about their day, if they were doing well. Always willing to help others.

When he let it slip that he likes banana bread, you baked him a whole loaf of it, which chocolate chips so ‘so you think of me when you have them. They’re my signature of sorts' you had said proudly. Of course he’d be thinking of you when he ate it. Overthinking actually. Wondering If you like him as he likes you, or if you’re just being your sweet self.

“Oh we still have that!” You chirped “but not in um professional or business buildings like these”

He just nodded. Tapping his foot impatiently. You would get off in just six floors it was now or never. “Hey uh – what are you doing this Friday?” he asked shyly.

“Oh just watching some Gordon Ramsay with my dog probably. I have no life” you laughed at your own self depreciating joke “Why?” you tilted your head.

“I was thinking, maybe we could get dinner? Only if you uh – you wanted to, you're free to say no” he promised. Maybe he should’ve asked you to ‘hang out' or 'for a coffee' like most people these days. But he felt that was no way to treat a lady, especially one like you.

“Oh Steve” he was already disappointed upon hearing your tone “I would’ve loved to. But even though we don’t work together, it wouldn’t look good you know? I mean I don’t care much for 'my image'” You said making air quotes “But I don’t, it’ll be complicated” You looked completely defeated. As if it hurt you to say no more than it hurt him to hear it.

“I completely understand” He nodded “no hard feelings” he gave you a smile as he watched you walk away. It did break his heart a bit, but he’d respect your feelings.

He looked at you taking off your satin robe revealing your bare body to the class of twenty or so artists. His breathe hitched. Your hair flowing down your back and covering a bit of your left breast, your soft stomach and thighs, the patch of soft curls at your core, your nipples hard against the chilly air, and how your stomach rolled a bit as you sat uncomfortably on the stool. You were beautiful. A work of art even. There was absolutely no way he could do you justice. He started drawing an outline on his canvas. You would very well be his best subject.

You looked around a bit, your fingers holding onto the stool for dear life so you could stave off the anxiety and feeling of being so exposed. Then your eyes landed on him. You thought you were dreaming, maybe you didn’t see properly, so you did a double take. Then you were frozen on the spot. There he was, Captain Rogers, the first Avenger, the man you often dreamt about, sitting right in front of you while you were naked as the day you were born.

You had no idea what you should do. This was literally like a nightmare come true. If you flee it would look bad, if you didn’t it might look worse. You decided you’d follow his lead. So you peeked a glance at him from the corner of your eyes and saw him, sketching you? Holy shit Steve Rogers was drawing a nude portrait of you. What has your life become?

You had always been insecure about your body. You knew magazines, porn and movies were meant to feed people lies to get them to buy more things. That didn’t make you feel any less bad about not looking anything like the women in them. You tried to remind yourself that you have many things going for you. Like your supporting family, your loving friends, your cute labrador, your amazing job.

Speaking of your job, exactly why you turned Steve freaking Rogers down! A man that looks like him asking you out and you say no. Your friends flat out laughed in your face at your unfortunate predicament, where the cake is right there but you can't eat it. Now that you thought about it, it was funny.

Your co-workers weren’t kind to you. Even on your best day you didn’t look anything like the women you worked with, who would stab you in the back the first chance the get. You were kind to everyone, but you knew by now not to expect the same treatment back. Which was why you had to say no to the beefy blonde. You didn’t want to be branded as the ‘office slut’.

Which now you were sure you would be. You didn’t know Steve enough to know he’d be willing to keep this a secret. He didn’t seem like someone who would do that to you. But you still couldn’t help but think the worst.

You squirmed and shivered in the chair for a good part of the next two hours. By the end your back was sore and you did everything you could to avoid looking at Steve, only sneaking glances here and there, while he seemed too engrossed in his work.

You had done this a couple of times before, to accept your body for what it is and get comfortable with it. If you weren’t going to love it no one would do it for you. Finally the time was up and the artists were asked to pack up for the day.

