#since for some reason my brain decided i hate how thick my lines usually look :3

[bluegiragi]

debrief.

early access + nsfw on patreon

[flamingo-writes]

It's Better When The Sun Goes Down — Nanami x Reader

This is a piece for the Anilysium Server NSFW Collab! Make sure to check the masterlist to see other writer's works! This month's prompt was: "I can't hold back anymore"

I'd like to dedicate this fanfic to one of my dearest and closest friends. I'm not a Nanami simp myself, but they are. And I have fun writing for Nanami, and also I love writing angsty things and flawed characters. Reg, I hope you enjoy this as much as you enjoy my more casual writing.

(it's pink bcs youre Chancho)

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: Mentions of breakup and heartbreak, alcohol and drug consuption, public sex, ghosting, lots and lots of angst. This does not have a happy ending. This is also non proof read bcs I kinda left it to the last minute I'm sorry, I'll go back and edit it when I am not in a rush dcj nd

Summary: Nanami’s return to the Sorcerer life wasn’t so bad. It could be better if Gojo wasn’t determined to get him back with his ex. As Nanami tries to get on good terms with them, things get out of control, only to end up where it all began.

I made this playlist while writing, in case you wanna listen to it while reading. Preferably listen to it without the shuffle, but you can hear it on shuffle, no biggie.

Nanami had forgotten how painfully unbearable Gojo could be. His return as a Sorcerer had been nothing out of the ordinary for a Sorcerer's standards. Missions here and there, or watching over some of Gojo's students. But God, he had surely stepped out of the line this time.

He couldn't even begin to explain how much he hated his current situation. Fighting by your side for the first time in years felt like rubbing hot oil on an open wound. The uncomfortable ignoring the elephant in the room between you two, as you two tracked and fought what felt like a million Curses.

When the adrenaline was at its peak, it felt almost nostalgic; though he'd then remembered everything else and immediately made his own reality bitter and awkward. Overshadowed by the advantage of years of experience ahead of him made him resent you even more. He knew it was childish and pointless to keep remembering everything that happened between you two, but that bittersweet memory would most likely keep him at bay.

You were still strong, witty, fearless, reckless and quick to act and defend yourself. The way you moved looked more swiftly and coordinated than you did back in your student days. Almost as if you were a professional dancer. He hated every bit of it. He couldn’t stop looking at you, thinking about you, and the possibilities of what you two would have become.

After the mission was over, no words were exchanged between you two. Aside from the: "Are you alright?" He told you as you simply gave him a thumbs up as you caught your breath drenched in sweat. An entire ride in an uncomfortable silence, until he reached the school and you got out of the car.

"Thanks. You did a great job. Keep it up" You said. Cold, and straight to the point. Closing his car door before he could reply. And soon, you were gone.

As Nanami tried to get his mind off the mission, Gojo made it difficult. He called him to ask for the details of the mission. He seemed amused and intrigued, as clearly you hadn't told him shit. And honestly, he could understand why. Gojo was meddling on things that weren’t his business, and things that had died a long time ago.

"Why are you interrogating me, Gojo?" He asked as he pressed hisnfingers on the bridge of his nose. "Ask your underling…"

"Because that jerk left for the bar as soon as they arrived" He explained. "And I know better than to annoy a drunk [Name], It took me a while but...I finally learned my lesson" He chuckled. “I knew they could hit hard, but damn, I had a big ass bruise…” Nanami could almost hear his stupid grin.

"You make it sound like it's a recurrent event" Nanami pointed out, slightly surprised as he didn't know you were a drinker.

"Oh, Nanami-kun, you really know nothing huh?" Gojo said, smiling widely as he had managed to manipulate Nanami into asking.

"Know what?" Nanami hissed as he now swore he could hear Nanami creepily grinning at his phone.

"No, nothing!” Gojo said as if it were nothing; trying and succeeding at peeking at Nanami’s curiosity “I'm not gonna talk over depressing things on the phone. Gotta go, bye! Kith kith, Kento-kun" Gojo sang and hung up, as he smirked, proud of his little mischief. He sighed deeply as he stretched in his bed. "Soon, those two will be back together" he smirked to himself.

Nanami hissed a curse under his breath as he locked his phone and threw it on his bed and went to the kitchen. If he had understood well, Gojo had just hinted at a possible drinking problem. He tried shaking his mind off of it. You couldn't, could you? You weren’t a drinker...You weren’t the last time he saw you. You were able to party and have fun without having to intoxicate yourself.

You were wild, cheerful, unpredictable. Everything he was not. And that’s what had made him fall in love with you back in your school days. You were so laid back, he could feel it permeating into him when you two hung out. The few times he’d broken rules was because you’d been the bad influence, however, you somehow managed to get away with it, and leave him with some distant memory in which he felt actually glad to be alive. He usually felt like he was walking on a cloud stuck in time, being present and enjoying the little things that made his everyday memories.

He’d really screwed up after breaking up with you...if he could call that a breakup... His life took a dramatic turn. And then, he turned his back to this world, and got immersed in the gray life the average man in Japan had. Away from what he's familiar with, away from his friends, away from you.

And now, apparently, you had a drinking habit. He wondered if he had caused it, or if he was one of the reasons behind it. The guilt started creeping in. The same guilt and regret he felt after ghosting on you. Not being able to bring himself to properly end things with you.

The guilt he’d managed to swipe under the rug for so many years creeped back out, and followed him around as the afternoon went by. After having a shower, changing into more comfortable clothes and in a lame attempt to cook dinner, he decided to test his luck. He put on a dark button down shirt and decided to go to the bar closest to the School. He felt the naive hope to find you there. However, if you had an actual problem, then his chances to see you there were higher.

Such was his surprise to find you there, trying to get rid of some insistent guy who kept talking to you despite your very obvious lack of interest. Before you could spot him, he watched you aggressively turn to the guy and talk to him in a rather rude tone. Sounding almost like a moody sailor as the guy’s face soon was washed with horror and disgust and walked away. As you turned your face back to your drink, your eyes scanned the bar, finally spotting him.

“Oh god” You whined as you pulled the glass to your lips. “It’s too early to be this drunk…” You hissed.

“Mind if I sit here?” He asked, pointing at the chair in front of you.

“Tell Gojo to go fuck himself…” You snapped at him as you stood up and stumbled your way to the bar asking for a refill. Nanami looked at you, feeling slightly sorry for your tipsy state, as he’d never seen you like that. And he knew being mad and drunk was never a good combination. As you turned around with your glass and made your way back to your table, you gave him a slightly repulsed smile. “You’re still here…”

“Gojo didn’t send me here, if that’s what you’re thinking” He replied.

“He might as well have manipulated you into doing so, has that crossed your mind?” You said with a sassy tone as you sat back down. “Why are you still standin’?”

Nanami took that as an invitation as he ignored your last comment, trying to refuse the idea that Gojo had manipulated him.

“Rough day, huh?” He said as you nodded and stared at your drink.

“Look, Kento. I’m glad that you’re back. I really am. You’re strong, and you’re smart…” You began. “But I’m gonna cut the chase, I’m kinda annoyed too. Ever since you got back, Gojo has been sticking his snobby nose into my business” You explained. “Many of the missions he sends you in, I’m supposed to be there as well, but manage to get busy by then and not go”

“So you’re actively avoiding me?”

“Yes” You replied bluntly. “Mostly because Gojo is trying very hard to bring us back together. But no, I learned my lesson the first time” You said taking a sip to your scotch, feeling it smoothly sliding down your throat, no longer feeling the burn from the alcohol.

“I haven’t apologized for that…” Nanami began.

“Don’t” You interrupted him. “It’s better this way”

“Are you sure? Because you still seem to have an issue with it…” Nanami said, managing to read you like an open book like he always did. He still had that ability.

You glared at him, angrily as you opened your mouth to snap back at him, but your mind was foggy and a big portion of your brain was focused on the little details surrounding him. His black shirt, the first buttons undone. His thick wrists, one of them hiding underneath a fancy looking watch, his blond hair pushed back, his sharp features...And god, his smell. The smell of his cologne luring you in like a fly to honey. Since any words made it to your mouth, your next step was to take another sip.

“You’re drinking too fast” He pointed out.

“None of your business” You said standing up and taking your wallet out and leaving a few bills on the tale. “I’m out” You said coldly and walked out of the bar.

Nanami sighed, frustrated that he hadn’t managed to get anything out of interaction. Aside from the pretty clear fact that you disliked him. However, he didn’t think of the possibility of you resenting him so much because you still had feelings for him.

As you walked out of the bar, the chilly wind hit the back of your neck, making you shiver. You cursed, knowing it was going to make you feel drunker faster. You made your way to the school with long steps, trying to make it to your dorm before your last drink made it to your head. Despite the cold wind, the hot tears in your eyes in a way kept your face warm. As you tried to keep yourself from crying, you heard steps behind you.

“Wait” You heard Nanami’s voice calling behind you as you stopped on command, against your own will. You swallowed the lump on your throat and managed to keep the tears still in your eyes, as you refused to look at

him. “At least let me walk you home. You can’t walk on your own like this…”

“Oh, so now you care?” You said turning around and looking at him, giving him a smug smile. “You’ve changed” You scoffed bitterly.

“Please” He said, knowing better than trying to argue with you.

Your stare on him softened, as something within you urged you to say yes. To have more time with Nanami and maybe cling to the bittersweet memories you were constantly reliving since his return.

“Fine” You said, very much to his surprise. He smiled and walked closer to you with the gentle smile that had been haunting your dreams as of lately.

“C’mon. My car is not far from here…”

You stopped coldly as he mentioned a car. Taking a second look at him, you wondered how much he’d changed. He’d become an adult through and through, hadn’t he? While you were still a mess...Or so you thought. To Nanami’s eyes, you were a far better sorcerer and warrior than him. And he envied you for it.

“Are you actually going to take me to the school?” You asked, suddenly growing suspicious of him, as you’d had plenty of experiences with strangers on the street and knew better than going into someone’s car in a drunken state.

Not that you didn’t trust Nanami. You didn’t trust yourself drunk.

“I was actually thinking of taking you somewhere for dinner and then to the school” He said.

“Not hungry”

“No, but you’re drunk. It’ll sober you up, and tomorrow morning you’ll thank me when you wake up without a hangover” He said as he walked towards his car.

“I don’t have any more money on me” You lied, looking for an excuse to avoid spending any more than necessary with him.

“I didn’t ask you if you have money” He said boldly as he managed to make you smirk for the first time since his return.

“Smooth, Nanami. You’ve grown” You said as you followed him.

The walk to his car felt like your chest burnt far more than the alcohol ever did. It felt bitter, it hurt and was nauseating. Was it really it, or was it the alcohol finally catching up with you? Like flashes of instant memories being erased from your memory, the drive to a restaurant felt like a poorly edited foreign film. The car felt like some intense themed park ride as you felt dizzy with the alcohol whispering everything you missed about him. It was gross and it was sickening.

The Ramen sign on the outside on itself managed to sober you up a little by taking your mind off Nanami. As you followed him, clumsily standing on your feet, you sat on one of the tables and tried to make sense of the dancing letters in the menu. More flashes of memories were taken off your head, as you wondered what was happening and how drunk were you for you to start blacking out.

“Not good…” you muttered under your breath.

“Did you say something?” Nanami asked.

“No. Nothing”

“How are you holding up?”

“I’m not”

“You’ll feel better in a bit. Don’t worry…” He said softly as he sipped from a soda you didn’t know he had. When had he ordered it? You looked in front of you to the nice surprise that you had one too despite not knowing how or when. “I ordered some ramen for you. Something spicy...It’ll sober you up faster”

You chuckled as you looked at him.

“And how do you know that?” You asked with a cheeky tone as he smiled softly.

“Went drinking a lot with friends from work” He said. “I learned a few things here and there”

More brief black outs kept lazily painting a rather miserable painting in your memory. As you ate your ramen, you found yourself relaxing more and more. Was it the hot spicy broth? In the beginning, the balck outs weren’t getting any less frequent, however, as the night went by, you found yourself sobering up like he said. Soon, the black outs were gone, however you were still somehow locked in a haze. Although it made sense. The amount of booze as well as the short time, it was going to take a lot more than just one hot bowl of spicy ramen to get you back to a sober state.

The conversation kept flowing comfortably as both of you ate. It was reminiscent of the old days, nostalgic and somehow morbid. As the both of you tried to grasp at the old days when your worries were limited to school work. Catching up like old friends who hadn't seen each other, as if you didn’t have hard feelings for each other.

After having finished your food, Nanami paid for both of your meals and went back out into the cold night. The sky black, stars hidden by the streetlights as you made it to his car and finally noticed the silver color in it.

As he drove back to the school, you noticed he took a small detour, instantly setting alarms in your head.

“Where are we going?” You asked, your voice considerably serious as he noticed the change in tone from the pleasant talk they were having in the restaurant.

“There’s somewhere I’d like to go…” He said as he briefly looked at you and gave you a tender smile.

That smile made your heart uncomfortably skip a beat as you hated the effect he still had on you. You didn’t dare to ask any further as you slowly recognized the route he was taking. As he slowly took one of the roads towards the edge of the city close to the coast line. He stopped in a rather deserted place, as he got off the road and stopped the car.

Despite the lack of light, aside from the few streetlights, you knew exactly where you were. A whole in your chest opened dramatically as you felt your eyes tear up and happy memories attached to the location flooded your mind.

“Kento…” You said chuckling bitterly.

“When I said I wanted to apologize, I meant it…” He said as you clenched your jaw and looked out your window, avoiding his stare.

“And I told you I didn’t want to talk about it…”

“You’re still upset about it, I get it. And I don’t blame you” He began as he felt his heart beating hard in his chest. “Look at me, please”

You wanted to say something to him. But you knew you would break down crying as soon as you opened your mouth. You took a deep breath and without saying anything you looked at him. His dark brown eyes gazing into yours, as he was looking at you with a rather pained stare.

“You remember this place, don’t you?” He asked.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you clicked your seatbelt, getting it off.

“I’m done” You said dryly as you opened the door and got out of the car.

“No, [Name]. Please, wait” He said as he mirrored your movements and excited the car walking around it.

“Of fuckign course I know where I am, Kento” You barked as you walked away approaching the door. “I know where I lost my fucking virginity, okay?” You barked as you stopped coldly and looked at him, tears finally streaming off your face. “Look, I’ll make us a favour and summarize this conversation. Yes, you’re a fucking asshole for just taking off one day and completely disappearing. Yes, I’m still mad about it. No, I won’t take your apology. No, I don’t care about whatever shitty excuse you have for me to listen to you. You bringing me here out of all places isn’t going to change shit…” You spat all in one breath as you stopped and took a deep breath.

“I loved you, Kento. I really did. And it hurt to have you just dissipate like you were a hallucination or something...You were my first kiss, my first love, my first everything! And one day I lost all of that. You ruined sex for me!” You yelled angrily. “I could never hold, kiss or sleep with anyone, because at some point I’d see your stupid face, and then be incredibly underwhelmed because I would not enjoy sex. I can’t feel anything anymore, Kento...The only way I can actually enjoy those things is by getting drunk or high” You admitted. “I can’t walk into bookstores, nor eat sandwiches or diet coke, nor drink tea because all those things remind me of you. And yes, it’s lame that all these years later I still care about those things. And this is why I can’t forgive you” You cried, as your voice shook.

Nanami’s heart broke little by little at each one of your words. He knew he’d screwed up and had hurt you deeply. But he wasn’t aware of the actual impact. He clenched his jaw as he felt his chest tight and a lump on his throat. Now the drinking problem made sense. Gojo had painted it like you were an alcoholic, but it wasn’t exactly the case. So you’d gone to the bar to get it off with some stranger, probably pretending it was him.

The dizzying pain and weight of his mistakes blinded him for a second as he walked towards you as you kept bitterly complaining. As you tried to walk away, you made a very poor effort as he caught up with you and cupped your face in his hands, bringing you closer to him and shutting you up by pressing his lips against you.

The sudden surprise made your heart stop. Your mind turning numb and blank at once as you struggled to bring yourself to push him away. However, truth be told, you didn't want to push him away. The poor attempt to push him away was more than obvious. The strong fighter you were, barely making any physical effort. Nanami's hands wrapped around your back and pulled you close, squeezing you against him as he sighed into the kiss.

Finally kissing him back, you locked your lips against his desperately, eager to taste the lips you've been dreading in your dreams. Clinging to him like he was going to disappear again, a soft whimper escaped your mouth. Your chest pressing against him as he felt his own world getting blurry.

He broke the kiss pulling away as he pressed his forehead against yours.

“You have no idea how much I missed you” He whispered as you clung to him.

“I-I…” You stuttered, the words tasting bitter before they even made it to your mouth. “Fuck, I want you, Kento” You growled as he pulled you in, kissing you hungrily again.

His hands posessively clinging to you as he slowly guided you back to the car. One step at the time as you both melted in a hungry sour kiss. As you ran out of breath, you pulled away, gasping for air as you gripped his collar in your hands.

“I can’t hold back anymore” You said as you pulled away and grabbed his hand, walking back to his car.

Your words unleashed a shiver down his spine as his heart skipped a beat and raced like crazy, as his pants started feeling tighter on his crotch. He chuckled softly as he realized his own judgement seemed to have disappeared with that first kiss. And before you could even make it to his car, he gripped your hips and spun you around as he bumped his forehead against yours.

“I can’t either” He admitted as he guided you to the car’s hood and pulled you over it. Ass you sat on the warm hood, he got between your legs and you wasted no time wrapping them around his waist. He grunted softly feeling your crotch against his as you pulled him closer to seal your lips together.

As you soon were absorbed by the dizziness of your rising heat, his hand went to your bare thighs as he slowly caressed your skin, going up and lifting your skirt up in the process. A soft moan slid into his mouth as he gripped your ass softly and squeezed it. The way your skin got covered in goosebumps and how you jerked your hips made him moan in response.

It felt good, and intoxicating. The driving desire burning his insides. The feeling of desiring to taste you all over and have you shaking underneath him. God, he’d missed that particular rush of adrenaline. His body reacting to the deeply buried memories now loose. He felt like he was in the best high he’d experienced. Lightheadedness and presence in the moment, he hadn’t felt this alive in so long.

Your hands were slowly undoing his buttoned shirt and were quick to explore his warm skin. He pulled away from the kiss, gasping as he looked at you. Your devilish smile matching your hungry stare. You leaned forward kissing his neck, nibbling on his skin every now and then. His hand gripped your hair tightly, pulling it lightly, making you look up at him as he stared at you.

He leaned forward, kissing you once more, this time a lot more slow and a lot more tender. It was sweet and it was slow and it took you by surprise. You felt his sweet kiss begging you, still holding on to the feelings you both decided to drown unsuccessfully. It almost hurt. It was the kind of kiss that told you how much you missed and needed each other. How much you regretted the mistakes you’ve done.

As you melted against his lips, his hands slowly slid your panties off. You helped him lifting your hips a little but as you giggled against his lips.

“Eager?” You said with a playful smirk.

“You have no idea” He replied as he took off your panties and shoved them in his back pocket.

His hand made it back to your thigh, slowly going up until he palmed your hot sex. Stealing a gasp out of your mouth, he teasingly ran one of his fingers through your dripping slit, making him smile satisfied.

“I’m not the only one, huh?” He said as you looked at him with lustful eyes.

You took his glasses off and set them aside. You were about to go back to kissing his neck when he slid one finger inside of you effortlessly. A rather loud moan escaped your lips as you shut your eyes closed feeling your entire body tingle in a way you hadn’t felt in years. You smiled satisfied as you continued kissing his neck. Slowly, he got another finger inside. The delicious stretch of his second finger prompting you to bite his neck softly making him growl your name softly. His fingers explored the whole he knew so well, as he found your sweet spot almost by muscle memory. More moans came out of your throat sounding like music to his ears.

“Fuck, Kento” You hissed as you took off your top, not caring that you were outdoors and by the road. Up to this point, you were so pent up, you simply craved him like you’d never craved anything before.

Nanami wasted no time and kissed your neck, going down to your neck, gently biting your skin every now and then. Sucking delicately on your skin, leaving marks that wouldn’t last long. He pulle dhis fingers out of you, clinging to your body desperately. As you laid on the car’s hood, you devoured him with your lustful eyes, begging him to get on top of you. Wearing just your skirt by this point, Nanami groaned at the plain sight of you.

He undid his belt and his pants. Your hands playfully teasing your own body in an attempt to drive him crazier and crazier. He cursed under his breath as he couldn’t take it any longer. He pulled his painfully hard erection out of his pants. You watched hi, intrigued, stretching your hands towards him, gently gripping his dick. His breath hitched and you smiled proudly.

Nanami leaned over the car hood, slowly getting on top of you, his shaft resting on your belly as he looked at how much deep could he go inside of you. His tip almost reaching you belly button, as the idea alone made a shiver run down his spine.

"Please, Kento" you gasped, need dripping from your voice as you caressed his dick

He growled softly as he pulled away softly, aligning against your entrance and slowly going in. You gasped, pushing your head back and pressing your hips against his making him go deeper.

Hissing your name, he jerked his hips, his tip.kissing your cervix as sudden rush of pain jolted through your body, followed by pleasure. You dug your nails in his shoulders as he thrusted back and forth, hitting all the right spots. The sound of his gasps and grunts hypnotizing as you got wetter by the second. His length coated in your juices, echoing in lewd wet noises.

He was rough. He usually was. Back in student days, he was particularly rough. As quiet and collected as he seemed, he sure got his stress out if his body through wild sex.

Relentlessly pushing against you, stretching you in such a delicious way only he knew how. Strong and aggressive movements as your walls swallowed him whole every time, breathless moans escaping your lips with every push. The cool wind kissing your skin, only enhancing his warmth.

As you felt your orgasm progressively approaching, the realization of how addicted you were to him hit you. He was everything you desired. And it was wrong. Before the feeling of uneasiness started to sink in, a sudden electric rush ran through your body. Painfully and soothing, as you tightly clenched around himbsoon numbed your mind.

As you came around him, your walls sucked him in tightly, as he was right over the brink, your velvet flesh pushed him off the edge. He didn't have time to pull out. And honestly, he didn't want to pull out. The way your walls milked him felt delicious. As he rode you through your orgasm, filling you up as his head felt dizzy and the world was spinning faster than usual. His hot seed coating your insides, as you shut your eyes closed, feeling the very last of your orgasm fading away.

He pressed his forehead against yours. Loud pants echoing.

However, the world didn't quite return to its regular focus.

The rest of the night went by in a fuzzy hot mess of events. You returned to his apartment and kept feasting on each other, making up for the lost time. Both of you incredibly starved and needy, you desperately went at it over and over again. It was a rather long night. As you feared, no one made you feel as he did. All of him was addicting. His smell, his voice, his warmth, his skin...It didn’t matter how many strangers you fucked, or how drunk or high you were, he felt just right. He made you cum so easily, it seemed ridiculous everyone else couldn’t.

But you knew it was far more than that.

You were still deeply in love with him. No wonder why he had that effect on you. Just hearing his breathlessly gasp was enough to have you soaking wet and under his mercy. Between sweet kisses, fake promises and sweaty sex, he quite literally fucked you to oblivion. Until either of you could take it any longer and you two fell asleep in each other’s arms. It had been a long tiring night, as you knew many of your muscles were gonna be sore the next day. Your chest painted in red and blue bruises.

It was possibly one of the best night sleeps he’d had. In such a long time. The uncomfortable hole in his chest didn’t feel so wide now. Just like you, he didn’t know how much he actually needed you until now. His regrets, his guilt, the thoughts haunting him on how much of a jerk he’d been when he simply took off...All those feelings went away for a night. As he tasted the wonders of the universe under your skin. Feeling ecstatic and euphoric for the first time in years. However, nothing could’ve prepared Nanami for what he was about to experience when he woke up.

~

“What the hell is this?” Gojo asked as he waved around the folder you’d left a few hours earlier in the Headmaster’s office.

“Why the fuck do you care?” You said as you grabbed it, ripping it off his hands.

“You’re seriously leaving for Kyoto?” He whined.

“So my transfer was accepted? Great!” You said sarcastically as you opened the folder and saw the Headmaster’s seal at the bottom.

“What about Nanami-kun?” Gojo replied as the very last string of your patience snapped.

“Oh, fuck you, Gojo! You tried to force us back together, but it’s not going to happen” You snapped. “I’m done. I’m done with him, and I’m done with you sticking your nose in my business”

“Do you really think that running away will solve anything? You’ll still be depressed as hell”

“The less I know about him, the better” You said as you turned around, hot tears blurring your sight as you headed with long steps towards your room. “I don’t trust myself around him…” You whispered. “He’s my weakness Gojo, I can’t let that happen…” You said coldly.

You’d left that morning very early, before Nanami woke up. And you left leaving no trace of you ever being there. Unintentionally doing the same he did. It was unintentional because you hadn’t done it out of spite. Your thought process had been simply. You preferred to not have that conversation and simply leave without him noticing. You had had the exact same thought process Nanami had had all those years ago.

You didn’t waste time and soon started packing your things to leave for Kyoto right away.

[alaskasmonsters]

Patch-Up | Levi Ackerman

levi got injured and you clean his wounds and patch him up, feeling guilty about being the reason he got hurt.

pairing: Levi Ackerman x gn!reader

w.c: 2.665

warning: very minor description of injuries, mentions of blood, Levi is kinda very soft in this one

a.n: i wasn’t actually planning to finish this so quickly, haha, levi i love you. also, i feel like he might kinda be ooc??? i just idk, maybe? i hope it isn’t too bad, though.

A frustrated sigh left your lips as you inspected Levi’s face closer, trying to hide your concern about the head wound and the now dried-up blood that marked a trail from the man’s hair line down to his chin.

He’s been hurt during your fight against Kenny and his guys, hitting his head horribly at one point during, leaving a nasty cut behind.

