#things better resolve quick next week now please and thank you

[littleragondin]

"- Living together? [...] - Well I didn't think you would jump at the idea like that... - What? That was a joke? - Let's see... that could work" - Ameiro Paradox ep.7

[koolades-world]

alright so, quick idea regarding reopening requests! please read more if you're interested in making a requests :) yapping and some probably scuffed math ahead just fyi lol. if you've made one while requests have been closed, please read this too!

i've been thinking about it, and as soon as I get down to a manageable amount, i'd implement this system. right now, i have 77? i think which is a lot but much better than it was before. i believe i started with about 120 something. considering that, i don't think it would go into action until november. if i reopen them in november, if i make a request post everyday and am keeping up with spellbound secrets, i would have 12 requests left, which seems like a good number to reopen on. that's only if i don't go on a reduced posting schedule, and if i solely make posts based on requests. fall term begins in about a week for me, so i'll be getting busier with schoolwork and may not have as much time as i do now. i also love to write things that make me happy, and as well as making posts for holidays, which would mean more requests gone unwritten.

so i'm thinking for the first week of every month, they'll be open. they wouldn't close until midnight of the seventh day or until i hit 30. i hope it never gets to that point, but i figured it would be good to add a cap. this number may change either if i feel like it needs to be raised or lowered. then i'd shut them, work on what i received. rinse and repeat for the next month. it ensure my inbox isn't too full, and that you get your request done in about a month! of course, when we get closer to reopening them, i'll make another post and update my pinned :)

i'm not sure how many other people have been having this problem, but i've been noticing that things i know have been in my inbox aren't there when i haven't touched them, requests will duplicate themselves, or they'll be in an order that they definitely weren't in before. i think it had to do with the fact that i have so many items in my inbox. of course, these issues resolve themselves, but there's no set time for when they'll return to normal. i don't think anything has vanished for good, but i have no way of knowing. i don't want any requests to slip through the cracks. if i accidently do one that was duplicated, it just further delays requests that actually need to be done.

this is the reason i've been deleting requests that have been made while i've had them closed. i hate to sound rude, but it's not too hard to read my pinned post especially when the text for my inbox is "read pinned post" or something along those lines. i even made it simpler to see that requests were closed by not having it under a read more and bolding it. it hasn't been easy to just straight up delete them, but they're just further adding to the number of items in my inbox, which i'm trying to reduce and may be contributing to much earlier requests having issues that i talked about above. i also didn't want to go back on what i said. if i do it for one person, i have to do it for everyone which just isn't fair. if you're one of these people, hey! thanks for reading this. know i'm not mad or upset with you but just ask that you please check if requests are open or not next time :)

just wanted to give a heads up! sorry it's taking so long, but i'm sure you guys understand. if i'm in a good mood and have time, i might double up some days to help cut back on those leftover requests and get them done sooner. thanks for reading! this was way longer than i thought it was going to be haha

have a wonderful day <333

[peakyblindersxx]

come home with me - finn shelby x reader

a/n: you have @michaelgreys to thank for this one (& the gif!!! check her out she's amazing). s5 finn cause god damn!!1 i honestly dont have much to say about this one other than it's definitely self indulgent and not even god can help me at this point. i'm working on p4 to whiskey buisness rn as well as some requests, thank you for all the sweet comments!!

love, abi xxx

my masterlist

prompt: finn hates you so much he might want to fuck you.

warnings: nsfw!! smut, pretty fluffy cause he's baby 🥺

Working for the Shelby Company wasn’t difficult, except for one thing: Finn Shelby. You were one of the many secretaries, in charge of conveying messages, filing papers, and many other important things, such as making sure the glass decanter of whiskey sitting on the bar cart in Tommy’s office was never empty. It wasn’t a very taxing job, but Finn went out of his way to get under your skin in every way he could. Maybe it was the fact that you wouldn’t back down, having a quick retort to anything close to disrespectful that he said to you. The other brothers never said a thing to intervene, Arthur even telling you he was glad you had a backbone.

“Finn’s a cocky thing, eh? Too cocky for his own good. A girl like you’ll put ‘im in his place,” he had slurred, while you collected the letters he’d asked you to mail.

“Dunno, Mr. Shelby,” you’d mused. “Seems like he’s got some sort of problem with me.”

“Don’t even bother with that, he’s just an arrogant fuck. Probably got some sort of crush on you an’ is too shy to do shit about it. You know, first time he fucked a whore, he said sorry,” Arthur grunted. You’d chalked up his admissions to the half empty bottle of whiskey that he was clutching and the light dusting of snow on his right nostril. Still, you couldn’t help but wonder if the looks Finn shot your way, though seemingly out of irritation, meant something more. You couldn’t lie, you’d thought about what it’d be like to feel the youngest Shelby brother’s bow-shaped lips on your neck, his hands on your waist. It couldn’t be true, you resolved; Arthur was just wasted and you were delusional.

Monday came, and Tommy had asked you to work in the betting shop for the next few weeks. “Make sure Finn’s not fucking up,” he had grunted, taking a long drag of his cigarette, clear blue eyes barely leaving the stacks of paper that littered his massive desk. Of course you’d agreed, but you were nervous. Something about it made your heart beat faster in your chest. You took a shot of whiskey before you left, hoping the dark liquor would help calm your nerves. Isaiah insisted on accompanying you, telling you there were too many people that didn’t like them around there and to make sure someone was always with you for the next few weeks. You were grateful for his presence, the jokes he cracked easing your mind as the two of you walked briskly along the cobblestone streets. It didn’t take long to get there, Isaiah holding the door open for you as the warm air inside the betting office washed over you. Finn turned to see who it was, a scowl tugging at the edges of his mouth once he saw you.

“Why the fuck is she here,” he drawled, sitting at his desk with his feet up, a half-finished cigarette dangling from his fingertips. As much as you hated to admit it, he looked fucking good, hair neatly combed back, smelling of expensive cologne in a pressed navy blue suit. He was tall, legs stretching across the desk as he sent a glare in your direction, you rolling your eyes in response.

“Tommy said,” Isaiah interjected, sensing the tension in the air. “He said you said you needed more help, or somethin’.”

“Fuckin’ christ,” Finn mumbled, taking a drag from his cigarette before putting it out on the crystal ashtray that sat on his desk, standing to grab a stack of books from one of the shelves behind him.

“Jesus, it’s like I’m the fucking plauge or something,” you retorted, Isaiah stifling his chuckle as he looked anywhere but at the two of you. Finn ignored you, instead setting the pile of books on his desk.

“Come look at this, before I change my mind,” he said, instead. You obliged, walking behind his desk to see what he was gesturing to as Isaiah excused himself, something about “gettin’ fucking plastered, mate!” Finn was easily a head taller than you, so he practically towered over you, engulfing you in a cloud of his intoxicating cologne as you stood so close to him that you could practically feel the heat emanating from his body.

“So, these are the bets, and those are the outcomes,” he explained, arm brushing against your body slightly as he pointed to the different columns written out in the log. To your chagrin, your skin prickled in response, your body unable to control itself. Yet, you pushed it down, not wanting to give Finn the satisfaction of knowing that you wanted him. God knows he’d hold it against you forever. What he was explaining was simple enough, and you were able to grasp it fairly quickly. He was all business, handing you the logs he needed you to double check, as you sank into the desk adjacent to his, pouring over the books and coming to him to confirm small corrections.

However, after a couple of drinks of whiskey (some of which you admittedly consumed), Finn started talking. Small things, like how irritating Tommy was or how much they’d made off a certain horse. He’d never opened up to you like this; it was always a snide remark that usually set off an argument, since the two of you were fairly hot-headed. This time, it was different. Finn was still looking at you, but with slightly rosy cheeks and a smile threatening to spread across his face every time you made a witty remark. This time, you liked the way he was looking at you.

***

Two thirds of a bottle later, you were both on the floor in front of the fire, laughing at something Finn had said. Admittedly, he had said it just to see you laugh. He liked when you laughed, he realized. It was much better than the irritated look on your face that he usually saw. In all honesty, it was probably his fault, he thought to himself. Maybe it was the whiskey talking, but he really wanted to see you smile for the rest of his life. You sat next to him, shoulders brushing as the two of you talked, your jacket long abandoned, revealing the flimsy straps of the black lace dress. You looked so fucking pretty, he couldn’t help himself.

“You’re fucking beautiful, you know that, right? Always wondered why you hung ‘round us lot, bunch of mean fuckers.” The words fell out of his mouth, hovering in the air between the two of you. You stared at him, slightly taken aback, but the liquor was doing the talking for both of you, it seemed.

“Look who’s fucking talking. Half the girls in Brum would gladly fuck you, even just for a night.”

Finn paused, lighting a cigarette and offering you a drag.“What about you?”

You accepted, taking a puff before passing it back. “What about me?”

He cracked a grin. “Would you fuck me?”

His bluntness took you aback, but you were too far gone to think properly. “Maybe,” you admitted, a coy smile playing at your lips. Finn’s eyes darkened, closing the distance between the two of you until his body was almost touching yours, the tension between you crackling like the fire just a few feet away.

“What about now?” he muttered, lips brushing ever so slightly against your neck, causing you to shiver. He noticed, his hands finding the curve of your hips, searing through your dress. You couldn’t help but tilt your neck back slightly, a gasp leaving your lips as Finn pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your skin.

“Finn,” you moaned quietly, the smile on his lips growing wider as his hands fiddled with the hem of your dress, fingertips sliding underneath to grip lightly at the soft skin of your thighs. “Fuckin’ do something already, christ.”

Finn grinned. “Always got a fuckin’ mouth on you, eh? You’re lucky I find that attractive,” he teased. You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could, his fingers found your silk panties, pushing them to the side to rub lightly against your clit, causing you to jolt in pleasure. You were already wet, to Finn’s satisfaction, and he had no trouble pushing a finger inside of you. The moans that were leaving your mouth were sinful, and he savored each one, watching the way you squirmed when he added another, curling them inside of you.

“Look so goddamn pretty, stuffed full of my fingers,” he crooned, sending your eyes rolling back in your head, eyelashes fluttering.

“Finn, please,” you whined, his nimble fingers deftly unzipping your dress and sliding it off, leaving you in your black silk bra and panties. Finn paused, taking a second to drink you in before pressing his lips to yours. They were softer than you could have imagined, hands gripping at your waist as he tugged at your bottom lip for access. You let him in, melting at his touch like butter.

“Want you inside me,” you mumbled against his lips, causing his muscles to stiffen as he sprang into action, pulling you on top of him, lining his already hard cock up with you. He was big, and if you weren’t already so ready for him, you might have been a little nervous. He slowly pushed inside of you, helping you sink down on top of him with one hand as he swore under his breath, using his other hand to unhook your bra, throwing it to the side and exposing your breasts to the cool air, nipples hardening at his touch.

“Fuckin’ gorgeous,” Finn growled, unable to resist from taking one of them into his mouth, rolling it between his teeth. The sound you made in response was pathetic, but fuck if it wasn’t fueling his appetite for you. He couldn’t help but push up into you, a tight grip on your hipbones, holding you up as he rammed into you, cock pressing up against your g-spot, sending your vision spinning.

“Fuck, Finn, m’gonna cum,” you cried, eyes sqeezed shut, overwhelmed by the sheer amount of pleasure he was giving you. Finn grunted, somehow increasing his pace, pressing kisses to wherever he could.

“Go ahead darlin’, want you to cum all over my cock,” he cajoled, the words sending waves of pleasure through you. You couldn’t help but follow his orders, colors flickering across your eyesight. The image of you cumming just for him sent Finn over the edge, groaning your name as he finished inside of you, dripping down the inside of your thighs. You looked so fucking angelic in the firelight, he had the sudden urge to take care of you.

“Y’alright?” He asked, reaching for a rag to clean you up. You nodded, smiling softly down at him as he couldn’t help but press a kiss to your hipbone. He looked up at you, eyes full of adoration.

“Come home with me?” Finn murmured, hands fidgeting.

“Yeah,” you replied, a glow tinging your cheeks as you looked at him the same. “Let’s go home.”

[wallflowerimagines]

Can I please get some hcs about Donna trying to court/pine for someone who’s more timid and shy than her, or at least is afraid of Donna bc she’s a Lord and has all these rumors about her (some true some not), and is worried about being killed or worse everytime they’re in the room together

(Oh god, this is such a disaster combo. My poor wife 😭)

Donna Beneviento x VERY Shy! Reader

Donna first notices you from a distance.

You're charming, kind, and so sweet to others! It's obvious that you're very shy, but that doesn't stop you from reaching out a (very gently trembling) hand when someone needs your help.

You're clearly working through some anxieties of your own, and at first Donna finds herself watching you because she relates to your experiences. Unfortunately, you don't have an Angie to help you like she does, so you seem to be even more timid than Donna is.

Eventually, though, Donna starts to fixate on the small gestures that you do.

The way you smile when you think nobody can see you is just heartbreakingly cute, and she wishes you had the courage to smile like that all the time.

Sometimes, you giggle so hard, you shove your face in your hands and try to stifle the noise so it doesn't bother other people.

One time, on a very rare sunny day, you tilted your head up towards the sun, closed your eyes, and simply basked in the warmth. You reminded her so much of the flowers in her garden, that she was immediately hit with the desire to see you relaxed and safe beside her favorite blooms.

What can I say? She just thinks you're neat 💓👉👈

Eventually, she decides it's time to get to know you better!

Angie hypes her up too! Donna should get out there and meet you organically! You and her are so similar it'll be easy to get a conversation started!

AHAHAHA no

Angie's sort of right. You and Donna are very similar. Too similar. Because when Donna gathers enough courage to leave the house to try to meet you in public, she spots you, panics, overthinks her approach, and darts around a corner. She winds up following you around all day, while Angie heckles her to JUST SAY HI ALREADY.

But...uh... here's the thing...

You're shy, but you're not oblivious. Donna Beneviento, the Lady of House Beneviento, one of the Four Lords of the village is stalking you through the streets.

You are ABSOLUTELY TERRIFIED.

The word around town is Lady Beneviento tortures her servants. Apparently she makes them suffer through horrifying hallucinations before she rips them limb from limb, stitches their soul back together, and turns them into living dolls?

The minute you realize what's going on, you IMMEDIATELY make your way back home, lock the door, and try your best not to have a panic attack.

This goes on for several weeks. As you slowly leave the house less and less, Donna becomes more and more confused and concerned. Are you sick? Hurt? Is something wrong?

Finally, one day you hear a knock at the door, and open it to find a lonely little doll in a wedding dress standing at your feet.

Ah. So this is how you die.

Angie is here to check in on you! Apparently Lady Beneviento has noticed you aren't feeling well, and wishes you a speedy recovery!

You are speechless. After a minute, you try to say a quick thank you and usher the doll off your porch, but Angie is Not Having It. You are shaking and obviously scared of her, and she's going to do her best to fix it.

Despite her loud, wild personality, Angie can be pretty charming when she wants to be. She continues to offer pleasantries mixed in with remarks about how she (AND DONNA) hope you're doing well, and how she (AND DONNA) want you to know that if there's anything you might need, she (AND DONNA!!!) would be happy to send some staff your way.

That's... Not what you were expecting.

It takes a moment for you to reassess the situation. Donna Beneviento, despite the rumors, has never openly hurt anyone that you know of. And while she very obviously has a living doll--something that you are confused and still a little nervous about--Angie doesn't seem malicious.

And when Angie gives a little goodbye curtsy with stiff joints and a tiny wave as she skips away, you find yourself a lot less scared of veiled Lady in the Manor and her living doll.

The next time Donna spots you around the Village, she's aware that you are frightened of her. After talking with Angie, they've both resolved to try to give you some distance. While Donna is devastated at the thought she might never get to know you like she wanted, she wants you to be comfortable and feel safe.

Maybe one day, you might get to be friends, but it's clearly not in the cards for now.

Just as she is about to walk away, you turn to look at her. There's a split second where you obviously don't know what to do, but then you absolutely stun Donna by just... smiling at her. The same smile you give when you think nobody can see you.

You even pluck up the courage to offer a her small, shaky wave.

Donna waves back, happy beyond belief, while Angie practically screams back her own hello.

(...It's a start 🥰)

[findingjoynweirdstuff]

Dream’s Conversation With Tubbo After the Exile

[December 7 2020]

Ghostbur: “And...and -- and you’re President, and you’re doing a great job, and...even Dream -- Dream himself seems happier!”

Tubbo: “He does! He’s being -- he is, he’s been on the server an awful lot. Whether that’s a good sign or a bad one, he definitely seems more positive.”

Ghostbur: “Oh! Speaking of the Devil.”

Tubbo: “Dream actually, the other day, declared L’manburg actually a recognized official state, which is…”

Dream: “Hello!”

Tubbo: “Hello!”

Ghostbur: “Hello, Dream! How are you?”

Dream: “Hello, Wilbur!”

Tubbo: “Hi! This -- he’s just showing me some cool new stuff, showed me…”

Dream: “Cool!”