You quickly got up from your stool putting the robe back on. You turned your back to Steve, stretching your muscles. You couldn’t wait to lay down on your comfy bed and just get out of here. But you knew you needed to have that inevitable conversation. You probably would never be able to look Steve in the eye after this.

You walked towards him as he was cleaning up his work station. “Fancy seeing you here” You cringed at your embarrassing attempt at a British accent.

“Hey there” He gave you a bashful smile scratching the back of his head “I didn’t expect to see you here”

“Right back at ya” you returned his smile, no longer feeling on edge. It was strange how his presence served to comfort you.

“You do this often” he asked casually. You couldn’t really hear any judgement in his tone, not what you would expect from a hundred year old.

“No not really. It just uh – I’m trying to love myself. Which I already do! Of course” you let out a nervous chuckle “just trying new things and stepping out of my comfort zone”

“That makes two of us” he said as he was done packing his bag, which he was deliberately doing at a slow pace. He didn’t want to leave. Not yet.

“Can I... Look at your painting?” You asked nervously. You didn’t know if you wanted to see his interpretation of your naked body, what if it was bad? But what if it was good? What if he was impressed by you...

“Uh it’s not done yet. And frankly I’m not that good”

“I seriously doubt that. I’ve seen the sketches in your office” You caught your slip of tongue. You couldn’t let him know about your borderline unhealthy obsession with him.

“Well, have a look then” he relented showing you his canvas.

You let out a breathe you didn’t even know you were holding at the painting. It was breath-taking. The woman looked like you, but why was she so beautiful and graceful? In the painting she was sitting on a stool, like you, in front of a tree admiring a rose in her hand. She was naked as well. It reminded you of classic Greek paintings where women weren’t perfect, but were celebrated for their imperfections.

“It’s amazing Steve. I – do I look like that?” You stammered not being able to tear your eyes off the painting.

He shook his head at your shock “On the contrary you look much better I’m glad you like it”

“You’re a great artist” you gushed

“I don’t know about that. I’ve seen much better” he said humbly.

You would argue with him. But you knew it would be of no use. Looking at the beautiful woman in the painting gave you the surge of confidence you needed “Steve, does the offer for that dinner still stand?” You straightened your back looking up to lock eyes with him.

“Yes” He blurted without even thinking “how about tomorrow evening?” He asked.

“Yes that will be awesome! You can pick me up at seven. I’ll text you the address“ you said making an mental note to do so.

You could hardly wait for your date. You didn’t really care about what your co-workers would think of you. As long as you were happy their opinions didn’t matter.

Tags will be in the reblog! If you want in on the taglist click the link in the bio or send me an ask!

Please do not steal or repost my works. Reblogs are welcome.

This was actually a request. But I can't fir the life of me find the person who requested it. I hope you see it babes❤

[awintersrose]

I’m late but for kinkoctober but ur writing is so flawless, this suggestion will be an odd pair, little to no fanbase but Kabuto x Sasori. 🥺

Pairing: Kabuto/Sasori

Prompt: Anal Play/Coercion (originally Day 18 from this list of prompts) AND Dirty Little Secret for @naruto-smut-monday

Obvious warnings are obvious with the prompts above, also includes D/s play, biting/scratching, and rimming.

All Kinktober fills should be considered explicit unless stated otherwise!

AO3 LINK

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Waiting for an assignation is never a simple matter. Punctual to the point of arriving early at everything, Kabuto looks at his watch for perhaps the fifth time, and he counts down the minutes. His date was very specific in their instructions, and he prefers to make a good impression. Kabuto can respect a desire for punctuality, for exacting details intended to ensure obedience.

He knows himself to be just as exacting in his preferences when exerting control, and based on this similarity alone, he has high hopes for this meeting. The contact came highly recommended by his own current favorite - precisely because said favorite was known to turn Kabuto’s own reality on its very head and make him question which end was up and which was down.

If only it weren't so painfully obvious to his partner when such a feat was possible - but Obito had the uncanny ability to read him as quickly as a cheap novel, and just as easily. Obito, his switch of a partner who was meant to be and still mostly acts as Kabuto’s own submissive.