You already felt bad about that, since it was kinda your fault he hit his head in the first place, as he had to protect you in a moment you weren’t entirely focused and would have certainly died if Levi hadn’t swooped in and saved your ass.

It didn’t help that Levi’s eyes, who were usually set in a cold and unbothered glance had grown softer, which smoothened out the frown he almost always wore on his face.

It was terrifying.

You hoped the man didn’t have a concussion because of your stupidity.

“I’ll clean the wound,” you mumbled weakly, repeating words you’ve already said once to remind yourself to keep moving towards him.

You were hyper aware of the captain’s eyes on you and the way the matratze softly bounced as you sunk down on the bed beside him. You reached for the bucket with fresh water and the cloth hanging off it and noticed in horror that your hands were shaking.

Calm down. It‘s only a little blood.

Dipping the fabric into the water and wringing it out you tried to focus your attention on calming your breath, scared Levi would notice you panicking and get annoyed by your sensitive nature as he once called it.

As you were sure your heart rate had slowed you turned again, sending the brunet a small smile, hoping it looked reassuring, as you moved the cloth to start cleaning around the area of the eyes first, so he could see again.

Your hands were still shaking, you noticed bitterly, but you tried your best to make it seem like it was fine.

A hand then took hold of your wrist in a surprisingly soft manner, holding your arm in place.

You froze in surprise, eyes glancing up to find Levi staring at you. His gaze studying you calmly.

“I‘m okay,” he said.

You averted your eyes, biting your lips.

So he had noticed.

Of course.

He was way too observant to miss your fidgety movements and shaky breath. You should probably be more surprised about the soft tone of his voice and the absent annoyance in his features.

„I know,“ you assured, trying and probably failing at putting a tone of certainty in your voice.

Levi studied your face once more, before he gave a slow nod of approval, letting go off your wrist again.

You hoped he didn’t see you visibly relax after he did.

Quickly, you went to work and started cleaning off the dried blood from beneath his left eye first. That proved itself more difficult than you had expected as the constant weight of his eyes on you made you feel nervous and short-breathed.

Silence fell between the both of you, the only sound being your breathing and the occasional water splashing, when cleaning off the rug.

“Close your eye,” you ordered as you had removed all the blood from his cheek.

Levi did what you told him without complaining, closing his eye while he continued watching you out of the other in the meantime.

You clenched your jaw, slowly growing frustrated by the eerie silence between you two and Levi’s uncharacteristic calmness.

Not that he usually screamed at you, but the aura of annoyance that enveloped humanity’s strongest most days, especially when interacting with you it seemed, had disappeared.

It kinda scared you.

His persistent glance on you, now out of two eyes again as you moved to clean off the cloth, would have felt more comfortable if he’d just rolled his eyes once in a while.

It almost seemed like he was expecting you to do something, or hoping maybe. Although you had no idea of what that could be.

Slowly the silence was growing heavy for you, the urge to fill it with words becoming unbearable. So when you turned back to move on to his forehead, softly brushing dark strands of hair out of his face you said the first thing that came to mind.

“I‘m sorry.“

The familiar frown appeared on his face again and your heart jumped in your chest.

“What are you talking about?“

You shrugged, trying to focus your attention on your task at hand instead of letting your eyes shift back to his.

“I was being stupid and didn‘t pay attention and you had to save my ass...now you‘re hurt,” you whispered, words dripping with guilt.

Tears pricked the corner of your eyes and you cursed yourself at being so hypersensitive. Levi hated when you cried about stupid shit, he hated it when you were being dramatic.

You bit your lips, forcing the tears back down.

„Tch. It wasn‘t your fault your ODM gear malfunctioned, brat.”

Levi did finally sound annoyed (his voice still had that soft nuance to it, though, so it didn’t completely count).

“If I wasn't distracted that moment, I wouldn't have been almost sliced up by one of Kenny’s guys despite my malfunctioning ODM gear and you wouldn’t have had to swoop in and save my ass and then you never would have gotten hurt...” i explained, hands moving faster to rub the blood off of his skin as my voice rose in frustration.

If you had only been able to save face, keep calm and not fall into utter panic the moment something didn’t work out as you had expected it, too. Then this would have never happened.

Levi was right. You were irresponsible and childish and hot headed and...

A cold hand snuck around your wrist once again, squeezing your skin once, twice. Your hand stilled. Turning your face away, you bit your lip in frustration.

You had been told often, by almost everyone you’ve ever gotten to know throughout the years with the Survey Corps, that you wore your heart on your sleeve. Some found it endeatring, calling you soft hearted and gentle, while others were (rightfully) scolding you for it, saying you’d never make it far in this kind of profession when you weren’t even able to hide your frustration with the smallest things.

Armin, one of your new recruits, had once told you you had an honest face. Said it was the reason many people trusted you, since they knew you couldn’t hide your lies or insincerities as easily as others.

Levi had told you many times that it was your biggest disadvantage and he was right. You’d never be able to rise in the ranks, never would be declared the leader of a squad or trusted in a position with responsibility. After all, nobody wanted to take orders from someone who couldn't hide their fear, anger, frustration or sadness.

You almost expected Levi to scold you for it once again, grip your wrist and tell you, no, order you to get a grip, not to let anybody see your weakness...

He didn’t.

“I told you, it wasn‘t your fault,” he told you sternly as his thumb softly stroked the inside of your wrist.

Your brain so gracefully short-circuited at the action and unwillingly, as if you were pulled towards a magnet, your eyes were drawn back towards Levi.

His facial expression was just as monotone as usual, but his eyes, they were different still. An emotion you couldn’t quite grasp hidden just beneath the surface. You didn’t know what exactly it was, but it made your heart flutter.

“I‘m still sorry though,” you protested weakly, smiling a little, hoping it would ease the thick tension.

Levi continued to study your face in silence for a few seconds before he finally let go, with a roll of his eyes and a scoff.

You could hardly hide the feeling of triumph that gave you.

“Brat.”

You grinned at him, turning your attention back to his wounds.

You hadn’t even noticed how long you’d already held his hair back, cradling his head in your hand.

The realization made your cheeks glow and you quickly sneaked a look at the man but noticed thankfully Levi had either not noticed or decided not to comment.

You went back to your job, chest a little lighter.

When you were finished cleaning off all the dried off blood you took a closer look at his injury. Despite the vehement blood loss the cut in his skin was relatively small. It didn’t even need stitches, although it might leave behind a bump, considering the velocity he had hit the roof with on his way down.

You sat back on your hackles and raised your finger. You gave Levi a stern (or hopefully stern) glance as you told him to follow your movements.

“Don‘t be an idiot, i don‘t have a concussion.”

You gave him a pout, unmoving as you eyed him stubbornly.

Judging by how easily he gave in, indicated by a sigh and another roll of his eyes, your worry might be justified.

You started moving your hand slowly and Levi followed the movement for a while, sending you a glare when you started drawing circles and spirals into the air.

You just gave him a grin.

“Okay, any dizziness? Headaches?” you asked.

“Why need a headache when you‘re around?” Levi answered sarcastically.

Seems like he was alright enough to be a little shit, then.

“Don‘t insult the person who‘s been cleaning blood off of you for 10 minutes!“

Now the only thing left to do was patching up his head, Thinking about it, a bandaged head would probably only add even more to his already above average appearance.

You started applying the cloth, carefully wrapping the material around his head. Levi endured your slow process like a champ.

You peeked at him from time to time, making sure the man had no complaints. He was very precise and hated sloppy work and you didn’t want him to think of you as unfit to fix him up. After all you had been the one offering, no, persisting to take a look and you didn’t want him to regret giving in to you.

“Stop looking at me like that, brat.”

You frowned, glancing down at him again.

“What? I don‘t know what you mean. I‘m not looking at you in any specific way.”

The corners of his lips moved up slightly, close enough to resemble a smile and your breath stuttered at the unfamiliar action. Your eyes were pulled towards them, the soft curve of his mouth was strangely captivating to you.  

“It‘s the way you‘re always looking at me,” he explained with a teasing tone and his smirk widened a little, making him look less and less like the Levi you’ve talked to every day.

Your face flooded with heat and you quickly snapped up your eyes, to no longer stare at the man’s lips (yes, you had been staring, how embarrassing) but instead into his eyes.

Big mistake.

The amused glint you found there made your face flush an even darker shade of red.

You could curse yourself and that you were once again acting like a smitten teenager instead of a soldier in front of your captain.

Trying to gloss over your embarrassment you shook your head, scoffing softly. Then you focused your attention on finishing your work with the bandage.

“I don‘t look at you any differently than I look at other people,” you declared in frustration.

He laughed. Levi Ackerman, emotionally stunted Levi Ackerman laughed. It was quiet and breathy, more likely a chuckle, almost inaudible, too.

But it shook you to your core.

“You have no issue declaring your love to me multiple times a day, but now you‘re getting shy?“ he asked in amusement, cocking his head to the side.

You huffed.

He wasn’t wrong, you were awfully direct with your affections towards the captain. Just like you couldn’t hide your emotions when it came to your face, you were horrible at concealing them in general.

How could you not comment on his strength and attractiveness when it was a blatant fact. Although you often did it in a joking manner, teasing Levi for having the prettiest face in the Survey Corps and acknowledging his skills with the ODM gear.

It wasn’t fair he was using this against you now.

“Shut up!” you grumbled, pulling at the cloth to straighten it out again.

Levi did shut up, although the smile didn’t fall from his face and his eyes watched you work with interest.

You finished quickly, partly because his gaze on you was nothing short of unsettling, partly because you hoped you’d get away before he started full on teasing you.

You couldn’t quite hide your frustration (as already established) and let out an exasperated groan.

“And stop smiling!” you warned, not sure where you’ve gotten the courage to do so.

Levi followed your movements as you picked up the bucket and brought it across the room to empty its contents into the sink.

“Is my smile bothering you? Didn‘t you say i should smile more?“ he asked in confusion.

“Yeah, but just in general. Not when i‘m in the room!“ you corrected him halfheartedly.

The chuckle you got in response made your brain short circuit once again.

How the fuck was this man so hot?

”Any specific reasons as to why, brat?“

You could only speak of luck that your back was turned towards Levi so you could hide the traitorous shade of red your face must be spotting at this moment. There would have been no denying it if the captain had chosen to comment on it.

Knowing him, he would have.

“Shut up.”  you protested again, subtly raising your hands to your face to cool your cheeks a little.

You couldn’t see his face this way but you were sure that Levi put his newfound ability of a smile, maybe even a smirk, judging by the goosebumps you felt on the back of your neck, to use.

While you were busy washing the bucket, Levi got to his feet to study your work in the mirror by the cupboard. He took a few seconds, and you believed he must be sorting the criticism he had by fatality, starting with the least life threatening mistake you made and moving on to the most hard hitting insult.

Despite what you had thought he gave his reflection a satisfied nod.

Okay, what?

“Decent job, brat,” he complimented and yes you might have combusted that moment.

You turned back to the sink, a satisfied smile growing on your lips. Your stomach felt all fuzzy and warm at Levi’s praise.

You didn’t notice the captain approach, only noticing his presence when he was already leaning into your personal space, whispering a soft “Thank you.” into your ear. His hot breath fanned over sensitive skin and you froze in your movement.

To torture you or maybe he didn’t get enough fun out of the situation already, he then proceeded to plant a small kiss to the corner of your lips, missing just enough so it wouldn’t count as a real kiss, before retreating again.

He left the room as if nothing of importance had just happened, leaving you behind, frozen in your spot and heart hammering in your chest.

Levi was already gone when you were able to shake yourself out of the shock.

You carefully touched your cheek, the ghost of a sensation of soft lips against your warm skin still prominent. The memory of him lingering for just a second too long now fresh on your mind.

A huge grin split your face, the urge to jump on the bed and hug your pillow while giggling manically overcame you out of a sudden.

You really were acting like a smitten teenager.

[pinkmirth]

—𝐌𝗼𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝗼𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 [𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞]

《𝐞𝐬��𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝗼𝗺𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 + 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝》

Boxes splayed across the bare, sheen hardwood of your newly owned apartment, some contents of them being haphazardly tossed out onto the floor, courtesy of Katsuki. Speaking of, the eager ash blonde had been taking this whole unpacking thing with a ravaging approach, a little more aggression than enthusiasm being displayed. This disregarding husband of yours had already broken two vases since the moving van hauled in your belongings..

You caught wind of his incoherent murmurs throughout the day, which were practically countless by now. You’d been racking your brain since, attempting to discover what had gotten your poor Katsuki so upset. Despite the marriage that bonded you and him, Katsuki’s profession usually got in the way of many personal things. For a while, it’d been a danger just for the pair of you to live together, so you haven’t been. Until now. It had been three days since you and him moved from the comfort of your hometown, Musutafu, to the renowned capital, Tokyo, and you wished you could say it had been smooth sailing. Unfortunately, a certain Bakugou wasn’t having the best time, always sputtering a profanity or a groan left and right. His case of the grumps was probably a trip of his complex emotions, either caused by a sense of neediness, deprivation of some sort, or bottled rage. You were betting, practically hoping on the first two instead. Knowing your husband, it meant well that he’d get his hands on miscellaneous household items to crush, smash and break, as some way of channeling his anger episodes. Three days down the line, and you already needed to replace a handful.. Though, it was currently dinner time, and you were sure that was a good thing. Katsuki’s little funk would wash away come 6pm. Cooking had a way of melting away the male’s heaps of stress, especially when you offered to join in. Throughout that hour of making food and serving you his prideful dishes, he always carried a subtle smile. Dinner wasn’t something to worry about. “Fuckin’ hell!” Scratch that. Telling by the pestering clatter of the cabinets he was yanking open, to the dastardly echo of his stomps, it seemed that you couldn’t rely on the succor of food for any longer. “I oughta’ set this lousy kitchen on fucking fire!” You let out a hefty sigh, picking yourself up from the spacious beanbag, since you were yet to assemble any couches, before strolling over to the kitchen, awaiting to see the reason behind your husband’s exaggerated shrieking. “Katsu-Chan, what's the issue..?” Your husband immediately bombarded you with a growled rant, “I can’t find my shitty apron!” You eyed Katsuki through furrowed brows. Is all this attitude really about one measly apron? Nah, I doubt it, your inner voice chimed. “And there ain’t any more pepper seasoning, so I haven’t got a clue what I’ll cook now..” he spewed through gritted teeth, recklessly tossing away the poor frying pan that he’d been holding onto all the while, impressive dents imprinted onto the handle, curved into the shape of his fingers. In that case, you had one more household item to replace. Noted.. “I can’t find that damned thing,” he spoke with an exasperated huff, his hands flying up to the cupboards, motioning them open and closed with the slightest violent tendency. “Hate to break it to you, sweet cheeks, but we ain’t eating dinner tonight,” you scoffed over Katsuki’s recurring dramatics, “These past few days have been shitty anyway..” He’d said it throughout a lowly mutter, but it was enough to cause a nervous stream to rush through you. Did he not like it here? Perhaps the city was too busy for Dynamight, maybe he wasn’t immune to getting homesickness as he liked to brag about, or it couldve been that he just wasn’t ready to get used to such a foreign occurrence in your relationship— living together. But, of course, considering your nature to bat things off with a joke of some sort, you contorted your worries into a comical stick to jab at your husband with.

“Darling, if you’re on your man-period, you should’ve just said so..” you’d said it with fabricated pity, all the while holding back your chuckles as his brows began to furrow, upper lip curving vexingly.

“You think you’re so damn funny, dontcha’, woman..?”

“Yeah, just a little bit.”

Another rasped groan left the lips of the ever-impatient Bakugou Katsuki, “Oi. Are ya’ just gonna keep giggling on about my little anger episode forever?”

Hm. For once, he actually acknowledged it for what it is, you thought briefly, before making your way around the glossy, marble-design kitchen island, your hands finding solace on his defined, muscular triceps. 

The thick straps of his black, square neck tank top gradually began to slide past his shoulders, shadowing over his collarbone before you inched it back up.

“Do you.. like it here, Katsuki?” By the moment he answered your answer with an aggressive snort, you realized you had nothing to worry about.

 “Why the hell wouldn't I? We didn’t pay for this house just to hate the place,” he scoffed, his large palms skimming over the small of your back before thick fingers of his wrapped around your waist.

“That’s a relief, but you’ve been acting a little grumpy— Like something’s bothering you. Could you just tell me how you’re feeling?” You finally admitted your questioning thoughts with an expectant look, watching Katsuki return your curiosity with a subtle smirk. “You wanna know what’s bothering me..?” 

“Y’know what, never mind. Don’t wanna hear it, Katsu-Chan.”

Your abrupt response had him knitting his brows and emitting confused huffs. “So you’re just gonna change your mind on me like that?!” You jabbed at his chest with your pointer finger to punctuate your reply, “because you made it sound creepy, that’s why!”

Katsuki then tightened his grip around your waist, earning a breathy gasp out of you. Before you could question the blonde, he already had you hauled up into the kitchen island, standing between your dangling legs with the tip of his nose grazing yours. You couldn’t help but let out a sigh at the comforting warmth of his sizey hands, your arms instinctively flinging around the back of his neck.

“Alright, I’ll tell you the truth, hon,” confessed Katsuki, “The move has been great, but horrible. It all went good, I guess. No missing items, moving trucks arriving in record time, everything we wanted. But there’s one more thing that we wanted that you seemed to forget about, you lil’ idiot..”

Despite the use of an insult, his cheeks and ears began the bloom a subtle but pretty pink, his sharp red eyes averting from your own blinking ones.

“Care to inform me on whatever I forgot..?” You skimmed through my your memory frantically in those few seconds that he’d paused, trying to dig up a pleasing answer before he told you himself.

“Privacy, [Y/N].. We’d have so much, too much once we moved to our own place. And we loved the sound of that. Y‘know why, right..?”

Your heart suddenly leapt within your chest at his indication, his left brow rising suggestively as he briefly cocked his head. You definitely knew why.

“So we could have times like this. Without any damned interruptions. I can suck your face off without one of my shitty friends popping up unexpectedly, ain’t that swell?” His voice held the slightest bit of laughter in it, his tone comical and yearning.

“So.. if I said that I wanna feel you close to me..” you murmured, your breath fanning over his proximate lips, “Like, really really close, it wouldn’t be a problem, yes?” A teasing, lingering peck was what you placed across his cheek, earning a genuine grin from Katsuki as a response.

“Who the hell’s gonna stop you? In fact, I’ve got my own idea,” his lowly voice came out booming nonetheless, but of course, the benefit of privacy made sure that his volume wasn’t a problem.

“I wanna watch you. While you watch me.” He didn’t have to be lewdly exact with his words, the lust-blown gaze in your husband’s vermillion eyes was enough to tell what he wanted. It was simple enough as he’d said; Mutual masturbation, just a few minutes before dinner time would commence.

Albeit the serene atmosphere, you couldn’t hold back your snicker over your realization. Bakugou Katsuki, your impatient lover. The poor guy had been in such a distasteful mood, only because of his unnerving libido..

“You wanna watch me take off my panties, huh?” Your teasing statement came out as a suggestive giggle, your hand placed sturdily at the nape of his neck while the unoccupied one got to work on making his fantasies a reality, tugging at the hem of your leggings hastily.

“You’ve gotta watch me too, y’know,” Katsuki reminded you with a gravelly chuckle, shimmying and pulling his bottoms off as though there were no time to spare.

His half naked form had attracted you in an instant, eyes drawing to his thick cock, semi-hard and already being encased into his moving palm.

“Don't just stare. It works both ways, sweet cheeks. I wanna see some fingers moving’ already,” Puffs of breath were taken between his words, ruby red eyes already lidded with an agape mouth that poured out the most arousing groans.

“Nah, I think I’ll just enjoy the show for now,” you decided matter-of-factly, pressing a sloppy kiss along his defined jawline, causing him to emit another grunt, lowly slapping sounds being heard from his vulgar ministrations.

“You think you’re cute, huh..” hissed Bakugou, trudging his clothes back on with a grunt, to your dismay. “Forget it. Instead of putting on a show for a brat like you, I’m gonna go straight to dinner.”

You accepted the fate that your actions resulted in, ready to slide off the island, just before his stern hands stopped you. He gave you this glance, one that made you eye him in suspicion as he kept his hands on each of your thighs, spreading them apart with a lax grin.

“Katsu— Ah!” By now, the blonde had already dropped to his knees, now face level with your clothed heat. “W-what about dinner..?!”

“Whaddya’ mean?” His tone came out rasped and attractive, a growing smirk reaching his lips as his fingers prodded at the band of your bottoms, “This is my dinner, babe..”

[slashssunglasses]

Mafia Slash- “Craving” P1

okay so the concept of “mafia slash” is something my friend Lily introduced to our friend group and since then we’ve all been building off of this, Mafia Slash will most likely appear several times here so be read ;)

✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧ ✧༺♥༻∞　　∞༺♥༻✧

Slash: early 2000s end of snakepit- beginning of velvet remover Slash.

Backstory: (a/n I’ll do a full imagine solely on the origin story if y'all would like :}) 

Anywho, Slash was the most well known, ruthless, and feared mafia boss in the entire city- hell the entire state. His entire bloodline being gangster royalty. He never really wanted this life but after the tragic murder of his father his heart froze, a wave of pure power washing over him as he was forced to lead the “family business” at such a young age. You, see now you knew all about him, you’ve heard the stories, I mean cmon everyones heard the stories: the knives, the guns, the beatings…this guy enjoyed getting his hands dirty. It’d been rumored that Slash had been eyeing you but you never gave him attention, you didn't fear him. maybe it was because you knew he’d never hurt you. 

Unfortunately, your father-that bastard- used the common knowledge that Slash fancied you to his advantage when he found himself in some hot water with the Hudson family. It’s common knowledge that in the mafia life, fathers tend to offer their daughters as sort of “peace makers” the idea always disgusted you but you never thought that your father would be so quick to give you away like that, as if you were property. That fucking coward. But, a deals a deal, and growing up in this life you know that you never break deals, no matter how hard it’s gonna be or how much youre gonna suffer you never break a deal…especially with guys like Slash. It was done, as much as you hated it- you were now his. 

It’s been some time since you moved into the Hudson residence, Slash had been giving you your space because he understood how unfavorable it was for you to be forced into a relationship with someone you didn’t love but he was determined to make you fall for him and that you were. 

You’d never tell him of course.

 You slept in different rooms and you stayed away from his business even though you were quite used to it and even a little good at handling said business thanks to your father. You didn't think he noticed but he definitely did and it took every ounce of willpower to restrain himself from drooling right in front of you. Day and Night he fantasized about the business endeavors you’d go on, how good you were at talking your way out of things. Yet, you still had this sort of ‘dependance’ (?) on him, I mean you were one bad bitch- you did everything for yourself but you still found a way to make Slash feel like you needed his protecting or that you just needed him in general, no matter how hard you tried to push him away he still felt it, he felt that buzz in his tummy, he felt needed.

He thought you didn’t see him pulling knives and beating people up, he had this facade going on: the nice misunderstood gangster. 

Part of it was true-except the nice part, only towards you was he ever ‘soft’ and caring.  You were getting sick of him trying to act like he wasn’t evil, plus the months you’d gone without any contact other than your fingers and a few toys you’d manage to slip in. Boy oh boy, the more you were around him the more you wanted him, the more you fantasized about him using those same toys on you. It was becoming unbearable you held a grudge against him at this point. You didn’t want to want him! God it was just something abut the way he growled angrily through his teeth, laughed in the faces of petrified snitches, was just a scary guy but then would turn around and try not to stumble over his words when talking to you, he would rock on his heels nervously, he was a wreck! 

You enjoyed the power trip you got from having so much power over one of the scariest guys you’ve met. But you just wanted him to quit the act, show his true colors. What? Was he scared? Maybe then he’d know how it felt, you were scared a little at first too, living with a man in his 30′s while you were just starting to enjoy your 20′s. The hate bubbled into horniness but, you wouldn’t admit just how badly you wanted him, never! You did however watch from afar and look back on the memories your brain kept while you worked yourself on the silk sheets of the room you’d been living in. 

Riding the dildos suction cupped to the floor of the bathtub, spreading your legs under the faucet. like an animal in heat, you did anything and everything to get yourself off, the idea of it all being under Slash’s nose sent sparks of adrenaline through you. You smirked every time you two had a ‘lovers spat’ -as his men called it- because you saw his patience wear thinner and thinner each time, his desire to hide his nasty side evaporating. 

It was only a matter of time before one of you snapped 

You two had gone out for some business thing, you had no clue what it was for and frankly you didn’t care. All you knew was that you had to be done up real nice. You felt adventurous wanted to give yourself a little ‘foreplay’ beforehand by putting on the sluttiest lingerie set you owned. equipped with a garter belt, stockings, a g string, and transparent bra. It was beyond skimpy. You truly only wore it for yourself, and the idea that you’d have it on under whatever dress he bought for you for the night and he’d have no clue, was beyond thrilling. Gosh if he were to catch a glimpse what would happen? You didn’t even know. 

The night went by slowly so you decided to entertain yourself by actually speaking to the other people in attendance. A line of men drooling for you seemed to work. 

After finishing up another painfully boring conversation you slumped in your seat at the bar signaling for the bartender to bring you another whiskey. “On the rocks please” you sighed leaning on your elbow. “Whiskey? i’m sorry but you’re a woman?” a voice chuckled from behind you. 

You couldn't believe what you just heard. 

Turning your head around you scoffed, “and you’re clearly a misogynistic asshole. look at us both stating facts” you sarcastically smiled before turning back around

“No, I'm sorry I didn't mean it like that” the man chuckles awkwardly sitting next to you, “it was my lame attempt at a sarcastic joke” 

“Oh yes very lame” you giggle turning to face him, “sorry, usually I do see most of the women drinking the fruity cocktails” he awkwardly rubbed his neck, “it’s ok, don’t worry” you smile warmly. “Uh I'm Mike” he extended his hand out, “I’m y/n” you giggled. 