Ghostbur: “Have some blue, please.” (He throws Dream some blue)

Tubbo: “Yeah, you’re gonna -- you’re gonna need some of that.” (He throws Dream some blue as well)

Dream: “Thank you.”

Dream: “Um, can I give you a real quick update on the walls?”

Tubbo: “Yeah yeah yeah, of course! I saw they were gone, I was over the moon!”

Dream: “Oh, yeah, well they’re not completely gone yet, but unless someone has finished the job, which -- ooh, they might’ve! But yeah, there’s still some back there--”

…

Tubbo: “Dream, it looks great! Thank you so much for keeping your word.”

Dream: “Yeah! No problem! Um, I thought there was one thing I didn’t technically keep my word on, so I thought I’d be upfront about it.”

Tubbo: “What?”

Dream: “The obsidian? I have another thing I could use it for, so it was all used up -- you can ask Sam, um…”

Tubbo: “Ohhh, okay. That’s okay! I don’t think we’ll need any obsidian, we don’t need to defend or hide anything or seal anything away, so I think we’ll be fine. I mean, that’s the only uses I can think of, so.”

Ghostbur: “If Tommy’s in exile, why don’t you put the obsidian around him?”

Tubbo: “Wilbur, you’re meant to try and cheer him up, here. I don’t know if that would be the best for his mood!”

Ghostbur: “You said that would bring peace! Having Tommy out has brought peace to everything.”

Tubbo: “Yeah, there is currently peace right now, except for -- I was told there was a war yesterday, but hey, I don’t…”

Dream: “Oh yeah, that -- I mean I -- we resolved it semi-peacefully. Quackity did some dumb stuff, I’m sure he’ll tell you, but--”

Tubbo: “Oh, okay, okay.”

Dream: “We resolved it pretty quickly.”

Tubbo: “I don’t have to exile him too, do I? Please for the love of god.”

Dream: “No, no we resolved it, we resolved it.”

Ghostbur: “You can still leave when there’s obsidian around you, can’t you?”

Tubbo: “Yeah, but it takes a while, and no one wants to mine that crap.”

Ghostbur: “Oh, oh! I didn’t mean to imprison him, I just meant put it around him, you know? To keep his goods, and like we did with L’manburg.”

Tubbo: “Ohhh. Oh yeah, that -- I mean I guess the walls could’ve been seen as a way to keep the goods in. Yeah. The lanterns are nice...”

Dream: “I wanna say, I really like the way...I wanna say, L’manburg’s been looking so nice recently.”

Tubbo: “Have you seen under the water!”

Dream: “Yeah, the water’s insane, yeah!”

Tubbo: “Like, oh my god, it’s got coral, and sea pickles…”

Dream: “The whole nation’s just incredible.”

Tubbo: “Thanks, Dream! You’ve never been this positive about it before.”

Dream: “Well, I said this, I mean I’ll be honest with you, I said this to Quackity the other day, but I truly think that with you as President, L’manburg can thrive! Because before that, I mean, I -- no offense to…” 

(he looks at Ghostbur) 

“Before that, I don’t think there was...there was Presidents that may not’ve...been so good. But...but you! I think that you are fair, and you are just, and I think you proved that.”

Tubbo: “Thanks, Dream.”

Dream: “And here, I’ll take my armor off.”

Tubbo: “Oh, yeah yeah yeah -- thank you! -- You’ve never honored the laws of L’manburg before! Oh my god!”

Dream: “Well, I never recognized it!”

Tubbo: “This is a big day! Holy crap!”

…

(Tubbo and Dream discuss where the borders of L’manburg lie. Dream leaves it up to Tubbo to dictate where the borders fall, as long as he doesn’t encroach on parts that are specifically Dream SMP territory)

Tubbo: “We should probably write up a treaty as well, declaring open borders.”

Dream: “Yeah! That’d be good.”

Tubbo: “So then, for the next President’s term, the treaty still stands. Unless I’m...overthrown.”

Dream: “Yeah! That sounds good to me. When’s the next -- is there gonna be an election?”

Tubbo: “Yeah, the 2nd of February is actually the end of my first term. I do plan on running again, but I know that other people are showing interest.”

Dream: “Mm. Very cool. Yeah, it definitely expands out past here, so...I’ve noticed -- I think, obviously, I think Tommy...eh, I dunno, I think it’s been a bit better since Tommy is out of here, since he...you know, he creates all the conflict and stuff, but...I think sometimes, it’s like time out, you know. Like maybe he can come back one day, you know?”

Tubbo: “I hope one day he can come back.”

Dream: “I always think forever, but…”

Tubbo: “Just for a real note, while we’re on such good terms, I was hoping one day in the future -- not necessarily soon, but just...you know. Visitation rights. If you know what I mean?”

Dream: “Yeah, I think that’s maybe something -- you know, at least a few weeks, probably, before we can discuss that, but I think a few weeks pass, we discuss it, maybe he can --”

Tubbo: “After things cool off a bit.”

Dream: “Yeah, yeah. I think if things cool off, maybe he could get visitation, but I couldn’t see him ever coming back, but being able to, you know...he did request visitation on Christmas day, so.”

Tubbo: “Oh! That would be quite nice. We’ll have to wait and see.”

Dream: “Yeah, that sounds...do you have any big projects planned? What is this?”

Tubbo: “Well, for today, I was gonna be going around putting up billboards -- this is a chess board.”

“Have you ever played chess, Dream?”

[glaivenoct]

Title ask: Calm my storm

Thank you for sending one! <3

(Made-Up Fic Title Meme Here - Still accepting these!)

Alas, I can never answer anything short and simple, can I? Oops ^^;

Hmm, this one kinda reminds me of something I randomly talked about on twitter about a month ago or so. It feels like it'd be the perfect excuse for a fic about Noctis finding out about Nyx's PTSD.

This is headcanon stuff - but I always liked to think that when Nyx was younger (Correct me if I'm wrong, but he joined the KG in his early 20s I think??), he kinda shrugged things off and thought he could deal on his own rather than getting help. Whenever I think of 32 year old Nyx, I think of someone who's no longer in denial that he has PTSD, accepted help, and has worked hard for the last five years or so to overcome it.

Has he improved? Yes, but given that PTSD isn't a curable thing and that he's still an active soldier in the midst of a war - I think it's fair to say there's plenty of room for triggers, bad days and such.

I mean the whole premise of this fic would be going off the moment in the movie where Nyx zones out next to Libertus while watching the other glaives warp in the training the yard. He zones out and, well, I interpreted it as a flashback of a time he got disrupted mid-warp because he heard Selena's cry in his head. And maybe he didn't catch himself that time. Maybe he's had more than one moment like that in the past, and there have been times where Libertus, Crowe, Pelna or any other glaive has had to step in and catch him before he got hurt.

Basically, I want that to happen for the first time in front of Noctis. At this point in their relationship, Nyx hasn't even remotely mentioned the PTSD. Mostly because I don't see him as someone that would openly bring it up if it's not currently affecting him in a negative way. Not only that, but deep down there's that part of Nyx that doesn't want to worry or "burden" Noctis. (Nyx please love yourself)

But you can sure bet when Noctis worries when he witnesses that! I think even before they got into a relationship, Noct knows he'll never truly understand what Nyx has and continues to go through. At the same time, I see him being in awe of Nyx from the beginning; because he's at least aware that with war comes loss, tragedy, physical/emotional/psychological tolls, and he knows Nyx has managed to withstand a lot of that already. He's never seen any signs of those deeper psychological scars until now.

After Nyx has finally snapped out of it, is back on his feet and confirmed okay even though he almost wasn't - I want there to be that private moment between Nyx and Noct. The one where Noctis asks what happened and Nyx kinda just brushes it off because he doesn't want to say what it really is.

"Does that happen a lot?"

"Every now and again." Nyx'll say it so nonchalant, take a quick swig of the water Noct got him and the deflect with that charming, happy-go-lucky smirk. "Don't worry about it. It's just a warping thing."

"I thought you don't get dizzy and nauseous like everyone else does."

"I overdid it," a careless shrug, "that's all."

"When? You weren't warping before these exercises."

"I said don't worry about it, Noct." He'll say firmer and slightly irritated, smirk gone. "I'm fine."

But he's not, and Noct will witness more signs for himself over the next week. The flashbacks, nightmares, ect. And all Noct wants to know is how he can better help/support Nyx.

Ultimately, I of course want it all to resolve in Nyx opening up about the PTSD to Noct. I've always wanted to write something where Nyx is able to come to the understanding that it's okay for him to let himself be cared for and protected rather than just being the one who protects and cares for everyone else. I wrote that vibe in let me take care of you, but Calm My Storm would be kinda the starting point for it in NyxNoct's developing relationship. This is where a big part of their trust in each other would start to strengthen, and remind them that being vulnerable with each other isn't something to be scared of.

And it's feels like that that really just sucker punch me in the heart man ;u;

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 317: My Boy Was Just Like Me

Previously on BnHA: AFO randomly blew up Lady Nagant as a good reminder of why you should never make a deal with this fucking guy, smdh. Hawks was all “well if it isn’t my two best friends, Deku and Lady Nagant, both of whom I respect and love tremendously.” Everyone was all “??” and Horikoshi was all “shh... just pretend” because it was too embarrassing for him to admit that he forgot to write a couple of set-up flashbacks I guess. Anyway so Hawks got Lady to tell them where AFO was hiding out, and everyone said goodbye to her and Overhaul, who never did get to see his boss (sorry buddy, I’ll send you a vial of my tears in the mail), and headed out to a house in the woods. AFO was all “hello Deku :) :) it sure is fun making you suffer :) :) :) anyways this is a trap”, and blew up the house. Yeah, we all here are getting reaaaaaaaal tired of your shit, AFO.

Today on BnHA: The Hawksquad and Edgeplatoon meet in a warehouse and are all “what should we do about the fact that everything sucks?” Mt. Lady is all “here’s a thought, what if we tried battling AFO with more than six people.” Hawks and Endeavor are all “great initiative, but just a friendly reminder that our friends also suck and would probably betray Deku which would suck further still.” Shouto is all “ANSWER THE PHONE DAD” and Endeavor is all “[IRONICALLY DOESN’T ANSWER THE PHONE].” Meanwhile over in Sadtown, capital of Sadland Prefecture, Japan, Deku is all “All Might, as you can clearly see I am completely fine and good, never been better in fact, definitely not caught up in the throes of an epic mental breakdown which is shutting me down emotionally, anyway so on that note I would like to leave you now goodbye!!” All Might is all “[can’t actually form any words because he’s too distraught].” Fandom is all “o(╥﹏╥)o.” Horikoshi is all “(*＾-’) 乃 [pew pew finger guns and barrel rolls into the darkness].”

sweet jesus lord

this literally doesn’t even look like Deku anymore?? this looks like Dark!Deku who shows up to fight you in that one room in the Water Temple. he looks like he’s about to crawl out of my television set and murder me with his psychic powers good lord

holy shit lmao Horikoshi is really just shrugging his shoulders and resolving last week’s cliffhanger with a single line of dialogue

fire is no one’s weakness. idk what other options you’ve got, AFO, but you’re gonna have to go back to the drawing board. maybe try bees or something. I’m just saying. we’re all expecting fire at this point but nobody is expecting bees

anyway so now they’re all sitting in some warehouse somewhere chatting about it I guess. shoutout to Horikoshi for finally giving my man Edgeshot some more dialogue at long last

well, Edgeshot, to answer your question, she exploded. so naturally she’s fine

nah just kidding, Hawks says she won’t be able to help them out much because she’s recovering from being exploded. this is the part where we all ignore the fact that Hawks got set on fire for like a full ten minutes back during the War arc and was only in the hospital for a day. anyways enjoy your temporary plot hiatus Nagant

man there’s a lot of dialogue here and I’m trying to figure out where to insert commentary but it’s kinda difficult lol. basically, Edge and the others are saying that they should gather up the other remaining heroes and get them all caught up on the whole OFA situation. which, hmmmm

like on the one hand, these guys definitely aren’t going to cut it on their own, so it’s a reasonable suggestion on the face of it. but on the other hand, do we really want to entrust the OFA secret to a bunch of other people, most of whom shat the bed during the War arc to be quite frank? is it really worth the additional risk? especially given that any one of them might go spilling the beans to the public -- or worse, betray them to AFO??

also just a quick side note here, Mt. Lady’s character development never ceases to delight me. she’s become so committed to her responsibility as a hero these days, and it fucking suits her. I genuinely consider to be one of the elites now. I mean it doesn’t hurt that all the other elites are fucking dead lol but still

wait what? Death Arms retired??

Death Arms as in the guy who was too afraid of a little fire to try and save a terrified 14-year-old kid who was slowly suffocating right before his eyes?? that Death Arms???? color me surprised. shocked, I tell you

...okay but holy fuck

Death Arms. bro. my expectations for you were low but holy shit. like I’m sorry, but I don’t even have it in me to try and pretend like I feel the slightest bit of sympathy for him or Old Man Samurai or any of those other guys today. thanks for a whole lot of nothing my dude. good riddance

(ETA: so I’m rereading this the next day and realize this comes off as kind of harsh, so let me just try to clarify. it’s not the fact that he’s quitting that bothers me, to be honest. it’s the fact that he’s quitting specifically because he feels like the public is being mean to him. that’s it.

seriously. it would be one thing if he was quitting because he was scared, because now that is human. nobody wants to die, and I doubt any amount of training can ever fully prepare someone to go up against that fear. but the thing is, he never once mentions that, or talks about the danger aspect. instead, I got the distinct vibe from this speech that Death Arms is one of those people who only became a hero because of the limelight. and I just don’t have any patience for that. if all you care about are likes and subscribes then go become a fucking youtuber or some shit. nothing wrong with that! but you didn’t; you signed up to be a hero and protect these people. they gave you their respect and admiration because they trusted you to protect them. and now that they’re no longer in the mood to worship and applaud your every move on account of them being scared shitless because they’re living in the literal end times, you decide to dip. so like okay, fine then. don’t let the door hit you on the way out. anyways lol sorry for the rant.)

anyway so yeah. perfect example of why I don’t exactly have a ton of faith in most of the remaining heroes out there lol. also let me just once again give a shoutout to my best girl Mt. Lady whom I suddenly find myself appreciating all the more

“please calm down makeste. drink some water and enjoy this fresh new jeans pun” listen Horikoshi don’t tell me what to do dammit

fine. it is a nice pun, I guess

-- damn so now Endeavor’s saying that the media is already being fed info by the retired heroes. so for some of these guys it wasn’t enough for them to abandon all the people they swore to protect and to leave their fellow heroes out in the cold; they decided they might as well actively make things worse for them while they were at it, huh. like I get wanting to spill all the dirty secrets from your old job that you just quit, but this isn’t Jeff Bezos you’re screwing over, this is a sixteen-year-old kid

-- like, yes!! this, right here!!

exactly!! let’s not forget that there are already two prior instances of this happening. Endeavor arguably deserved it, but Katsuki not so much

huh. Endeavor seems to have a more optimistic outlook regarding this than I do lol

I mean, this is the same public that didn’t hesitant to blame a kidnapped child for his own kidnapping, and then later on for being the downfall of the Symbol of Peace. but okay then

anyway so blah blah blah, more talk about how they need to use Deku as bait, which basically puts them back at square one, and then they’re all just trailing off into silence and sitting around in the dark lmao this is getting very depressing

SKDJFLSDKJ:LFKJ

SHOUTO?????

NOOOOOOOO ARE YOU KIDDING ME

OH HOW THE TURNTABLES OMG. THE GHOSTER HAS BECOME THE GHOSTEE. Endeavor you petty son of a bitch. and what a brutal cut to that flashback too. “let’s stop Touya together” nah Shouto I’ve got a better idea why don’t I abandon you in U.A. and sally off with Hawks and Jeanist to found the “let’s pretend like we’re doing something to help Deku” club, which basically consists of us sitting around making terrible decisions all day long

Shouto, honey. you deserve better my little Coca Cola can. .........but if you really do have something important you need to tell your dad you could just text it to him. all the love and support, hugs and kisses, you’re doing amazing sweetie. but if you need to pass on any vital information you can just write it down and hit send honey that’s all I’m saying love

now he’s getting another call?? -- or, no, Hawks is getting a call from All Might

ARE YOU FOR REAL HAWKS OMFG

so while you all were sitting around talking about how useless you are, the kid you’re supposed to be protecting was battling another hired gun. I see. please pardon me for one second, I have a phone call to make. the phone call is to RockLockRock and Manual. the reason for the call is to apologize for calling them the worst bodyguards ever back during the War arc. the reason for the apology is because it turns out I WAS SEVERELY MISTAKEN OMFG

JESUS CHRIST DEKU DID YOU JUST KILL THIS MAN LMAO

shoutout to Horikoshi for offscreening this fight. we get it, lol. Deku strong and scary, villains ineffectual and feeble, and AFO... [checks notes] yep, still a dick. the angst arc continues

-- the angst arc continues, SIR

jesus christ I may have to rethink all of my opinions about Deku being framed for murder in movie 3 lmao. never mind. he did it, your honor

holy fucking shit Deku. “he might blow up, so please be careful” fdlskjflk jlskdjflk lwkejflk anyway so I’ve decided the explosion running gag can stay, actually

DEKU WAIT YOU FORGOT YOUR LUNCH!!

lol why do I get the feeling some serious shit is about to go down. ALL MIGHT NEVER MIND BACK OFF I THINK HE NEEDS HIS SPACE

OH MY FUCK I GASPED OUT LOUD

NO NO NO. I KNEW THIS WAS COMING GODDAMMIT BUT NO. NEVER MIND, I CHANGED MY MIND ABOUT IT, I’M NOT READY TO CRY TODAY

shit. shit shit shit shit and OF COURSE all I can fucking think about is that stupid fucking prophecy and gahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Deku please. please please please if you really are going to leave All Might here, please be so very careful in choosing your farewell words to him now because have this sudden horrible fear that this might be the last time you ever see him alive and oh god. oh god oh god

DEKU NO, YOU’RE REALLY NOT!?!?