Secret needs will out, however, and these roles are now flipped with surprising regularity, which is what led him here in the first place. The fact still remains that Kabuto doesn't bend for just anyone, and he still gets tetchy about the prospect and process of exploring the depths of his own submission with a new Dominant. Obito, however, seems certain that this match will be the right fit.

And so Kabuto waits.

His new contact’s profile is sparse, with photographs that only display a slight figure masked in black, with brilliantly crimson hair that drew the eye at once. An artist by trade, 'Exploring', their status said, which leaves even more to the imagination.

It often only takes one strikingly unique feature to catch Kabuto's visual interest, to make him wonder; to call to his analytical side, which loves to break down each solitary detail of a play partner until the origin of its nature is revealed. Until their true nature is revealed right along with it.

Whether it is skin like a bleach-splashed canvas, or cat-like golden eyes, his long-term partners have always been unique. Both of the latter possessed features that were the result of rare conditions, or genetic mutations that made said partners even more captivating, whether under the lash... or wielding it.

With the prospect of a new connection, all Kabuto knows for sure is that his date has hair like spun garnets, a certain cruel twist to a delicate mouth, and eyes like a fine umeshu. Not exactly unique, but there is still something there that captures his imagination.

Perhaps the artist is merely very good at their trade, taking a skilled hand to the composition of their photographs. Looks can certainly be deceiving—he should have predicted that his expectations would be turned on their head.

Which is how Kabuto finds himself trussed and stripped and poised on his knees before said artist once their negotiations are dispensed with.

Finely manicured fingertips caress the line of his spine before nails scratch, three at once, raising lines of glowing sensation across his shoulder blades. And they don’t stop their downward trek, marking Kabuto, making him gasp. The air makes a sharp sound passing through his teeth.

“You’ll do, but for more reasons than you think. Reasons you may not expect.” Sasori says, “And for exactly those reasons, you’ll give me everything I want.”

“Will I?”

That hand takes hold of a generous handful of his hair and steadily pulls him back, forcing him to arch his spine. Those cruel lips brush Kabuto’s ear as Sasori speaks, his soft voice bright with amusement, “You will, or this little kingdom you’ve built for yourself will be winnowed away into dust and thrust into the wind for anyone to take. Admit it… you want me anyway.”

The words are smug even in their gentle tone, accented by soft puffs of humid breath against Kabuto’s neck, his loosened hair. He cannot see Sasori’s eyes, and a small, creeping desperation begins in the pit of his belly. Sasori pulls harder, making him twist, rubied lips nipping Kabuto’s own briefly, roughly.

“You should have known better than to seek me out when you’re entirely that snake’s creature… he did have rather delightful tastes though. Did you kneel for him too? Recount all your dirty little secrets for him?”

“You know I did,” Kabuto grits his teeth as Sasori’s dainty fist tightens harder in his hair.

“I know you did, which is why I’ll make sure he sees every lurid moment of this if you don’t do exactly as I like. And then you know he’ll cast you away for dallying with me, faithless boy...”

The threat feels real, so damn real that goosebumps chase the lengths of his limbs, and Kabuto shivers, allowing fear to catapult him closer to compliance. His pulse notches higher and his mouth runs dry. Sasori releases him as if throwing him back down again, but it’s only the effective toppling of his own weight. Every new touch is feather light, even as the artist’s hands explore his body, shoving him onto all fours, undignified, yet perfectly on display.

Sasori’s breath ripples down his spine, the wet heat of his tongue drifting along the lines his own nails followed in the moments prior. Blood rushes in Kabuto’s ears, and his pale hair falls forward, obscuring his burning cheeks as he sinks lower on his elbows, allowing Sasori full access to his body.

“Shameless and pretty all at once, just look at you, ready for anything,” Sasori muses, “I’d hate to keep you waiting.”