You two began chatting and hitting it off. 

He provided a tasteful change from all the boring drooling duds that usually attended these functions. You payed little to no attention to where Slash was and what he doing, you were too busy enjoying your time with your new friend Mike.  

“Who’s this honey?” You heard Slash’s voice perk up as you felt his arm snake around your shoulder. His touch burning your skin as you felt that thick sexual tension from these past few weeks resurface again. You tensed- an action that was supposed to keep you from melting under his rough touch. Clearly it didn't work since you could feel that familiar horny buzz in your panties. 

You looked at mike, absolute panic laced his face. 

“Oh uh, I’m sorry I didn't know I- uh ok” he scrambled away in pure fear. “Why would you do that” you jolted angrily out of his hold. Your arms crossed as you tried not to fall to your knees. God why was he appearing so sexy lately? “Why would you flirt with another man?” he snarled lowly, trying to contain his anger as to not set you off. He hated seeing you with another man, he wanted you to be his and only his. 

“I was not flirting” you scoffed, “oh yeah? I saw you, touching his arm and giggling. that man was drooling over you!” he whisper yelled, “he was?” you smirked, you did this as an attempt to make him rage, you were so tired of the fake face he put on, you wanted to see him get mad. He clenched his fists stretching his neck out, “what're you gonna do? you gonna beat him up?” you pouted, “no” he scoffed, “good. I didn't want him anyway, he was a coward. Pfft scared of you, scurrying away like a scared little mouse. I can’t with such wimps” you sighed walking away from him. 

You could feel his eyes burning into your back as you hips swayed, the clacking of your heels giving you a nice rhythm. 

Some time had passed and you were exhausted. You hadn't seen slash again for a while which normally wouldn't strike you as odd but for some reason you didn't feel okay about him being gone. On top of that you wanted to go home. Growling to yourself in annoyance you begin your trek to go look for him. 

Searching throughout the building, the front door, the bathrooms…nothing. 

Finally you exited through the back door thinking he probably stepped out for a cigarette or something. That’s when you were met with an angered Slash surrounded by his men. His fists flying up and down as he beat the absolute living shit out of some poor soul. His Blazer off, sleeves rolled up showing his tattoos, skin dewy with seat as he grunted between punches. Your brain managing to make the situation filthy.

It was then that you caught a glimpse of who he was destroying.

 Mike. 

“Slash!” you screamed and everyone’s heads shot towards yours. Mike was dropped onto the ground, his bloody face weakly crawling away. Slash stared at you, his chest rising and falling quickly as he panted. “I thought I told you to make sure she stayed inside” he grabbed one of his men by the collar

“Hey stop it!” you pushed him off, the men around you gasped quietly. “God you’re such an asshole!” you growled storming off towards the car. You didn't want him to beat someone who was innocent up, someone who didn't deserve it. You wanted him to be angry with you, that was the thrill you got, you enjoyed seeing him get angry at people who deserved it, although he was a scary guy he was also a just one. 

Slash couldn't help himself though, he wanted to make that guys face unrecognizable, he wanted him to be unable to attract anyone. 

He followed you towards the car. “Hey wait” he called out from behind you. Finally he grabbed hold of your arm right in front of the trunk of the limo you two had arrived in. “Don’t fucking touch me!” you ripped your arm from his, “I'm sorry okay, I don’t know what came over me” he sighed. The words flowed unnaturally from his lips, he was trying to keep the nice guy facade. 

“Oh my god give me a break already! Yes you do, you know exactly what came over you! Stop trying to act like this nice guy okay? Because I know you’re not” you yelled in frustration, all he did was shake his head. 

“Oh my god spare me please! I'm so sick of you acting like you’re this sweet guy. You’re a fucking pussy” you tugged on your hair. 

All of the sudden you were pushed against the car, Slash’s face close to yours, your noses touching as you felt the cool metal of his knife against your neck. “This is what you want? hm? you want me to hurt you?” he snarled tapping the cold blade around your skin. 

An orgasmic rush coursed through you as your adrenaline pumped, you could feel the blood speeding throughout your veins. Your breath shocks the flicked the knife back into the protecter. 

Once the blade was out of sight he pushed off of you. All you did was stare at him absolutely breathless. “Fuck you” you finally pushed him harshly, all he did was look back at you with that cocky grin of his, the one that would spread across his face when he knew he was winning. You didn't know what came over you but you grabbed him by his collar pulling him close to you as you leaned on the car. 

Your lips crashed in a desperate sloppy make out. You didn't care that you'd just caved, the way his hands explored your body overtop the tight black dress made your knees fall weak. 

You wanted him. 

You needed him.

 You craved him.

Your fingers tangled into his curls as you pushed his face closer to yours smushing your lips together as his tongue explored your mouth. Big ringed hands squeezing your lower back pressing you close to him. You could feel his hard pressing against your thigh. God you were soaked. The horniness taking over you, turning you into the filthiest woman he’s ever encountered. 

You pulled a hand away from his shoulders and palmed him through his pants. “This, this is what I do to huh?” you panted in between kisses as he groaned into your mouth. “Mm fuck” you whined as you felt him pulsate through his pants, “take me, take me home and do all the things you think about doing to me while you pump your cock, I want you be the big bad man you are” you whispered desperately in his ear as you stroked him through his pants. 

He looked at you with nearly blacked out eyes, full of lust, full of desire, he was like an animal in heat. “Take me home big guy” you giggled squeezing his muscles. 

“Fuck me” he growled grabbing you and throwing you in the car…

TO BE CONTINUED...

[absoluteindulgence]

HC: Hot Girl Summer with the Boys

A/N: Hey y’all, I’m back... Let’s party. This is a magical world where the Rona has not taken over the world and summertime was filled with nothing but fun and bad choices ✌🏿. Sorry that it’s long, I had a lot of thoughts lmao. I hope you guys like this~ Characters are aged up⬆🆙

☀ 🌞Mirio🌞☀

Staying home reading a book... just fucking kidding

Mirio couldn't keep his ass still even if you told him to

This man is taking you all over the world, every amusement park to every ride.

Ever looked fear in the face? Well, being in front of every rollercoaster multiple times means you have.

His true daredevil nature comes out as you both try to see who will last longer going down the roller coaster

You've wanted to throw in the towel many times, but persevered, beating Mirio by a landslide. 

Due to all the crowded lines and the fact that you're heroes, everyone lets you skip. You try being modest, but it doesn't work as the other patrons say, "Not only are you my favorite heroes but my favorite couple. You deserve to have fun!"

The willingness of everyone approving of your vacation time is gratifying, to say the least.

After spending time doing all the extreme rides, You guys enjoy all the other stalls.

Ironic enough, Mirio comes across the win-a-prize games and swears to get you one.

You try to tell him not to worry, but that fires him up more. I guess in his blonde brain, he thinks you don't want one, so he wants to prove your cute ass wrong.

And oh boy, did he.

He had accurate precision: Throwing the ball in the cup, throwing the hoop onto the bottle, shooting the paper plate off entirely.

Mirio the Assassin confirmed

After managing to win 4 STUFFED ANIMALS, 3 are for you while 1 goes to Eri.

The feels right in the kokoro~

With enough wins under his belt, Mirio treats you to bubble tea and taiyaki. With no shame, you stuff your face happy to finally enjoy food that won't come up.

"Wow, this taiyaki sure is great! But nothing is as sweet as you, baby."

Heart: ABLAZE

This goofball can't even let you enjoy your food in silence. But his honest smile compliments the moment as your flushed cheeks puff from drinking your favorite thirst quencher.

The day ends with you walking around the amusement park, arms full of toys, and finding a unique spot to watch the marvel of the sunset.

As you hold hands, a glance is shared as you two share a passionate kiss.

❄Shouto🔥

You guys are spending a lot of time reading manga and going to cafes.

Shouto lives to see you get dressed up as you let your hair flow in the wind (no matter how long or short, he knows you like the cool air on your scalp. The smile that spreads across your face is contagious as he stares at you with a similar grin)

Your beauty leaves all the other pedestrians gawking as Shouto, nonchalant but proud holds your hand.

Some fans come up to take selfies with you guys and damn do the photos look good. 

Going to various cafes through Japan has been a bucket list that you've shared since your first date. Rating each and creating a rating system. When all other plans fail, the top-rated are the ones you'll go back to.

The day is mellow, leaving you to stay inside because you feel like it. Cuddling with Shouto has proved to be an all-time favorite.

His light snores turn into light conversations. He has a hard time opening his eyes since he feels secure in having you by his side.

When you finally wake up, you cook together, his fave ofc, Cold-ass Soba. (One time you pranked him by boiling the noodles in strawberry milk, and he retaliated by putting pepper in your tea. On that day, you learned not to come between a man and his soba)

When yearning for a little excitement, you drag Shouto to a karaoke bar

He tries not to get too involved, but then you play one of his favorite angsty songs, and he's singing like one of the greats

You can't tell me that Shouto wouldn't vibe to Linkin Park, 3 Days Grace or The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus (Especially when he hated Endeavor to his core)

Shouto would give an excellent performance to Breaking The Habit, Home, and Face Down. I FEEL IT IN MY SPIRIT!!!

The only way you feel like you'll win…. Is if you rap Monster (Nicki's Verse ofc) or sing My Heart Will Go On lmao

Shouto thinks you're cheating tho because those are your trump cards when all else fails lmaooo

After the scream-singing match is done, you guys go home and drink a bunch of tea, hoping your voices aren't gone by the morning

💥Bakugou💥

If you're going to an amusement park, y'all going straight to the "horror" houses.

You guys usually go in to laugh at the horrible attempts to make you scared. Until there's that one jump scare that makes your heart leap out your chest.

You're breathless with the mocking laugh caught in your throat as you grip close to Katsuki's side.

This fiery bastard laugh gets even louder seeing you cower in embarrassment. Once he's done making fun of you, he kisses your forehead.

"About damn time, you move in close."

Now say you're not at an amusement park? You guys are going to the spa.

Not because you're tense but because it's always funny seeing Katsuki tense up when they try to butter him with complimentary things (thanks to being top heroes).

He hates going to public spaces and getting stuff for free. He wants to pay for the experience so that no one can say he takes advantage of his status.

Although it creates funny scenarios, you respect how committed he is.

His reasoning is that he's a citizen paying another citizen for their service.

Granted, if the service is excellent, the worker is guaranteed a tip (depending on the country since he likes to follow customs).

The funniest thing is him coming from Massage therapy, he's a big ol’ softie.

The cuddles are intense, and his face never changes from the color pink, and his smile is curved too high.

Onlookers seeing him smile are terrified, and yet you are smushing his face between your hands kissing him all over.

"You look so relaxed, Boomer, let's take a bath together~."

Coming back to his senses, he'll grit his teeth a little and retort, "I'm not a damn Boomer!"

He's not mad that you called him that he's just mad you said it in public LMFAO

🌋Kirishima🌋

You guys are spending most of your time at the beach, soaking in the sun and enjoying his thick ass hands rubbing sunscreen all over your body

Don't let him see you enjoying it, he might have to pull you away from the public and give you that good ole sea cucumber

But when he can't get your sweetness right away, he'll have to push his energy into something else

And ofc, Kiri has an active personality, and when you mix that with demolishing opponents while playing volleyball, you too get into your competitive mode.

Anyone playing against you guys will catch HELL. Some cried from the impact of the ball, hitting them. Some deserving for the shit-talking...

Others getting sincere apologies and an autograph or picture lmao

Everyone on the beach knows you two as the power couple, and you win the nicknames, Otters of the Sand.

After kicking so much ass, you guys enter an eating contest as a team. Everyone's surprised to see how many bowls you've cleared. The appetite is already built up, so you guys are willing to stuff your faces until you're waddling back to the hotel.

And with the stamina you've gained at UA, you made it happen. In Second place to Kiri. He basks in his crown, winning first place, and you guys happily waddle back to your hotel room, taking a shower together then cuddling.

Imagine you guys decide to stay lax the whole summer, video, and card games are the vibe.

You try hard to kick his ass in Smash and end up losing... No matter who you main. You even try random (3 times) and still lose.

"Wow, Babe, you're doing well for a sore loser. You almost got a 3 stock victory!"

His laugh ticks you off even though he's just teasing you, and you wanna switch the game. Even in the back of your head, you deem it pointless, but he still obliges you.

No tlk angy frm l0sng😡💢

When you've played your last game, you accept your defeat only to tickle him into submission.

He apologizes and wraps you into a bear hug smothering you in kisses.

[sortasirius]

Programing The Winter Soldier

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, heavy angst, this is seriously big sad hours

AN: This is so very sad and I definitely cried writing it lmao.  I love Bucky Barnes so much. 

Pairing: Steve/Bucky

Words: 3873

Read it on AO3 here

January 23, 1945

General,

Sgt. Barnes has undergone an initial mind wipe.  Dr. Zola has succeeded in attaching the weapon to his shoulder.  He has been put in the cryo-chamber as a test, and after some initial pain it looks as though it has worked.

We will begin reprogramming shortly.

Longing

Bucky wakes up in pain.  His arm hurts.  After a few moments of long, deep breaths where he decides he’s not, in fact, dead, he tries, experimentally, to move his fingers.  To his relief, he finds he can, but something feels different, wrong.  The clicking in his index finger, from where he had broken it when he was twelve defending Steve from some guy he had tried to fight in an alley after the creep had tried to grab at a woman on the street, was gone.  The pain is gone there too, in fact he can’t feel anything below the burning where his shoulder meets something cold, something foreign.

He tries to look around, but it’s pitch black wherever he is.  It’s also brutally fucking cold.  He shivers violently, trying to get away from whatever cold metal is touching his skin, but no matter how far he leans, he can’t seem to get away from it.

Suddenly, without warning, fluorescent lights above him burst into life, and Bucky screws his eyes up against the sudden brightness.  Blinking away the mild pain, he sees a man he vaguely recognizes coming toward him.  He’s a shorter man, wearing round glasses…

Like another switch flipped, Bucky suddenly remembers this man, remembers a saw taken to the shattered remains of his arm, remembers being tied down, with a rag stuffed in his mouth to keep him from biting off his own tongue.  He remembers the arm that doesn’t belong to him attached to his left side.  He remembers throwing someone across the room as though he was weightless.

“Sergeant Barnes,” the man looks him up and down, ignoring the way Bucky shied openly away from his gaze, “Let us begin.”

They don’t release Bucky from the restraints while the doctor, Zola, measures him from head to toe, has him flex his new arm, takes his blood pressure and heart rate, checks him for infection.  He only occasionally stops to speak to an assistant, who all keep their distance from Bucky, or say something in German to a soldier watching everything.  He makes Bucky watch a grainy video of ever-changing shapes, and sticks him painfully with a needle whenever he tries to look away.

“Now Sergeant,” Zola addresses him after nearly an hour of poking and prodding, “Can you tell me a memory of yours?”

Bucky doesn’t even consider, just says the first thing that comes into his brain.  Whatever this guy wants, it’s going to be easiest to just give it to him.

“Steve and I were walking along Rockaway beach two years ago.  I remember it was nearly dusk, summer, we were watching the sunset and Steve brought some bread to feed the birds.  I remember they were swarming us, you show them any kind of food and they all come swooping in.  Steve kept laughing because they were trying to land on me.  I remember the smile on his face and his eyes matched the water.  It was the first time he really laughed since his mother had died.  He told me later that he really needed that laugh.”

Zola looks at one of his assistants and gestures to the red book on the table next to him.

“First word: Longing.”

March 10, 1945

General,

We have had limited success reprogramming Barnes so far.  Zola has been working extensively with him, and while we are now seeing less incidents of outward aggression to staff or soldiers, his rate of noncompliance has skyrocketed.

Please advise on any alternate methods we should attempt.

Rusted

Bucky tries not to think about his new normal, but the repetition of each day makes that difficult.

Each morning, he’s awoken by a prison alarm and the instantaneous switching on of all the lights in his cell, followed immediately by his first meal of the day served through a slot in the door.  Steel door, reinforced, at least four feet thick.  Even the new arm doesn’t make much of a dent in it, though he’s tried.  God knows, he’s tried.

After breakfast he’s led to the combat cage where he meets with Zola, before being led through drills that he must comply with.  Noncompliance leads to pain.  Stepping out of line leads to pain.  Not eating leads to pain.  Not answering a question leads to pain.  His whole life revolves around inflicting pain and trying not to get pain inflicted on him.

On bad days, when he’s been too slow or asked one too many questions, they wipe him before lunch.  He wouldn’t wish it on his worst enemy.  There is nothing else to say.  It’s beyond unbearable.

On good days, they’d give him lunch and Zola would run his usual tests.  Ask him about a memory, ask him about his family, his parents, his sister, his friends.  For some reason, it always came back to Steve.  Every time, no matter how Bucky tried to steer his brain away from him, it always came back to Steve.

This time he tells Zola about an old motorcycle they had rescued from the junkyard one summer.  It was more scrap metal than anything, rusted out from the wind and the rain and the New York winter it had suffered through outdoors, but they had scraped together pennies from odd jobs and had gotten it to run again.  It was a blast, to go zipping through the streets of Brooklyn in the dead of night, looking for trouble or whatever they could find, having to stop what felt like every ten minutes to fix some part that had fallen off or sprung a leak.  A total hassle, but totally worth it.

After his tests, Zola would send him back to the unnamed soldier who was responsible for his physical activity, this time to put him against enemies.  In the beginning, Bucky would refuse to fight them, but in his new quest of not putting himself through more pain if he could help it, he had started obeying the commands given to him, even if that meant using the strange attachment to his body that he hated looking at, that was welded to his skin, the burned and tortured flesh above it just a reminder that he used to be fully human.

After his second round of drills, they either send him to bed and give him dinner an hour later, or they put him in cryo.  He longs for the cold metal of the room they keep him in on the nights when he goes to cryo.

It’s the same every single day.

Zola starts saying a new word to him: Rusted.

May 7, 1945

General,

After three weeks, Barnes’ hunger strike has ended.  He can barely stand anymore, let alone lift the arm, but he is willing to eat.  Zola has suggested that we put him back in cryo and get his weight up so he can at least stand.  Your suggestion of a controlled shock each time he refused to eat worked perfectly, we always appreciate your input in the construction of our new weapon.

Seventeen

They let him out of cryo after what they tell him is four weeks.  When he looks down at himself, he can’t see his ribs or the sharp definition of his hipbones anymore.  They make sure he can stand, that he can punch, that he can shoot a gun.  They work on the strength of the punch.  Zola is angry that it’s been weakened.

The hunger strike was a stupid idea, it was too much like what Steve would have done, and Bucky would never be Steve, or be with Steve, no matter how much he would like to.

His body is littered with burn marks from the shocks they gave him when he wouldn’t eat, and Bucky winces at the memory of the pain, the memory of his body seizing up and being outside his control.  He supposes he should be used to the out-of-control thing by now, but he isn’t, he can’t, because then he’d really have lost.

Bucky hates cryo, he hates cryo almost more than he hates the mind wipe, because at least when his mind was wiped he could still dream.  They couldn’t control what he dreamed about, and they didn’t know what he dreamed about.  Rather, they never asked him what he dreamed about, therefore they didn’t know.

Bucky thinks about his last dream, the one where he and Steve were on a beach somewhere.  Not the Northeast, somewhere tropical, maybe California.  They have their toes in the sand and Steve remarks that the sand is so hot here, how do people walk on sand this hot?

“Sergeant Barnes,” Zola breaks him out of his thoughts, “Tell me why you stopped eating.”

Bucky looks up at him, he’s so tired.  He doesn’t want to fight anymore but he has to, the skinny little kid from Brooklyn with blue eyes and a blinding smile would want him to.

“When I was seventeen my family couldn’t afford food for the week,” the words pour out of him of their own volition, and he’s too tired to stop them, “Dad was out of work, we were desperate.  Steve and his mom brought over dinner and made us keep the leftovers.  It was a pot roast, best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“I don’t want to be a weapon.  I don’t want to be your weapon.”

Zola leans back and considers him.  A smile spreads across his face.

“What you want doesn’t matter.  It never did.”

Bucky wants to hit him with the weapon on his left.  He wants it more than anything.  But he can’t.  He’s not allowed.  He really just is a lapdog for them now.

Zola adds a word the next day: Seventeen.

June 15, 1945

General,

It has been noted recently that Barnes is unwilling to lash out or attack any combatants that fit the following profile: blond, blue eyes, male.  Zola has insisted this weakness is an asset in his reprogramming and that it will not last.  We have brought in two soldiers that match this profile at Zola’s request, I will report any findings.

Daybreak

He’s not Steve, Bucky tells himself over and over as the handsome blond solider smiles at him when he brings him his dinner.  They open the door now, just so Bucky can see the man clearly, just so he can see his smile and the slight edge to his light blue eyes.  They’re lighter than Steve’s but something in Bucky simply doesn’t care anymore.  The eyes were wrong but they were something he could cling to.  The hair was just a shade too dark but it reminded him of a different time.  The smile was just a little too wide, but he remembered one that was a little softer, a little more slanted.

“I remember watching the sun rise in Germany during the war,” Bucky tells Zola blankly in their meeting that day, so used to the stab of the needle in his skin that he doesn’t even feel it, “Steve told me his favorite time of day was this early in the morning, right at daybreak.  He told me that before, too, before he was Captain America, but we got to just sit quietly and watch it, watch the colors.  I don’t remember them.”

“Very good,” Zola stands, beckoning to the blond solider to take Bucky to his next assignment.

Bucky walks along silently, head held high as he approaches the cage, where a larger soldier is waiting for him, outfitted head to toe in combat gear.  Shouldn’t be a problem.

“Soldat,” Zola stares through the bars of the combat cage minutes later, where Bucky has paused, fist raised above the quivering man in front of him, “Don’t hesitate, you wouldn’t want to disappoint your audience.”

Bucky looks over to Zola, the blond soldier who smiled at him the night before is watching.

Zola’s right, he can’t disappoint him.

“New word,” Zola mutters as Bucky straightens up, shaking his hand to get rid of the red on the metal knuckles, “Daybreak.”

July 4, 1945

General,

Barnes had an unfortunate breakthrough during today’s training.  He seemed to remember something from prior to his fall and was unable to complete the mission set in front of him.  I am becoming frustrated with Zola, he insists that this is all part of the process, that to break a man down there will be moments of pure weakness, but Barnes is looking less and less like the man we thought he was.

Furnace

Steve is the only thing he thinks of when he has a clear mind anymore.

He doesn’t remember little details of his memory anymore, but he remembers Steve.  He doesn’t remember his birthday, but he knows when Steve’s is.  He doesn’t remember the smell of spring in Central Park, but he remembers the way Steve wore newspapers in his shoes.  No matter what, he knows Steve.

Zola knows this, he uses it against him.  Every day, the talks get longer, the punishments get more painful, and the amount of times he’s wiped go up.

“Tell me a memory,” it feels like Zola’s asked this a thousand times now.

“Steve’s furnace in his building broke last winter.  We had him over for two weeks until the landlord could be bothered to fix it.  Mom loves him so much, she would have him around all the time if he’d let her.  He always thinks he can do everything himself.”

“You speak of him as if he’s here.  Why?”

“I don’t know.”

That’s the truth.

Zola adds Furnace to the list of Bucky’s words.  He can feel himself slipping away every time they’re uttered.

August 12, 1945

General,

Thank you for your visit last week.  Your insight into our project is much appreciated.  I agree that we must continue to press on, we have no put so much man power and energy into the project it would be a shame to shut it down now.  Zola believes that we are close to a breakthrough, despite occasional noncompliance by Barnes.

Nine

It’s starting to get harder and harder to fight against the constant onslaught of change they were forcing on his mind.

He can’t dream anymore, so the cryo chamber at least lets him rest, because the only dreams he has are dark and shadowy.  He’s losing his already tenuous grip on himself, his memories becoming indistinct, with only a few bright spots left to cling to in his mind.

“Tell me a memory.”

It takes him a second to think of one.  He cowers as Zola stands over him.

“When I was nine we went on a field trip to the Met.  Steve made me read all the little cards next to the paintings, even though it made us lag behind everyone else.”

“Do you still think of him?”

Always.

“No.”

“Good.  Add Nine.”

September 1, 1945

General,

Zola chose to move forward with giving Barnes the news of Steve Rogers’ death last week.  So far, it has proven an excellent tactic in breaking his resolve.  After an initial disruption in his usual pattern of behavior (consisting of a violent outburst that left his entire holding cell destroyed followed by a complete emotional collapse), Barnes has been much more compliant in the process.

I believe we may be close to a breakthrough.

Benign

Bucky has been unmade, strand by strand, bit by bit, atom by atom, he has been unmade and put back together for the purposes of following orders, of being a human weapon of mass destruction.  There has been so much pain in his unmaking, so much unrelenting physical and mental pain from being ripped apart and put back together over and over and over again.

And yet, none of that pain was like the pain of knowing that Steve Rogers was dead.

Bucky would take it all over again, spend a thousand lifetimes in this room, in the cell, in the combat cage, in the cryo chamber, having his mind wiped like a problem on a chalkboard just so he could unlearn that Steve was dead.

Zola is the one that tells him.  He shows him a newspaper in English, then Russian, then German, all with the same headline: Captain America Dead!

Bucky feels like a feather caught in a windstorm, torn to shreds by the whipping downdraft of mother nature’s power, by the power of his own grief.

Bucky knows better than to move while Zola is in the room, but the second that he leaves, the rage, red, blind, hot, overtakes him, and he uses the weapon attached to him, which has become a part of him, to destroy everything he can.  The metal table, reinforced with steel, comes apart like wet paper in his hand.  He destroys the sink, leaving nothing but powdered ceramic and plumbing hookups behind.  He gouges marks into the walls with his fingers, he slams his arm onto the floor.  And then?  He collapses in the middle of the cold metal room with his cold metal arm, just a cold metal soldier who’s lost the only reason he wanted to get out of here, to stay who he was.