I HAVE NEVER SEEN ANYONE LESS FINE IN MY LIFE, ACTUALLY????

holy shit. and the fucking callback to the prophecy now. just in case we forgot. WHICH FYI, WE DIDN’T. but that’s basically confirming that this is all still very much on the table and HORIKOSHI NEVER FORGETS oh my god someone please hold me

and the fact that Deku’s flashing back to it now too, though?? because he never forgot either, because of course he didn’t, and now all this stuff is happening, and AFO’s words are getting to him, and this is literally his worst fear come to life and so of course he’s distancing himself from everyone, and now it’s finally come to even this. even the person he admires most

-- OKAY NO, FUCKING COME ON ALREADY I CAN’T TAKE THIS

I GET IT OH MY GOD, I ALREADY UNDERSTAND THE EMOTIONAL IMPACT OF THIS MOMENT WITHOUT ALL OF THE DEVASTATING FLASHBACKS THANK YOU SO VERY MUCH!! YOU ACTUALLY DO WANT ME TO CRY, HUH, IS THAT IT. THIS MAN THAT HE THINKS OF AS A FATHER, THIS MAN WHO HAS BEEN EVERYTHING TO HIM SINCE HE WAS A VERY YOUNG CHILD. EVERYTHING THEY’VE BEEN THROUGH, JUXTAPOSED AGAINST EVERYTHING DEKU IS UP AGAINST, EVERYTHING THAT’S AT RISK. LET’S JUST PUT IT ALL SIDE BY SIDE. LET’S JUST PILE ON ALL OF THE FEELS

(ETA: just a quick note that even though some of the posts I’ve read have described these as All Might’s flashbacks, I’m pretty sure they are Deku’s. most of these are scenes that only he was there for, so yeah. even though All Might is the one thinking the thoughts on the next page, the flashbacks are what’s running through Deku’s mind right now, and so we’re getting that emotion from both of them, which makes it extra devastating lol.)

wait, what???

WHAT??? do you really think that’s why he’s been so determined to protect you this entire time?? simply because you’re his successor?

-- oh no wait lol I think I got that mixed up, this is All Might saying that Deku feels the need to protect him. well that makes more sense lol

oh my god I cannot

his last words. his last words to him. and we can’t even see if he is smiling, like All Might always encouraged him to do. but what are the odds he can’t actually bring himself to do it. what are the odds he’s actually crying. oh god this scene is going to rip my heart out and STOMP on it in the anime isn’t it. Deku’s VA is going to full on murder me with emotion. not that there’ll be much of me left to murder after the thorough job that Horikoshi has already done here

YOU’RE CRYING. DEKU IS LEAVING ALL MIGHT AND IGNORING HIS OUTSTRETCHED HAND AND YOU’RE CRYING. AND BY “YOU” I MEAN “ME”, FUCK

nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope nope no words just feels just a big ol’ pile of feels. I do not have the strength. future me... [broadly gestures] good luck with all that

(ETA: LOL, WELL THEN.

what breaks my heart here is All Might. All Might, and everything he’s been through, and history repeating itself, and forcing him to live this moment from both sides because he wasn’t strong enough to fix things.

Toshinori had only just turned eighteen when Nana died. like, I feel like we don’t mention this enough. the All Might we know is a sixty-something-year-old man, and so everyone always talks about him like he’s basically been an adult forever. but he was a child when he met Nana. and he was still just a child when she died. barely a year older than Deku is now. younger than Mirio was when we first met him.

and we don’t talk about that. we don’t talk about how devastating that was for him. and we don’t talk about how the reason he grew up to become so reserved and withdrawn -- for all that he always tried so hard to outwardly project the image of a bold, confident, smiling hero -- was specifically because of what AFO did to him. because AFO targeted him in the exact way that he is now targeting Deku. because that’s what he does. he goes after every new user of OFA, and he finds out what’s most important to them, and then he destroys it. and for Toshinori, that was Nana. if you’ve read All Might Rising, you know that AFO basically killed her in front of him (and only killed her, while letting Toshinori and Gran get away). Toshinori (while crying) later says she was like a mother to him. and interestingly enough, during this same conversation, Gran tells Toshinori that he can see “that madness in [his] eyes” when Toshi talks about becoming strong enough to defeat AFO. madness in his eyes. sound familiar??

what’s happening to Deku now is the exact same thing that happened to Toshinori when he was a boy. AFO tried every bit as hard to break him as he’s trying with Deku now. “the path you’ve chosen is a thorny one. every battle grinds away at your soul with no end in sight.” we don’t talk about how Toshinori experienced this same thing for forty fucking years. and all the while isolating himself, exactly like Deku is doing now. pushing people away, exactly like Deku. because he never had anyone who was able to reach out and pull him back. and those words that he now finds himself frozen and unable to speak -- “don’t push yourself”; “you can rest” -- are the same words that no one ever said to him until decades later, when it was already far too late to make any difference.

everything that Deku is experiencing now is what Toshinori also went through. and it’s only now, as he watches it happen to his student, the boy he loves like a son, that he’s finally starting to realize the full extent of how wrong it was. you shouldn’t have to fight alone. you shouldn’t have to bear that kind of enormous burden alone. you shouldn’t have to push yourself, and you can rest. you can rest.

but it’s too late. just as he’s finally coming to understand it all, it’s all too fucking late. and he can’t say the words, he doesn’t know how to say the words, and then just like that, Deku is gone.

and he’s alone. again.)

I can’t. this can’t be their goodbye. I’m not ready. for this to be how they finally part, and then they never see each other again except in OFA. how is that fair. how is that fair. how is that fair

fuck me. lol. how many pages are left in this thing. let’s just wrap this up lol. so now of all the times for this fucking guy to finally show up

I can’t believe Stain has been here literally this entire time hiding behind this random wall and cutting onions. that was you who was cutting the onions, right. no need to answer that we’ll just say it was

HORIKOSHI JUST END THE CHAPTER PLEASE I’M OUT OF SPOONS. YOU HURT ME SO GOOD AND I LOVE YOU FOR IT BUT YOU NEED TO LET ME GO NOW SO I CAN BEGIN THE PROCESS OF TRYING TO PUT MY LIFE BACK IN ORDER HERE. SO WHERE ARE WE CUTTING TO NOW WHAT IS HAPPENING

Stain did you also let AFO give you a new quirk. what’s with you guys. do you like blowing up

oh nvm lol because they were talking about THIS GUY ohhhhhh my fucking god

THAT’S BECAUSE HE’S SAD, LINDA!! jesus

omfg. and so yes, good, the chapter is ending here now on page 15. for once I am FULLY on board with that lmao

anyway so tune in next week for more adventures of Werewolf Deku!! that is, assuming we don’t finally cut back to U.A. at long last, which is actually a strong possibility considering that this chapter will likely mark the end of volume 31. it sure wouldn’t kill Horikoshi to start giving us some hope after everything he’s just put us through lol. KACCHAN COME GET YA BOY

[absolutebl]

This Week In BL

May 2021 Part 1

Being a highly subjective assessment of one tiny corner of the interwebs.

Ongoing Series - Thai

Second Chance Ep 6 fin - Chris & Jeno were TOO CUTE we got ALL the tropes: parental passing on the torch of care (a rare one), hair drying, hair touching, the prom with everyone was in adorable suits (Tang Yi approves), GOOD kisses, confessions galore, boop (+ bonus pool boop), tumblr now thinks they’re lesbians (new trope I’ve just decided on), claiming, rooftop assignation. Conclusion? This is one of the best BL pulps I’ve seen in a really long time. We are PLEASED! 

Y-Destiny Ep 7 - a pretty classic take on the “reformed player/rake” romance trope plus a ton of BL visuals like back hug, messy eater, rooftop assignation, and pillow clutch (a Cheewin signature). Cheewin sure knows his tropes (he should, he started a lot of them and his YYY Special is nothing but a trope parody pastiche, it’s Absolute BL before Absolute BL and A LOT weirder). 

Lovely Writer Ep 11 - The casting closet has come to play. I really like that LW is taking the industry and fans to task. It’s hard to watch sometimes, but it SHOULD be a little squirmy and uncomfortable. This was an excellent Episode 11 and we all suffered for it. I hope they can resolve it well in the finale. They’ve done great work so far, I trust them. 

Close Friend Ep 3: (Willing or Not) - sports kinda romance, it was cute because MaxNat are cute together, but it reminded me a lot of their arc in Why R U, which is to say, short and somewhat forgettable. 

Fish Upon The Sky Ep 5 - am I over this? I think I might be over it. Not into the punching down humor in terms of femme or Sikhs, I don’t like Pi, and found myself fast-forwarding through most of this ep. Mostly I only watch when Mork is on screen. I wanna know why Mork likes Pi so much, but that’s all I’m interested in. Tons of tropes but I’m not even motivated to screen cap, which is saying something. Look, the characters pretty much lack motivation and so I’m losing sympathy. 

Nitiman Ep 1 - oh I like it. This is the standard Thai BL delicious trash I know and love. 2 Moons university setting pastiche, check! Engineering students = gay, check! Instant hate vrs instant love, check! Seme vrs tsundere uke, check! Plus the side dishes are tasty. I’m disposed to be pleased, especially as Fish is disappointing. Sadly they insisted on singing, but you can’t have everything. 

Love Area Ep 1 - I’m not holding this post just for one BL that I’m not sure if I’ll be able to find tomorrow, so I’ll let you know how it is next week. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Nobleman Ryu’s Wedding (Korea) Ep 7-8 fin - so flipping cute, their little smiles, just GAH. Bit of a dead fish kiss but I don’t care because I loved this tiny show full of soft bois and no one saying anything directly (except our man with the poetry, I hope he finds his true love). Adorable. 

Papa & Daddy (Taiwan) Ep 3 - HOW IS THIS SHOW SO WHOLESOME? This is possibly the cutest thing on air right now (and I don’t actually like children). Just GAH! The actual Taipei pride footage. I didn’t even mind all the product placement (I happen to like that bubbly myself). It’s just so cute. Everyone should be watching this. It will make you feel so good and happy. Not gonna lie, this ep is ALL about queer found family and I might have ugly cried over the teddy bear at the end - in a good way.  *** Quick note because I think it’s super important: in 2020 Taiwan Pride was called March for the World. Why? Because Taiwan managed to control C19 better than any other country, they were the only country able to hold pride safely, so they did it for all of us. I don’t feel like they got enough recognition for this. 

Word of Honor (China) Ep 34-36 fin - In the end, WoH turned out to be a morality tale about the superiority of agrarian society over semi-nomadic tribes combined with a message about enduring love profoundly undermined by Chinese censorship. It’s like this amazing meal. I ate my fill, and enjoyed every bite, but had a bit too much, and now I have heart burn. Am I upset about the ending? Sure am. Good for them for manipulating my emotions! Was this a great drama? Yes. Did I expect this from China? Sure did. Do i feel betrayed anyway? Sure do. I guess these things are going to have to coexist in my psyche. Along with heart burn. Here have the actual-not-really-epilogue-ending. It's wafer thin.  I’m putting this one to bed. I feel like I’ve said my piece and I want to move on from 36 courses of pretty men in pretty robes full of pretty innuendoes and deadly peanuts. I’ll miss the big fuck off white fan, tho. 

My Lascivious Boss (Vietnam) Ep 5 - still very much enjoying it, the secret identity lies are beginning to unravel, tension is increasing. I don’t see how they can resolve this in just one episode tho, so this series might go longer than 6 episodes (rare for Vietnam). 

HIStory 4: Close To You (Taiwan) Ep 8 - I demand Boxiang & Zhigang (repping for the healthy LTR and marriage equality) show up in every HIStory installment henceforth. This was a cute ep, lots of good communication & tropes. Still not sure how I feel about the stepbrothers, but can’t complain about their chemistry (waves at TharnType). Speaking of, how awesome that Yongjie caught the man he always wanted, that man is a SUPER bossy bottom, and Yongjie is like ...

Gossip

Crazy rumor that Singto has a new BL in the works (totally unsubstantiated). It’s Still Just Us (frankly, the biggest strike against this being true is how grammatically correct the title is). 

Vietnam is messing with our heads and hearts by putting the leads from Nation’s Brother and Most Peaceful Place together into a delightful little love triangle of... something or other. Honestly, I’ve no idea what this is. The actors playing around? A new series? An advertisement? What? 

Breaking News

Mandee (of Why R U fame) dropped a “mini intro” for something that they’re calling Bed Friend series. HI BEER! But I thought these two (James & Net) were the side dishes for Middle Love AKA Middleman's Love. I am so confused. (Get your titles together Thailand, no one wants you going down the Taiwanese rabbit hole, mm’kay?) 

Taiwan would call it: Middleman’s Middle Love: Bed Friend. 

Top Secret Together got a full trailer with subs. I’m kinda over ensemble pulp pieces (like Close Friend, Bothers, Y-Destiny) but the presence of Newyear makes this one I’m still going to watch. It starts this Friday on Line TV. 

Cutie Pie the series got a teaser (fundraising trailer). Arranged marriage, home/office set, Thai BL staring Zee? Sign me tf up! I am so excited, I hope they can make this happen. Deets here. (Thanks @heretherebedork for the tip.) 

Next Week Looks Like This:

Some shows may be listed later than actual air date for International accessibility reasons.

Upcoming 2021 BL master post here.

Links to watch are provided when possible, ask in a comment if I missed something.

[hypnomicimagines]

The Aftermath

(love u guys and to everyone who’s sad about their fave team losing...... please have some comfort!!)

Harai Kuko: 

Kuko always reflected on his losses, his outward response was so calm it was near impossible to tell what he was thinking. You knew how excited he was to take on the former champs and how much it must have frustrated him to lose, but there’s also a spark of determination that can’t be smothered. You sat beside Kuko without interrupting his quite moment, knowing he was done when he leaned against you so you were now shoulder to shoulder. You turned to meet his gaze and smiled, knowing there was no way in hell Kuko would ever just give up, and that he was probably ready for round two.

Aimono Jyushi: 

The bold face Jyushi puts on for the sake of his team and his fans is brave, something you tell him when you’re finally alone together. It’s when you acknowledge his strength and how hard it must be for him to hold back his sadness that he finally loses it, tears streaking down his face as you hold him. You don’t know how Kuko might feel about it but you think in the face of such a loss that he should be allowed to show his emotions, stroking his hair and promising you wouldn’t rat him out. His tears dry up surprisingly quick, his resolve to win the next time around clearly reflected in the speech he gives you as he refused to let you down (and show you weakness) a second time like this.

Amaguni Hitoya: 

Your arms flung around Hitoya despite the grumble of a greeting he gave you, knowing that the way he was acting was totally justified. It’s hard not to be disappointed but there’s a sense of peace that comes with knowing he, and his team, had tried their hardest and fought to be the last one standing. His hands settle on your waist and there’s a question on the tip of his tongue, are you disappointed in him? But with the way you’re looking up at him, eyes sparkling like he’d just won the entire damn DRB, he can’t help but feel somewhat placated. You couldn’t be a winner in all walks of life, not that he wouldn’t keep trying, but it helped to have a cheerleader as dedicated as you.

Aohitsugi Samatoki: 

You expected the anger and the holes in the wall, but you’re surprised when Samatoki isn’t yelling his head off when you enter the room. He gives you a cool stare but nods to show he sees you’re there before turning away, words escaping him at the present moment. There’s a lot of things that pissed him off about how that rap battle went but you don’t think the fact Ichiro got through was helping him take it any better. You’re careful with your movements but you go to hug him from behind, surprised when he not only allows it but settles his arms over yours to keep you against him until he was ready to face you again.