Sasori’s questing, tormenting hands begin to part him wide, exposing him further, nails digging into the softer flesh of his buttocks. Kabuto grits his teeth as Sasori’s wicked tongue plies at his hole, two deft fingers moving to spread wetness around the orifice before one of them dips inside him with ease.

“Ready for anything, indeed.”

A bottle clicks and cool slick drips over his skin, making Sasori’s next movements nearly effortless. He dips in and out with shallow strokes, toying at the edges of Kabuto’s passage, As Sasori bends to bite the curve of his hip, sharp and hot like a brand. He knows without knowing that the artist has marked him, and Kabuto gasps, placing a fist beneath his lips to muffle any noises which might come unbidden.

He fails, of course, when Sasori laughs against his skin, finding his prostate with near expert precision.

The pressure inside him shifts wider, deeper as digits spread and curl, scraping against nerves suddenly sensitized beyond compare. Kabuto’s sight wavers as if plunged underwater, his cock hard and already dripping, too much, too soon. Sasori’s methodical exploration only continues, with another finger wedging in place beside the others.

“You’re so needy that I’m almost thinking you could take my whole hand. You would if I wanted you too, wouldn’t you, greedy boy?” Sasori’s fingers drag and exploit every new bit of knowledge he’s gained until Kabuto is unable to stem the pleading noises that are not quite muffled by his fist.

“Use your words.”

“I--I can but it’s-it’s-too-much!” He blurts, his voice arching higher on the last few words. Kabuto’s face burns and his head swims, and he squeezes his eyes shut, fighting the urge to shove back anyway and chase the high that is just outside of his capability.

Sasori gives a chuffing little laugh, teasing his pinky finger just along the rim of him until Kabuto whines, and with a twist of his hand, all four enter to press and tease.

“Oh, good boy… you’re going to come just like this, only accepting what I give you for as long as it takes…”

It doesn’t take long at all for his voice to break the silence, for sticky heat to spatter his belly and the floor beneath him. For oblivion to cloud his mind and numb his awareness.

But it’s only the first part of their night.

Later, after Kabuto has been wrung out in every way he might have imagined, he is treated to a massage and a short rest wrapped in a warm blanket. His pretty new play partner fetches his things and offers him a drink. White tea, hot and perfect.

“So tell me, did we explore everything you wanted to?” Sasori appraises him from head to toe, searching for unease. The artist is more attentive than Kabuto had imagined, leaving no detail unexamined. It’s no wonder that he has connections with individuals that Kabuto respects among their circles.

“Ahh… yes, thank you for following the plan.”

"Any Dominant worth their salt would do no less. Your illustrious mentor failed you if he didn't set that expectation." Sasori sniffs, still maintaining physical contact.

Kabuto hazards a wry smile. "He did. I'd have stopped everything in its tracks if you'd been lacking. But as it stands I'd like to see you again."

Sasori gives a curt nod, but the softening of his mouth gives away his satisfaction. "So long as you never leave me waiting, we’ll have much to explore."

Perhaps it's a good thing that Kabuto's punctuality is a personal guarantee.

[ladykissingfish]

Under The Mistletoe with the Akatsuki // Part Four // Deidara

Deidara

Ah, so it’s his turn under the fragrant green spotlight. He readies himself and stands underneath the plant, ready to endure (or perhaps enjoy) whatever is coming his way. It’s odd; when he was a young kid he always thought that kissing was gross. But now, as he waits for the first person to come to him, he finds himself almost ... excited.