“Come on Buck, we don’t have to do this.”

“When was the last time we snuck into a Dodgers game?  It’ll be fun, I promise.”

Steve rolls his eyes, pausing as they waited to cross the street to cough into his jacket.  Bucky, almost subconsciously pats his jacket pockets.  Good, he’s got an extra one of Steve’s inhalers in case it’s a bad night for his asthma.

“Come on Steve,” Bucky nudges his shoulder as they approach the stadium, “I know it’s been hard recently, but hey, at least we have baseball.”

Steve laughs at that, and gives Bucky an almost radiant smile.  Whatever it was, it makes Bucky feel like he has the sun in his chest.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say this was a date,” Steve jokes as they sneak in behind an older couple, heading up to their favorite spot to watch the game.

“Who says it isn’t?” Bucky is glad his face is hidden in shadow as they make their way up the stairs of the stadium to the very back row, “But don’t think I’m gonna buy you a hotdog or anything.”

“Come on, what kind of girl pays for her own hotdog?” Steve winks at him, and Bucky can’t hide his wide smile at the words that settle themselves right in the middle of his beating heart.

“Soldat.  Stand up,” Zola’s voice comes through the speaker, and Bucky can’t comply, he tries, but he’s crushed by the weight of the loss of Steve Rogers, the only person that could pull him out of this, that could undo the work of HYDRA that had been inflicted on his mind and body.

He hears the stomping of boots outside the door, but he still can’t stand, he still can’t make himself be the good lapdog he’s supposed to be.  He’s broken, empty, unusable, unloveable.

“Steve,” Bucky gasps, not even thinking about fighting as the soldiers pull him up to standing.

Zola’s voice comes over the little speaker they have in the room, the one that Bucky couldn’t reach to rip to pieces.

“Next word: Benign”

October 29, 1945

General,

Zola had a long conversation with Barnes today.  The loss of Steve Rogers is still affecting him.  Zola tells me he has a plan, that our work is almost finished.

Homecoming

They take him to the combat cage again.  There’s someone waiting for him.

“We have a test for you today,” Zola swings the door open, and he sees that it’s the blond soldier who reminds him of Steve, tied up and bound and already bloody.

Bucky takes a step forward, staring at the terrified man.  He feels something, he can’t identify what it is.

“Tell me a memory.”

Bucky doesn’t take his eyes off of the soldier as he speaks.

“When Steve brought us back from the HYDRA base, they called it our homecoming.  I wasn’t used to him yet, him being taller than me, being okay with being the center of attention.  I wasn’t used to him being different.  But sometimes I saw flashes of the old Steve, when he looked at me, when he was drawing on a scrap of a napkin, when he made a joke that everyone laughed at.  And then, sometimes I thought he forgot about me.  He didn’t need me anymore.”

He looks down at the soldier.

“Kill him, soldat,” Zola tells him, “You don’t need him.  You never did.”

The cowering blond soldier might as well be Steve, Bucky can’t tell the difference anymore.  He snaps his neck anyway, pretending that he doesn’t feel the shattered remains of his heart split just a little bit more.

“New word: Homecoming.”

December 15, 1945

General,

Only a few more weeks I believe, Barnes has become more and more compliant, completing missions with ease and without hesitation.  We put him in front of a live target yesterday, the man captured at the border three weeks ago.  Barnes did not even seem to hear his pleas, even though we have been assured he can hear and understand them.

One

He kills easily now.  He does it without thinking.

“Tell me a memory.”

“I don’t have one.”

“Good.  Add One.”

January 23, 1946

General,

Congratulations.  The asset is ready to begin service.

Freight Car

The Winter Solider does not hesitate.  He does not disobey orders.  He pulls the trigger as easy as breathing.  He’s a ghost story, a legend, the new fist of HYDRA.

Zola speaks to him, he answers.  A soldier speaks to him, he answers.

“There is one last word to add,” Zola tells him, walking around where he stands, straight, like a steel rod.  He’s more metal than man now, anyway, “Tell me about the day you fell.”

“I ziplined onto a freight car.  I took out the targets.  I fell.  I was found by HYDRA.”

Steve was there.  He tried to save me.  We joked about Coney Island.  I miss him, I wish I was with him.  I wish I had died when I fell.  I wish I could just be Bucky.  I don’t want to be a weapon, I just want to be Bucky.

“Very good, soldat.  Final word: Freight Car.”

As each word is read, Bucky departs his mind, taken over by The Winter Solider.  Each word takes away a layer of memory, a layer of who he was, who he had fought so hard to stay.  Now it doesn’t take weeks of time, or months, to unmake him.  All it takes is ten words, ten words that connect him completely to Bucky Barnes, yet somehow, ten words that remove him altogether.

Zola finishes the list.  Bucky Barnes is long, long gone.

“Ready to comply.”

[poketin]

An Exercise in Observation

(can also be found on ao3 under poketin)!

Kanamori Sayaka has a sharp eye.

She’s known for it. The label on her favorite milk and what to look out for when someone’s trying to cheap out of her cashing in their favor for some of the good stuff. The way the fresher money tree leaves jut out rather than the slight sag they acquire as time passes. The guilty hunch of Mizusaki’s shoulders as she spends too long trying to make a shot perfect instead of getting things done on time.

It’s why when Asakusa fiddles and squirms in ways different than usual (and yes of course Kanamori has her comrade’s mannerisms filed away, you never know what information may come in handy for your own purposes), Kanamori notices.

Asakusa squirming is nothing new, fiddling with pencils, chewing on her rabbit, coiling in her chair then springing up when her energy needs to go somewhere, “BA-BWAA!” as she helpfully explained. Kanamori knows it helps her concentrate, lays the tracks in front of her mind’s train as it barrels ahead with anecdotes, tangents, and ideas, trying to wrangle its path before it derails and overwhelms her senses.

But Asakusa is twitching in a way that suggests she’s trying to curb her movement, only lurching slightly on the same side each time, not alternating like the blur of her swinging legs or crisscrossing ankles as she taps on the floor, but a movement devoid of silence save for a hiss between her teeth.

Irritation seizes Kanamori’s body, overriding any possibility of worry or patience as she spins herself in her chair and slams her feet on the ground, one leg draped over the other.

“What are you doing.”

It comes out as a statement because Kanamori hates pointless questions, preferring an acknowledgment that “Yes, I know something’s wrong and no amount of unconvincing jabber is going to prove otherwise, so spit it out already,” but in fewer words that can save both of them time.

Despite this, the course of action Asakusa takes is of no surprise to anyone as she tries to withhold her shock, her hat hopping off her head for the briefest moment. She turns to Kanamori with GUILT practically written on her forehead in thick, black lines. She’s either brave or stupid enough to look her in the eyes, nonetheless. Mizusaki smells danger, and hightails it out of the clubroom with the excuse that she’s going to buy them all drinks.

“W-whatever could you mean, Kanamori-kun?”

Her uniform looks fine, a smudge of dirt here and there, a grass stain peaking out behind the sleeve of her blazer, maybe even a twig in her hair if her adventure was recent enough.

Her hands are unmarred, curling and clasping at each other as they are, no bandaids, no bruising, no scabs.

Her hat’s as worn as ever, no new holes or tears, no irreversible bleach stains from a traumatic laundry mishap.

Kanamori’s gaze combs over Asakusa’s body but she doesn’t twist or turn in her chair at all. The telltale signs of Asakusa’s nervousness are what the unimaginative often call “normal.” She curls in on herself slightly, her eyes straight ahead rather than bouncing around the room finding the foundations of a fighter plane or a laser cannon in every cranny of ruffled steel, her legs hang like dead weights, hands steady in their twisting instead of squeezing love into her rabbit or bunching up in her clothes. It’s her usual self-expression that’s labeled “suspicious,” confirming for Kanamori once more that the ignorance of people has no stopping point.

Then there’s that pinched expression on her face that Kanamori doesn’t like at all.

“Did a teacher tell you off again?”

There’s been problems, Kanamori’s opinion of faculty falling somehow even lower every time a teacher snaps at Asakusa to pay attention as she doodles (as if she doesn’t get above-average marks in many subjects) or tells her to stand in the hallway if she can’t stop being a distraction.

“No, it’s been awhile since that’s happened,” Asakusa says, shaking her head. Inwardly, Kanamori notes with satisfaction that her anonymous letters about being “unable to receive proper education under teachers that see fit to constantly single out one student” have achieved their goal faster than she predicted.

Outwardly, she raises a single eyebrow.

Asakusa sighs, and before Kanamori has a chance to stop her, stands up and rolls her skirt up partway. Luckily, Kanamori’s brain hasn’t caught up quickly enough to fry itself and send heat blasting into her cheeks, so she notices the problem rather quickly.

“Mosquito bites.”

There’s an angry, swelling bump right above her right knee, with two more on her outer left thigh. With the way she leans down to tug at her socks, there may very well be more on her lower legs.

Deciding on whether to take a break and get medical help or ignore her discomfort to keep working on backgrounds seems to have been an easy choice for their director.

Kanamori stands up and makes her way over, without a sound.

“Sometimes you need to feel the grass between your toes…” Asakusa mumbles, as if that makes her case more reasonable or sympathetic.

But Kanamori is not one to pity.

She stands in front of Asakusa, who only wilts now that Kanamori is directly in front of her, and lets her fist fall onto Asakusa’s head, a common gesture of her disdain.

“And where was the bug spray in your pack?”

Asakusa jolts up, her arms crossed over her body protectively.

“To bring chemical warfare into their natural territory is a war crime, Kanamori-kun!”

Her eyes shine with such righteous indignation that Kanamori has to clamp her teeth down on the rush of fondness that floods through her. Of course the girl who once let a cockroach ride on top of her hat so it could “experience the world in an entirely new way” would never kill a mosquito that didn’t first invade her home base.

“Will it hamper your productivity?”

“Well…”

Kanamori sighs and cinches her arms around Asakusa’s neck, pulling her along.

“W-wait, Kanamori-kun! The power of my will won’t be defeated by mere itchiness—!”

Her voice becomes a muffled squeak as Kanamori tosses her onto the couch and flips open her bag. She points at the couch without looking up.

“Sit. And no scratching.”

She pulls herself into a seated position as Kanamori digs around in her backpack.

Asakusa immediately swings one of her legs, letting out a strangled note of distress as one of her larger bites brushes against the fabric.

Kanamori, now in front of her, grabs the leg in midair.

“K-kanamori-kun?!”

She could focus on the way Asakusa scrunches her mouth in bafflement or the way her brown eyes flicker between Kanamori’s own eyes and clasped hand. She could think about how soft the skin of Asakusa’s leg seems right above where she’s holding her socked ankle. She could read into the way Asakusa doesn’t jerk away from her, how she seems to trust her completely and is ready to follow her lead.

Instead Kanamori drops her leg and tries to make her voice less hoarse as she says, “Don’t move.”

She kneels down and pops the cap off the anti-swelling pain relief gel. More tenderly than she’d ever admit, she squeezes some onto her finger and rubs it on the bite near her knee. Asakusa sighs as the cool gel soothes the burning area.

Kanamori never hesitates, but she’s not sure how to approach the bites in more…intimate areas. She and Asakusa have always been on the same wavelength though, and wordlessly Asakusa leans over to roll her socks down, nose nearly brushing Kanamori’s as she straightens back up to adjust her skirt once more.

There’s only a couple bumps on her lower legs, and Kanamori gets through them faster than she wants to, what with the last few targets waiting for her.

“Asakusa-shi.”

“Kanamori-kun.”

Of all times, it’s now that Asakusa’s voice is clearest, firmest. There’s a hint of challenge in her eyes and her face is enviably clear of any blush.

Kanamori has never been one to stall on what she wants.

She squeezes out more gel, sliding her other hand up Asakusa’ leg, just barely grazing it until she reaches the spot where the final bites are. Once there, she gently grips onto Asakusa’s leg, her thumb trailing her flesh, urging her to turn so the welt is in clearer view. Asakusa obliges.

Kanamori has a good poker face even on the worst of days. Still, as she slathers gel on Asakusa’s soft skin, its coldness contrasts rather pointedly with the heat coming off her own traitorous face.

The door opens just as Kanamori is finishing up. To their credit, neither of them jump at Mizusaki’s return. Instead, Kanamori screws and unscrews the cap of the gel, cursing design flaws as she struggles to get it back on, while Asakusa hops off the couch. She smooths out her skirt and gives Kanamori a brilliant smile without a hint of their previous tension.

“Thanks, Kanamori-kun!”

She grabs a can of peach tea from Mizusaki and dashes to her desk, throwing herself once more into the spirals of far-off mountains and billowing clouds that hide them away.

Kanamori ignores the grin Mizusaki gives her as she hands off the cool bottle of milk, but what she doesn’t miss is Mizusaki whispering, “You so owe me,” as she straightens back up. They both know she’s not talking about the milk, and Mizusaki skips to her workstation before Kanamori can so much as scowl in her direction.

Never mind the fact that she’s smiling instead.

[visionsofus]

Hey what's up? I was wondering if you still take requests for the wanda and vision mixtape. It's one of my favorites. If you have time I would love for you to consider the song Rewrite the Stars from the Greatest Showman. I love this song and I think it really fits them. Thank you so much for your work and what you contribute to this Fandom!

hi! I do still take song requests for Wanda and Vision's mixtape (despite the stack of them waiting in my inbox - I'm so sorry to those I haven't gotten around to yet, creative flow comes and goes) This song is such a great fit for them so thank you for requesting, it was lots of fun to write! thank you for your support 🥰

Track #26: Rewrite the Stars - Zac Efron and Zendaya

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |

Synopsis: Things are changing between Wanda and Vision. Naturally a big charity even is the best place to confront their confusing emotions, no? featuring some serious yearning and a dance scene, because I love confessions mid-waltz.

Vision frowned at himself in the mirror.

There was nothing wrong, in fact the suit he had on had been perfectly tailored. Vision had been excited at the premise of having a piece of clothing that was made specially for him, and real at that. Tony had presented the options and given how significant the event was, Vision thought it might be worthwhile to have a proper suit that wasn’t just one of his constructs. He enjoyed being able to create whatever he wanted to wear, but he wanted tonight to be normal, as normal as he could be.

Now that he had it on it was underwhelming. Not to say he didn't appreciate the gift. It was a piece of art. A three piece of different shades of something similar to charcoal. The jacket glittered; its fabric featured iridescent silver threads that shifted when he moved under the light. The trousers matched the double-breasted vest, though they were a lighter shade of grey.

No, no it wasn’t the suit that was the problem.

It was the prospect of the event itself, the idea that all eyes would be on the Avengers, expecting a certain level of behaviour. Vision much preferred the days he spent with his friends at the compound, secure in the fact that they knew the real him. And more than anyone else, Wanda knew the real him, knew the face that he showed to the public and the press wasn’t.

Plus, Vision would be expected to dance – he had never had reason to dance or move in such a way before and he was dreading it. But then there was also the prospect that he might dance with Wanda and that raised his spirits marginally. Though, whether or not she would wand to dance with him was another question.

Things had been changing between them and Vision felt as though Wanda was even more hesitant to confront those changes than he was. All it had taken was one fateful night together. He hadn’t stayed by her side since Wanda’s first month at the compound, when her rest was so riddled with nightmares that she couldn’t bear to be alone. In the year since it had become a growing rarity for Vision to stick out the night by her side.

But then a week earlier Vision had been preparing to sleep, even if it just meant lying in his bed and doing nothing for eight hours. His body had been in need of a little downtime after several missions in quick succession. He’d been settling in to rest when there had come a knock at his door, of course he said come in, less phased than his teammates by the prospect of unannounced guests.

It was Wanda, who else would be knocking at his door so late at night. She’d walked in hesitantly but there had been a hard set to her jaw. Vision hadn’t asked for her reasons, had just shuffled over in the double bed to make space. So, it was not common, this behaviour, but what had come next was worse. Vision winced recalling the memory with the vividness enabled by his high functioning mind. But he entertained his brain and let the memory play out, hopeless to prevent it. If anything, he wanted to relive it.

Vision woke slowly, relishing in the well-rested feeling that spread throughout his body as his awareness increased. For the first time it felt as though he had really slept.

As he became aware of his body he frowned and opened his eyes. In the memory he blinked a few times, as though trying to clear a dream from his eyes. There was Wanda, her face relaxed in slumber, one side of her mouth turned up at the corner as though she were in the middle of a good dream.

One of her hands was wrapped up in the cotton of his t-shirt, gripping it tightly like she was afraid he might float away. At that moment Vision had felt so light it was at risk of actually happening.

He stayed totally still as he gradually became conscious of where their bodies were in relation to each other. Their legs were tangled, one of Wanda’s knees hooked around his, the bare skin warm against his. One of his hands was tucked under his cheek and the other had apparently possessed a mind of its own and gravitated down to rest on Wanda’s hip.

Slowly he removed his hand, wincing as Wanda registered the movement and opened her eyes. The blue of her eyes was bright in the dimness of the room, but her pupils still turned to pin pricks as they adapted to the light difference. And then she caught sight of him, centimetres from her own face. Vision watched long enough to see her pupils dilate.

Vision shook his head and returned to reality, pressing both hands to his cheeks and feeling them as warm as they had been on that fateful morning. Wanda had mumbled something about training and practically fled his bed, her ears an alarming shade of red. And Vision had been left to sit there for a further half hour trying to absorb exactly what had happened.

Wanda was running late. She hadn’t meant to take so long to get ready, but it was just so difficult to figure out what she wanted to do with her hair. Ten minutes before they were due to leave for the function, she decided on leaving it down, curled loosely so it settled about her shoulders.

Heels in one hand and holding the edge of her dress in the other she hurried down the stairs for the front door. There were three cars waiting outside, not the usual SUVs they traveled in but sleek BMWs.

A couple of smart cars held nothing to her dress. It had been a gift from Nat a few months earlier, but Wanda hadn’t had the opportunity to attend anything fancy enough that merited putting on the gown. Earlier she’d struggle to make it to the bodice through the pleats of rich red fabric that made up the skirt. Now that it was on it was a perfect fit, flowing off her hips in waves of fabric that shifted with every move. It was the most elegant thing she had ever worn, Wanda only hoped she would do it justice as the evening went on.

The doors on the front two cars were shut so she hurriedly made her way round to the backseat of the third.

Steve sat in the passenger seat with Natasha and Vision taking two of the spots in the back. As Wanda went to step in Natasha caught her gaze and smiled mischievously.

“Hang on, Vision do you mind swapping with me? It’s hard to sit in the middle with my heels and the console.”

Wanda’s stomach dropped as she settled into her seat and Vision and Nat got out of the car to trade spots. And here she had been worried about holding them up. Frustrated, Wanda huffed her hair out of her face, pushing the waves off her shoulder as Vision settled himself into the middle. The backseat was spacious enough, there was no way Nat had been that uncomfortable. No, it had been for Wanda’s benefit. She had confided in Nat on some of the changes occurring between her and the synthezoid now at her side but never had Wanda thought Nat would pull something so obvious and foolish.

It sent her cheeks turning a shade of red not so different from her dress.

The drive felt painfully long. Steve had kept it going with some small talk but that had died out into a stagnant silence. She was being dramatic; the others were probably fine with the silence but for Wanda it felt suffocating. Any other time and she and Vision would have been talking. They could talk for hours about anything, and he always knew what to say to put her at ease. Even their silent moments together felt comfortable. It was never like this.

In the end, she spent most of the drive focusing on moving with the car when it turned so she didn’t accidentally brush Vision. How had they gone from the casual intimacy of friends to this strange tension? It annoyed her, though she felt powerless to change things. Wanda didn’t know a whole lot about chemistry, but she knew whatever she and Vision had would blow up in their faces if they weren’t careful.

Finally, the glowing street lamps turned into the staticky light of cameras. For the first time, Wanda felt relieved by the assault of flashes on her eyes.

They approached a line of similar vehicles, all likely full of celebrities who had managed to scrape together enough of a network to score an invite to the Stark Industries charity event. Hurriedly, Wanda bent over and set about lacing her shoes up. The thick platform heels were chunkier than what would go with her dress but they made up for it in their steadiness. There had been talk of dancing and Wanda figured she was best off in comfortable and stable shoes than trying to balance on stilettos.

Busy fiddling with her shoes, Wanda didn’t feel the car turn until she was sent sliding across the leather seat. Vision’s reflexes were fast as always, his hands quickly steadying her, one at her back the other coming to rest at her hip. They both froze and Wanda looked up, hating how easy it was to lean into his touch. Vision’s eyes glittered in the dim light of the car, their brightness shifting as he took in her face. Suddenly she was taken back to that fateful morning the week before. She’d known it was a bad idea before she’d even made it to his room. Had known she should have run before he woke up instead of pretending to keep sleeping in the warmth of his presence, relishing in the familiarity of his hands on her body. What she would give to wake up to that every morning. But no – no this wasn’t happening, it couldn’t, it wasn’t in her cards.

“Alright, here we go,” Steve said unaware of what was unfolding in the backseat. He swung open the passenger door and they were immediately met with the clicking of cameras and shouting of the crowd.

Wanda moved away and Vision’s hands disappeared from her body so quickly she felt sure he had used his superhuman speed. She quickly finished tightening the strap of her shoe and threw her door open, taking Steve’s arm as he came to help her up.

Vision was left to scramble out of the car on his own as Nat hurried after Wanda who had practically stormed away from the car. He hung his head sadly, trying to pull himself together in time for the cameras.

At the front of the glamorous hall that was the location for the evening, Vision managed to skip the questions from the reporters outside. He didn’t often get questions, with the Tony and Steve taking the blow for the rest of them. Wanda had disappeared in a flash of red, heading up the stairs and into the hall before he could catch her. Tony caught Vision’s elbow and pulled him over for a photo. They smiled genially at the cameras which were entirely unaware of the underhanded question Tony asked.

“Everything alright, bud?” Tony whispered through his smile. “Wanda looked a little frazzled.”

“Everything’s fine, we’re fine,” Vision lied, doing his best to smile in the direction of the cameras. He was yet to master Tony’s people pleasing smile.

A break in the flashing allowed them to speak a little more candidly. “Anything you need to tell me about?”

“Nope,” Vision said confidently, backtracking towards the stairs. “Everything’s peachy!”

The inside of the hall was larger and more confusing that Vision was prepared for. The dancing was in full swing. It surprised him, he didn’t know that humans still danced this way, it didn’t match up with what he had seen on television or the internet. It made him grateful for the simulations he’d been running in the back of his mind all afternoon in the hopes that he wouldn’t be caught unawares. He must have included a waltz or two in there somewhere.

The building itself was grand, its ceiling arcing high above not unlike the interior of a church. Enormous windows lined the walls, curtains shifting as couples span around the dance floor. The architecture felt old, the whole building felt old to him. The chandeliers that hung from the ceiling felt out of place, overly modern compared with their surroundings. He was momentarily distracted by curiosity, reaching into the power source of the building the electricity surging through its walls to power the bright lights. Interesting, he thought. It was all authentic wiring but he couldn’t understand how such old powerlines could power the sheer amount of light sockets the room held. He reached further and felt the familiar warmth of an arc reactor, hiding in the basement of the building. It made sense, this was a heritage building that Tony had received patronage of from his parents. This tangent came to a quick end as Vision made his way around the edge of the crowded middle of the hall. He ignored the looks he was getting, the general curiosity of the humans for once felt unimportant.

Vision bit his lip as his eyes search for Wanda. What he would say when he found her, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure if she wanted an apology or if he even wished to give one. Vision couldn’t feel sorry for the emotions that thrummed through his heart when he saw her. He didn’t feel sorry for wanting to be more than a friend to Wanda. And it was difficult to see such feelings as one sided, not when the tension between them had become so tangible in recent days.

He caught sight of Wanda near the centre of the dancing pairs, Sam Wilson was twirling her around and around. It was a wonder she didn’t get dizzy. Even from here, and over the sound of the string quartet, Vision could hear her peal of laughter as they goofed around. Vision was about to start making his way through the crowd when Natasha grabbed his elbow. It was the second time he had been forcibly stopped from going to Wanda’s side and he was beginning to get frustrated.

“Are you about to cause a scene?” Natasha asked, her grip tight on his arm.

Vision didn’t reply.

“Because I am all for making scenes,” Nat smirked, “but maybe not at a charity event?”

Vision looked sideways at Natasha, wondering precisely how much he should tell her. He trusted her, but also knew she was usually Wanda’s confidant.

“I just want to talk to her,” Vision said quietly. Natasha smiled fondly at him, her eyes shining with understanding.

“I’ll get you close enough.”

Vision was about to ask how she planned to do this when she grabbed both his hands and pulled him out into the swirling mass of couples. Vision thanked his lucky stars that he had taken the time to pick up some basics before tonight.

Natasha led, using her hands to weave around dancing couples. Vision smiled. He was nervous but Natasha’s ease as they danced made him feel more relaxed. Her grace on the battlefield had never been in doubt, but he had never seen her properly dance before. This Natasha was something else.

She smiled brightly as they spun around and around, getting closer and closer to Wanda and Sam who were still dancing on the other side of the room.

As they neared Natasha had Vision spin her around once before extending her out towards Sam and Wanda.

Nat tapped Wanda’s shoulder and held her hand out to Sam. “Mind if I steal your partner for a bit?”

Wanda grinned and scrunched her nose, “be my guest, I’m sure he’d appreciate someone who actually knows how to dance.”

“Yeah, but not someone’s who’s better than me!” Sam said indignantly but smiled at Nat and took her hand. Nat sent a meaningful look at Vision over Wanda’s shoulder.

Wanda turned around to leave the dance floor only to come face to face with Vision’s outstretched hand, and the barely restrained nerves on his face. To Vision’s surprise she didn’t hesitate in taking his invitation. Slowly they eased themselves back into the crowd for a waltz. Her hand slid onto his shoulder, as Vision rested his hand on her waist. This time Wanda didn’t pull away.