Iruma Jyuto: 

You’re almost proud of Jyuto for showing his true feelings on the situation rather than keeping it all inside to an exploding point. You know his teammates liked to poke fun at him and had done so despite their own frustrations, it had probably stopped a full-on brawl from breaking out between them. Jyuto sighed when you approached, rubbing his temples like he had a headache which you were glad to take over for him. Feeling your fingers massage his head helped him feel more relaxed than he had for weeks and he leaned into your touch, thankful to at least have this moment of peace.

Rio Mason Busujima: 

The disappointment is rolling off Rio in waves and despite trying to remain the backbone of his team, you knew he deserved at least someone to lean on. He seemed surprised when you called him out on his emotions, looking as if even he had forgotten they existed before nodding to show you were on point. He thanked you for your consideration and for the endless support you offered him, telling you that you had made a huge difference whether you realized or not. His thanks are so genuine it leaves you flustered, growing even more so when Rio brought you into his warm embrace.

Nurude Sasara: 

Sasara is hard-pressed to think of jokes in the moment, you can see him stumbling over his words to fill the silence but there was nothing funny about how he was feeling now. He worked so hard to put up this front, to be a person he might not actually be, and you placed a hand over his mouth for just a moment of silence. You knew he hated it, hated to be left alone with his thoughts, but some reflection would do well in this situation. Plus, you were here for him now and you wouldn’t leave him floundering around in the dark; you used your fingers to drag up the corner of his mouth in a smile, a way to say you’ll help him keep moving as long as he lets you be there for him.

Tsutsujimori Rosho: 

You can see the struggle to keep it together on Rosho’s face, his fears having been realized despite how hard he had fought. He wasn’t someone who cried often so he didn’t like the thought of putting on a show for you now, turning away as he felt the tears finally force their way to the corner of his eyes. You don’t want him to be ashamed of the hurt he’s feeling, you want him to remember this feeling so he’ll fight even harder with his team the next time around, but you especially don’t want him to just give up. You guided his head to your shoulder and placed your hand in his hair, holding him there to comfort him while also allowing him to still hide his tears.

Amayado Rei: 

You have a hard time gauging what Rei is thinking but there was nothing unusual about that. You detected a hint of something on his face as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you against him like he was trying to hide his expressions from you. What could it be? Was he proud that, if he was to be beaten, at least it was by his own kin? You didn’t know and you doubted Rei would ever confide his true thoughts to you but at least he allowed you to be by his side as he accepted his loss. He even offered you a glass of champagne, and you couldn’t find it in you to deny him that at least. 

[drabbles-mc]

Vetoed

Kozik x F!Reader

Request by @adela-topaz-caelon​: Was thinking a relationship build, where fem/reader goes to comfort him after another 'no' vote from Tig, and there's a mostly fluffy confession, which may escalate to being vaguely steamy

Warnings: language, very light angst, slight steam

Word Count: 1.5k

A/N: I feel like this didn’t turn out quite as fluffy as I had imagined it going into it, but I still think it came out pretty well. Love a little comfort for our fave blondie

SOA Taglist: @garbinge​ @masterlistforimagines​ @mijop​ @chibsytelford​ @xladymacbethx​ @i-just-read-stuff​ @kkim120​ @everyhowlmarksthedead​ @toni9​ @unicornucopia-fuckers​ @shadow-of-wonder​ @punkgoddess-98​ @paintballkid711​ @black-repunzel99​ @lexondeck​ @jitterbugs927​ @mrsstevenbuchananstark​ (If you wanna be added to the list let me know!)

You were seated at the bar, chatting with a few of the women who were always hanging around the clubhouse. There had been a lot of commotion leading up to everyone heading into chapel. Things had been crazy the past few weeks, and you knew that going forward it was going to get worse before it got better. No one gave you all the details, but you knew enough to know to stay on your toes. You tried hard not to seem too interested, because you knew that it wasn’t really any of your business, but you still tried to stay on the pulse of it all.

You were taking a swig of your beer when the chapel doors swung open, all of the men walking out looking disappointed. Clay was shaking his head, blowing past everyone to leave. It seemed like they had enough on their plates already but whatever happened inside the church walls certainly didn’t help at all.

The guys spread out as they left chapel. Some of them stuck around in the clubhouse, a few went back to their dorms. There was going to be a lot of movement in the next few days, especially with so many of them going inside, so you knew that most of them probably just wanted to soak up whatever time they could at home.

The last one to leave the room was Kozik. You could usually get a pretty good read on him, but this time you couldn’t. You didn’t know exactly what was said behind those doors, but judging by the look on his face, it wasn’t what he had wanted to hear. You waited for him to look over at you, acknowledge you in some way like he usually did, but he didn’t. He made his way to the clubhouse door a little quicker than usual, eyes glued to the floor beneath his feet.

Finishing off your beer, you tossed the bottle onto the bar. You said a quick goodbye to the girl behind the bar before making your way out the door after Kozik. He was just getting to his bike when you called out after him.

“Hey, Kozik!” you picked up your pace a little bit to catch up to him quicker, “Wait a second!”

He looked back at you, exhaustion and frustration written all over his face. Despite the look in his eyes, he didn’t take his current emotions out on you, “What’s up?”

“What happened back there?” you nodded towards the clubhouse, “Everyone looked pissed.”

He shook his head, “Old bullshit that’s never gonna get resolved.”

“Wanna be any less vague about it?” you tried to keep your tone light enough to not bog him down more.

“I’m out,” he sighed, running his fingers back through his hair.

Your eyes grew wide, “Wh-what?”

“I’m done. Got vetoed by Tig again. Despite the fact that they need me to stay whole. After all the shit I’ve—” he stopped himself short, shaking his head, “I can’t stick around here just to keep getting shit on.”

You hated how much the thought of him leaving broke your heart, “So…so what are you gonna do?”

He shrugged, “Head back to Tacoma.”

“No,” your tone was a little more emotional than you had intended it to be. You took a breath, trying to keep yourself in check, “There’s…there’s gotta be something else you can do.”

He shook his head, “It is what it is. I’d rather be here in Charming but it’s just not in the cards right now.”

“Isn’t Tig going to prison?” you asked, hoping to come up with anything to make him stay, “Can’t they vote you in while he’s inside?”

He shook his head, “I’m not gonna do that.”

“But you could?”

“But I won’t,” he paused, tilting his head slightly as he saw all the emotions creeping onto your face, “Why is this so important to you all of a sudden?”

You gnawed at the inside of your lip for a moment, “It’s not all of a sudden. Don’t act like you don’t know that,” it was hard to meet his gaze, “I just…I’ve loved having you back around. I don’t want you to leave again.”

“Maybe I’m just not supposed to be in Charming,” he sighed, leaning back against his bike, “Probably should’ve taken the hint after the first no.”

You shook your head, “You can’t just leave now. You said it yourself—they need you to stay whole. You gotta…you gotta talk to Clay. Or Jax maybe.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, the smallest hint of a smile on his face despite the disappointment coursing through him, “You really gonna miss me that much?”

You rolled your eyes, “Don’t be a dick about it.”

“I’m not,” he chuckled, “If you’re that bent outta shape about it, you could just ride back to Tacoma with me.”

Managing a smile, you shook your head, “You staying in Charming makes way more sense,” you forced yourself to meet his eyes, “Fuck it, I’ll talk to the guys.”

It got him to laugh, “No, you won’t.”

You raised an eyebrow, “You think that I won’t?”

“It wasn’t a dare,” he smiled and shook his head at you. There were a couple beats of silence before he spoke up again, “Had no idea that me being here really mattered all that much to anybody, let alone you.”

“Of course it matters to me,” you were genuinely offended by the statement, “I hated it when you left before. It fucking sucked. And I…I don’t wanna go through that again. I want you to stay.”

He wanted nothing more than to just give you anything and everything that you were asking for, but it wasn’t up to him.  As much as he wished he could drop everything and just stay in Charming, he knew that it wasn’t realistic.

“It’s not up to me. I can’t just…I can’t stay here if they don’t let me transfer. I have a fuckin’ office patch for Tacoma, you know. I’ve been here as a favor because SAMCRO is low on guys, but I’m done. I’m gonna go pack my shit and—”

“Please,” you cut him off, “Kozik, you gotta stay,” you stepped in closer to him, your emotions making you a little braver than usual as you rested your hands on his shoulders, “I know shit is hectic right now, and I know Tig is…Tig. But the club wants you here. I want you here,” you gave his shoulders a light squeeze, “I know it hasn’t been easy but I can’t watch you leave again. Charming feels a lot more like home when you’re here.”

His eyes searched yours, and he knew that he should tell you no. The logical part of his brain knew that heading back to Tacoma was the logical thing to do after getting vetoed a second time. But he felt the way your hands gripped his shoulders and he saw the tears that were starting to gather at the edges of your eyes, and he knew he wasn’t going to be able to leave you again.

Taking a deep breath, he rested his hands on your sides, “I’ll try…I’ll try to buy some more time. Figure out a way to stay.”

“Yea?” you couldn’t hide the relief on your face.

He nodded, “Yea. Just, you know, don’t look at me all sad like that anymore,” he laughed quietly.

You smiled, “Sounds like a fair trade,” you reached up and cupped one side of his face in your hand, “Thank you.”

He rested his hand over yours, “How am I supposed to say no to you?”

You chuckled, shaking your head, “Please don’t ever figure it out.”

“I don’t think you need to worry about that,” he smiled, one hand sliding up until it rested on the back of your neck, “C’mere,” he gently pulled you closer, pressing his lips to yours.

A quiet laugh vibrated in your chest as you let him pull you in. You loosely draped your arms over his shoulders, your hands interlocking behind his neck. He wrapped his other arm around your waist, pulling your body as close to his as he could. You could feel the rise and fall of his chest as his lips continued to move against yours, too many unspoken words and feelings pouring out as your body melted into his. Your fingers made their way up the back of his head, tangling in his hair as you felt his tongue slide along your bottom lip. His hand crept underneath your shirt, his calloused palm and fingers running across the smooth, soft skin of your back.

When you pulled away to catch your breath, you rested your forehead against his, a smile on both your faces. You lightly grazed your fingernails up and down the back of his neck, “Now you definitely can’t leave.”

He chuckled, wrapping both arms around your waist, “Oh really?”

“You can’t kiss me like that and then leave,” you laughed.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he gave you a light squeeze.

“Promise?” you smiled.

“Yea,” he kissed you lightly on the lips, “Promise.”

[tomatotoad]

hiii ! could you write an angsty scenario with shoto todoroki, where yn and him get in a violent argument (bc of momo or for any reason idk haha) in front of everyone. and reader is not a crybaby or anything, they talk back etc. shoto says after something that shuts down y/n. and he'll try to make up with them (fluffy end?) thank you!!

hi!! yes i’d love to write this thanks for submitting it :) ALSO REMINDER THAT MY ASKS ARE OPEN

(reader is in the hero department in this scenario, so if you wanted something different please don’t hesitate to ask again!)

Explanation

Todoroki x Gender Neutral Reader

Warning(s): angst

Word Count: 1,061

(gif by drunkencaterpillars)

Seething with anger, you swing open the 1-A classroom door with Todoroki on your heels. You attempt to slam the door shut on him, but he was too quick. He reached for your arm, but you flinched away. You’d sooner face an army of villains than let the man who just made a fool of you touch you.

“Y/n are you serious right now?”

“Are you serious right now Todoroki Shoto? You literally just said I’d be the worst hero in front of the entire class!” You exclaimed as you gestured to the class, shuffling in their seats in reaction to your argument.

“I didn’t say that, I just said that you wouldn’t be able to fight on your own like everyone in the class can. There’s still a lot you can improve, but you haven’t been putting in the work.” Todoroki states calmly.

You stare at him dumbfounded, thinking of all of the times had asked him for help with training to which he declined every time. Each one of those times, he declined because he already promised Momo to help her train.

“No you’re totally right,” you say sarcastically, “I definitely haven’t been putting in the work. Yeah, I mean, all of those hours I’ve spent alone training really didn’t account for anything, huh? I guess, by that logic, you could also say that your training sessions you have with Momo are a waste of time too?”

You wait for a response from either Todoroki or Momo. Neither of them answers quick enough for your liking.

“If you say I’m the worst hero in this class, then why do you spend so much time helping Momo but not me? Actually, better question, why even train with Momo when I’m your partner!?” You scream.

“Momo is my best friend, y/n, I want her to succeed and I want you to succeed,” Todoroki explains.

“Y/n it’s really not what you think-“ Momo starts before you cut her off.

“Momo, I know you have probably have a good explanation, but I’m not mad at you as much as I am this mess of a person right now,” you say as you gesture to Todoroki.

“I just don’t understand how you have the audacity to say that I’m a bad hero when I know I’m a bad hero that's why I’m asking for your help Todoroki,” you yell while looking straight into his eyes.

You see something snap in his eyes, almost as if bringing up your self-awareness of the issue was the last spark needed to start the fire.

“Well if you know that, why don't you just give up?!” Todoroki exclaimed. The fire in his eyes extinguished with the realization of what he just said to you.

Your resolve shatters as you stand there like a deer in headlights. After a beat, you slowly gaze around the classroom, just now remembering that you with your peers. One of your biggest fears is now the entire class's knowledge and you were too shocked to fight back. Without a single word, you quickly left the room and headed for the dorms. Todoroki was left with the pieces of your shattered heart in his hands.

It’s been an hour since your argument with Todoroki when you hear a knock on the door of your dorm. Raising your head from your tear-stained pillows, you contemplate not answering until you hear,

“I’m sorry,” from Todoroki on the other side of the door.

You roll your eyes as you get up to open the door.

"What?" you say to him firmly while clenching the side of the door.

Instead of answering, Todoroki just silently hands you a box. You eye him before slowly opening the lid, revealing the hero supplies you desperately wanted. All the objects in the box were things that you mentioned to Todoroki in one way or another. You would hug him if he wasn't the absolute worst right now.

"I hope you like them," Todoroki said softly.

"Of course I like them but," you gesture for him to come inside your room, "I'm not taking this as an apology, you know that," you say closing the door.

"I know, which is why I'm going to apologize right now," Todoroki says.

You set the box on your desk and pull out a chair for him to sit on while you sit on your bed.

"I'm sorry," He says with his usual monotonous voice.

There's a long pause as you look into each other's eyes.

"Is that seriously it?" you scoff.

"No, I'm just thinking of how to continue," taking a deep breath before continuing, "I stepped out of line today. I didn't mean when I said you should give up, you should never give up, Y/n. I've been training with Momo recently is because I already promised that I'd help her for a couple months. Plus, Momo actually likes Jirou, if that had anything to do with you being upset. Actually, yesterday was the last day of our training and I already have something planned with you for our internship next week," Todoroki explains.

You raise your eyebrows as he reaches in his pocket and pulls out a letter. Handing it to you, you skim over it quickly.

"Your dad invited me to intern with him?" you say in disbelief.

"Well, I technically invited you, he just needed to sign it so the staff doesn't get skeptical since we're going to be training together without him," he says as you reread the letter, "We're basically just going on vacation together, but instead of the beach and swimming, it's just going to be at my house and training," he continues.

He puts his fingers under your chin to raise your head.

"I'm sorry, I love you so much," he says with glossy eyes.

You felt the pure truth drip from the words he just uttered.

"I forgive you and I'm sorry too," you begin, "I should have heard you out completely," you finish.

You kiss him softly on the lips before quickly pull away to whisper in his ear, "If you ever yell at me again in front of the class, I will not hesitate to slap you,"

"Completly understandable," he says with a chuckle.

You grin as he brings you into a delicate embrace, holding you like he never wants to let you go.

[swan-of-sunrise]

Civil War (Chapter Six)

Summary: Bucky’s suspicious escape from the Joint Counter Terrorist Centre and the fallout surrounding it makes (Y/N) reevaluate her opinion of the Accords.

Pairing: Steve Rogers X Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: Last week’s chapter was really angsty and it kinda took a toll on me so here’s a sort of short filler chapter with slightly less angst! Thank you for reading, I hope you all enjoy!

Chapter Six (Previous Chapter)

While she couldn’t claim to be a spy or secret agent, (Y/N) had picked up a thing or two from hanging around so many of them over the past couple of years; she knew that Bucky would eventually need an exit once he was finished tearing through everyone in the building, and it was a safe bet to assume that the skilled assassin would choose to fly himself out of there instead of travel on foot at the risk of being apprehended. She was quick to locate the building’s stairwell, hurrying up the steps as the emergency lights and alarms continued to blare; when she reached the top floor, she flung open the door and stepped out into the dark and deserted hallway.

“God, I hope this thing works…” Mumbling under her breath, (Y/N) fiddled with the dials of the walkie talkie until she could hear the indistinct chatter of voices, only letting out a sigh of relief when she finally heard the one she needed to speak to. “Agent Ross, this is (Y/N) (Y/L/N). I need backup on the-”

“(Y/L/N), what the hell are you doing?!”

“Your job, it would seem! I’m on the top floor and have reason to believe that-!”