Tobi

“Ooh! Lucky Tobi! Tobi is first for Senpai!” Oh, God, or Lord Jashin, or whoever it was that made things happen: Deidara does not want to kiss Tobi. Tobi is already a bit too hands-on for Deidara’s liking, a bit too attached to his Senpai. Also, it bothers him that at the moment, nobody else is in the room; the two of them are totally alone. Still, though, this should only last a few seconds, and everybody else is going to be having a turn, so why not? Tobi gets close to Deidara and, to the blonde’s shock, he pulls off his entire mask. Deidara’s brain is able to register small details about Tobi’s face, but only for a split second. After that, suddenly, everything went ... strange. He’s being kissed; he can feel ((surprisingly soft)) lips touching his own, but ... he barely notices this. Deidara is flooded with bizarre imagery, of vividly bright flowers and aggressively emerald fields, none of which are in the little room they’re standing in. Is this ... is this genjutsu?? After his first encounter with Itachi, Deidara has trained his eye to counter such illusionary tricks; he quickly snaps out of it and comes back to reality. But Tobi ... his mask is on, and he’s shaking Deidara’s shoulders. “Senpai?! Are you okay??” Tobi claims that Deidara fainted, and tells him to sit down while he gets him some water. Deidara does as suggested, confused. WAS that just a ... a dream? Had he fainted? Had he and Tobi kissed at all? He starts to write the entire thing off, but then he realizes that his mouth has the taste of dango in it. Wasn’t Tobi eating Dango earlier? Wasn’t — and then Tobi is back with the water, and Deidara drinks, his mind still jumbled. He hopes the rest of his encounters aren’t this bizarre.

Kakuzu

Deidara is an immature kid that reminds Kakuzu a lot of his own partner, Hidan. He can’t begin to count how many times in the last month he’s had to RE-reattach Deidara’s arms, because the guy kept doing reckless things with that damn “art” of his. Still, though; even Kakuzu has to admit that Deidara’s antics provide a steady stream of lighthearted entertainment, in an organization that could be very depressing most of the time. When it’s Kakuzu’s turn, he puts one hand on Deidara’s face and gives him a light kiss on the forehead. He smoothes back his bangs as he does, informing Deidara that there are many people who would pay good money for hair Deidara’s length, and if he’s ever interested in making a bit of money, to come see him (and his scissors).

Konan

Thinks of Deidara as being like a little brother, in a way. And a good friend; despite the loud and temperamental way he acts with the others, with Konan, he’s always been one of her biggest supporters and confidantes. There was even a time in the past when the entire group was traveling somewhere new, and Konan twisted her ankle in a concealed hole in a field. Deidara immediately lifted her off her feet and carried her the rest of the way to their destination. She approaches Deidara with a smile, leans in, and kisses the tip of his nose. Deidara responds by putting his hands on her cheeks, and giving her two smacking kisses with his hand-mouths. The two laugh and then Konan leaves to make room for the next participant.

Hidan

Surprisingly less objective than he was with many of the others he had to kiss. Even goes to the trouble of using a minty breath freshener beforehand. Makes absolutely NO comments beforehand about homosexuality or how “stupid” he feels this to be. “Ya ready for me, blondie?” He grabs Deidara around the waist, tilts him back, and gives him a brief (but impactful) smooch. Deidara blinks, surprised. This is ... oddly nice, but — why in the world does he suddenly taste blood on his lips?? Did Hidan just come back from a sacrifice? Did he do that completely unhygienic ritual of his where he licked the blood of his victims off his scythe? Hidan looks proud of himself, and, as he’s backing away, he tells Deidara that he reminds him of “a bitch in my old village that never let me kiss her. Now I feel like I have!”, to which Deidara gets angry and throws an explosive at Hidan’s face. “I’m a MAN, you stupid prick!” The two start fighting before Hidan is dragged away by Kakuzu, and Deidara goes to scrub down his mouth and lips before the next person comes up.

Pein

Ah, the youngest of his “children”. He’s happy that Deidara is so open with his feelings and being part of the group now; when he first came to the Akatsuki, he was a very secretive and somewhat shy young man, who had no trust in Pein or in any of them. Now he was so comfortable around his new “family” that it was like he was meant to be with them from the get-go. Pein goes to kiss Deidara’s forehead, stops, reconsiders, and kisses his cheek instead. Afterwards he smiles and gives him a friendly punch on the shoulder, before going back to his room.