“You look beautiful, Wanda.” It was something of an understatement, but Vision didn’t quite know how to put into words exactly the reaction Wanda was giving him.

“Thank you, Vision,” she smiled her eyes looking everywhere except his face. “You look nice too.”

“I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” Vision began hesitantly.

“Yes,” Wanda sighed, not unhappily, “we do need to talk.”

They were quiet a few more moments, swaying with the violins echoing to the ceiling high above them. Wanda’s dress swirled about her legs, and Vision had to take care to note step on her hem. He’d never forgive himself if he stepped on her toes. The music shifted and the dancers began to change directions. Wanda and Vision did their best to follow suit. Vision pulled her closer to avoid the clumsiness of another couple.

Wanda shivered under his touch, her hand had shifted to brace herself against his colour bone, her thumb brushing his neck. He gazed down at her, wondering if she could feel how quickly his pulse was thrumming.

They must have looked strange, standing still that and so Wanda broke the spell by taking a step back. Vision pulled his arm back around, finding her waist again and began to dance slowly.

Wanda was looking at him fully now, and it took all of Vision’s periphery senses to make sure they didn’t get too lost in each other’s eyes and start crashing into other couples.

“You know I want you,” Vision said, hating how the words caught in his throat, a last attempt to stop himself from crossing their self-imposed line.

“No,” Wanda murmured, her eyes darting around apprehensively. “There are too many people.”

“Are you ashamed?” Vision pushed. He needed answers and if he had to be let down, he’d rather it be now.

Wanda frowned, her brows pulling together. She shook her head, looking down from him to gather her thoughts.

Vision started a little as she spoke within his head, she glanced up at him, her eyes glowing a dark red that matched her dress. ‘Of course, I am not ashamed of you, I would never, ever want you to think that.’

“Then—” Vision said out loud, but Wanda continued.

‘But there are doors we can’t go through.’

Vision did his best to think clearly so that she would hear his thoughts. His words were becoming too personal to speak aloud. ‘You say that, but the only thing that matters here is us, what we think and what we want.’

When Wanda didn’t reply for a moment, he repeated himself. ‘I want you.’

His meaning couldn’t be lost with her in his head. He knew she saw it, saw his feelings.

‘I know,’ her voice whispered somewhere between his ears. ‘It’s hard for me too—’

Vision waited for her to continue, barely conscious that they were still spinning across the marbled floor of the grand hall.

‘But I’m afraid – how can you be sure this will work. How do you know we won’t break each other?’

Her words said one thing, but his mind heard another. Wanda wasn’t worrying about herself, no, she was consumed by the fear that she would hurt him, break his newly fragile heart.

‘You underestimate my strength,’ Vision replied, smiling. ‘You couldn’t break my heart; it is what it is because of you. Will you not let us even try?’

When Wanda didn’t reply Vision spoke aloud. “No one gets to decide who we are without our permission.”

“This is bigger than us,” Wanda whispered, leaning closer to him.

“It shouldn’t be.”

“I know.”

Vision dipped his head down, to reach Wanda’s cheek and press a tender kiss to it. “I want to decide my own destiny, with you. I would rewrite the stars if it meant a lifetime by your side.”

Wanda didn’t say anything, and he wasn’t able to see her expression before she sent herself off twirling away. When she reached the end of his grip, he pulled her back in. For a second Vision thought his bold words would all be in vain, that his confession wouldn’t trump Wanda’s fears. But then she was right before him, nose to nose, sharing the same air. He gazed into her eyes, slowing their dancing until they had come to a stop in the centre of the dance floor.

“Okay,” Wanda said, her eyes bright and a smile on her face. “Let’s rewrite the stars then.”

Vision was starstruck, both hands on her waist and totally lost in what she had just said. He was equally as shocked when Wanda slid her hands up over his shoulders and pulled him down to her mouth.

Vision stopped breathing, lost in the sensation of her lips moving against his own. It felt right, as right as anything could feel.

Vision felt Wanda jump before there was a harsh ringing above them and a fizzling pop. When he opened his eyes, sparks were flying down from above and the room sank into darkness. There was a commotion of cries of shock from the patrons. Vision pulled back to look around, trying to figure out what had gone wrong and then he felt it, the absence of a connection he had forgotten he had even forged. Vision laughed, feeling giddy. Slightly embarrassed that all it had taken was Wanda's kiss for him to overload a building's power source and blow every fixture.

“I, um,” Vision bit his lip, “I might have had something to do with that.”

Wanda laughed and it was music to his ears. He kissed her again, smiling into her embrace. Wanda was wrong about this not being in their cards. They were chaos and order, destined to collide.

[anika-ann]

The 5 Times Steve Felt Betrayed - Pt.3

and the 1 Time He Felt Like He Was Betraying You

Type: mini-series to a series (part 1 & part 2 & Part 3),  Avenger!reader AU.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader, Matt Murdock & reader        

Word count: 2750

Summary: The airport battle comes to pass. Steve is not impressed. However, his major facepalm is coming in 3, 2, 1...

Warnings: violence, language, angst, physical pain, mention of human experimentation

A/N: This part of Melting Hearts’ verse follows the events of CA: Civil War, sometimes only referencing them and kinda expecting the readers to know what’s up ;)

Posted in double chapters (1st &2nd time, 3th & 4th, 5th+1)

Previous part

────── ·❆· ──────  

5. (Turning Tables)

When Tony showed up at the airport, just according to their plan… you were side by side with him.

Steve felt sorry for not burning the letter when he had changed into the uniform. He had promised himself that he would definitely read it when having the time, so he had secured it into a zip-zap bag and hid in the pocket of his pants instead. Now he knew that every word you must have written into the letter was poison and his right leg felt a ton heavier than his left one.

Steve knew that for the most part, it was the feeling of betrayal talking – but he was revisiting every single interaction with you, all of your words replaying in his head, and wondered, where he had gone wrong. What he had missed. How could he not see you as you truly were? A traitor. A liar. A coward, because while you were standing right next to Natasha, you weren’t even able to meet Steve’s eyes – unlike the spy.

He desperately wanted to meet your eyes. To look deeply into your soul and see if you were ashamed at least. For leading him on for so long.

The truth was, you were; ashamed, horrified and a little bit proud. But Steve didn’t seem to know that – which meant he either was as good as you were, or he hadn’t even touched the letter, which was pretty understandable actually.

“You’re gonna turn and come with us. Because it’s us! Don’t you see what you had done?! You tore the team apart – you even drove the woman who had ridiculous amount of trust in you, who loved you for god’s sake, away from you!” Tony yelled at him, apparently losing his nerves.

It made Steve’s blood boil.

“You don’t talk about my relationship with her like this! You have no business in that!”

“Yeah, and what about her? Does she have any business in that? She apparently has more reason than you do! Try to use your brain for a goddamn second, Rogers!”

“Tony…” Natasha whispered warningly.

It was the exact moment Sam’s voice sounded in Steve’s ear, informing him about the quinjet in hangar five; their plan of escape.

Despite the bitterness of this reunion, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of hope and satisfaction. He raised his tied hands above his head and a second later, Clint’s precisely aimed arrow freed him of the strange organic cuffs that dangerously reminded him of an actual cobweb.

It was time to punch their way out of this one, only to do a lot more punching later if they succeeded.

────── ·❆· ──────  

Steve was really busy trying to keep T’Challa from Bucky, too much to keep an eye on you. But when he had a second, he sought you on the battlefield subconsciously, checking if you were alright. He didn’t even have the energy to feel like a hypocrite with his own action, with the annoying habit.

He only found you staying out of the fight, keeping a careful eye on each of the individual combats – but never interfering.

His stomach rolled over, his vision blurring for a moment as his head spun. You were standing aside, watching your friends and him getting beat up. Like a coward.

What else were you? A back-up for if Tony and his friends would be losing? The ace in their sleeves?

Steve felt the bile rising up his throat at the thought. How had that happened? When?

It was only when Vision appeared that you looked up, all of your attention focused on the android who had entered the fight and literally drew a line between the two teams.

You joined the line created by Tony, Rhodey, Natasha, Vision, T’Challa and Spider-kid, standing against Steve’s team. Seven versus six – Steve was outnumbered.

And that was on you.

For the first time since you had encountered him at the airport, you met his eyes for a split second. Steve was shocked when he found the windows to your soul, usually so sincerely open, perfectly locked, your expression unreadable. He couldn’t bear it and looked away as he eyed his team and started jogging towards his former teammates and friends. And fiancée.

The opposite side broke into a run too.

And then you abruptly stopped, your hand hitting the ground hard, creating a thick layer of ice under your supposed teammates’ feet, knocking three of them off balance. And the remaining three who had managed to get in the air – Vision, Rhodey and Tony – were soon busy avoiding icicles shot from your hands.

Steve froze and it had nothing to do with your powers.

Wanda seemed unfazed by your action, throwing herself into a fight; the ice seemed to be conveniently melting under her feet as if she was the one controlling it. Which was impossible. It must have been all you. Which… what?

“Alright, does that mean Miss Iceberg over there is on our side now?” Scott yelled after everyone and it snapped Steve from his trance.

Well, it looked like it now. Steve didn’t spend much time pondering about it and rather went after Tony, who was getting dangerously close to him.

“She always has been!” Wanda cried out in response, sending Vision crashing into a plane.

“SHE WHAT?!” Steve shouted over the roar of the fight, punching Tony’s metal-covered face. The mechanical voice had asked the same question and seemed stunned – it bought Steve enough time to shoot you a look.

Oh, you were definitely fighting on their side with the way you trapped Spiderman’s hands in an impressive column of ice growing from the ground. It reminded Steve of their own arrest and confused the hell out of him.

Wanda threw away T’Challa who had come down on Bucky with a battle cry. “The letter! I was trying to tell you!”

It felt like a punch to Steve’s gut and only a second later, an actual punch followed.

Really? Was that what was written there? That you were on their side? What, the whole time? But that was impossible! You had sabotaged their escape, you had held back at every other occasion, you hadn’t come with Wanda! You had signed!

…but had you? Had you really signed, or had you just been stalling? Didn’t the fact you hadn’t arrived with Wanda give you the advantage of knowing Tony’s plan, learning any possible aces in his sleeves? Had there been a reason why you had helped the agency to get Steve and Bucky too? What kind of game had you been playing?

Steve quickly shook off the confusing thoughts. You would have to be playing Tony and everyone from the beginning. Or maybe you had changed your mind during the process?

An iron fist hitting his jaw brought him back to reality very quickly and he decided the reasons you had weren’t important – not now.

But before he could block another punch, Iron Man was gushed away by what looked like a cubic meter iceberg. Steve only gasped, his head snapping to the source. You gave him a quick smile and nodded.

“You need to go. I’ll help with holding them off.”

“But-“

“Go, Steve!” you cried out, your voice urgent, your sincere eyes glaring into his.

He saw it now. He saw you. His heart skipped a beat with the realization; you truly were fighting for them. For him. But how?

“You owe me an explain-“

“That can wait! Just go!”

“Then come with me!” he blurted out hastily, which only made you shook your head.

“Here, I can buy you some time! Go!”

“Goddammit, Snowflake, I’m not leaving you! They— I don’t know what they’ll do to you!”

“Duh, what else is new. Just move your ass, Captain!” you yelled and tiny icicles came at him from his left. He shook them off, only to realize they were fragments of the cobweb, frozen and useless thanks to your quick reaction – you had just prevented a whole new set of sticky trouble coming at him.

It made him sick all over again, because he just didn’t know what was happening, what had been happening. He shot a you a desperate glance.

“GET OUT OF HERE!”

He set his jaw tight, his feet as if frozen and itching to run at the same time. Before he could make up his goddamn mind, a wall of ice appeared, shielding him from you and his assailant.

You had decided for him. And as much as he hated it, as much as he felt like a complete ass, he had to admit you were right. He had to go.

And so he did.

The quinjet was already in the air when you fell to the ground with an agonized scream as the sharpest pain you had ever felt attacked the base of your spine and paralyzed you for several moments. You blacked out only seconds after you found a way to move your fingers; the last thing you saw was Natasha’s worried and pissed off face.

────── ·❆· ──────  

+1 (The Reversal)

The hum of the quinjet was so low no ordinary man would hear it; but now, it was two supersoldiers in it, Steve piloting, Bucky sitting beside him, and at least one of them found the white noise comforting. It muffled Steve’s loud thoughts a little. But sound could never prevent his emotions from coming at him and since he didn’t have to fight at the moment, he was failing at pushing them away.

"What’s gonna happen to your friends?" Bucky’s low tenor cut the silence like a knife, directing Steve’s thoughts exactly the where he didn’t want them to go.

His eyes absently traced the sky, his mind getting all too loud. For a moment, he didn’t even know what to say. He didn’t know the answer and he wasn’t sure he wanted to. And it wasn’t just his friends he was worried about. Even your fate was in the hands of people who didn’t really care; those who might still care must have been furious with you and their hands were tied by the stupid document that had divided the team in half anyway.

Steve had no idea what the future held; the only certainty he had was that whatever would happen, it wouldn’t be pretty.

"Whatever it is, I'll deal with it," he replied instead, trying so damn hard to keep his voice even.

"I don't know if I'm worth all this, Steve.”

As if something truly broke in Steve, he cracked a sorrowful smile. Worth. Worth fighting for. Worth saving. Worth a chance at redemption. Steve couldn’t help but wonder if it was just him being a magnet for people with self-worth issues of if it came with the job description.

"What you did all those years… it wasn't you. You didn’t have a choice."

"I know. But I still did it."

The sentence was hanging in the air for a long time, too truthful to be disproved. Steve knew all too well he couldn’t change the past – but what he could always do was to fight for a better tomorrow.

"Even so, you still deserve a chance to redeem yourself."

"At what cost?” Bucky asked, his voice heavy with regrets. The knot in Steve’s stomach tightened. “This gal of yours-"

"Bucky, don't-" Steve pleaded silently, tears pricking in his eyes at the mention of you.

"-she seems... nice. I honestly have no idea whose side she was on, but she saved our asses there, kicking everyone else's.”

"I... I don't know either,” Steve admitted honestly, sighing.

What he did know for sure was that leaving you there was wrong. It felt like betraying the trust you had put into him; no matter the fact you had been the one who had told him to get out of there.

“She's good. Pretty. Badass fighter. I sense a pattern," Bucky brought up with a hint of a joke. The corners of Steve’s lips barely twitched.

"It wasn't like that when we first met."

"What do you mean?"

"Her... being like this."

Steve didn’t know what had possessed him to give in – perhaps it was the kind of talk he missed, mixed with Bucky keeping him company. With Bucky, who cared for him, who was curious about what he had missed from Steve’s life.

"What was it like then?"

"She was… alone. Scared of what her powers did. She gave me a frostbite the first time we met – without intending to. She was wallowing in guilt, because she hurt people, not knowing how it happened. Terrified she would hurt more. How's that for a pattern?"

Steve was confident Bucky had noticed the obvious nudge at their resemblance, but he didn’t take the bait. His friend lived to surprise; he snorted silently.

"You have the weirdest taste."

It brought an honest smile to Steve’s face, a warm feeling he wouldn’t expect filling his chest. Bucky continued though.

"You called her something, when we were fighting. It was cute. It was... what was it?"

Steve cleared his throat awkwardly. Bucky was cool and all, but the he would never let Steve live down the nickname he had given you.

"The whole team— what used to be a team, they all have a nickname for her.... Thor, you haven't met him, he calls her Lady of Ice."

"Oh wow."

"The public... they call her Frostbite. She doesn't like it much. Stark-“ and the name tasted way too bitter on Steve’s tongue, “-calls her Elsa – it's from some new fairy tale."

"Cute. Speaking of fairy tales, anyone calls her Snow Queen?"

"No. But... uhm… a friend calls her Gerda."

"A friend, huh?" Bucky emphasized knowingly, making Steve actually blush a little. There was no way Steve could ever supress the feeling of jealousy towards the man in the Devil costume or the lawyer he was disguising as in the daylight.

"They went on a date. Right before... before we got together."

And for some reason, she had sought him out after the mission in Nigeria.

"No way,” Bucky laughed excitedly, his mood shooting up towards the stars. Steve couldn’t hold back his own smile at the happy sound. “Did you have to like... fight him to win her favour or something?"

"No. She... she picked me, without a fight."

"Ah, I can feel your ego boosting."

"Yeah, well. She… she chose me and...”

Steve thought of what Bucky said before and what he said to him – about a pattern. He thought about him almost dying when he had been injected with the anti-serum and you had almost dying, pushing yourself to your very limit to save him. About you saying no to Matt. About you pulling Steve behind you when he had laid down his shield, which had left him somewhat unprotected. About you deciding to stay with the Avengers instead of disappearing off the grid with your parents. About you running away in attempt to keep the danger from him. And now about risking everything – including his trust – when turning against Tony while standing by his side.

You had always chosen him. And this was how he was repaying you. With leaving you behind.

“And I guess she always has,” Steve stated softly, his expression missing the flicker of happiness he felt just a minute ago; the dark thoughts swallowed it all. “Worked for her well."

"What happened to dealing with what's to come?"

Steve sighed, gripping the stalk tighter. There was a lot to come and he had in fact no clue how to deal with it.

"I'm glad you have someone like her, Steve," Bucky announced, patting Steve’s shoulder brotherly.

If I still have her, Steve thought bitterly. Even if he was about to get you out of the lurch he had left you in… there was no guarantee you would forgive him his ignorance.

He didn’t say any of that out loud though.

"Yeah. Yeah, me too. It's just..." he said instead, his voice trailing off rather than finishing the sentence.

"You will deal with what's to come. You're too stubborn to give up, punk."

That he was.

"I'm not giving up on you either, Buck."

"Thanks, Steve… but that was cheesy as hell."

Steve couldn’t but chuckle. It was good to have his friend back. He just wished the circumstances were way different. If nothing else, he wished the attempt to save Bucky and take care of the potential Winter Soldiered men didn’t come with the price of leaving you behind. Leaving you with the mess he had caused and betraying you – just like he had thought you had been doing for the past few weeks.

The universe had a very twisted sense of humour. But it was something Steve would have to deal with later.

────── ·❆· ──────  

Bonus chapter

────── ·❆· ──────

That would be it – six chapters are kinda the point of 5+1 stuff.

BUT there’s a bonus coming, for much needed closure. Pretty much a cheesy one too, set after the rescue one-man mission from at The Raft. Because me and my brain apparently don’t understand the concept of a 5+1 work. Also, it offers a bit of Reader’s insight, so… hopefully it’s not such a capital crime.

Worse things have happened, right? You can always just cut it here ;) (please don’t, I mean, if you have made it this far… :D )

Also, Snowflake’s hurt at the airport was caused by the fail-safe she was installed with in Hands Too Cold, in case you forgot :-*

[narrators-journal]

I’ll send a post card

Content warning: I forgot to put this in the last part, but this part includes phone sex and blueballing

Previous: here

Beginning: here

As if to punish Ango for that night in the bathroom at work, Taneada strolled over to his desk a few days later to talk to him about some paperwork he wasn't clear enough on, which instantly set off alarms in the brunette's head. Then, he dropped the facade of nonchalant work chatter and finally confirmed the brunette's worst fear.          "Listen, I know you're already trying to catch up after your 'break', but I need you to do a certain job for me." It may have been blatant that he wasn't the most thrilled with this news, because his boss pat his shoulder reassuringly, "Not to worry, it's a small job. I just need you to fact check an item that's said to have heavy ties to a certain rat." Taneada's smile was friendly, but Ango could tell he really didn't get a choice. So, instead of arguing, he just agreed and noted down his departure time the next day. After that, he seemed to go into his usual auto-pilot, not really zoning back into reality until he was on the plane, his head resting on a neck pillow with his glasses in one hand and his other massaging the bridge of his nose where his glasses usually sat. It gave him a bit of much needed relief in such a familiarly stressful situation. He hated it, but at least he could nap on the plane, so that was a plus, however, he also couldn't call you on the plane, so there was a downside. In fact, he couldn't call you for most of the day when he finally landed a while later in the bitter chill of Russia. He would've called or messaged you when he got to his hotel room, but he didn't get a moment to. Instead, he was only allowed to put his bags in the room and fish out a thick winter coat and gloves before he was back out in the weather, heading off to the towns government branch building to inform his contact that he'd arrived and to fill out the appropriate paperwork to permit him use of his power. He was thankful that at least the building had heat, so he wasn't stuck becoming a popsicle while the polar-bears-for-natives snickered, but he never enjoyed the paperwork for temporary power usage. Of course, Ango never complained. Russia simply had a much stricter grip on the citizen's powers, they had to fill out forms informing the government of their abilities, how they worked, and so on, and weren't allowed to use their abilities without the paperwork Ango was now sat at a desk filling out, so for work, school, medical reasons, whatever situation called for a power. It was kind of like America's gun laws, but much stricter, something the government official appreciated as much as resented for it's thorough nature and how useful it could be when it came to keeping track of people. Of course, the brunette wasn't exempt from this rule, since he would be required to use Discourse on Decadence for his work he spent a good chunk of the remaining day filling out the appropriate paperwork for a temporary permit. Once he was done with that though, he was sent back to his hotel. The sun had already gone down by the time he was back in his room, but he decided to risk the fucked up time zones to talk to you. He missed your humor, voice, and playful demeanor. What could he say? He'd grown fond of having someone to call and at least inform that he was okay.        "Hello?" You chirped through the line, your voice making the man smile a bit,        "Uh, hi, I was just wanting to call and tell you that I'm off on a job, so I'll be gone a few days, but I'm fine." He assured, working on making a cup of coffee while he held his phone with his shoulder and talked to you.         "Oh! That's where you went," you hummed, "Well, where are you in the world?"        "I can't tell you, it's kind of classified, but just know that I am alive and well, and I will eventually be home." He could hear your hum turn into a grumpy huff, making him smile a bit, "I'd tell you my location if I could," He promised, and that seemed to sate your curiosity for a bit. After that, Ango just sat on his hotel bed, sipping his coffee, fishing his laptop out of his bag to work as he spoke with you until you went to bed for the night. After that, Ango sent his first daily progress report back to headquarters and tried to go through some of the relaxing and destressing techniques his therapist had taught him. He also looked into hobbies for himself, something simple and portable to deal with his anxiety towards not being productive 24/7, then, he too went to bed for the night. The next few days were full of work for Ango, made only slightly better by the rituals his therapist had encouraged him to do, but the true bright side of his day was the few times he could text or call you, even if he fell asleep during your conversations. Nevertheless, he found he enjoyed having someone to talk to, someone to fall asleep on the phone with. He had never actually had that.            "Are you going to fall asleep on the call again?" You asked with a snort while Ango walked into his hotel room after another long day of pushing his power to the limits and taking in all of the information he could from the artifact Taneada suspected was tied to the agency's biggest threat at the moment.           "Well, would you prefer I have a healthy sleep schedule, or return to my old habits of staying up for three days straight and then eventually crashing?" He asked, taking his glasses off for the night and stretching out on the hotel bed,            "Damn, when did you stay up for three days straight?"            "It was actually a pretty common occurrence not too long ago. I've told you how I'm a workaholic, right?" He heard your little noise of agreement, "well, before my break, I would take that to the extreme. I would regularly stay up for two or more days straight to work, scrambling to meet impossible deadlines and just file reports or whatnot." he sighed as he explained it, remembering all of the times Taneada would stack more paperwork on him just as he finished the last pile, pushing him to stay up and finish it so that none of it was filed late. It was a miracle he never screwed up on the filing.           "That doesn't sound healthy, I'd prefer you not do that again." you said, pulling him back to reality, "I just want to talk to you and not have you pass out just before I initiate something." He could hear the pout in your voice, and he already knew what you had been wanting to initiate.           "Well, go ahead and initiate your idea now, that way I can't fall asleep before you get the chance." He offered, and he could almost hear your smirk. For a moment, you chatted nonchalantly, flirting and slowly escalated the conversation while he slowly turned redder, but flirted back. It was pretty relaxing to just flirt and lay on the hotel bed with nothing but the closet light illuminating the small room for a while, it also didn't hurt that your dirty talk was easily stirring up filthy images and scenarios in his head. The image of you grinding against his groin like you promised to, having you kissing his neck, the fantasy alone brought his blood directly to his member, but your coy hum while you described everything you wanted to do when he got back just threw gasoline on the fire. Almost mindlessly, his hand slid to the growing tent in his pants, palming himself while you described just how badly you wanted him. In return, he slipped in his own ideas on what would happen when he returned from his trip. He was a bit clunky at first, from a mixture of building pleasure and just plain inexperience, but he got the hang of it pretty quickly and tried not to linger on his mistakes, it'd ruin the high he was trying so hard to maintain. Thankfully, you seemed a little too preoccupied to heckle him about his awkward attempts, too busy assumedly playing with yourself like he was, which he could tell from the way you moaned or got breathy when you spoke. It was a sign he was sure you could hear in his own voice whenever he talked about what he'd do in response to your ideas, but he didn't care. So long as he had the mental image of your (s/c) body against his, with the thought of your moans being heard in person and not through a phone, he couldn't seem to focus on much of anything else, let alone how shameful he may have sounded.                "Are you close?~" You breathed, just as Ango was beginning to slip his hand down his pants to properly stroke his aching member, getting a hum of agreement in response. He expected you to say something dirty, maybe ask if he was thinking of cumming inside of you, but instead of any further dirty talk, he heard you let out a little breath and say "Great, I'm gonna go to bed now~" before hanging up abruptly. For a moment, he just laid there, listening to the silence before his hormone-addled brain caught up to what happened.             "Oh, you are so fucking dead." He growled, yanking his hand from his pants and going to get some toilet paper to wipe it clean before messaging you. Ango: Excuse me?? (y/n): Lol, you're excused🙂 Ango:  Why'd you hang up? (y/n): To blueball you, of course, lolol. That way you're good and riled up when you get home~ Ango: I am not neglecting myself that long. (y/n): Well than, you've got some photos, but until you get back, you don't get to hear me orgasm❤️ For a while longer, he tried to convince you to get back on a call with him, but you were annoyingly stubborn. He was going to need to wait if he wanted any further assistance from you.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, browney3dgirl6!