Just then, a metallic hand came out of nowhere and ripped the walkie talkie from her hands, crushing it to pieces before tossing it aside. (Y/N) acted on instinct, rolling underneath Bucky’s outstretched arm and pulling a stun disc out of her pocket; landing upright, she chucked the stun disc at his metallic arm and took advantage of the assassin’s distraction to sweep his legs out from underneath him with one of her own.

“Your name is James Buchanan Barnes, and you were a Sergeant in the U.S. Army during World War II!” She shouted, keenly aware that the distraction would only last a few more seconds. “You were Steve Rogers’ best friend and a Howling Commando!” Hastily backing out of the way, she watched with widened eyes as he ripped the electrified stun disc off his arm and leapt to his feet. “Bucky, I don’t believe that you bombed the U.N. but you need to stop and remember who you are!”

Bucky’s face was blank and devoid of any emotion, a far cry from the frightened man in the containment cell. He stalked towards her and while she had just enough time to duck the first punch he threw her way, she couldn’t dodge the second; the force of his fist’s impact on her jaw sent her flying back and crashing to the ground, her wrist screaming in protest as she tried and failed to break her fall. While he strode down the hallway to where she was sprawled on the floor, she hurriedly ripped all the stun discs out of her pocket and began throwing them as she crawled backwards. He avoided each and every stun disc she threw, but it bought her enough time to pick herself up off the ground and side-step his next attack; before she could land a kick or punch, though, his metal hand shot out and grabbed her by the throat, lifting her easily into the air and slamming her hard against the wall.

(Y/N)’s hands came up to uselessly clutch at the metal fingers that were digging into her skin and her legs kicked out in desperation as she struggled for air; just as her vision was beginning to darken her eyes focused on the small tear in the sleeve of his shirt and the corner of a red star it barely revealed, and in desperation she cried out, “Sol…Soldat!”

The assassin froze, and (Y/N) watched as his hardened expression shifted into confusion. His metallic hand quickly loosened and she instantly crumpled to the floor, coughing and gasping for air, unable to move or even defend herself. Bucky’s heavy footsteps faded away and with a wheezing breath, she lifted her head in time to see Steve burst through the same stairwell door she’d come through moments before.

“(Y/N)!?” He hurried to her side and dropped down, his grease-smudged face filled with pure panic as he tugged her into his arms. “Oh God, you’re bleeding…!”

Steve’s free hand came up to touch her scratched jaw but she grabbed his wrist to halt his movement, ignoring how his brow furrowed in confusion as she whispered, “G-go, Steve…Bucky’s heading for…for the helipad…”

He firmly shook his head, blue eyes already set in determination. “No, baby, I’m not leaving you.”

“Bucky needs you!” (Y/N) insisted, suppressing her wince of pain as she stared up at him with a fiery resolve; sensing the conflict within the super-soldier, she released his wrist and gently rested her hand against his cheek with a sad smile. “Go.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Steve nodded and carefully eased her back onto the ground, giving her one final look before running down the hallway after the assassin; right before he turned the corner, she closed her eyes, unwilling to watch as the love of her life chased after the deadly assassin by himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the second time in two days, (Y/N) quietly sat and allowed herself to be patched up by a kindly paramedic. Not only did she still have a ruptured eardrum, she also had a large laceration along her jaw that required five stitches, a sprained wrist that was secured in a sturdy brace and a smattering of darkening finger-shaped bruises around her neck. Others weren’t as lucky as you were, she reminded herself, sadness washing over her as she thought of all the critically injured and dead CIA agents who’d also encountered the dangerous Winter Soldier during his rampage.

Once the paramedics finished treating her wounds, she made her way back to the control room and was immediately met by a sympathetic Natasha. “Here, I got you some tea with honey; it’ll help your throat feel better.” The spy handed her a warm to-go cup before wrapping an arm around her shoulders and leading her into the glass-walled conference room, where Tony was already seated and resting his bruised head in his hand. “Secretary Ross’s gonna be here in a few minutes, hot-shot, so please try to be on your best behavior no matter what he says to rile you up.”

(Y/N) merely nodded and took a sip of her tea, wincing in pain as she swallowed. The injuries to her throat didn’t stop her from speaking but her own conscious did; she was beginning to realize that no matter what she could say or do to convince them that Bucky was innocent, they’d never listen and even if they did, there was nothing they could do about it under the Sokovia Accords. So, she made the decision to bide her time and wait until the right moment to bring up her theory.

The three of them sat together in weary silence, the turmoil of the past two days seeming to catch up to them, until Secretary Ross barged into the conference room with his trademark sneer on his face. “You two wanna fill me in on what happened and why a civilian’s still sitting in the middle of a covert CIA control room?”

As if sensing (Y/N)’s simmering irritation, Natasha stood and moved to lean against the back of her chair, placing a calming hand on her shoulder as she replied, “Barnes escaped custody with the aid of the U.N. psychiatrist sent to evaluate him; they knocked out the power grid to the city and used it as a distraction, and (Y/N) here was already in the building for questioning. She’s one of the many who tried and failed to stop Barnes from leaving the building.”

“After taking (Y/L/N) out of commission, Barnes tried leaving in a chopper but ended up crashing it on the helipad; he, Rogers and Wilson are all missing in action.” Tony glanced over at (Y/N) before returning his gaze to the Secretary of State. “That’s all we’ve got.”

“I don’t suppose you have any idea where they are?”

“We will, GSG-9’s got the borders covered, and Recon’s flying 24/7. They’ll get a hit; we’ll handle it.”

Secretary Ross scoffed at the billionaire. “You don’t get it, Stark, it’s not yours to handle. It’s clear you can’t be objective, so I’m putting Special Ops on this.”

The spy’s hand on her shoulder flexed. “What happens when the shooting starts? What, do you kill Steve Rogers?”

“If we’re provoked,” (Y/N)’s eyes widened in horror and in her shock, she almost missed what Ross said next. “Barnes would’ve been eliminated in Romania if it wasn’t for Rogers; there are dead people who would be alive now. Feel free to check my math.”

Tony’s eyes flicked over to meet theirs, an uncomfortable look filling his gaze as he turned back to Ross. “All due respect, you’re not going to solve this with boys and bullets, Ross. You gotta let us bring them in.”

“How would that end any differently from the last time?” The Secretary of State demanded.

The billionaire’s expression hardened at Ross’ silent implications. “Because this time, I won’t be wearing loafers and a silk shirt. Seventy-two hours, guaranteed.”

“Thirty-six hours,” Ross corrected, giving them all a pointed look before turning and walking out of the conference room, calling out over his shoulder, “Barnes…Rogers…Wilson…”

“Thank you, sir!” The glass door closed and Tony slumped in his seat with an exhausted sigh as he clutched his left arm. “My left arm is numb, is that normal?”

Moving around the table, Natasha patted the billionaire on his shoulder. “You all right?”

The two Avengers continued to talk in low tones but (Y/N) couldn’t focus on what they were saying; all she could think of were Secretary Ross’ cold-blooded words and the way he’d said them without so much as a hint of remorse. What horrified her more, though, was the fact that Tony and Natasha didn’t appear to be bothered by the threat against the lives of their former teammates. This is all wrong, she thought as her vision began to blur with unshed tears, her heart sinking into her stomach while she realized that Steve’s worst fears about the Accords were materializing right before her very eyes; blinking away her tears, she looked down at her now-bare ring finger and the longer she stared, the more her anger with the two Avengers grew.

“…head downstairs to talk to T’Challa. I’ll bring (Y/N) with me, since he seems to tolerate her more than the rest of us.”

“Before you do, though, she’s gonna need to sign the Accords; I don’t want Ross looking for any excuses to arrest her so we need to do this by the books.” She looked back up as Tony and Natasha turned to her, the billionaire’s brow raised in expectation while he continued. “That okay with you, Austen?”

(Y/N) was silent for a long moment and when she finally spoke, it was with a forced calmness and a clenched jaw. “Did I ever tell you two what my new novel Bring A Folding Chair is about? It chronicles the rise and fall of second-wave feminism in America as told through the eyes of a young investigative journalist.” Getting up from her seat, she crossed her arms over her chest and began pacing. “I focus on the successes of the movement while also highlighting its failures and shortcomings, because even the most well-intended things can inadvertently end up hurting others.” (Y/N) shook her head in agitation and glanced over at the two confused Avengers. “When it came to the Accords, I knew from the moment Secretary Ross told us about them that they were wrong, but I turned a willful blind eye to the truth because I was selfish and only cared about saving my relationship with Steve. But now…now my eyes are wide open.”

“(Y/N), take it easy-”

“Do not tell me to take it easy when you just sat there and listened to Ross practically order a hit on three people – two of which are your friends – who haven’t been legally convicted of any wrongdoing!” She yelled as her sore throat ached in protest but she ignored it, all the frustration and pain that had been building up inside of her finally boiling over. “Steve was right when he said I was too idealistic; I thought the world was made up of enough good people who would keep the Accords from becoming too authoritative but unfortunately, it’s made up of cowards like us who are only looking out for our own self-interests.” Her gaze shifted from Tony’s stunned expression to Natasha, whose face remained neutral but whose eyes conveyed the pain her words had caused; she swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded before continuing. “Well, I don’t know about you two but I can’t do it anymore.”

Without another word, (Y/N) stormed out into the control room and down one of the hallways to Agent Ross’ office, her uninjured hand curled into a fist at her side as she walked; the door of the agent’s office was open and he was in deep conversation with Sharon Carter, who was tapping away on a tablet while they talked. They both looked over at her as she entered the office, and Agent Ross’ brow furrowed in concern while he took in her injuries and stony expression. “Miss (Y/L/N). Agent 13 told me that you got roughed up pretty badly earlier; are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Agent Ross. Am I free to go?” The agent raised his brow, looking more amused that surprised by her demanding question, and she gritted her teeth before continuing. “In the past forty-eight hours I’ve attended a friend’s funeral, was nearly blown up in a suspected terrorist attack, was unjustly interrogated for several continuous hours, broke off my engagement to the love of my life and was nearly killed again by a brainwashed assassin. I’m filthy, I’m injured, I’m exhausted, and I’m just one more incident away from completely losing my shit so can I please leave now?”

Sharon cast her a fleeting glance and took a step forward. “Sir, she’s already given multiple statements to our agents and…well, to be frank, the Joint Terrorism Task Force is already facing scrutiny for not stopping Barnes’ escape. The criticism will only intensify when the news outlets catch wind that we’re holding an injured, world-famous author without probable cause.” Agent Ross considered her words, and Sharon shot her a warning glance before continuing. “I’ll drive her to a nearby hotel and keep an eye on her in case Rogers tries getting into contact; based on the events of the last few hours, though, I’m not so sure that he will.”

“All right,” He finally answered, his expression softening a little as he looked back at her. “But for the time being, Miss (Y/L/N), consider yourself on the no-fly list.”

Nodding in thanks, (Y/N) glanced back at Sharon and the agent gave her a brief smile. “I’ve got a few things to wrap up here so I’ll meet you down in the parking garage in ten.” She reached into her pockets and withdrew her car keys, pressing them into her open palm with another fleeting smile. “My car’s the grey Audi parked by the stairwell.”

(Y/N) walked out of the office and down the hallway but since the mechanics were still working on fixing the elevators after the power-outage, she was forced to take the stairs all the way down to the underground parking garage. She quickly located the agent’s car and unlocked it, climbing into the passenger seat and buckling her seat-belt; now that she was finally alone, she couldn’t stop herself as she lowered her head into her hands and cried, allowing all the pent-up emotions inside of her to finally be set free. In that moment, all she wanted to do was go back to when everything was normal, back before Lagos and her constant fighting with Steve and the goddamn Accords; it wasn’t perfect, of course, but it was a hundred times better than what they were all currently going through. “I’m so sorry, Steve…”

As her sobs finally began to subside, the stairwell door opened and Sharon walked through the doorway; she took a steadying breath and wiped the last of her tears away just as the agent opened the driver-side door and got it. Sharon reached over and opened the glove-box to reveal a package of tissues, flashing her a brief and sympathetic smile as she pulled one out and blew her nose. “I tend to start feeling better after I’ve had a good cry. How ‘bout you?”

“Not really, I still feel like shit except now my eyes itch and my nose is running,” (Y/N) half-heartedly quipped, dabbing at the corners of her eyes and sighing. “So, you know any good hotels around here?”

“The Kurhotel Strӧszek’s nice and it’s not too far from here, so that’ll make Agent Ross happy. On our way, we’ll stop at a pharmacy and pick you up some first aid sup-” The ringing of Sharon’s cell phone interrupted her words and she was quick to answer it. “Agent 13 here…Steve?” (Y/N) instantly perked up and with a brief gesture for her to stay quiet, the agent switched to speakerphone. “Okay, I’m alone. What’s up?”

“We’ve figured out what’s going on,” Steve’s voice answered through the phone’s speaker and (Y/N) bit her lip to keep from making a sound at the comforting timbre. “The doctor framed Bucky for the U.N. bombing in order to find out where Hydra kept him. They created five other Winter Soldiers back in the 90’s and had them cryogenically frozen; he’s planning on waking them, says he’s doing it to see an empire fall.”

“So, you three need your gear before you can go after him.”

The super-soldier sighed. “I know that it’s a lot to ask, Sharon-”

“You’re trying to stop a squad of murderous super-soldiers from taking over the world, Rogers; if this is how I can help stop that from happening, then I’m in. I’ll send you a message when I’ve got the gear and we’ll arrange a meeting.”

“Thank you, Sharon, I owe you one. How…how’s (Y/N) doing?”

“She’s okay; lacerated jaw, sprained wrist and a whole lot of bruising, but she’s fine.” Steve breathed a deep sigh of relief that made (Y/N)’s heart warm and the agent gave her a sideways glance before continuing. “You should know that she’s refused to sign the Accords. I’ve been assigned to escort her to a hotel, where she’ll stay until she’s taken off the CIA’s no-fly list and can go back home…”

There was silence over the line and just as she began wondering if they’d somehow been disconnected, Steve quietly spoke, “I’ve already asked you for one favor but can I bother you for another?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“If I write a letter, can you make sure that it gets to (Y/N)? There’s a lot that I need to tell her and since I don’t know what’ll happen where we’re going…well, she deserves answers one way or another.”

Sharon’s eyes flicked between (Y/N)’s saddened expression and the cell phone in her hand as she nodded. “Of course, I’ll pick it up when I hand over your gear. Talk to you later, Rogers.”

Hanging up, the agent tucked the phone into her pocket and quickly started the engine, buckling up and driving at a steady speed through the parking garage and out onto the street; (Y/N) fiddled with the hem of her wrinkled shirt for a thought-filled moment before stating, “You’ve already got a plan.”

“Let’s just say that I’ve been prepared to follow through on a favor like this one for a while now,” Sharon spared her a sideways glance and focused back on the road. “But I won’t say anything else about it on the off-chance the CIA decides to question you somewhere down the line; the last thing I want is for you to be charged with aiding and abetting in the theft of government property.”

(Y/N) glanced down at her bare ring finger and thought back on Steve’s words during his phone call; she was desperate to find out what was in the letter but at the same time, she knew in her heart that she needed to hear whatever it was directly from him. The thought reminded her of their conversation about the problems within their relationship in the London hotel’s bar, the last truly calm moment they’d shared before everything went sideways…

“Whatever it is, we can work through it together. We make a damn good team, after all.”

“Of course we do, sunshine.”

There’s something I have to do before Steve and the others go after those super-soldiers, (Y/N) thought to herself, her shoulders squared in determination as she turned to glance at Sharon beside her and pondered the best way to ask the spy for a third and final favor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Russian Translation: Soldat-Soldier

A/N: Next chapter will have even less angst so yay! Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

Spotify Playlist:  https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4TsJ2TY1F2HDXhEYOfzCjY?si=b1abdaeccc4c4d21

Chapter Seven

Civil War Masterlist

Tagging: @mrs-obrien​​​​​ @lahoete​​​​​ @awkward117​ @cminr​​​​​ @natdrunk​​​​​​ @momc95​​​​​ @savedbystyle​​​​​ @miraculouscloud​ @awkwardnesshabitat​​​​​ @marinettepotterandplagg​​​​​ @khuang3​​​​​ @supersouthy​​​​​ @benakenalove​​​​​ @brooke0297​​​​​ @hufflepeople​​​​​ @becausewelie​​​​​​ @outoftheregular​​​​​ @supreme-tantrum​​​​​ @ladydmalfoy​​​​​ @mads-weasley​​​​​ @username23345​​​​​ @crist1216​​​​​ @aesthethickks​​

[choosing-criminalminds]

One More Time

Summary: Their love was years and years in the making, and even when prison quickly builds back up the walls they worked so hard to break down, Spencer learns just how strong the foundation of their trust is.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!BAU!reader(ish) -> told mostly in the 3rd person, from Spencer’s POV

Category: angst (?)

Warnings: mentions of character death (Maeve, Gideon), mentions of blood (Maeve’s death), slight panic/anxiety, language -> let me know if there are any more to add!