Zetsu

Deidara may be the only member of the Akatsuki that Zetsu doesn’t really want to kiss. With everyone else, he likes to get close to them because they smell like delicious food. But the blonde guy ... he has a smell to him very much like clay, so much so that it masks the more desirable aroma of human blood. Zetsu is the only one who’s olfactory senses can detect this subtle difference, and it’s enough to deter him from ever trying to devour the kid. Nevertheless, he leans in, gives Deidara a quick smack on the cheek, and dashes away so fast that Deidara has doubts whether or not anything actually happened.

Itachi

Is very, very hesitant to approach Deidara; no matter what he says or how he acts, Deidara just radiates with hatred for him. He’s watched several of the others exchange kisses with him, but thinks of just skipping his turn and going to his room. However, Deidara spots him and, folding his arms in front of his chest, asks, “So now the mighty Uchiha is too good to kiss me, hm?” and Itachi sighs and steps over to him. “Where do you want it?” “Huh?? It’s a KISS, you idiot. Where the hell do you think I want —“ but Itachi interrupts him by yanking him close by the forearms (so hard that the stitching weakens just a little) and lays into him with his lips. He kisses him so intensely and so long that Deidara actually starts to feel light-headed. Right before he thinks he’s going to pass out, however, Itachi pulls back, and to Deidara’s surprise he’s SMILING at him. “How was that? That good enough?” Deidara is still so shocked that he can’t think of a smart ass answer back, all he can do is nod. Hidan, who had been watching, comments “Jeez ... after a kiss like that I think you have to marry him, Itachi.” Hearing this finally snaps Deidara back to normal, who scowls and snarls and barks out “As if I’d ever become a low-life Uchiha scum, hm!” Itachi, still smiling, walks away as Deidara shouts insults after him. Things are back to normal.

Kisame

Kisame truly enjoys being around the young artist. He finds Deidara’s sense of humor to be entirely refreshing, which was needed when working in an oft-depressing organization like the Akatsuki. He walks up and kisses Deidara on his chin, just beneath his lips. When Deidara asks why he picked such an odd spot, Kisame replies that everybody has already kissed the other places, and he prefers to not catch germs from the others (especially Hidan). Deidara laughs and agrees with him; after he goes, Deidara leaves and goes to brush his teeth and wash his face, to prepare for his final kiss of the night.

Sasori

Sasori approaches Deidara like he would approach a wild animal; slowly and cautiously. Deidara has been his partner for some time now, an Sasori is never quite sure what he’s going to get with him. Sometimes he’s loud and obnoxious, other times he’s quiet and thoughtful. Some times he acts like he can’t stand the puppet master, but sometimes ... “Hey, Danna.” “Good evening, brat. Looks like I’m last.” “Yeah, hm.” Sasori gets close to him. He cups Deidara’s face, stares into his eyes, and leans into his lips. Deidara’s eyes close but Sasori’s stay open, taking in every minute detail of this kid, no, this man in front of him. Unable to help it, he moves one hand and gently puts it in Deidara’s soft hair, fingering the silky golden locks. He’s again struck by how warm he is, how wonderfully human. After some time has passed, Sasori breaks the kiss and steps back, straightening out his robe. “Was that acceptable?” Deidara nods, although the expression on his face is somewhat unreadable to Sasori. Recalling what Hidan said earlier about Itachi, Deidara says, jokingly, “After kissing me like that, now you have to marry me, hm.” He’s kidding, but oftentimes humor goes straight over Sasori’s head. He replies, in his quiet, analytical way, “I’ve always found the concept of marriage to be a waste of time and resources. People in general fare much better, and accomplish much more as individuals, wouldn’t you agree?” Deidara nods, and Sasori turns to go. Halfway down the hall he stops, turns slightly, and says, softly, “Deidara?” “Yeah?” “If I ever was to take that step, if I ever was to marry somebody, to fully commit myself to another person; well, it could only be to —“ but suddenly Hidan bursts out of his room, loudly yelling and cursing at Kakuzu’s door about something. The mood broken, Sasori bids a quiet Goodnight to Deidara and continues on to his room. Deidara stays where he is for a long time, wondering what Sasori had almost said.