For @browney3dgirl6. I hope you enjoy this gift as much as I did writing it. Have a wonderful holiday with some sterek pining angst with a happy ending! 

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 6000

Tags: Pining, Miscommunication, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - College/University, Roommates, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Getting Together, Friends to Lovers, Oblivious Stiles Stilinski, Oblivious Derek Hale, Idiots in Love

Read On AO3

*****

Call Him More

There was a lot that Stiles could be grateful for in his relatively boring life. Even though he lost his mother at a too young age, he and his father had never been closer. He had gone to high school with a close-knit group of friends that always had each other’s backs through the ups and the downs of adolescent drama. When he graduated, he got into a college not too far from home that offered his dream major of graphic design.

Unlike most of his friends, he took a year off to work and save up some money so he didn’t have to deal with the college roommate situation after the required first year.  When he was assigned his room, however, he thought he might pretend he didn’t have enough money for an apartment. If it meant rooming with tall, dark, and handsome, Stiles figured it wouldn’t be all that bad.

He had known he was not totally straight since his freshman year of high school. Openly gay, Danny, had brought the group to a gay bar that wasn’t exactly thorough with their license checks and Stiles had slowly realized that he didn’t feel as out of place as his friends did. Scott was vaguely uncomfortable but very kind about it because that was just who Scott was, and Stiles thought that maybe the reason he wasn’t as uneasy was that he belonged there.

Forming an identity was the hardest part of growing up for Stiles, but he had done it just as quickly as the rest of his friends. He was open about his attraction to, well, everyone, but never let that dictate any part of his life besides who he decided to date.

That was until he met Derek Hale.

Stiles had seen a lot of hot people in his life - his friends had been considered the prettiest people in Beacon Hills High School and he wasn’t sure how he had stayed a part of the group - but nothing came even remotely close to the perfect pouted smolder, thick arched eyebrows, and kaleidoscope eyes that Stiles thought even the straightest of men would get lost in. Derek Hale was the most gorgeous person Stiles had ever seen in his life and because Stiles had almost no filter from his brain to his mouth, he said as much when they first met.

“I think I’m in the wrong room,” Stiles said as he gaped at the stunning man in front of him. The man raised his impressive eyebrows and sat down on the edge of his bed before gesturing to the twin mattress on the other side of the room.

“Are you in 110?” The man asked and Stiles thought a voice had never sounded so seductive before that moment. The man was a god and Stiles was truly unworthy.

“Can you pinch me, because you’re so fine I must be dreaming.” Stiles regretted the words almost immediately. Scott had told him to lay off the cheesy pick-up lines and that there was a time and place for them and sometimes that was never and nowhere.

The man furrowed his eyebrows before asking, “Do you have a name?” Before Stiles could answer, the man smirked almost shyly and said, “Or can I call you mine?” Stiles couldn’t help the burst of laughter that left his lips. He placed the box in his arms on the bare mattress across from the man before offering a hand.

“Stiles,” he said. The man took his hand firmly and his smile seemed to light up the entire room.

“Derek,” his roommate said and Stiles hadn’t realized how much one name could change his life.

~~~o~~~

“She’s gonna be here in like 15 minutes, Stiles, can you please just clean up the excessive amount of chip bags on the floor?” Derek yelled from where he was making his bed. Stiles rolled his eyes but noticed the stark contrast between their sides of the room. Derek made a point to fix his sheets and fluff his pillows every morning while Stiles was lucky if he washed his on a weekly basis. Derek’s belongings were meticulously stacked on their rightful shelves and his desk looked as though a scholar had been creating their next published work on the smooth top.

“Why do you even care what my side of the room looks like?” Stiles asked through a mouthful of Cheetos. Derek stared at him with the judgmental gaze Stiles had grown to know and love before wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb. Stiles rolled his eyes but wiped his flannel sleeve across his lips just to appease Derek who smiled sarcastically back at him.

“I actually like to impress the people I want to date, unlike someone,” Derek said pointedly as he stood in front of the mirror and ran a hand through his gelled hair. Stiles ignored how absolutely perfect he looked in favor of standing and brushing off the crumbs that had fallen over him.

“Awe, you want me to impress the people you date, too?” Stiles cooed as he made his fingers into little guns and pointed at Derek with a wink. Stiles saw the dejected sigh in the way Derek’s shoulders rose and fell as he fixed the collar of his shirt.

“You’re my best friend and roommate, Stiles. Anyone I date is bound to spend a lot of time with you. Would it kill you to put a little effort in? For me?” Derek asked as he turned, his eyes pleading in a way Stiles thought no one could ever say no to. He ignored the pang in his heart from the subtle insult and kept his usual sideways smile on his face.

“I’ll put in as much effort as you put into keeping that tie crooked,” Stiles said with a raise of his eyebrows. Derek looked down, tilting his chin as best he could to catch a glimpse at his handiwork. Stiles wiped his cheesy hands on his jeans before stepping up to his best friend and gripping onto the imperfect knot.

“Why don’t you see if Danny is free to go out tonight? I’m worried you’re spending too much time alone,” Derek said softly. Stiles adjusted the tie around Derek’s neck and tried to ignore the ghost of a breath across his cheeks. He wasn’t sure why he kept putting himself in that position; so close to Derek before he left to woo another woman. When he looked up at Derek as he looped the smaller end of the tie into place, though, he remembered that it was worth it to see the bright smile on Derek’s lips.

“I’ll dial up Scott and see if he can tear himself away from Allison for the night, okay?” Stiles never intended to do that, but Derek seemed relieved at the thought so he counted it as a win. Stiles realized that there wasn’t an excuse to help Derek anymore as the tie was sorted, so he patted Derek’s chest with awkward palms and stepped away slowly. “You look great. You taking her to Nonna’s?” Stiles hated that he knew his friend took his first dates to the fancy Italian place across town as Derek nodded in response.

“She said she wasn’t ‘sure’ about Italian food, but…” Stiles gaped at the preposterous notion that anyone could dislike Nonna’s and shook his head as he settled back into his bed. He opened his laptop to try and ignore the slow way Derek coated his lips in chapstick as if preparing for a date ending kiss and fired up an episode of his favorite comfort TV show.

“If she’s a dud, bring me back some fettuccine, yeah?” Stiles asked as Derek opened the door. Derek turned back to him with a small smile on his face that almost looked sad and Stiles wasn’t really sure why. He was the one going out on a Saturday night while Stiles ate junk food and watched the same show he had already seen at least six times through all alone.

“You got it,” Derek agreed.

The door slammed shut behind him and Stiles flinched at the sound. It was one he was all too familiar with. It was the sound of him losing Derek to another person that wasn’t him.

It had only taken Stiles about six months to realize that what he felt for Derek was entirely more than platonic. Derek was the hardest person to figure out but the challenge was one that Stiles couldn’t ignore. He was practically obsessed with trying to get Derek to crack another rare joke or respond with a laugh instead of an eye roll or a scrunch of confusion prominent on his eyebrows. He had put every ounce of his energy during his freshman year of college into figuring out how to get closer to Derek and it took Danny calling him out in front of everyone for him to truly realize that wasn’t quite platonic.

“Is Derek coming out with us tonight, too?” Danny asked as they pushed open the doors to the club they had frequented even before some of the group had turned eighteen. Stiles shook his head and stared at Danny, unsure why he would even ask.

“Derek’s never been out with us unless it involves food,” Stiles reminded him as they caught sight of Scott, Allison, and Lydia waving frantically from the table they had somehow procured in the busy venue.

“Yeah, but I figured things were different now…”

“Guys! You finally made it!” Scott pulled Stiles into a tight hug, but Stiles was too focused on Danny’s words to appreciate the comforting gesture from his best friend. He pushed Scott away a bit quicker than he usually would have and turned back toward Danny who had Lydia in a side squeeze.

“What do you mean ‘different’? Nothing’s different with Derek and me,” Stiles corrected as if the thought offended him. It hadn’t, but he wasn’t about to let his closest friends in on how ridiculously head over heels he was for his straight roommate. Not when they would only try to convince him to stop as if it was possible, as if Stiles hadn’t already tried.

“Yeah, I mean now that you guys are, you know, dating? Hooking up? Whatever you’ve decided to label it,” Danny said with a shrug. A shrug. As if the entire prospect was obvious to everyone. Stiles was torn between disbelief and sheer frustration as Lydia chimed in.

“We figured it would take a little longer, but we’re glad that you’ve figured,” Lydia gestured vaguely at the length of Stiles, “all that out.”

Allison piped up, “Yeah! When Scott told us, we were all ecstatic.” Stiles turned to his best friend in shock, his mouth hanging open so comically wide it was a miracle there were no flies making a home in the cavern.

“When Scott told you?! What exactly did Scott tell you?” Stiles asked but it was clear the question was directed at his best friend. Scott just shrugged - Stiles was really sick of his friends shrugging off his complete panic - before taking a slow, bashful sip of his drink.

“I thought after last weekend you guys had finally decided to, I don’t know, pull your heads out of your asses?” Scott said consideringly and Stiles just stared at him. Nothing had changed last weekend from what Stiles could remember and he was more confused by Scott’s mention of it than ever.

“What the hell are you talking about, Scotty?” Stiles asked as he plopped down into a chair and downed half the drink Lydia had carefully handed him.

“C’mon, Stiles, don’t make me say it!” Stiles thought his jaw somehow dropped even further as he gestured wildly at Scott before running both of his hands through his hair. He leveled Scott with a glare that clearly told him to start talking and, thankfully, he did. “When I came in on Sunday morning to see if you guys wanted to go to breakfast with us and you were… indisposed,” Scott said slowly.

Stiles barely remembered it, and then the entire morning flashed across his mind. Derek had been up late the night before and had come home groggy and exhausted from a night of studying. When he entered their shared room, Stiles was still up playing one of his online games but immediately closed his laptop at how dejected Derek looked. It took everything in him not to launch himself into Derek’s arms and hug him, so instead, he patted the empty side of his bed and just smiled up at Derek in invitation. There were no words exchanged, but both of them apparently needed comfort no one else was around to give them.

Derek must have fallen asleep because before Stiles could react, their front door was opening and Scott’s vibrant voice was echoing through the room. Stiles shushed him as best he could by flinging a pillow in his direction and slid his arm out from underneath Derek’s hard body before meeting Scott out in the hallway. Scott hadn’t even asked what the two were doing and Stiles realized he should have explained something more than ‘yeah, sometimes we share a bed to watch movies and play games but it’s totally platonic’.

“You were spooning, Stiles. I don’t know about you, but the only person I’ve ever spooned in my life is my girlfriend,” Scott said with a gross smile in Allison’s direction. The group collectively groaned but Stiles couldn’t join in because he was too focused on what that weekend might have meant to Derek.

“We’re just roommates, guys. Friends, even. But that’s it,” Stiles said and that was that.

He held onto the hope that maybe Derek had felt the same until the following morning when Derek came back to their room with a hickey on his chest that had a pang surging through Stiles’ heart like a lightning strike. He let go of his hope that they would ever be more than platonic and focused on what he could be to Derek; his roommate, his study partner, the person he begrudgingly spent a majority of his time with, and his friend.

Stiles lost himself in a TV show he wasn’t even sure he wanted to watch and tried to stop imagining Derek being the perfect gentleman he probably was on the date Stiles would never be the one to go on.

~~~o~~~

Stiles woke up a few weeks later with one of the worst hangovers he had ever been subject to in his life. He always remembered to stay hydrated, always had glasses of water shoved in his direction by his friends when it was his turn to let loose, but there was some reason he hadn’t the night prior. He wracked his brain but all that he could remember was in flashes of bright lights, thumping music, and Derek.

Derek.

He vaguely remembered Derek showing up at the bar, but definitely recalled his drunken excitement upon noticing his presence. He was pretty sure Danny had to hold him back from launching himself embarrassingly into Derek’s strong arms. He really should grab a coffee with Danny soon as he always seemed to have Stiles’ back when he became unhinged.

One memory surged through the forefront of his mind and his skin heated up as he thought back on what had happened a few hours into the night.

“Der!” Stiles yelled as he reached the table his friends had gotten for the night. Derek was alone and it was ridiculous that he was alone. How was no one in this club hitting on him? There were literally so many eligible– Oh, yeah. Eligible men at the gay bar that probably weren’t Derek’s type. Stiles pouted at his own internal monologue and when Derek noticed, he raised an eyebrow at him. “Finish your drink and let’s go dance!”

When Stiles grabbed for his hand, Derek pulled him down into the booth beside him and said, “Why don’t you take a break, buddy. You should have some water before you get too messy.” Stiles’ alcohol hazed brain was torn between focusing on the backhanded insult and the fact that Derek was trying to take care of him. He decided to focus on the positive because it was his night to be happy.

“I’ll drink the water if you tell me why you decided to hang out with us lowly peasants tonight in favor of sleeping with your girlfriend,” Stiles slurred. It wasn’t exactly how he wanted the question to come out but he figured it was pretty straightforward. Derek laughed, too, so he thought he had won something out of it.

“She had to study with some friends tonight and Scott called me to take you home when you were done so he could leave early with Allison,” Derek said. Stiles glanced around the club and realized that his best friend was nowhere in sight. Stiles was abandoned with only Derek and–

“Danny! Danny, you’ve met Derek. Isn’t he pretty?” Stiles said with wide eyes as he took in what Derek was wearing. If Stiles hadn’t known any better, he would think Derek was there to impress someone. He had the jeans he usually only pulled out for first dates, a dark button-down shirt, and a polka-dotted tie that Stiles had initially bought him as a joke until he put it on and looked amazing. Derek looked amazing in everything.

“Yeah, Stiles, Derek is very pretty,” Danny agreed with a teasing smirk on his lips. Stiles draped an arm over Derek’s shoulder and used the other to straighten his tie. He realized that he was practically in Derek’s lap but he didn’t mind and unless Derek told him to move, he was comfortable right where he was. “You guys gonna join us on the dance floor?” Danny asked as he gestured over his shoulder to where a group of men exactly Danny’s type were waiting for him.

Stiles nodded eagerly as Derek shook his head and said, “I think we’re gonna hang out here until Stiles drinks some water.” Stiles glared at him but Danny left before he could chase after him and enjoy the music.

“Okay, dad. If I drink that water, then will you dance with me?” Stiles begged, pouting his lip for effect. Derek’s eyes searched his face before landing on his mouth and for a moment, Stiles thought he was leaning closer. He closed his eyes to prepare himself for the life changing moment when all of a sudden Derek was a few feet away at the edge of the booth.

“You’re drunk, Stiles,” Derek said and Stiles raised his eyebrows at him because it was very obvious how much alcohol Stiles had consumed and what did that have to do with anything?

“You’re here,” Stiles responded and it made sense in his head. He was there instead of out with his girlfriend on a Saturday night. He was there instead of studying as he usually did with his nights off. He was there - with Stiles - when he could have been almost anywhere else.

“I came because Scott asked me to,” Derek said sternly. He pushed the half-full glass of water in Stiles’ direction and gestured for him to drink it but Stiles wasn’t feeling too thirsty. He shifted closer to Derek, who in turn stood up as if he was about to be burned by lava, and Stiles pushed past him with barely a wave.

“Tell Scott I don’t need his help and I don’t need yours either. I can find my own way home after I’ve finished having fun,” Stiles shouted as he threw himself into the crowd of people.

He would have liked to say that he didn’t watch Derek leave, but he did. He watched as Derek paid for the drinks left on the table and took out his phone before smiling down at it. He watched as Derek took one last glance in his direction and then walked through the doors.

He doesn’t remember much after that.

The slamming door broke him out of his thoughts and he ran a hand through his hair as if it would appease the throbbing in his skull.

“Loud noises are not my friend right now, can you just–” When he opened his eyes to yell at whoever had entered the room, he saw Derek drop a bottle of water onto his bed followed by a container of pain reliever. Stiles bit down on his bottom lip and nodded his head slowly as he glanced up at Derek. “Thanks,” he said lamely.

Derek nodded back and said softly, “I’m heading out, but I figured you’d need this more than I would today.” Stiles smiled at him but he was sure it didn’t reach his eyes. Between the pain and the shame of the night before, he was sure Derek was never going to talk to him again let alone take care of him.

“I’m sorry about last night,” Stiles blurted out before he could stop himself. Derek raised an eyebrow at him as if asking for him to expand on his apology and Stiles figured he owed him that much. “I was pretty wasted and very unreasonable and I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” Stiles said as he fiddled with the cap of his water bottle. Derek nodded and as he realized Stiles’ struggle to open the bottle, grabbed it from him to uncap the plastic.

“I know, Stiles,” Derek responded. “I was just trying to be a friend because Scott wasn’t there, but I’m not Scott and we’ve got our own kind of friendship, right?” Stiles wished Derek hadn’t used the word friend so much, but it reminded him that was exactly what they were. Stiles was drunk the night before and whatever he thought he saw in Derek’s gaze was wishful thinking. He took a few sips of water before swallowing the pain relievers and falling back into bed.

“You mean the sorta friendship where I embarrass myself and you act like my father?” Stiles joked and then winced at the insinuation of his words. Derek laughed anyway and ran a hand through his hair. It was something he had never seen Derek do before he had started spending more time with Stiles. It made his heart leap to see it.

“The sorta friendship that we have to try our hardest to keep,” Derek said seriously and how was Stiles supposed to respond to that? Derek was more important to him than he realized and Stiles had tried harder every day to ignore his feelings in order to make sure their friendship stayed intact. Stiles briefly wondered why Derek had to try but decided to change the subject in case it started a conversation his hungover brain was not awake enough to have.

“Where are you headed?” Stiles asked and then instantly regretted the question because he knew he wouldn’t like the answer. Derek smiled softly down at his phone as he had the night prior - Stiles hated his mind for recalling that so clearly - and held it up bashfully when it rang.

“We’re headed to the diner a few blocks away. Want me to bring you back some greasy food?” Stiles’ mouth watered both from the idea of greasy hangover food and the fact that ‘we’ meant Derek and the girl that made him smile in the way Stiles had been aiming for for months.  

Stiles shook his head and closed his eyes as he said, “Nah, I’ll see if Danny is up for some post-alcohol coma food. Have fun!” Stiles hadn’t meant it, but he put his best sloppy smile on his face and waved at Derek as he left.