Also, un-beta’d, we die like the trash we are.

Length: 5.6k

A/N: Okay yeah so first post. So…this turned out much longer than expected? This is for Ellie’s ( @spenciebabie ) writing contest/celebration and goodness I’m so nervous because I’ve barely written, much less posted, anything in years. Anyway, I guss I decided to challenge myself to write this? I hope you guys like it?

Also, if anyone wants a new friend, please hit me up because I’m too shy to say hello myself.

Prompt was: “Why don’t you make me?”

-*-*-*-

“Trust has to be earned, and should come only after the passage of time.”

—Arthur Ashe

-*-*-*-

For all his genius, Spencer didn’t know what to make of the fact that he found himself inexplicably drawn to her.

It wasn’t until years down the line that he realized he had been exceptionally aware of her since they met, carefully observing, cataloguing the way she so gently and kindly defied every expectation and pushed past every preconceived notion he had of her. By then, she had already settled in a little corner of his heart and helped seal the cracks in his life that he didn’t even know existed.

But when she first joined the team as an intern, he was more than a little reluctant to get to know her. It was during the summer between her college graduation and the start of her graduate studies, and she seemed too worldly, too perfect. She wasn’t like the girls from high school, or even college, for that matter, who were simply mean. On the contrary, she was wonderfully polite and incredibly ambitious, intelligent, and very much the type of girl that was far too out of his league, one that wouldn’t spare him a second glance before continuing down whatever focused path she was on.

That’s why he planned to avoid her as much as possible her first day in the office. She had, thankfully, spent the morning in Hotch’s office, since he was her official supervisor, but when he saw them about to emerge right before lunch, he panicked, muttered a random excuse, and shuffled out of the bullpen, leaving a bemused Derek and Elle in his wake.

It didn’t help that he was ducking out of rooms while JJ was giving her a quick tour and making introductions, and almost every member of the team had cornered him, encouraging him to talk to her, to befriend her due to their closeness in age. (“She’s only what? Two-ish years younger than you?” When he mumbled that exact date, Penelope had broken into a large, wicked grin, poking him teasingly in the cheek. Gratefully, she held back any further comment.)

Spencer had blinked, a little surprised, when Penelope Garcia, who generally disliked change, had only good things to say. Remarkably humble about her achievements, and not in the standoffish fake way, Penelope commented after admitting she had run a background check on her. Genuine, and quite sweet.

Polite, Derek had said, if a little quiet, trying to see where she fits in the team dynamic. You should reach out, be a friend, he suggested.(Spencer ignored the very pretty slipped somewhere in the comment, as well as the knowing smile shot his direction when he felt his cheeks flushing.)

A surprisingly wicked sense of humor, was all Elle said with a sly smile. (Spencer chose to ignore that too.)

And when Spencer tentatively asked the man, Jason Gideon, a man of generally few words, had spoken of her, however briefly, with surprising fondness, because of course Gideon had met her when she was a child, because of course her uncle now headed legal three floors up, and of course her uncle was the last third of the BAU’s Holy Trinity, of which Gideon and Rossi were a part of.

You’ll get along very nicely.

Spencer was incredibly intimidated, to say the least.

And then when he couldn’t avoid her anymore (because of course they were desked next to each other), all it took for her was noticeably catching herself from extending a hand, then offering a small little wave and a nervous smile to leave him breathless. (He pointedly ignored the look knowing look JJ shot him.)

He tried to stifle the little seed of hope—that she definitely wasn’t interested in him, and her saccharine smile was nothing more than a false front to make a positive impression during a lucrative FBI internship meant only to bolster her resume—but the resolve crumbled quickly. She turned out to be so genuinely kind and sweetly humble that Spencer cursed the fact that the internship lasted only through that summer.

It also certainly didn’t help, either, that the very first thought he had when meeting her was a single word.

Pretty.

-*-*-*-

It was almost ridiculous how well she got along with everyone in the office.

She clearly made it a mission to make the most of the time she had and was more than willing to put in the work and prove her worth. Although she was technically Hotch’s intern and her main role was to assist the core field team, Spencer watched as she managed to get on absolutely everyone’s good graces through a combination of unassuming charm, sharp wit, and willingness to learn and to help that was so uniquely her.

For Spencer, it meant that she happily listened to what he had to say, encouraging him to continue when appropriate or saving a quiet question for later when it wasn’t. When she told him that she enjoyed listening to him talk, Spencer was taken aback, stuttering as he tried to figure out if she was only saying that to be polite. She gave him a gracious smile, ensured that she “quite honestly enjoyed” listening to him, and proceeded to ask a few well-timed and well-pointed questions to smoothly nudge him back to their previous topic.

Spencer stared at her, slack-jawed, then smiled bashfully, and allowed himself to hope.

(He definitely didn’t know what to do with the fact that when she knowingly reached out to his hand resting on the table and lightly tapped the back of his hand, he didn’t have his typical knee-jerk desire to pull away. He also mostly certainly didn’t know what to do with the fact that when her thumb grazed over his knuckles to sooth the tension he didn’t even realize he had, he felt an inexplicable calm ease into his very bones.)

-*-*-*-

“It’ll take a good five, six years to finish my J.D./Ph.D., but Hotch offered me an open invitation to join the team when I do, and I’m more than inclined to take his offer when the time comes.”

Spencer peered at her, breathing out a sigh of relief that he didn’t realize he was holding. It was the last day of her internship, and she was making the rounds to say her thank you’s and goodbyes individually to the members of the team. He was the last one, and he had been dreading the conversation the entire day.

While he wouldn’t describe what he felt for her as anything beyond a genuine, platonic friendship—in the grand scheme of things, they’d only known each other for ten weeks—their easy companionship had become very dear to him. And he was terrified and nervous that her time with the BAU would be just a small chapter in her life before she moved on to the bigger and better things, leaving him behind as a fond but distant memory.

She laughed softly at his surprise, before it trailed off into a sigh. She then took a deep breath and asked. “Do you trust me?” Spencer looked at her, a bit dumbfounded. Did he trust her? Her gaze was heavy on him and the question weighty, a gentle demand for an honest answer. Did he trust her? Yes, he did, he supposed, they were friends. Right? He breathed in deeply, squared his shoulders just a bit, and answered in the affirmative.

As if she sensed his hesitance, his unease, she gave him a knowing look and took one of his hands into hers, fingers brushing over fingers, before hooking her pinky around his. “Because I promise you, Spencer Reid, I’ll be back, right here. You’ll be waiting for me, yeah?”

He looked at her in awe, the dim light of the nearly-empty office reflecting off her kind eyes. Warmth spread through his chest, and she smiled so brilliantly that he nearly forgot to breathe, to answer. To answer. He smiled back, twitchy, introspective, and considered the weight of her question. He nodded and responded simply.

“Always.”

-*-*-*-

She managed to remain on the Bureau’s consulting payroll over the next several years, though she was primarily based in the Bay Area as she finished her graduate studies at Stanford. The team as a whole still went to her for a fresh perspective when needed; she video called in to help on cases when necessary and met up in person if a case called them to California.

He knew that she kept in touch with JJ, Penelope, and Derek, and that Hotch and Emily (whom she met shortly after Emily joined the team and a case brought them to LA) were also friendly, if professional, contacts. Spencer himself was known to receive the odd phone call from her.

However, what had Spencer almost covetously pleased was that they had something they shared exclusively between the two of them, because she had steadfastly kept her promise to write to him.

-*-*-*-

Her letters were as beautiful as they were constant, and Spencer handled and read each one with care.

Her handwriting suited her; while it generally was neat and clear little scrawl, he knew it would get a little freer, and little loopier when she was tired, if she was particularly excited, or if she found herself a bit tipsy. (And yet she still managed to always write in an almost perfectly straight line even on a blank sheet of paper. He was envious, and when he told her as such, he could hear the laughter in her response as she wrote it a little more wobbly than usual.) And while he knew her to be tilted more on the quiet, introverted side of the scale, she had a way with the written word, each phrase poetic and thoughtful.

And they were remarkably therapeutic to write in return, Spencer found. Their initial letters mostly consisted of light banter about their mutual and individual interests, updates on the progress of her research (sprinkled amusing tidbits of her exasperation and frustration), bits and pieces about his cases and updates on and amusing anecdotes about the team.

However, over time, he slowly opened up to her, about his fears, his hopes, his dreams. And when he hesitantly divulged bits and pieces about the drugs, his mother, the headaches, he felt the relief in his entire body when she responded with empathy and grace. In turn, she did the same. She was vulnerable, she was open, and as wonderful and quite near perfect as he knew her to be, he was pleased to find her so incredibly human.

Those letters he slowed down to read, committing them to memory with more intention.

(He kept her letters in the drawer of his desk at his apartment, and eventually moved them to a specially designated box when he needed more room. When he learned that she did the same, he couldn’t help the tender warmth that fluttered in his chest. He still didn’t know what to do with the feeling.)

-*-*-*-

They say absence makes the heart grow fonder.

It took six years, and an additional five months at the Academy (and then another few weeks as she was introduced to the legal team, with whom she would also be working with in her role as legal liaison), but she kept her promise and found her way back to the BAU, and it was like she was never gone.

This time, in her re-introduction to the team, she was a breath of fresh air.

When she approached him individually with a nervous smile, she reached out, then hesitated, and a sense of déjà vu washed over Spencer. But then, she had placed a hand on his elbow, and when she smiled, he breathed in a sense of peace and familiarity, of comfort.

“You waited.”

He smiled back, and in a rather forward gesture on his part, he adjusted so he could take the hand on his arm into his.

“Always.”

-*-*-*-

She was too good for him.

Whatever relationship they had—Spencer didn’t know what to call it, though friendship seem too trivial of a word for it—he knew it was too good, too perfect to last.

Because in a cruel twist of fate, her first case back on the team, however unofficial it was, was Maeve.

He was hyperaware of the neutral expression on her face when he finally brought his fears to the team. To anyone else she would seem serene and put together, but to him the slight sag in her shoulders and the realization transitioning to acceptance were clear as day. Spencer never mentioned Maeve to her in their letters, but later, in retrospect, he believed she had an inkling, at the very least. You seem happier, she had written, once, not too long after he first became acquainted with Maeve, and that makes me happy.

Did it? Then he didn’t want to know what his misery would do to her because then, Maeve died, and in his grief over another woman, he fought desperately to push her away.

She could share his happiness, but he refused to let her share his pain, his brokenness. She did not deserve that, and he would not be the one to destroy the beauty and sunshine and hope she brought everywhere with her.

But when they finally took Maeve’s body away, and when the blurred commotion of sirens and law enforcement and emergency services and constant hammering of half-hearted condolences and check-ins finally died down, he felt the blanket around his shoulders be adjusted, and a now-familiar pair of hands take in his own, firm, and refusing to ever let go. Thumbs traced over his knuckles as soothingly as he remembered, and only then did he begin to vaguely process the fact those hands had been tucked into his almost the entire evening, anchoring him through the haze and the fog.

As if on cue, she squeezed his hand gently, like she knew exactly when he was slowly becoming aware of her presence, and he suddenly found he lacked the strength to do what he initially intended.

Still dazed, he felt her shift, and she was kneeling on the ground in front of him where he sat on the curb, and softly drew him into a hug. Any form of resistance he previously had dissolved; he clung to her, tears stinging his eyes once again.

It’s okay, I’m here, I’ll stay, she whispered, I’ll stay, always and always.

Just don’t push me away.

“I-” His voice cracked. “I loved her.”

He paused, his voice weakening.

“I love her...”

Hands ran soothingly through his hair.

“I know.”

She always did.

“…so much.”

He didn’t need to see her face to realize that she was crying with him, for him—he could feel her trying to contain the trembling in her chest, trying desperately to remain composed. He tried to do the same, but when she tilted her head and let him bury his face into her neck, Spencer finally felt fresh tears begin to flow, and he allowed her to take his face into her hands and chase the tears with her fingers.

And Spencer wept freely, first for death of the woman he loved, and then for the tears and the grief he caused the one person he could call his kindred spirit, his soulmate.

-*-*-*-

He healed, slowly.

There were good days, when the thought of Maeve did not stir up memories of blood and fear and gunshots but, rather, of auburn hair and admiration and hushed conversations on the phone. On those days, he felt like he was no longer haunted by a ghost and could finally begin to move on. On those days, he could slow down, appreciate the small things again, and focus on how a pair of familiar, steady hands pulled him out of the past, anchored him in the present, and allowed him to hope about the future.

But then there were the bad days when her touch scalded and burned his skin. The warmth and the pulse of blood rushing through her veins and the germs on her hands and her life was overwhelming because Maeve was dead and cold and gone. So, with every glare and with every sharp comment aimed at where he knew it would hurt, he finally made good on his desire to push her away.

It was on those days the bitter voice in the back of his mind whispered how it was supposed to be Maeve, not her, there alive with him, holding his hand as they faced the world.

It was also on those days he chose to disregard the regret that settled in the pit of his stomach each time he heard his own biting voice, and disregard the horror brought on by even thinking of wishing she were dead instead. He began to ignore the tremble in her hands when she reached out to him and brushed her fingers against his in concern, and he ignored how she gradually began pulling back, hesitant, nervous that her touch would be unwarranted, unwanted. He certainly ignored the unconscious flex in his hand, the ache for the reassurance and comfort he had become so accustomed to—

He ignored it all until he woke up, one night, to an empty bed, and a sudden surge of panic rushed through his body and bile rose in his throat. She was right there, when he fell asleep, giving him a small smile and nod when he asked if she could read to him, to stay the night. Now, without a word, she was gone, she was gone, shewasgone and Spencer could feel the tightness in his chest and tears sting his eyes when realized that the only one to blame was himself, himself, himself.

Why, he thought bitterly, why was he like this? Why must he try to push away every good thing in his life?

But then, there he stood, barely aware of the tears on his cheeks and ice running through his veins, as he found her curled up on his couch, franticly wiping away her own silent tears and exhaustion from her eyes. He stumbled forward, upset, upset at himself because he made her cry again. And when she flinched when he cradled her face in his hands, apologizing to him, he nearly choked back a sob, his hands trembling as he tried to wipe away the tears that did not belong on her face.

Neither of them went back to sleep that night, and Spencer began to realize just how strong she was, as she gently told him through her tears the hard truths of his situation and where she stood in relation to him.

I can’t fight with a ghost, she had murmured hoarsely, but I can work with her legacy and her memory.

And then, with a pinky wrapped around his, she promised that she would be there to help him through it, but the only way was if, and only if, he let her.

It was that night (or, rather, morning, as the sun rose) that he began to come to terms that, whether he deserved it or not, she—and her pure and unadulterated goodness—was more or less a permanent fixture in his life, and he felt more at peace than he had in ages. And when the early rays of sunlight filtered through his windows and caught her in a soft glow, he found himself once again in awe. He reached out, hesitantly, and his heart soared when he felt the familiar pressure of her hand slipping into his.

She was steadfast and loyal and strong. She was brave, she was patient, she was kind. Moreover, she was alive, she was breathing, and she was here, present, by his side. It took time, and more painful conversations and more painful realizations, but eventually, the good days were a bit more consistent, the sun just a bit brighter, and his breathing a just bit freer with her hand pressed firmly into his own, her pulse thrumming beneath his fingers until his heartbeat synced with hers.

And Spencer was finally learning, learning about what to do with the fact that with her by his side, he felt like he could truly face the world.

-*-*-*-

Face the world he did.

When Gideon died, he felt his hand twitch, and the compulsion to escape and hide tugged at the back of his mind, and an old, nearly forgotten itch made its way from the crook of his elbow, slowly ebbing into in his veins and nagging in the crevices of the back of the mind.

But when he felt her hand slip into his, he felt it abate, the tension in his muscles eased. When her lips twitched into a knowing, gentle smile, he could see the underlying grief and frustration. Of course. She had known Gideon just as well as he did, if not better.

He breathed deeply and smiled back. It was weak, it was twitchy, and it was sad, but it was a smile, nonetheless. He wasn’t in this alone.

-*-*-*-

They were seated on a large blanket in a secluded park in D.C. on one of their rare days off when she pressed a gentle kiss on his lips, and suddenly it seemed like all the right pieces finally fell into place.

And when she whispered those three little words, and everything made sense. He looked up from where he laid, and again he was breathless at how the setting sun caught in her hair and reflected off her skin and her eyes. But then, when he opened his mouth to respond, the same three little words caught in his throat and his breath hitched, and he wanted to cry. He wanted to respond, to let her know that her feelings were returned, but the words failed him.

“It’s okay,” she murmured softly, and he trembled as he felt her hands cupping his face and fingers gracing over his cheekbones, “if you don’t reciprocate; I’ll live. But I just wanted to let you know–know that I’ll be by your side no matter what happens.”

It wasn’t until they were at the door of her apartment, when he found the strength to push past the nerves and respond.

“I do re-reciprocate, and I want–I want to say it, because I do,” he stuttered out, “but I just…don’t know how to say it yet.”

He suddenly felt like a prepubescent schoolboy, nervous and quaking and terrified. But then, magnetic as she was, she brought his gaze back to her face, and her knowing smile breathed air back into his lungs. His heart blossomed, and the fingers rubbing circles into his hand anchored his attention on her. “Then I’ll wait until you can. Always. Forever.” She paused. “Do you trust me?”

Spencer peered up at her, brows furrowed. Unbidden, the memory of the first time she asked him the same question floated to the front of his mind, and he couldn’t help the breath of amusement. The question caught him off guard, but this time, when he found his voice it was resolute, quick, and sure.

Yes.

He felt a pinky hook around his, and the now-familiar warmth bubbled in his chest.

“Good, because it’s a promise I intend to keep.”

This time, the tears her fingers caught were those of appreciation and relief.

-*-*-*-

And then, the sun set, and prison happened.

-*-*-*-

At first, it was easy to ignore.

Prison changed him. He knew it did, and he knew that she wasn’t naïve to the fact either. He was a bit harder, a bit more defensive, and while he tried his best not to show it, he knew she could see the darkness had just a little bit more of an edge. He was well aware of how she watched him just a bit more closely.

It seemed alright at first. It took a while for him to adjust; there were certainly bumps and bruises along the way, along with some admittedly choice words exchanged in frustration, but that was expected.

But he supposed it was the small things, and small things add up.

The first week her hand naturally slipped into his like nothing’d changed, but his grip was tighter and more desperate than normal, like she’d disappear or slip through his fingers if he didn’t. At the same time, he was also too terrified to touch her otherwise, as if she’d break like glass if his grip on her waist was just a bit too tight.

She never commented, gave him space, and allowed him to initiate physical contact.

She didn’t need to know, he rationalized, it wasn’t her burden to bear.

Then he began to hold her at arm’s length. She pushed, gently, and he pushed back, harder. He knew she was only trying to help, but he needed to figure it out for himself, lest he hurt her again. She only sighed, and relented. While her concern was apparent with how she watched him with just a little more unease, she gave him space.

However, while she was an exceptionally patient person, there was only so much distance and space one could handle. When she reached out, worried, and pressed just a little harder, he withdrew completely, and his rationalization slowly evolved. Stop hovering. Don’t need you treating me like I’m broken. Don’t need your pity.He ignored the pain that flashed in her eyes, the quiet desperation in her voice whenever she called after him after he refused to listen, and the increasingly familiar ache in his entire body when he began to avoid and refuse her touch.

It was the small things, because when the nightmares started, it wasn’t so easy to ignore.

-*-*-*-

“—eathe, Spencer. That’s good, breathe.”

The mumbled affirmations continued as he slowly processed his surroundings.

Queen-sized bed. Egyptian cotton sheets. Breathe in. Goose-feather down pillows. A firmer memory foam pillow that smelled of her shampoo. Breathe out.

Safety.

He was still bleary-eyed when he sunk back down, burying half his face in the pillows and ashamed as he mumbled a quiet apology. Her voice was kind, understanding, telling him it was alright as she tucked a stray lock of curls away from his face. When he seemed to settle back down, her hand gentle rested on his jaw, thumb absently tracing his cheekbone.

“Do you want to talk—”

“No.”

She frowned, sighed, took a moment to flick on the lamp light and collect her thoughts; he could see, through his lashes, the gears turning in her head about how to proceed. Meanwhile, he heaved a sighed, and sat up against the headboard. His eyes closed, doing the same as her. She then reached out, touched his hand, grazed her thumb over his knuckles and drew circles on the back. It started slow, hesitant—she was surprised that he didn’t recoil, and frankly, so was he—but the motion was familiar, grounding, so he let her continue. He knew it helped her focus as well.

“Spence, you’re…you need to talk to someone—it doesn’t have to be me! But bottling it up all inside, it’s clearly tearing you apart.”

“I agreed to start talking with my therapist, haven’t I?”

His voice was flat, defensive.

“But you haven’t, and…knowing you, you won’t be telling them the whole truth.” His jaw tightened and his lips pursed, his hand gripping the sheets flexed, and he looked away from her, intently staring at a random point in the room that wasn’t her. As always, she seemed to know him far too well.

She let out a breath of a sigh; she knew he was beginning to shut her out again. Her free hand lifted to his shoulder, rested in the crook of his neck.

“I’ve told you before, that you’ve started to shut people out. I know–I know you’re so, so strong, but you don’t have to face it alone. You don’t need to hold the weight of the world on your shoulders; we’re not as fragile as you seem to think we are.” She paused, contemplating. “If you need someone with distance that you can trust, call Derek, call Hotch, even, but remember, Spence, I made you a promise: I’ll always be here for you, no matter what.”

When he didn’t answer, still staring off into the mid-distance, she sighed.

“I’ll leave, give you some space. Think about it.”

She was at the bedroom door when he finally cleared his throat and responded. His voice was bitter as he bit out: “You’re going to have to do a lot better than that.”

A quiet ‘wha–’slipped from her lips as she angled toward him as he shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, hands gripping the sheets tightly.

“If you want to leave, fine. You seem to be doing that quite well recently. The door’s right there and you don’t have to come back until you want to make me a charity case again. But if you want me to talk, if you think you can handle it, then be my guest. Take a seat and why don’t you make me?”

He instantly regretted the words, but some dark part of his mind as pleased that he could see the anger and annoyance spark through her as she inhaled deeply and slowly turn around to face him in full. “I will if that’s what it will take.”

Spencer’s gaze hardened.

“You don’t have the fucking guts.”

A brief moment passed as she took him in full, eyes flashing. Spencer raised his gaze, challenging, daring her, and then, the same, shadowed part of his mind was savagely happy that he had finally gotten a rise out of her, because she bit back with venom.

“Fucking try me.”

And then, he watched her warily as she visibly froze, then deflate, her jaw tightening and eyes welling with unshed tears as she stumbled backward to the door.

“But–but not like this. Not like this. I’m–I’m so sorry you didn’t–you don’t deserve…” Her voice was quiet, but it was hitched with a swirl of emotions Spencer couldn’t pinpoint, and he was suddenly aware of the hot tears dripping down his cheeks. “I’m going–I’m going to go…” He heard the doorknob turn, and suddenly the sound of gunshots rang in his ears, and he could the taste the metallic bitterness as blood and dead brown eyes filled his vision.

Wait. Wai- She was halfway out the door when he called out, voice cracking, and through blurred tears he saw her shut the door and shuffled and stumbled back into the room toward him, kneeling in front of him. Through the ringing in his ears, he could hear the whispers of his name and the urgency of the apologies. And then his eyes fluttered closed when she reached up to brush the tears away, and the motion opened the floodgates. It was one of the many little touches they shared—thumbs wiping over cheeks and hands cupping faces—and he had half a mind to shove her aside, but dear God he hadn’t felt it in far too long; he leaned, almost desperately, into her touch and he could hear her sniffling back her own tears.

Fuck.

He was always like this.

His passive aggressiveness was his defense mechanism; he lashed out blindly whenever he felt vulnerable, not caring who he hurt and how much. It was something she had been helping him work through, and he thought he was getting better, but here he was, hurting her because of it again.

Not like this.

He barely noticed that she had pulled him into a tender hug, but now that he did process the warmth of her embrace seeping into his bones, he wanted to push it away. He didn’t – he didn’t deserve this but now she was pulling back, and it sent a brief course of panic through his body, a fear that she was pulling away, away from him, away from the darkness and shadows that loomed permanently over him. He wouldn’t blame her, but–but…oh.

Her eyes always spoke volumes for her, and now that she had firmly tilted his chin up, her gaze firm, resolved.

“I know you are feeling vulnerable, and I know that you believe you can do this on your own.” She breathed in deeply. In turn he gazed up at her through his tears, as evenly as he could, and she met it without wavering. “You are strong, Spencer Reid, so, so strong, been so for so long. But…but I made a promise that I would always be by your side, and I’m never going to break it. So please.” Her voice hitched, and his breath caught in his throat. “Please, trust in me, one more time. Just one more time.”

Moments ticked by to the time of his heartbeat before he finally nodded, and the relief and the elation in her eyes soothed the dull pain inside his heart. This time, he drew her into his arms and into his lap and sighed as he leaned into the crook of her neck.

Thank you.

I love you, too.

-*-*-*-

“Have enough courage to trust love one more time and always one more time.”

—Maya Angelou

-*-*-*-

[calcifermovesthecastle]

Plus One

Mista x F! Reader, College AU

nsfw, minors dni

warnings: alcohol, swearing. 

“What’s the word?” A familiar arm drapes across your shoulders, pulling you against a warm side. You huff, doing your best to squirm away from him. 

“Let me read, Mista,” You turn the page in your book, refusing to look anywhere but the text. Mista squeezes you, laughing. 

“C’mon, Bombolone. I’ve been here forty five minutes and you haven’t even said hi to me once.” 

“Hi. Let me read.” You nudge his side with your elbow, and he laughs again. You’re loathe to admit the sound fills you with warmth. 

“So what’s the word?” He repeats, swinging his legs over your lap. You huff, pink beginning to dust your cheeks. 

“Nothing new, other than the fact that I can’t read anymore, I guess,” You look over at him, snapping your book shut. “C’mon, Mista. I have a paper on this book due next week.” 

“And I have a plus one due to a wedding in two days.” He grins easily, linking his hands behind his head. Your gaze flits to the other students in the common area. “You still haven’t given me an answer.” 

“Oh, Mista, you know I-” You sigh, meeting his face. “I’m busy.” 

“If I go to that wedding alone, my Famiglia will never let me hear the end of it,” He hums. “I’m on my knees, bombolone, you know how us Italians are.” 

“Clearly, on your knees.” You rest your elbows on his legs, putting your chin in your hands. “Promise you’ll leave me alone after?” 

“Scouts honor.” 

He grins, reaching over to gently punch your arm. “Do you have a dress?” 

“The nicest thing I own is a polo from a career tech program I joined in high school and a pair of khakis,” You answer, rolling your eyes. He hums, his eyes closing in thought. 

“Come on. I’ll buy you a dress, then.” He swings his legs off of you, dragging you to your feet. You balk at the idea, trying to wrench free from his grasp. 

“No, I can buy my own-” 

“Nonsense! We have to match anyways. It’ll be fine. Think of it as me paying for you to come to the wedding with me,” He smiles, lacing his fingers with yours. You bite your lip, squeezing his hand. 

“You’re dangerous, you know that?” You finally relent, easing out of his grip to grab your school bag. “Has anyone ever been able to say no to you?” 

“Several people, actually. Most of the time.” He plucks the bag out of your arms, looking smug. You shove him gently, your face burning. 

“Oh, shut up.” You don’t protest when he drapes an arm around you. “We have to make this quick, though. I have a class at four.” 

“That’s plenty of time.” 

-

“Are you going to let me see the dress on you, or are you just going to hide in that changing room all day, Bombolone?” Mista’s voice leaks through the curtain, and you flush, worrying at how the fabric hugs your frame. It doesn’t look bad, but it does accent some of your insecurities. 

“Give me a moment,” You reply weakly, adjusting the fabric so that it sits more nicely against you. “Okay.” 

Before you can lose your resolve, you pull the curtain back, spinning around in a slow circle. The soft blue fabric sways with your movement, and when you finally meet Mista’s eyes, his mouth is hanging open. 

“I knew it! It looks terrible on me, doesn’t it?” You blurt out, hugging your arms. Mista grabs your shoulders, getting right up in your face. 

“What?! No! I think you look incredible! I just...Stai così bene che ho dimenticato come parlare,” He mumbles, and you step back, huffing. 

“You know I don’t speak Italian, Mista.” 

He flushes, and you stare for a moment. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him blush. 

“I said you look so good I forgot how to speak,” He turns away from you, biting his lip. “I mean it. You look amazing in that dress.” 

“You think so?” 

“Yeah, definitely,” He sounds breathless. “Let’s get this one. There is nothing terrible about this dress.” 

You shuffle your feet when you reach the counter, flushing when you hear the clerk tell Mista how much he’ll be paying. 

“Oh, Mista, no, Let’s go back and find a cheaper dress,” You tug on his arm. “Or let me pay for some of it.” 

“Absolutely not,” He pulls out his wallet, handing the clerk his card. “I told you I’d pay, right? So let me pay. Don’t worry about the price.” 

“Who’s even getting married?” You ask, dropping your arms and clasping your hands in front of you. He grins down at you when the purchase is made and slides his arm through yours, leading you out of the store. 

“You’ll meet them at the wedding.” 

You slide into the passenger seat of his car, checking your phone. He puts the dress in the trunk, slipping behind the wheel and starting the car a moment later. 

“It’s only two thirty, do you want to go get lunch? My treat?” 

“After you already blew so much on me?” 

“Please?” 

“Mista, I couldn’t. Really. You can come join me in my apartment if you’re quiet and let me study.” 

“I’ll cook for you then!” He drives off, smiling to himself. You sigh, fixing your gaze out the window. 

-

You’re roused by your phone ringing early in the morning, and you groan, answering it without even checking the caller ID, your voice thick with sleep. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, get ready. You can do whatever you want with your hair. I’ll be there in about forty five minutes.” 

“Mista?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Oh, jesus,” You pinch the bridge of your nose, yawning. “You really expect me to be able to do my hair in forty five minutes?” 

“No, of course not. I’m going to make you breakfast. We don’t have to leave for another four hours.” 

“Jesus Christ,” You yawn again. “Door’s unlocked. Just walk in.” 

-

“Hey,” You jerk awake when your shoulder is shaken, and bolt up, narrowly missing Mista’s face. 

“Shit! What time is it?!” 

“Relax, you still have plenty of time,” Mista steps back, tilting his head. “Did you fall back asleep?” 

“Unintentionally,” You sheepishly avoid his gaze. “Sorry about that.” 

“Hey, that’s why I came over so early. C’mon.” He grasps your hands and pulls you out of bed, righting you when you stand so you don’t fall over. “Coffee?” 

“Huh? No, I’m just going to take a quick shower.” You wipe at your eyes, and he smiles at you, lopsided. You stare at him blankly. “What?” 

“Nothing. You’re cute when you wake up, that’s all.” He tweaks your nose and leaves your bedroom, humming to himself. You stretch and head towards your bathroom. 

The shower does a good job at waking you up.

You enter the kitchen, in nothing but a slip and a robe, running a towel over your face. 

“Should I wear makeup?” 

“If you want,” He answers, setting a plate of pancakes in front of you. “I personally don’t think you need it.” 

“You made these?” 

“Yeah.” 

“They look good.” You take a bite, your eyes fluttering closed. “They taste good too.” 

“Hey, thanks.” He grins. “Do you mind if I use your bedroom to change?” 

“Go for it.”   

He emerges some time later, fixing the cuffs of his shirt, and you stare, dumbfounded. He catches your eye and grins easily, running a hand through his hair. 

“My eyes are up here,” He jokes, and you flush, looking away. “Like what you see?” 

“You wish,” You shoot at him, placing your thumb nail in between your teeth. He laughs, nudging your arm with his fist. 

“Did you think maybe I was bald under my hat? I know, my hair does come as a shock to some people, but don’t let it get your panties in a twist.”

“Go change into your dress if you’re ready,” He pours himself another mug of coffee, leaning against the counter and watching you with glinting eyes. You slide out of your chair, face flushed, and disappear into your room. 

Twenty minutes later, you emerge, dress on, makeup and hair done, facing another problem. 

“Uh, Mista? What am I going to do about shoes?” 

“Go ahead and just wear whatever for now, we’ll stop somewhere on the way. And make sure to take a jacket, it just started raining.” 

“Lovely,” You grab the nicest coat you own and shrug it on, pulling your umbrella out of the side closet after tugging on the shoes sitting by the door. Mista checks his phone, humming. 

“Ready?” 

“Alright. I’m part of the wedding party, but I won’t be away from you for long.” He offers you his arm and takes the umbrella from you, walking you out to his car and helping you into the passenger seat. You scroll aimlessly through your phone, nerves causing your hands to shake the longer the car ride goes. 

Halfway through the ride, he turns on the cd player and sings along quietly, tapping the wheel to the beat of the song. You’re surprised to find that he has an amazing singing voice. 

He catches your gaze out of the corner of his eye and grins, winking at you.

“You’re catching flies, bombolone.” 

You flush, looking back down at your phone. He chuckles, pulling into the parking lot of a shoe store you’ve barely even dreamed of seeing the inside of. 

“What size shoe do you wear? I’ll go in and pick something out for you.” 

“Oh, uh-” You tell him, and he grabs the umbrella from the backseat. “But-” 

“I better not hear you complain about me buying you something else, Tesoro,” He catches your eye, his glinting. “Don’t worry about it. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want to. We’re friends, right?” 

“At least let me pay you back?” 

“Absolutely not,” He smiles, leaving before you can get another word in edgewise. You slump against the seat, exhaling sharply.