When the door slammed shut again, Stiles felt his heart dive into his stomach and wondered if before noon was too early for another round of mind-numbing drinks.

~~~o~~~

A few weeks passed and Stiles wasn’t sure how much longer he could handle sharing a room with the person he tried so hard not to be in love with. He had thought if he threw all of himself into his friendship with Derek, he could somehow make their relationship just like his and Scott’s. He found out he was sorely mistaken because anytime Derek so much as glanced at him, let alone hugged him or patted his shoulder as friends do, Stiles would melt inside.

He hated that he reacted like that. He had thought he’d gotten over the ridiculous pining aspect of his feelings when he spent ten years obsessing over Lydia, who was never going to be the love of his life. Everyone reminded him of that when they got the chance and Stiles thought maybe that was the problem. Even a year after he had realized his feelings for Derek, his friends were still convinced the two were in some secret relationship that Stiles didn’t want them to know about. If he could get one of them to remind Stiles that Derek was a month into a relationship with someone else - a woman, which Stiles reminded himself of often - maybe he would finally stop feeling like he was the lead in a dumb romantic comedy every time Derek walked into the room.

But lately, Derek seemed annoyed with even a glimpse of Stiles. He would come back to their shared room after a date with the girl Stiles still hadn’t bothered to learn the name of and nitpick everything he could see. He didn’t seem to like the way Stiles tucked in his sheets or the way he organized his side table. He even went as far as complaining about the new detergent Stiles had bought to wash his clothes. Stiles felt like he was walking on eggshells and still, his heart skipped when Derek glanced his way.

Like clockwork, Stiles heard a key in the door and his eyes widened in panic. He was in the same clothes he had been the night prior, his bed unmade and probably covered in cheesy crumbs from another bag of Cheetos, and he was sure the air was stale as he hadn’t been able to get out of bed in the morning to take a shower. He jumped off of his bed and quickly tore off his shirt and pajama pants, throwing on a relatively clean pair as he stripped his sheets and threw them into the overflowing laundry basket. He grabbed the card from the dresser just as Derek opened the door and smiled brightly as he tried to contain how out of breath he was.

“Hey Derek, I’m about to–”

“I’m moving out.”

Stiles was sure he felt his heart shatter.

“Derek, what are you–” Before he could even finish his sentence, Derek was tossing his neatly folded clothes haphazardly onto the bed as if he had no cares in the world. The sheer surprise that flooded through Stiles was just as much about Derek’s words as it was his actions. Tidy, organized Derek had half of his room on his bed before Stiles could even blink.

He launched himself out of his bed just as Derek said, “We can’t keep doing this.” If Stiles had been confused before, he was even more so by the phrase.

“This? What? Derek, what are you talking about?” When Derek said nothing, Stiles continued frantically. “I was just about to go do laundry. I can clean my half of the room in a few hours and we can talk about this,” Stiles pleaded. Derek seemed to grumble to himself as he pulled out flattened boxes from beneath his bed but froze when Stiles rested gentle fingertips against his wrist.

“Don’t pretend you don’t see it, Stiles,” Derek said with humor in his voice that had chills racing down Stiles’ spine. He looked quizzically at Derek who shook his head in response. “We’re at each other’s throats more often than not and I’m not willing to risk our– our friendship because we spend too much time together,” Derek spat the words as if they were dirt on his tongue and Stiles had to stop himself from flinching.

Stiles had no idea where it had come from. He had noticed the tension between them, it was almost impossible to miss when you lived with someone, but he had thought it was completely one-sided. Stiles had started to back off after he had realized things with Derek and his girlfriend had started getting more serious, but he didn’t think Derek had minded.

“I really have no idea what you’re talking about and will you stop?!” Stiles shouted as he let his fingers wrap around Derek’s wrist. Derek turned to him quickly, their chests pressed together so that Stiles could feel Derek’s puffing in and out with his panting breath.

“I can’t just stop because I don’t have a distraction anymore!” Derek yelled causing Stiles to take a tentative step back. He kept his fingers around Derek’s wrist, the steady pulse almost calming to him, reminding him that Derek was still there and hadn’t left yet. Stiles could fix whatever was happening and everything would be okay.

“A distraction? Derek, what are you–”

“I picked classes this term to stay out of this room, I studied late nights so that I wouldn’t be a bother to you, I started dating because it was all I could do to distract myself from–” As if his words had caught up to him, Derek’s eyes widened and he ripped his arm out of Stiles’ grasp. It took everything in Stiles not to reach out to him again.

“Distract yourself from what?” Stiles asked so softly that he wasn’t sure Derek had heard him.

Derek turned around, his shoulders sagging as he let out a deep breath, and said, “From you.”

“Me?” Stiles couldn’t help how broken his voice sounded. The admission barreled toward him like an out of control car looking for its next victim and Stiles was powerless to stop the inevitable pain that came from the crash.

“I didn’t mean it like–” Stiles wasn’t about to let Derek finish so he held up his hands.

“No, obviously things with whatever her name is are more serious than I thought and you want to spend more time with her than the person who thought they were your best friend and you know what?” Stiles took a deep breath to calm the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes. “That’s completely fine, Derek, cause I don’t need someone who is going to nitpick everything that I do. I want someone who wants to spend time with me not because they’re forced to,” he stated as he picked up his laundry basket and propped it on his hip.

“You think I don’t want to spend time with you?” Derek asked as he blocked Stiles’ only exit to the door. Stiles scoffed and narrowed his eyes at Derek, replaying his words in his head over again to be sure he wasn’t making it up.

“Sorry, does distract have another definition that I don’t know about? It seems like you want to keep as far away from me as possible and are choosing to spend time with this girl over me,” Stiles countered. It was the only explanation he could think of and at the moment it sounded incredibly reasonable.

Derek laughed and took a step toward Stiles as he said, “I’m moving in with Boyd and I don’t have a ‘girl’ anymore.” Well, that definitely changed things. Stiles wasn’t sure how long he stood there gaping at Derek, but it must have been long enough for Derek to start to feel at least a little uncomfortable as he started talking again. “I need a distraction from you because if I spend more time with you than I already do, I’m going to fall even more in love with you than I already am. And I can’t have that for obvious reasons,” Derek said, the last piece almost in a whisper.

“Obvious?” Stiles was sure that wasn’t what his next word should have been, but it was rare that he knew what was going on in Derek’s head and he wasn’t going to let the moment pass him by.

“We’re roommates, Stiles, friends. You’ve said it yourself. I’ve been trying to distance myself so that my feelings for you don’t impact that but apparently, I can’t handle it. So, I’m leaving,” Derek said as he stepped to the side as if letting Stiles make a choice, as if Stiles would choose anything other than letting Derek know they had both been stupid.

“You don’t have a girlfriend,” Stiles said slowly as he dropped the laundry basket to the ground. The noise startled Derek from his packing and he turned, nodding slowly. It was enough confirmation for Stiles to continue. “And you love me?” Derek nodded again, more surely this time as if it was easier to answer.

“Yeah,” Derek whispered, “I do, and I understand if–” Stiles grabbed the knot to Derek’s slightly off-kilter tie and before he could change his mind, he crashed their lips together.

That life changing moment that had seemed just out of grasp for so many months was finally becoming reality and Stiles felt his entire world shift into place. Derek’s hands rested gently on his hips before sliding more securely around Stiles’ back and pulling him so they were flush together. Stiles had always wondered whether it would feel like a fairy tale kissing Derek and he was happy to be proven right. Derek’s lips tasted like vanilla chapstick and a spice he couldn’t quite place and being in his arms felt like home. It might have been cliche, but he wasn’t sure he had ever been so happy.

When Derek pulled away, it was only to rest his forehead against Stiles’ and take a few deep breaths. Stiles had done the same, he thought he might have been floating. Stiles opened his eyes to see that bright smile he had always made a point to bring out in Derek and he saw that his eyelashes cast soft shadows against his cheeks as he shook his head.

“How long?” Derek asked and Stiles didn’t need context to know what he was asking.

“Since the first moment I saw you,” Stiles answered honestly because he wasn’t about to keep lying to Derek when it finally felt as though their truths were out in the open. Derek huffed out a laugh and the heat of it sent a shiver down Stiles’ spine. He realized he didn’t need an excuse to be that close to Derek anymore and the thought alone made him smile wider. “You?” Stiles asked.

Derek opened his eyes and ran his hands up Stiles’ body until he could cup Stiles’ flushed cheeks in his hands. He answered, “When you invited me into your bed after one of the worst nights of my college life.”

“We’re idiots,” Stiles chuckled, straightening Derek’s tie that he had messed up in their heated kiss.

“I was only moving out because I couldn’t keep pretending all the things you did around this room annoyed me. God, Stiles, I love every single thing about you and I’m sorry that I made you feel–” Stiles leaned forward and pressed their lips together once more just because he could and pulled away with a small smile.

“You have never made me feel anything less than lucky to have you in my life, Derek,” Stiles said and when Derek nodded, he added, “but there’s no way I’m letting you move out.” It wasn’t a question, but Derek shook his head hastily in response.

“Now you’re never getting rid of me,” Derek responded as if Stiles would ever try. He had Derek finally after months of being roommates and friends. He wasn’t about to let Derek go without being able to call him more.

[poc-movie-supremacy]

My Fancy Boy

After a late night at work, Andrew comes home to a sleepy husband and daughter. As they relax, Steven gets Andrew to tell him his favorite story: How they got engaged. 

This is the final instalment of the Hello Sunshine universe. Hope you guys like it!

-----

The apartment was dark when Andrew opened the door. Work at the restaurant ran a little late so Andrew was just happy to be home. He toed off his shoes and hung up his jacket before silently padding his way throughout the house. When he reached the door to the living room, he noticed a dark blue light flooding through from the crack in the door. Andrew smirked and opened the door. 

Ratatouille was playing on the screen to a small audience. Steven was laying on his back on the sofa half asleep. Methodically, he rubbed his hand over his daughter’s back as he watched her sleep. Her hair was mused as she clutched Steven’s necklace in her tiny hand. Andrew’s heart fluttered at the scene. Quickly he bent down to press a feather-light kiss to the top of his husband’s head. 

Steven preened at the touch, smiling up at him. “Hi honey.”

“Hey sweetie, I’m home,” Andrew joked. Steven smiled up at his husband but didn’t say anything. Moments like there were better fit for quiet reverence than sugary sweet compliments. Slowly, as to not disturb the sleeping child, Steven lifted himself up to let Andrew slide in. He quietly settled himself, one hand in Steven’s hair, the other on their daughter’s back. 

“She really likes your engagement necklace, and ring,” Andrew noted. Her grip on the special piece of jewelry was tight. Steven hummed. 

“She likes the clinking sound the ring and the sun make. Multi-purpose gift,” Steven joked. Andrew rubbed a certain spot in Steven’s hair eliciting a happy noise from the lavender haired boy. “Do you remember the day you gave me it?” Steven whispered. 

“Of course, it was the best day of my life.”

“Tell it to me again.” 

A few years ago…

Andrew paced around the room worrying his bottom lip. Niki, Annie, Rie, and Adam watched him curiously waiting to see what was making him so upset. Niki kept shouting out possibilities but Andrew just ignored her. Finally, Adam got fed up and forcefully asked Andrew why he wanted them at his apartment sans Steven.

“Oh my god are you breaking up?! I won’t be apart of this, Steven’s my friend too.” Niki immediately asserted. That got Andrew to stop his pacing and stare confusingly at Niki. 

“No, no, Steven and I are not breaking up. Quite the opposite actually, I wanna propose.” 

“Oh that’s great! Much better than breaking up, this I can help with.” Niki said, relieved. Annie started laughing at Niki’s comments. Rie gave an encouraging smilte to Andrew who was frankly starting to lose his mind. 

“Why do you need our help. He’s your boyfriend, and he did a worth it: lifestyle episode with Kristin about engagement rings so you already know what he likes,” Adam points out. 

“But a proposal is special, he needs to plan out something great for his fancy boy.” Rie contended with Adam.

Niki snorted. “Andrew could be in his boxers telling Steven the worst pun imaginable and feeding him cheese and Steven would be head over heels.” The quartet frowned in various stages of disgust at the image that sentence invoked. “I do mean that, but man do I regret saying it.”

“This isn’t helping.” Andrew groaned into his hands and resumed pacing. 

“Well, Adam is right, you do know him very well. What does Steven like?” Rie gently asks him. 

“Basketball and Video games, he likes period dramas for the yearning, and anything food related. He likes going to the beach right as the sunsets because he swears swimming and walks along the Riviera are best at night. He hates going to parties, preferring to stay inside and perform science experiments. He’ll rarely get drunk, but if he did it’s only on red wine. He’s such a fancy boy.” As Andrew talked a soft hush fell onto the room. The audience quietly listened to Andrew wax poetic about Steven. A light blush tinted Andrew’s cheeks and a small, dopey smile graced his lips. Liquid adoration pooled in his eyes as he thought about his boyfriend. That’s who I wanna spend the rest of my life with, his brain decided, my sunshine boy, my fancy boy. 

The romantic mood was broken when Niki not so quietly whispered to Annie, “Geez and I thought I was a romantic,” which made Annie snort loudly. 

Slowly, Andrew blinked out of his daydream of happy days with Steven lim to the sad kind of Steven less reality. 

Adam gave him an unimpressed look. “Like I said, you already have everything you need.”

---

Two weeks later, Steven and Andrew were walking hand in hand along the beach. As of today, they’ve been dating for two years. Andrew’s special gift was tucked in a nice pouch in his pocket since he, for the life of him, couldn’t come up with an excuse to wear anything baggier to the beach. Nerves quietly ate away at him as Steven rambled beside him. His hands swung around wildly as he told him some long-winded story that happened to Marielle, Ryan, Shane, and Sara.

When they neared the destination, Andrew gently guided Steven onto the beach towards the picnic basket. Thank god no one stole it, there was some expensive wine in there. Steven’s face lit up at the sight before him. “Sunset beach with the good wine! You know me too well, Andy.” Steven gave his boyfriend a kiss on the cheek before plopping down onto the blanket.  

Not well enough to know if you’ll say yes, Andrew anxiously thought. He sat down next to Steven side to side, and asked, “Eat now or swim now?”

“Eat now, nothing like a nighttime dip, Drew.” Steven reasoned. Andrew smiled and set about unpacking the picnic baskets. He made them a plate of lasagna and a loaf of garlic bread. Steven licked his lips excitedly at the sight. They don’t bother with plates, choosing instead to eat straight from the tupperware. 

The sun has finally set and the moon is starting to peak out, bathing them in silvery light. It made Steven seem paler, like a silver statue. Andrew thought that the golden jewelry he picked out would offset him wonderfully. 

He turned up some soft music as they set about eating. They fed each other more than they fed themselves if they were being truthful. Whispered words and light giggles danced around them. When they couldn’t eat anymore, Steven absent-mindedly ran his hands over the planes of Andrew’s body. They waited for their food to digest before they went into the ocean. 

They raced in hand in hand, until Andrew picked up Steven and tossed him into the ocean. Shrikes and giggles filled the air. The water was icy cold and chilling to the bone. Shivers and goosebumps raced over the boys. Steven got back at Andrew by dunking him in the ocean. They swam together for a while until Andrew got too tired. He left the beach to dry off and re-rehearsed his speech. Nerves were shaking him to the core. Steven was sad for him to leave the water, but he was having too much fun swimming to leave as well. 

Andrew watched quietly as Steven trekked back from the ocean. His dark blue, almost royal blue hair was wild, half in a cowlick half matted to his forehead. Water droplets slowly made their way down his bare chest. A big smile shone on Steven’s face, brighter than the moon itself. Andrew’s breath caught in his throat. He knew if he was ever going to do it, now was the time. 

“To celebrate our two year anniversary, I got you something. I know jewelry isn’t your thing, but I thought it suited you.” He got out the necklace from his back pocket and held it in front of Steven. It was glittering gold with a sun hanging at the end. Etched onto it was the words: My Fancy Boy.

Steven’s breath was caught in his throat. Tentatively he ran a finger along the gold chain down to the sun. The rays were thick squiggly lines and the sun was a shiny, smooth ball. “Put it on me?” Steven whispered hoarsely. He turned his back to Andrew and nervously played with his hands. The air around them was tense like a glass sheet. Steven could feel and hear every slight difference to the norm. He felt heat radiate off Andrew as he kneeled above him. His fingers were warm against Steven’s. 

Once the necklace was on, Steven fingered it a little before pouncing on Andrew. The glass tension broke. 

Andrew smiled as Steven deliberately placed loving kisses on his boyfriend’s face. His whole face was concentrated, like this is how he would repay Andrew and he had to do it right. 

“Perfect, wonderful, mine,” Steven almost growled into Andrew’s ear. 

“If you loved this gift,” Andrew said with a laugh, “you’re going to love what else I have for you.” A sense of seriousness washed over Andrew. It made Steven sit up, confused, and sit beside Andrew instead of on top of him.

Andrew sat up and patted his pocket to make sure the ring was still there. Reassured, he softly cupped Steven's cheek. “You are the best thing that’s happened to me. Your giggle is music, the scrunch you do when you're happy could make an atheist believe in god. I’ve lived without you and it’s been torture. Something so awful I never want to experience it again, so” Andrew pulled out the ring and got down on one knee. Steven’s eyes were as wide as saucers and shining. Andrew wondered if he’d stare long enough he would see stars and galaxies. 

“Steven Lim, would you do me the honor of becoming my husband.” It was a simple gold band with a single diamond in the middle and two rubies surrounding it. Steven, usually so energetic, was dead still staring at the ring. Andrew was starting to get nervous, wondering if he’d done this too soon or asked him wrong. 

His grip on the ring was lax, loose enough for Steven to slip it onto his finger. As he silently admired the ring, he whispered, “Steven Ilnyckyj does have a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” His eyebrow quirk at the pun stirred Andrew out of his self-deprecating thoughts. As fast as a bullet, he picked up Steven and twirled him around. 

“I was worried you were going to say no.” He admitted into the crook of Steven’s neck. 

Steven hummed sympathetically and ran his hands methodically through his fiancé’s hair. His nails were growing out which felt good on Andrew’s skull. 

“I’d never say no, this is all I’ve wanted for a long time. I’m not letting you go, neither will this ring or necklace. I’m a very lucky man Ilnyckyj, to have gotten a boy like you.” Later on, he would take off the ring to put it with his necklace. Taking care of a baby was hard work, having his keys, and ring in the same place was a blessing. Plus the baby loved the jingle it made.

“You tell that story so well honey.” Steven sleepily murmured.

“It’s my favorite story to tell.”

[keelywolfe]

FIC: A Pressing Engagement ch1 (Not baon AU)

Summary: Labeling things can be difficult, for everyone involved

Notes: Oh, I don't know, this sort of popped into my brain today and sometimes, I like to see the maybes and might haves.

Tags:  Spicyhoney, Fluff and Angst, Dating, Developing Relationship, Humor

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Read it on AO3

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Read it here!

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It wasn’t a date, really. More like a standing lunch appointment where they met up wherever the local food trucks were congregating that day. Edge was a fussy bitch when it came to food, but what kind of monster (heh) would turn down fresh seafood po’ boys with truffle Parmesan fries? Not one that Stretch wanted to hang out with, for sure.

The trucks were always busy, Humans and Monsters lining up for tasty treats. Using Edge’s strategy of divide and conquer, they queued in separate lines, gathering up a collection of paper trays lined with greasy waxed paper and holding heavenly balls of deep-fried goodness, along with the less heavenly but still delicious vegan junk that Edge always wanted, under the theory that unhealthy plus good for you would sort of cancel each other out into balanced nutrition.

Look, if it got him food, Stretch was willing to bend science a little.

The park was crowded, any tables were already claimed, if not by people than by their possessions. By the time Stretch was juggling their po’ boys and fries, Edge was through the vegan line and sitting under a tree in the grass, their Buddha bowls and moussaka artfully arranged around him. The pastoral serenity of the scene contrasted in interesting ways to the leather-clad skeleton in the middle of it all and if Stretch didn’t know that Edge would object, loudly and strenuously, he would’ve taken a picture. Called it modern art, skeleton on a theme of lunch.

“hope you grabbed napkins,” Stretch said cheerfully, plopping down in the grass to lay out his own spread.

“I did not. I brought my own,” Edge said, because of course he did, every week. Linen napkins that they both spread over their laps as they shared out the goods and dug in. Strange how growing up in murder world made a guy into a terminal recycler, but Edge was a guy who understood living under strict limitations.

The first bite of his po’ boy made Stretch groan aloud, greedily chewing fried blobs of briny shrimp and oysters couched in a bed of crisp lettuce and tomato. Waterfall aside, there wasn’t much seafood in the Underground and Stretch got a serious appreciation for it once they hit the Aboveground. Edge liked surfing on the ocean more than eating what was swimming in it and even he was eating appreciatively.

It was all good, tasty food, sunny day, perfectly awesome even if it wasn’t actually a date, and if it ended with them heading back to one of their places for some rough and rowdy bootknockin’, eh, well, that was kinda how Stretch liked it. They didn’t need it to be an official date, seriously, that was for people who just started going out, not for guys who’d been together for a few years. Once you’d shared a toothbrush, you didn’t need that kind of shit, right, and Stretch was pretty sure Edge’d forgiven him for that, he’d only done it the once and only because he couldn’t get the taste of garlic off his teeth. That was the last time he tried aioli on their not-dates.

Dessert was rice pudding with fresh mango and around a spoonful of creamy deliciousness Stretch mumbled out, “so, how about undyne and alphys finally tying the knot, huh?”

“Ridiculous,” Edge scoffed.

“right? i always figured them for getting married two weeks after their first date, took ‘em long enough—” Stretch trailed off as Edge scoffed again, louder and with some dangerous spoon waving to go with it.

“Marriage is a ridiculous institution,” Edge said irritably. “If you need to be married in order to feel as though you’re committed to one another, then the relationship is already doomed to failure. But then, most supposedly committed relationships are.” He took a fierce bite of his pudding, teeth closing dangerously around the poor, abused spoon. “That’s why I prefer what we have. No ties, no strings, you live in your apartment and I share my house with my brother. It works for both of us and we don’t need any absurd social constructs to determine what we are for each other.”

It took a minute for Stretch to realize Edge was looking at him expectantly, “yeah,” he said belatedly, rolling his shoulders laconically before leaning against the rough trunk of the tree shading them, “yeah, no strings, no ties, free as birds, tweet tweet.”

That earned him a chuckle, “Tweet tweet?”

“you prefer caw caw?” Stretch teased and his voice was normal, easy. Good. “grackle? i’d give you a kookaburra cackle but last time i tried it i couldn’t talk for two days.”

“Better not,” Edge’s voice was anything but normal, low and smoky, inviting the sorts of things that usually stirred up plenty of different emotions in Stretch’s rib cage, all the way down to his pelvis, and wasn’t it a damn shame his soul was all full up right now. Edge went on, as thick and sweet as the honey Stretch tended to crave. “you’ll want to save your voice for something better.”

“yeah, about that,” Stretch poked at his empty pudding cup, his spoon rattling, “actually, i think i’m gonna head home.”

Edge frowned. Rightfully so, Stretch didn’t usually turn down sex, it was a better dessert than any at the trucks, even the lava chocolate cakes that always sold out. “Are you all right?”

“just a little tired,” Stretch shrugged. “think i’ll turn in early.” He didn’t mention low HP and neither did Edge, who only nodded.

“Then let me drop you off,” Edge started gathering up their trash, separating it out and bagging it up to dump in his home recycling. “You’ll be on the bus for an hour.”

There wasn’t a good reason for Stretch to refuse, so he didn’t. He sat on the passenger side and closed his sockets, let the motion of the car and the shitty crooner music that Edge listened to lull him into a near-sleep. The ride was too short for him to zonk out entirely, but he was still drowsy when Edge nudged him, let him steal a brief, easy kiss before he slid out the door into the parking lot of his apartment building.

Stretch waved as Edge drove away, then bypassed the front door entirely and instead took a shortcut upstairs. Not inside his apartment, but to the fire escape that everyone in the building used instead as a sort of rattling balcony. There was a ratty deckchair in the corner, shoved in tight to keep from impeding the steps, and that was where Stretch sat as he dug out his cigarettes.

He was halfway through the first, basking in the nicotine rush, when he heard the window opening above him then boots on metal steps. He sank deeper into the creaky chair, bracing himself.

“Papy!” Blue called happily as he descended the stairs. His apartment was directly above Stretch’s, their version of a compromise when Stretch gently told his bro that he wanted his own place. The Fell brothers could live together if they wanted and did, and Stretch didn’t judge them for it. But Stretch had let his life revolve around his brother for a long damn time and once they were on the surface, facing the sunshine and an entire change of life, Stretch decided he wanted that change to go a little further and told Blue with as much blunt kindness as he could that he wanted his own place.

Blue got over it and in Stretch’s opinion, their relationship was better for having a little necessary space. Now his little bro leaned over the last metal rail, his starry eye lights bright as he beamed at Stretch and asked, "Well? How did it go??”

Stretch looked away, blowing out a long stream of silent smoke.

That eagerness softened, wilted. “Ah. It went like that.”

“yeah,” Stretch stubbed out his cigarette into the overflowing ashtray tucked underneath his chair, lit another. “guess it’s a good thing i dipped a toe into the river first, bringing up undyne and al’s wedding. didn’t know it was the rubicon i was trying to cross.”

Better than bringing out that little velvet box still tucked away in his hoodie pocket, it seemed. Not like he’d been planning a big production or anything, fuck no, Edge would’ve hated that, already hated it when Humans gave them side-eyes and stares. Nah, the plan was to bring it up casual-like over dessert and now he was pretty fucking glad he hadn’t. The ache in his chest was one he’d get over, give him a few days and a few smokes and he’d be right as rain, left as lightning, all that shit. Having to deal with that hurt on top of Edge turning him down, (rudely, coldly, highly possible, gently, awkwardly, so much worse) wasn’t something he wanted to give a try.

Blue came down the rest of the stairs at a more sedate pace, wrapping both arms around Stretch into a painfully tight hug, “I’m so sorry, brother.”

“eh, probably just as well,” Stretch tossed his second butt into the ashtray and resisted the urge to light another. He’d smoke his way through the pack once Blue went back upstairs, no reason for both of them to be miserable. “he’s working his way up at the embassy, he doesn’t need a lazy shit like me holding him back.”

He could feel Blue struggling not to argue and damn well appreciated it. He wanted to bask in his pain for right now, fucking savor it, his own soul served up as another casualty of the food trucks. Save the rah rah cheerleading for when he was more equipped to hear it.

“guess i better find out if the jewelry shop take returns or something,” Stretch sighed, “having a wedding ring laying around the house feels a lot like having a loaded gun, you don’t want anyone to find it unexpectedly.”

He fumbled for the little box, absently thinking of what would be a good day to head in to the shop, he was pretty sure he still had the receipt and—

In his hoodie pocket was his lighter, his smokes, a little baggie of dog treats, a handful of change since Stretch was physically incapable of walking past a vending machine, something his collection of small toys and weird condoms would attest to. No black velvet box that would never be opened in offering, showing off a simple pair of bands that he’d spent an hour agonizing over with an exceptionally patient salesperson, cause hell, they’d been not-dating for years now, maybe it was time to toss a label on all this. Except it wasn’t and neither was that little box.

“it’s not here.” No box. No rings, what the fuck. Horrified realization hit with the force of a two-ton slap. “it must’ve fallen out!”

“Oh, dear,” Blue tutted, “if it was at the park, someone likely took it.”

“i’d rather they did than him find it! edge gave me a ride home!” Stretch hissed. Panic was tight in his chest, fuck, fuck, “what if it’s in his car? i gotta get it back, i gotta!"

"Brother, calm down,” Blue tried, unconvincingly, “it might not even be in his car.”

“i have to check!” Stretch moaned. He couldn’t let Edge find it first, fuck, somehow he’d stepped out of the path of a speeding car straight into an oncoming semi-truck. “i can't let him find it! fuck!” He latched onto his brother’s shoulders, clutching desperately, “bro, you gotta help me!”

Blue still looked pretty doubtful but this was his brother, his little bro, and for years it’d only been the two of them there for each other, years and tears and love, was there anything they wouldn’t do for each other, even participate in an impromptu jewelry heist?

So it wasn’t a surprise when Blue nodded, finally, sighing out, “All right, brother, what did you have in mind?”

~~*~~

Read Chapter 2

[popculturebuffet]

Toons for Our Times: Ducktales: They Put a Moonlander on the Earth!

At Glomglast, Glomgold Glomturns! Flintheart Hero of Earth Glomgold continues riding his wave of good PR from helping save the earth in the manner you’d expect: With  a dangerous attention seeking pr stunt/ferris wheel/half-ased plan to murder scrooge. Naturally Dewey is first in line for it. Meanwhile Webby tries to convince a wound up Penumbra to stay and enjoy earth so she can get a new alien friend who she relates to and her brothers can get a new step mom, while Launchpad is awkward because his coffee with Pennumbra went worse than the one he had with the gas cloud. The Glom Knight Glomturns under the cut. 

This one is late for both good reason, I didn’t want to hog the wifi while my nieces were trying to remote school, and not so good I.e.... I entirely forgot an episode was today because I’m not used to the new schedule, as in the past the show’s either aired on saturday like usual for a disney show, or as a cluster of episodes throughout one week, so even if it wasn’t something I was used to, I was tuned to stay in. The new schedule is weird  and my brain is stupid is what i’m saying. Now i’ve covered my butt on with the review! This week focuses on Penumbra, and explains exactly what happened to the Moonlanders after Moonvasion. For Penny at least she’s apparently been living in the McDuck hangar, or somewhere near it, and working on rebuilding one of the bigger ships to get her people home. Della, while not missing the opprotunity to point out now Penny’s the one living in HER garage buliding a rocket home, pitches in and we see things have clearly changed. At least with Della, Penny’s let down her guard and now openly considers her her best friend.. and perhaps more because the romantic tension is so thick here you could cut it with a sword. Granted I may have swords on the brain because of this. 

Which if your not up to date on your x-men comics, is an event where our Uncanny X-Men, now having their own nation of krakoa where all mutants are welcome, which includes apocalypse so he’s on THEIR SIDE in that shot, must fight ten other mutants in a ritual sword duel with some of the strongest swords in the mighty marvel canon, and loosing means the other mutants, many of whom are the CHILDREN of apocalyspe from centuries ago he thought lost, get to invade earth with a demonic horde. And if NONE of that made you curious, let alone want to read that, I just.. don’t get you. 

Back to the gays, yeah the ten sword thick sexual tension is broken by the fact that Penumbra reveals she tried SOME earth culture and did get that coffee with Launchpad, with Della baffled.. I mean look at those abs. Though it’s probably less “Launchpad really?” and more “Why not me first? Is he sexier? Dammit he is. “ It went about as well as you’d expect.. with Penny storming out suddenly saying this is terrible and running off. Eh not the worst first date i’ve seen in animation this year. I’ve seen a woman go on a date with a man conjoined to his ex.. and not like their siblings it’s a medical procedure. Because close enough is pretty fucking insane and let’s keep it that way.

But yeah so Penumbra’s not sold on earth and Della’s attempts to get her to go with the kids, get to that in a minute, fall on deaf ears. But the thing is. her people are. When meeting with gibious and zenith, if you don’t remember the married moon couple we saw back in “The Golden Spear”, Penumbra finds out she’s the only one who wants to go home. Her people like it here...the happy couple even got adorable new outfits, a job with Glomgold in Gibbious’ case, and an adorable new dog named good boy. Look at them. 

I would die for either of them. I hope we see Good Boy again. And that the show introduces Bolivar, donald’s dog at some point. Or even his ostrich hortense. I just want the duck to have a pet dammit. 

Point is their happy here and while Penny wants to go back to the old routine of them all on the moon and her saving them.. their fine if she wants to go home but.. their staying here. And it’s easy to see WHY they want to: The moon was harsh, filled with monsters and much like us humans right now with earth, they only stayed in their clusterfuck of a home world because they had no way out. It’s probably why Lunaris sold hte invasion so easily: With his pitch they were just taking a nicer world from a bunch of mean asssholes who refused to share it and whose sole representative had seemingly betrayed them. Without any reason to hate the earthlings and, outside of once incident later in the episode, the earthlings accepting them with open arms and forgiveness, why wouldn’t they stay on a nice, sunny world, in a large city willing to house them and give them jobs, with delicious foods and all sorts of fun shit to distract you from the bad parts of living here that the moon lacked. 

Penny’s issue is while THEIR lives were miserable.. her’s wasn’t. She was a hero, a super hero really.. I mean she’s dressed like a kree sentry, she protects the helpless and she’s a fearless warrior whose now a fish out of water on a world she never could’ve expected but grows to love. Martian Manhunter, Captain Marvel, the Mar Vell one, Warlock, Adam Warlock and yes their separate characters, Supergirl, not superman because while he is an alien he grew up here.. all aliens who immigrated here and grew to love and protect it and see it as their home. Penny just hasn’t got to the “love and protect it” part yet and while the rest of her people have new purpose, new homes and new lives and still meet once a week to party she finds herself, theri greatest champion an outsider, desperately wanting her old life back but not accepting it’s gone. She can go home but she’d be the one person on a desolate moon clinging to the past.  Penny here honestly reminds me of jasper in steven unvierse future: Both are old soldiers who find their empire gone, their entire way of life uprooted and have no way to cope and desperately hoping things will collapse back to THEIR normal, not realizing the new one isn’t going anywhere and is better for their people. They need to move on but their too proud and too scared to try. 

However Penny refuses to admit defeat to her people and that she can’t have “earth fun”, and left with no other choices, decides to take the kids up on their offer after all. To explain that we quickly wrap to the top of the episode, where Webby, bored and having trouble finding anyone, finds Penny and after Penny dosen’t want to hang out finds Dewey and Louie. I assume since their absent this episode, Huey is introducing Violet to Gyro, Fenton and Boyd, Beakly is buying groceries, Donald is courting Daisy and Scrooge.. is trying to get fethry’s hands, feet and head out of pickle jars because he thought they’d preserve him and Donald is busy for once so he’s the only one left to do it.  Louie and Dewey plan on just laying around and biinging old ottoman empires, I can relate, but the news gives them a better option. A GLOMGOLD OPTION. Oh me mow how i’ve missed this big beautiful man. Seriously Glomgold is easily one of the best parts of the reboot and Keith Fergeuson brings an utterly delightful manic glee to the guy any time he shows up to eat the scenery whole. While I get holding back on him since he had an arc last season, it’s still nice to have him back in all his hammy glory.  And naturally being glomgold he has a scheme going: After gifting a rolelrcoaster previously, over water and with sharks because his brand’s nothing if not consistent, he’s now offering the flintferris glomwheel, which is shoddy, dangerous, secretly a plot to kill scrooge, and is very likely to kill a child.. so in other words it’s Glomgold himself roleld into a ferris wheel. Dewey is psyched to go because he let another kid go first for Glomgold’s last PR Stunt/Nightmare and that kid got all the glory and as such is now Dewey’s new nemisis. So after asking his mom “If we can go ride a death wheel so I can get famous’, which of course Della says yes to, our heroes end up taking Penny along.  Launchpad drives and gets his subplot for the episode, being awkard around Penny because the date went bad and not sure if this makes then enimies and avoiding her. He tries going to dewey for help, and while Dewey is out of his element, he does actually give good advice to just talk to her.. Launchpad just takes it while he’s driving because it’s launchpad. Thankfully webby can drive. He spends the rest of hte episode getting into shenanigans before, after helping her with the climax, phrasing, being honest and apologizing. And i’m also covering the plot to get her answer out of the way now: Penny admits he’s fine, thery can be fight buds, he’s a good warrior sh’es just “Not interested in an earth..male” her exact words. 

I mean.. there’s no real subtly here. Even if she’s not into Della, which all evidence suggests is the case, Penumbra is CLEARLY into women. I mean Frank is basically saying as loudly as his mousey overlords will allow “SHE’S GAY FOR DELLA”. Wether this goes anywhere, I dunno. While Lumity started ramping up this year, that property’s not based on Disney’s classic canon and STILL had to fight tooth and claw to make Luz bisexual and her love intrested a girl. Disney won’t even let this show use Mickey and almost didn’t let them use the rescue rangers, the odds are against them.. but I also never thoguht we’d see violet’s gay dads on screen, or so many previously  comics only characters, so frank’s said screw the impossible before. Now probably is no different. 

Back to the main plot, and to the return of Glomgold whose great as ever. Glomgold made the moonlanders and some of duckberg think he was soley responsible for saving the world.. how many people besides the non-penny moonlanders think he actually did it is up for debate but he DID genuinely help save the world. Also his scheme to get his company back somehow WORKED despite not being legally binding, as he’s now back in his tower, back to scheming and has an actual assitant instead of a professional career woman he treats like one in a bit that didn’t age all that well even a year later.  Gibious is now Glomgold’s sidekick and in a nice contrast to Owlson instead of being fed up with his crap Gibious, buying into Glomgold’s own ego, lavishes praise on his new boss, treats him like the god he thinks he is, and is genuinely sweet and helpful. It’s a nice dynamic giving Glomgold someone who ACTUALLY and genuinely likes him as a person and wants him to suceed and trusts in his insane schemes and leads to some great bits like Gib genuinely calling the safety inspector when Glomgold makes an airquotes remark about it and at the end Glomgold admitting “I can’t stay mad at you” to his new lackey/Best friend. Frankly Glomgold needed a 21 to his Monarch, and i’ts a delight to see it and Paulson and Ferguson have real chemistry.  Meanwhile in the A-Plot, Webby tries to get Penny to enjoy earth, first with a street performer she tosses in the water ,as you should, then with a shooting range which ends with her massacering a clownhead to the children minus webby’s horror and tears. We were one more frame away from this really. 

Also we get the ducks feeding.. ducks, a gag Frank’s apparently wanted to do for three seasons now, and with Penny being as confused as the audeince. but non of this, including roller skates really works.  So while Dewey goes off to get in line to one up his rival, Webby gets honest with Penny about why she’s so invested and this episode goes from good.. to truly fantastic. While webby fangirling over a mighty and gay space warrior makes sense, there’s a personal reason she wants to help here that really tugs at the heart strings: Webby was like her once. Like Penny she spent her whole life honing herself into a weapon, sealed in her own tiny world, For Penny it was her moon village for Webby it was the mansion. And being thrust out into it was .. frightening. We saw webby struggle to adjust in “Daytrip of Doom!” and part of her wanted to plunge back into the mansion and her saftey net at times. But she didn’t.. with the help of her family, and her friends, she found out just how wonderful the world is and how as scary as the world is.. it opened up new parts of her. Duckberg webby was just as great as mansion webby if not better. So Webby wants to do the same for penny and what really clinches the scene is how she does it: a Hamburger, the symbol from the pilot of what webby was deprived of all her life, given to a new friend as a symbol of what the world offers. And it works at first, even without cheese. But then Penny gets a brain freeze, and Glomgold, needing a distraction from the saftey inspector rames her as going beserk because he’s an asshat in every other way let’s add racisim to it. 

A chase insues, Penny’s determined to flee.. but she gets a second wind when Dewey, who rushed in to get the first ride and webby get trapped. Sadly dewey’s new enemy gets all the attention, and as we find out is aware he one upped Dewey and brags over it, but Penny has now gone from fish out of water to shark on the hunt, and with Launchpad’s help to get past Glom and Gib, and the roller skates from earlier finally has some earth fun by skating into the air, climbing the Ferris wheel and saving the kids. Penny FINALLY found something she likes about earth; That she can Still protect people, including her people and do what she loved there and the danger here is WAY more intresting.. I mean on hte moon itw as just the usual monsters she was used to. Here she had to rocket into the air, and climb an megalomainics cannon armed ferris wheel to save two adorable children. In short she’s become a super hero and like those I mentioned, has grown to care about earth. So basically this is like captain marvel was an episode of Steven Universe. I likes it. But it’s a nice character arc, as Penny realizes the outside world, and her new friends/future stepchildren, have b eauty and worth. And she will protect their kind, she will protect them. I mean duckberg already has about 4 other superheroes if you count lena, which with that outfit last time I dooo, but frankly with how much disaster it faces on a daily basis, and how much Fenton needed a goddamn break, and with Darkwing leaving for st canard soon, they could probably use her. 

So the day is saved, Glomgold is buired in fines but has a new minon, Dewey is dewfeated and Penny is happy again. We end on Penny recounting everything to Gibious and wife, and Good Boy obviously, along with Della who casually admits she really shoduln’t of let her child go but sooths him anyway over his loss. Penny is happy and deciding to stay, and her and her new best buddy laucnhpad are going to go tear the ship apart with her carrying della along. I swear when they finally do do it she’s just going to.. carry a willing della to her bedroom and throw her down on that thing.. everything after is up to you Id ont’ write porn here. Nothing wrong with it just not my bidness. So with a hopeful new future and a neat t-shirt, Penny finally finds her place in the world. 

Final Thoughts: A very good, very gay episode that’s just as good as last weeks and gives penumbra a hell of a character arc, while also being an utterly hilaroius episode, from penumbra’s destruction, to glomgold’s hilarious as always antics to dewey’s attention whoring reaching self endagering heights of stupidity and ego, this was a great one and keeps up Season 3′s quality streak. While the plot progression may be slow for now, everything else is at an alltime goddamn high. 

Next week, it’s the HALLOWEEN EPISODE BITCHES. Nuff Said. Until then you can check my blog for more reviews, as we have some halloween stuff coming up. Sadly with Loud House going silent, it seems this is our only weekly coverage but expect more reviews of various shows, and some very spooky ooky ones coming very soon including some brucie bonus episodes and until we meet again, go team venture! Play us out glomgold....

[slytherinknowitall]

Potion Fumes and Cauldron Leaks

Chapter 16: Sit, Drink, Talk

(Click here for chapter 15!)

(Click here to start from the beginning!)

Disclaimer: I don’t own the “Harry Potter” book series. The story of “Harry Potter” is the property of J. K. Rowling, it is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

Severus could not help but notice a change in his apprentice’s behaviour over the next couple of days.

Unlike her last emotional low, Granger did still show up to class; however, she’d stopped raising her hand and kept her head down working quietly during the majority of the lessons. She also appeared to have changed her regular meal times, and, whenever she still could not avoid running into her “friends”, she would sit at the opposite end of the long Gryffindor table, eating alone. Sometimes, she would also just skip meals all together. And while she continued to visit his office on the daily, her mood had definitely changed as well. She seemed a lot sadder and less carefree than usual. Severus would often try to engage her in interesting discussions about potions and the like, but they would all soon fizzle out as she did not appear to want to talk much.

Severus was becoming increasingly irritated. Not only did it hurt him to see her feel that way, but he also selfishly wanted his Hermione back – the one he could spend hours quietly working on potions with, the one that would pester him with countless questions, the one that would give him a great big smile whenever she walked through his door. Now, she was only a shadow of her former self, and he hated it.

And so, he decided that he had to do something about it.

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

Hermione threw her heavy bookbag on her bed with a loud grunt. She was feeling extremely frustrated. Not only was she currently struggling to come up with a solution for an especially tricky equation that was part of the Arithmancy homework she would have to hand in the following week, but she had also been unable to cast the new spell they had learnt about in Defence Against the Dark Arts earlier today. And while it was almost dinner time now and her stomach was actually growling, she really did not feel like going down to the Great Hall and facing her estranged friends. She could not stand the way they stared at her whenever she was forced to walk past them to sit down as far away from them as possible.

She sighed as she bent over and gave Crookshanks, who was curled up at the foot of her bed, a quick cuddle. Perhaps she could sneak down to the kitchens later and manage to grab a quick bite that way. Straightening, she then turned and walked into her small study, where she sat down at her overloaded desk and began to work on trying to solve that stupid equation.

It must have been about an hour and a half later when her concentration was interrupted by an all too familiar tapping noise. Sure enough, there was a little school owl sitting on the windowsill. Hermione wrinkled her nose.

Another late-night delivery? Surely it couldn’t be …

An uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach, she walked over, opened the window and made sure to give the bird a treat before carefully untying a small scroll from its left leg. After watching the animal fly away into the starry sky, she returned to her desk and unrolled the letter. Just like last time, there was no sender; however, the penmanship was all too familiar.

My office, 10.30 pm.

How strange, she thought. Why would he want to see her after curfew? Tapping her fingers against the tabletop, she allowed herself to ponder for a moment. But no matter how hard she cudgelled her brain, she simply could not come up with a plausible explanation for this ever so peculiar summoning.

Standing up, she began to pace around the room. The only possible reason he would invite her over this late that she could come up with was something forbidden, like dark magic or an illegal potion. Hermione could feel her cheeks start to burn. While she had never been one to break the rules, the thought of Professor Snape being a – for the lack of a better word – bad boy made her feel queasy in all the good ways for some reason.

Stop it, Hermione! That’s Professor Snape you are thinking of!

But with way too much time left on her hands until she was supposed to meet up with her tutor, the Muggle-born’s thoughts began to run wild: Professor Snape showing her a ground-breaking discovery he had just made, Professor Snape smuggling her out of school grounds to bring her to a secret gathering of the wizarding world’s best potioneers, Professor Snape regarding her intently as his lips were getting dangerously close to hers … Because if Hermione Granger was good at something, it was overthinking.

By the time she stole out of her tower to make her way down to the dungeons, Hermione had completely forgotten about dinner and Arithmancy. She had been too preoccupied by thoughts about the purpose of their meeting. Not by thoughts about Professor Snape, she tried telling herself; but subconsciously, she knew that she was lying to herself.

She did not know where it had come from, why her head was suddenly filled with unchaste ideas about her teacher. She was a bit too old to attribute them to pubertal confusion. All she knew was that she admired Professor Snape. He was a well-accomplished Potions Master, one of the smartest yet most mysterious people she had ever met and, if she was being honest with herself, not too bad looking either. He intrigued her, and the beating of her heart had suddenly quickened when she’d read his note. What would this encounter have in store for her?

It was a long walk from the Head Girl Tower down to the Potions professor’s office, but Hermione knew that she would not get caught. Among the perks of her position was knowing the patrol schedule as she too was sometimes required to aid school staff when it came to making rounds through the castle’s endless corridors. Her outfit was a bit more casual than what she would normally wear to see one of her teachers. She had combined a pair of light wash jeans with lined slippers and a really thick, bright-red woollen sweater, with the latter intended to protect her from the penetrating November cold – after all, Hogwarts was not exactly known for its good insulation. She had debated about whether she should have kept on her uniform but ultimately decided that Professor Snape could not expect her to be dressed formally if he sent for her past regular school hours.

It felt like an eternity had passed before she finally turned the corner and found herself in the corridor in which Professor Snape’s office was located. She knew that she was running a few minutes early, and she had actually planned to wait them out before knocking on the door; but to her surprise, the wizard was already waiting for her in the hallway. Seemingly out of nowhere, she felt her hands get sweaty.

“Good evening, Professor,” she said quietly; it was merely a whisper. “Aren’t we going inside?”

Snape mustered her for a second, noticeably surprised by her attire, and Hermione promptly started to regret her fashion choice; however, he did not comment on it. Instead, he let his voice resonate from the stone walls as he replied, “No. Tonight, we shall retreat to my private quarters. Follow me.”

And before she could get another word in, he had already spun around and was hurrying through the gloomy dungeon maze.

Hermione could feel her chest tighten painfully as she tried to keep up with the man’s long legs. “Private quarters? What in the name of Merlin is going on?!” the voice inside her head screamed. Sure, she had been in there before, but that had been during an emergency situation; she would have never thought that he would ever invite her back. Yet again, her own thoughts were threatening to overwhelm her.

Soon, they arrived at the portrait marking the hidden entrance to the professor’s rooms. Hermione could hear him mumble something under his breath before she watched the painting swing open. Almost instantaneously, she felt his hands on her shoulders. He practically pushed her inside.

Stepping into his sitting room, she immediately felt calmer. She had fallen in love with this place the very second she had first laid eyes upon it. The countless books lining the walls, the dark yet homely interior design as well as the overall cosy feeling just filled her with joy. If she were to imagine her dream home, it would definitely look something like this.

As soon as she turned around, however, her blissfulness swiftly turned into nervousness again. There he was, Professor Snape, just standing in the corner and staring at her with an expressionless face that made her whole body stiffen up. His presence was looming over her, and it somehow made her feel excited and scared to death at the same time.

You’re not twelve anymore, Hermione. He doesn’t scare you any longer. He’s still the same person you’ve been spending time with every day for weeks now!

But she simply could not help it. Merely standing next to him made her feel incredibly anxious.

“Sit down,” he all of a sudden ordered, pointing at one of the wing chairs in front of the fireplace – and without thinking, Hermione complied.

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

The only thing interrupting the silence was the crackling sound of fire. Sitting in the other identical chair just a few feet away, Severus watched the girl closely. She seemed nervous for some reason – her right leg was bouncing up and down restlessly, and she was back to gnawing at her bottom lip. Her eyes would not meet his; instead, they were clued to the floor. But he guessed that he could not blame her since it was indeed an incredibly weird situation.

Truth be told, he felt very much the same. Internally, he was chiding himself for being such a slave to his emotions. He knew that it had been wrong to invite her here, of course; that it would only make their relationship more personal which it definitely should not become. But he had just felt this inexplicable urge to do something, and, with how inexperienced he was when it came to social interactions, this was the only thing he could come up with – to try to make things better.

Admittingly, Severus was still a bit shocked by her look. He obviously knew that students often chose to wear casual clothing outside of class; after all, he had been a student at one point, too. And needless to say, he had seen her dressed in something other than her uniform before – during their coincidental confrontation in the Hospital Tower, a couple of times at Grimmauld Place, and in the memories which he had secretly viewed over a month ago, to name just a few instances. But for some reason, tonight was something else. Her outfit was definitely not special or provocative by any means, yet it threatened to disarm him wholly. The way the tight jeans hugged her curves, the way that the red of the jumper complimented her complexion – she was effortlessly breath-taking. It literally took him all of his hard-earned self-control not to start drooling right then and there.

When he had initially come up with his plan to help her feel better again, he had not thought about how it would all actually go down, and so quite frankly, the awkward silence was intimidating him a bit now. In an attempt to break the tension that currently filled the room, he conjured a silver tray with a large teapot, two dainty porcelain cups and a plate of biscuits straight from the nearby kitchens. A flick of his hand was all that was needed to propel the iron kettle into the air and command it to pour out the piping hot herbal tea. Leaning forward, Severus then handed Granger one of the cups without a word before setting the other one down on the small wooden table beside him. She accepted the beverage without complaint; however, after a few more minutes of uncomfortable silence, Severus noticed that she still had not touched it.

“Drink,” he said a little bit too loudly, making her jump. But still, she did end up taking a small sip. His own cup continued to sit on the side table untouched, where it would remain like that for the rest of the night.

Taking a deep breath to gather up his courage, he then finally managed to force out the words, “Now talk.” He prayed to the gods that she had not heard the slight crack in his voice.

“Pardon?” Granger looked up at him with her brows furrowed in confusion.

Severus gulped. This was not going well.

“Talk,” he repeated hoarsely, staring directly into her whiskey-coloured eyes.

“About what, sir?”

He was not sure when it had started exactly, but he had come to hate it when she used honorifics to address him. It merely served as a reminder of their teacher-student relationship – of how inappropriate his crush really was.

“Your … feelings.”

As expected, her mouth dropped open. “Um –“

Severus interrupted her quickly, internally starting to panic.

“Miss Granger, I simply cannot work like this! I need an apprentice who is able to dedicate herself completely to the subject of potion brewing, and the conflict with your little friends is obviously preventing you from doing so. You left me with no choice but to do something about it! If I have learnt anything from mainstream literature and cinematography, it is that women like to solve their problems by talking about them. So go ahead.” He knew that he was speaking too fast – he was painfully aware of it, in fact – but he simply could not help it. “Talk.”

Granger’s puzzled facial expression showed just how lost she was for words. “Professor Snape, I don’t –“

“This is probably the only time I will ever say this aloud, but you are truly an excellent apprentice. I enjoy working with you, and so if this is what it takes for you to become productive again, then please, by all means, speak!”

It was rather fascinating how easily readable she was sometimes; Severus was practically able to watch her inner debate with his own eyes as a whole array of different emotions washed over her face. Finally – it felt like it had been forever – she came to a decision.

“I mean, I can understand that they feel a bit let down by me, but I still don’t think that their reaction was justified,” she mumbled, the primitive dance of the flames inside the fireplace reflecting in her pupils.

Not saying anything, Severus waited until she was ready to continue. He had learnt a long time ago that most people would eventually start talking again just to make the unpleasant taciturnity go away.

“Every single year, during the height of Quidditch season, I barely get to see all three of them. But did I ever complain? No! I have always understood that that’s their passion. I have always put their needs and wants before mine. I come to every single one of their games to support them, to cheer them on – yet they complain whenever I ask them to join me for a study session at the library. But then as soon as exams roll around, I’m suddenly in high demand again …”

Barely holding back tears, her whole body began to shake, and there was nothing that Severus wanted to do more than to close the short distance between them, to hold her and calm her down like he had done that one night in his office. But he forced himself to stay put.

“I don’t even know how many assignments I have helped them with over the years. You better don’t believe that even half of the essays they have submitted to you were actually written by them. I normally take academic integrity really seriously, but shit!” Severus’ eyebrows shot up in surprise at her use of a curse word. “Ron and Harry wouldn’t even have made it past first year if I hadn’t helped them. I pretty much pushed them through six years of schooling myself, and this is the thanks I get? THEY DIDN’T EVEN CARE ENOUGH TO SPEND TIME WITH ME ON MY BIRTHDAY, BECAUSE OF FUCKING COURSE QUIDDITCH IS MORE IMPORTANT! DID I SAY ANYTHING BACK THEN?!”

The petite woman was screaming at this point.

“Do they think I enjoyed being pushed to the centre of a bloody war just because I was friends with The Boy Who Lived? Do they think I enjoyed putting my life on the line every single day starting when I was still just a child? Time after time, I saved their asses from certain death, and now that the war is over, now that I do not have to worry about that shit anymore, they get mad at me for finally doing what I enjoy?!” By now, her face was covered in tears. “How dare they fuck me over like this! HOW DARE THEY! It’s like our friendship only exists on their terms. So what if I fucking missed lunch with them? Oh yeah, because that totally cancels out the time I got FUCKING TORTURED by that bitch Lestrange; when I was almost killed but did not say a single fucking word because I had to protect them!”

Granger let out an agonised whimper as she grabbed the left sleeve of her jumper and yanked it up, revealing a horrific sight: there, on the inside of her forearm, the word MUDBLOOD was carved into her delicate flesh over and over again, marking her from her wrist all the way up to the crook of her arm. The cuts – the dozens of them that were there – must have been extremely deep, as each dark red letter was elevated noticeably from her pale skin.

Without thinking, Severus jumped out of his seat. He was by his beloved’s side in no time.

“Bellatrix,” he hissed under his breath. The witch was lucky that she was already dead, because he certainly would not have been nice to her – not after seeing this. Kneeling next to the weeping girl, he carefully held her fragile arm in his wiry hands as he nonverbally cast different diagnostic spells.

“Why have I never seen this before?!” He had known that Granger had briefly fallen into enemy hands during the final battle; but no one, neither the Order nor the Dark Lord, had ever mentioned that torture had taken place. He could feel himself get angrier by the second. “Albus should have told me!”

Granger would not meet his gaze. “I don’t think he knows. Nobody knows. I usually cover it up with a charm.”

The anguish in her voice made his heart ache.

“This looks bad,” he whispered, even as everything inside him screamed to go on a murderous rampage. “But I am sure it could be fixed. We could try an ointment, maybe a potion. If you’d just give me enough time to come up with –“

“No,” she cut him off, pulling back her arm and covering up the marks with her sleeve again. “It’s of no use. She used some type of ancient pure-blood curse so it would never go away. Trust me, I’ve tried everything.”

Severus was taken aback by the sudden lack of emotion in her voice.

“I’ll just have to live with it. It’s a daily reminder of my real place in the wizarding world … a daily reminder of how worthless the blood running through my veins really is.”

Hopelessly despaired, Severus wanted to say something – anything – to the contrary and was desperately searching for the right words. But in the end, he stopped himself; nothing he could possibly say right now would make this situation any better. He had seen his fair share of magical injuries over the years, but this was definitely one of the worst. If Granger was right – if this had really been an ancient curse – then there was nothing he or anyone else could do. The fact that she was able to cover it up when needed was already incredible and showed just how unbelievably capable she truly was.

Still wanting to comfort his little witch and show sympathy somehow, he found himself reaching out and carefully placing his hand on hers. He heard her draw a sharp breath upon contact, and for a split second, he was afraid that she would pull away from him. But then, ever so lightly, she squeezed his fingers.

They stayed in that position for a very long time, holding hands in silence as they watched the fire slowly burn out. It was not until there was only a handful of dying embers left that he spoke up again, having to clear his throat first after not saying anything in so long.

“I know that nothing could ever possibly replace your friends, but if you want to then you can come here anytime you wish. I have a lot of books that I am sure you would enjoy, and if you ever don’t feel like eating in the Great Hall, the house elves do offer rather good room service. And they are very much discreet at that, too.” His heart was beating so fast and loud that he was sure all of Scotland could hear. “I wouldn’t really mind your company either. After all, you do seem to be the only person in the entire castle that is able to hold an intellectually stimulating conversation for longer than five minutes.”

For the first time tonight, he saw the corners of her mouth lift a little.

“I’d love that,” she said softly.

Severus could not stop himself from grinning back at her.

“Great!” he exclaimed without a care in the world about whether he sounded just a little bit too enthusiastic in that moment. “Then let me just quickly jot down the password for you.”

“A-are you sure? I mean, I could just knock!”

Severus chuckled at her shocked expression as he stood up and walked over to his secretary desk.

“I think your position as Head Girl proves that you are more than trustworthy. As long as you promise me that you are over your ‘breaking in and stealing from other people’s private stocks’ phase from five years ago, I think that we should be just fine.”

Granger’s face instantly mottled crimson.

“You know that was me?” she whispered, positively mortified.

“You were sitting in the Hospital Wing a half-human half-cat. It did not take a genius to connect the dots. Besides, who do you think brewed you the antidote?”

“Oh god! Sir, I am so, so sorry! I –“

“It’s all right. Here,” he said, handing her a small piece of paper. “Come and go as you wish. Even when I am not here.”

“I, I –“ Severus could not help it – the mean professor inside him still for some reason enjoyed seeing a student stammer helplessly right in front of him. “I don’t even know what to say, sir. Thank you so much. For your kind offer and for letting me get it all out. I appreciate it, really!”

An hour later, as he laid alone in bed, Severus could only think of one thing: he never knew that Granger could swear like that.

(Click here for chapter 17!)