He returns roughly fifteen minutes later, box in hand, a smile on his face.

“They match your dress,” Is all he says, and drives off, humming to himself. 

-

You’re asking yourself why you ever agreed to this when he pulls up to the venue, and your nervousness only grows when he reaches into the backseat and hands you a small box. 

“Relax, I’m not asking you to marry me yet,” He jokes, opening the box for you. “It’s just a corsage.” 

“Even if you did ask, I’d say no.” You watch as he slips the flower onto your wrist. He jokingly slumps back into his seat and throws an arm over his eyes, groaning. 

“Merda! How do you expect me to go on like this? I’ll just stare forlornly at the wall the entire wedding! I won’t even dance!” 

His joking manner chips away at some of your anxiety, and you can’t help but smile. 

“You’ll move on, I’m sure. Maybe I’ll finally be able to finish my schoolwork when you do.” 

“No chance,” He grins and peeks at you from under his arm. “Pull your seat back and change into your shoes so we can go in. I’ll have to leave you pretty soon but just pick a seat wherever and I’ll meet back up with you after so I can take you to the reception.” 

“I know what’s bothering me about this,” You say, opening the shoebox and gazing at the blue satin flats inside. “You never have anything this planned out.” 

“Ah, you can’t say never,” He jokes. “I had a whole plan to ask you out after I met you in Professor Nero’s class.” 

“You dropped that class, Mista.” 

“Who knew that biochem would be so difficult?” He sighs wistfully. “I just don’t have the brain for it. Who would have thought we’d see each other again in Sociology?” 

“Did you finish your paper yet?” You ask him, tugging the new shoes on. 

“Absolutely,” He laughs. “Absolutely not. I haven’t even started it.” 

“Mista, that’s due on friday.” 

“Ah, I’ll get it done,” He waves you off. “We have other things to worry about right now.” 

He steps out and around the car, opening up the umbrella and your door for you. Instead of offering you his arm, he laces your hands together as you walk into the massive church. 

“Mista, Siamo tutto qui!” A younger boy, with black hair and bizarrely violet eyes waves Mista down, and Mista calls over to him. 

“Ah, arrivo tra un minuto, Narancia!” 

“Mista, am I going to be the only english speaker at this whole wedding?” 

“Nah, ‘course not,” He squeezes your hand. “Everyone here speaks English, some better than others. I gotta get going, sit anywhere in the chapel but the first three rows.” 

“O-okay,” You find you miss his hand when he lets go, and you watch him walk down the hall, tossing his arm around a slender blonde man. 

You suppose it’s good to know he’s this familiar with everyone he comes across, You think to yourself as you take your seat and clasp your hands together. 

Other guests begin to fill the pews as time goes on, some casting you weird looks, other’s ignoring you completely, some smiling. You bite the inside of your cheek, jumping when the music starts. You watch as the groom makes his way up to the front- a long silver haired man in a black suit and purple lipstick. Trailing behind him is a young woman with bright pink hair, the purple haired boy you saw earlier, and a different, grumpier looking blond. The first blond follows him, and he’s followed by Mista, who winks when he catches your eye. Everyone stands when the- other groom starts to walk down the aisle, donned in an elegant white suit, his raven hair pristine and perfectly in place. 

The actual ceremony flies by for you, mostly because you barely understand any of the Italian being spoken. Mista grins over at you when the couple kisses, and when you finally meet back up with him at the back of the church, he pulls you into a hug. 

“Let me introduce you to my famiglia, bombolone.” 

“O-okay?” There’s not much you can do but follow him, and you’re skidded to a halt in front of the married couple themselves. 

“Bucciarati, questa è quella ragazza di cui ti ho parlato, da scuola.” 

The man in the white suit turns and smiles at you warmly, taking your hand and brushing his lips against your knuckles. 

“Parli italiano?” 

“Uh, molto poco,” You’re nervous, but much less in front of this man than you thought you’d be. He nods. 

“How are you enjoying your time here?” His accent is thick, but his english is near perfect. 

“I love it here,” You tell him, clasping your hands in front of you. “My Italian classes are giving me a hard time, but I am working hard to learn the language.” 

“Ciao,” The other man says gruffly, glancing over you before turning away. Bucciarati smiles, waving his hand. 

“Don’t worry about him, he’s like that with everyone new. I’m surprised Mista convinced you to come.” 

“I have a hard time saying no to him,” You confess quietly. Bucciarati laughs. 

“He can have that effect on people, can’t he?” 

“Come meet Giorno,” Mista tugs on your arm, pulling you out of your conversation. Bucciarati reprimands him in italian and waves you off. 

-

You step out of the passenger seat of his car, hurrying into the convention center where the reception is being held. Mista waits in the car for the rest of the wedding party, watching you go. 

It’s later in the night when Mista approaches you out on the patio. You had retreated from the cacophony of loud music and voices, nursing your fourth glass of sweet red wine and watching as the clouds roll through the dark sky. 

“You disappeared on me,” He rests his forearms against the railing, and you glance at him, eying him appreciatively when you see that his jacket has been discarded and the sleeves of his dress shirt have been rolled up. The alcohol is doing well to make your judgement fuzzy, so you reach over and squeeze his arm. 

“Loud.” 

“It can be, yeah,” He nods, noting the way your cheeks are flushed. “How much have you had?” 

“This is my last one. Promise.” 

“I’ll hold you to that,” He smiles, looking up at the sky. The loud, boisterous music turns into something soft and sweet, and you hear Mista take a deep breath.

“Would you come dance with me? Per favor?” 

You look down into your half empty wine glass, nodding. He pulls it from your hands, setting it down on the ledge, and moves to guide you back inside. You pause, just at the door. 

“Can we dance out here? I don’t want to take any attention away from the newlyweds. And it’s quieter out here, I can hear myself think.”  

“Of course,” He smiles and takes your elbows gently in his hands, pulling you against his chest. You stumble and fall, a giggle spouting from your mouth. “God, I finally get you on a date and you’re drunk.” 

His tone is teasing, and he rests his hands on your hips to keep you steady. 

“Not that drunk,” You giggle again, winding your arms around his shoulders. He tilts his head down towards you, his grin morphing into a smirk. 

“After this dance, I’m making you drink some water,” He lifts a hand and tweaks your nose. You flush and, thanks to your clouded judgement, bury your face into his chest. He rests his chin on top of your head, humming softly along to the song that filters through the door. 

-

You’re nearly sober by the time you make it back to his car, and he asks if you want to go home or if you’d like to spend the night at his place or if you’d like him to take you back home. 

“Do you live alone?” 

“Yeah, I have a one bedroom just off campus.” 

“How big is your bed?” 

“I was going to sleep on the couch.” 

“That didn’t answer my question,” You say, leaning back against the seat. 

“It’s a double.” 

“Mm, sure then. I’ll stay,” You smile over at him. “I can help you write that Sociology paper tomorrow then.” 

“Curses! You’ve revealed my hidden plan!” He slumps jokingly, burying his face in his hands. You laugh, and god, he could listen to the sound of you genuinely laughing forever. 

You step into his apartment, slipping the flats off of your feet by the door. He steps around you after slipping his own shoes off, and turns the kitchen light on. 

“Want some tea? It’ll probably do you good to prevent a hangover tomorrow.” 

“Sure.” You sit gingerly on his couch, looking around. He watches you for a moment, disappearing into his bedroom after putting the kettle on the stove. 

When he comes out, He hands you a folded pile of something soft and tells you to go ahead and shower and change, and that your tea will be ready by the time you’re done. 

You do as he says, washing your face and changing into the clothes he provided. 

You inspect the blue hoodie and clean pair of shorts he gave you, smiling to yourself. You never expected to dance with him, much less spend the night at his place and wear his clothes. The hoodie smells faintly of gunpowder, and you think to ask if he maybe visits the shooting range. 

Steam billows out of the bathroom door when you open it, and Mista teasingly asks if you’ve left him any hot water, handing you a warm mug of something that smells delicious before he disappears into the bathroom himself, emerging some time later in sweats and a loose t-shirt. You catch yourself eyeing him appreciatively again, and firmly turn your gaze down to the almost finished mug of tea. 

He joins you on the couch, tossing his arm across the back of it and flicking the tv on. For one of the first times, it’s silent between the two of you, and comfortable. Before long, you scoot closer to him and rest your head against his shoulder, and you can’t blame alcohol for that decision. Part of you is terrified, but the other part just feels warm and sleepy and content. 

“Woah, don’t fall asleep on me, bombolone,” He wraps an arm around you and peels you away from him, smiling softly. “If you’re tired let’s get you to bed.” 

“Mista, I want to cuddle with you,” You say, meeting his eyes. “It’s really scary, but I want to do it.” 

“Why is cuddling with me scary?!” 

“I may be realizing that I have a tiny amount of feelings for you,” You bite your lip. “And no one’s ever- I’ve never been held like the way you held me while we were dancing. It made me warm and fuzzy inside.” 

“That so?” He smiles, resting his cheek against the top of your head. You nod. 

“I promise that’s not the alcohol talking either. Please?” 

“I can’t say no to you,” He finally sighs, standing and pulling you up. You positively beam at him, and it’s his turn to flush and look away. 

He takes your hand and retires to the bedroom with you, allowing you to cuddle up against him when you both lie down. There’s a feather-light kiss pressed to your forehead, and your eyes have slipped closed. 

-

You wake first the next day, and notice you’re on your side facing Mista. His arm is draped over your side, and he’s snoring softly. His face is much more boyish when he sleeps, his face completely relaxed. You stretch, turning onto your back, and think about what you told him last night. 

Seeing him like this only solidifies the feelings that have nestled in the center of your chest, and you curse yourself lightly when you realize that he’s won, and that you aren’t even upset that he’s finally won you over after a year of knowing you. 

He grunts softly in his sleep and drags you closer, so you turn to face him again and card a hand through the short curls on top of his head. His eyelids flutter, and you’re met with his impossibly dark eyes the next moment. 

“Cazzo, you’re really cute when you’re sleepy,” He reaffirms what he said to you yesterday, giving you a lopsided smile. You blush, trying your best to keep a smile off of your own face. 

You don’t do a very good job at it. 

“You too. You snore though.” You avert your eyes, covering your mouth with one of the hoodie sleeves. 

“Shoulda heard yourself last night. Though a weed wacker had gone off in my room.” 

“I do not snore!” You gasp, sitting up. He laughs and drags you on top of him, securing his arms tight around you so you have nowhere to go. 

“I wouldn’t call it snoring so much as a 747 temporarily taking up residence in the back of your throat.” He hums, keeping that cocky grin on his face. You scoff. 

“I do not snore.” You state it again, firmly, and he laughs, squeezing you. 

“There are ways of getting me to shut up,” He says lightly, and you narrow your eyes, tilting your head back. 

“Why is that my responsibility? Shut yourself up, Mista.” 

“D’you mind?” 

“By all means, I’ve been asking you to for a year.” 

He smiles, then, and grabs the front of his hoodie, dragging you down and pressing his lips firmly against yours. They’re extraordinarily soft, and they do more to shut you up than him. When he pulls away, you stare at him for a moment, before cupping his face in your hands and leaning down to kiss him again, and again, and again, until you have to physically drag yourself away for air. 

“Cazzo,” He pants, cupping the back of your neck with his palm. “Just...wow.” 

“Yeah,” You nod dumbly, searching his face. “Give me more.” 

His eyes glint, and he flips the two of you so that your back is pressed against the sheets. 

“Are you sure?” 

“God, yes. This is the dumbest thing I’ve ever done, and I am absolutely certain that I want to do it,” You reach up and drag him down to meet your lips again. His breath catches in his throat, and he worms his way down to your neck, his hands pushing up the hem of the hoodie he gave you. 

You arch your back so he can slide it off, and he groans out loud when your chest is laid bare before him. 

“Cazzo, You’re not cute, bombolone, you’re actually really fucking hot,” He breathes, cupping your breasts in his hands. You flush at his words. 

“Even the playing field,” You tell him, and you don’t have to twice because he’s already shrugging his shirt off. You’re finally met with the full plane of his stomach, instead of what you see when he wears his crop tops, and you trace the muscles appreciatively with a finger, stopping just at the hem of his sweatpants. He leans down, kissing your cheek, and starts to trail open mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your carotid, stopping once or twice to suck gently at the soft skin there. He relishes in the way your breath jumps in your throat and grins against your skin, kissing along your collarbone and down your chest and stomach. 

“Can I eat you out?” He asks, pausing at the hem of the shorts, and you groan, twisting his hair into your hands. 

“God, please!” 

He laughs, a little nervously, and slides the shorts down your legs, tossing them off of the bed and spreading your legs and dipping his head between your thighs. His breath ghosts just over your clit, and you have to beg him again for him to finally start moving. 

“Sorry, I’ve just...never eaten anybody out before,” He huffs, closing his eyes and swiping his tongue up and along your folds. You gasp. “Sorry if I get a little experimental.” 

He slides his tongue up again, flicking it just right against your clit. You grip his hair harder, grinding down onto his face, your eyes squeezed shut. 

When he seals his lips around your clit and gives a testing suck, you cry out, clenching your thighs around his head. He groans against you, working to figure out what you like and what you don’t until you cry his name and arch your back, grinding against his face while you ride out your orgasm. He continues through it, forcing your thigh up and out with his free hand so he can have better access. It’s not long until you cum again, and you have to push him away when the stimulation nears pain.

“F-fuck,” You pant, blinking slowly as you try to bring the ceiling into focus. He pulls his fingers- you didn’t even notice he added more- out of you with a wet noise and holds them in front of your mouth for you to taste. 

He groans when you run your tongue along his digits, watching your face as you work diligently to clean them. He’s rock hard at this point, and itching to be inside you. 

He works off his sweatpants with a huff, his cock springing out and smacking your stomach heavily. It’s not terribly long, but dark and thick, uncut, the tip flushed pink and dribbling precum where it’s peeking out. Your mouth waters at the sight of it, but he rolls his foreskin back and nestles between your thighs, and your thoughts are clouded by what he’ll feel like inside of you. 

He takes his time, brushing the head along your folds until it catches at your entrance, and with a shaky breath, he slowly pushes in. 

You both moan when he does, your head falling back on the pillows, his hand reaching up to grip the headboard. 

“Cazzo,” He hisses, squeezing his eyes shut. “You’re so fucking tight, babe.”

He rolls his hips, eliciting a cry from you that sounds like his name, and sets a slow, heavy pace. He lifts one of your legs, resting it against his shoulder, and angles his hips so he can hit all of the best spots inside you.

“Christo, do you know how good you feel? Se non sto attento, verrò subito,” He leans down and catches your lips in a kiss, brushing against your cervix when he does. You moan into his mouth, your walls spasming around him. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He groans, his hips pistoning even faster into you. “F-fuck, where do you want me to cum?” 

“I d-don’t care! Anywhere is-” Your words get cut off, and you scramble to find purchase against him when you cum for a third time. He pulls out and starts jerking furiously into his hand, and you flinch when warm cum spurts against your stomach. 

“C-cazzo, he groans, flopping down next to you when he’s spent. Both of you can do nothing but breathe and bask in the afterglow, your minds working hard to catch up to the experience. His chest heaves, and he turns his head to face you, a goofy smile on his face. “That was so hot.” 

“There’s no way that was your first time eating someone out,” You gasp, loosely clasping hands with him. He laughs. “That was too good.” 

“I’m glad you think so,” He squeezes your hand, exhaling sharply. “Fuck. Let me get you a towel. 

“If you clean me up good in the shower I’ll suck your dick for you while you write your paper,” You meet his eyes, grinning at him. His face flushes, and the next moment, he’s standing and lifting you off the bed. 

“I’m going to hold you to that.” 

[bevioletskies]

dream a little dream of me

summary: Ryunosuke had never been one for gloomy, rainy weather, had always preferred the comforting warmth of a clear, sunny day. When a particularly heavy rainstorm keeps him and Kazuma in bed for hours on end, he finds himself slowly starting to think otherwise.

word count: 2.4k | read on ao3

a/n: For @asoryuu-week, day four of seven (prompt: "domestic"). This fic takes place post-Resolve; mild spoiler warning for Adventures and Resolve, where events may be alluded to but not described in detail. All names and honorifics are taken from the official localization, with the exception of Sherlock and Iris.

Fic title is from the song Dream A Little Dream Of Me by The Mamas & The Papas.

“Remind me, Ryunosuke, what is it they say about a heavy head? Because yours is certainly making it harder for me to breathe.”

Ryunosuke sighed, lifting his supposedly heavy head from his partner’s chest to level him with a sleepy glare. “Good morning to you, too. Must you demean me before we’ve even gotten out of bed?”

Kazuma’s warm, slightly raspy laughter soothed Ryunosuke somewhat, though he still couldn’t help but feel slightly irritated. “Well, it’s hardly my fault you’re so fun to tease. No one else reacts quite like you do.” Then, Kazuma cupped Ryunosuke’s jaw in one hand, running his thumb across Ryunosuke’s mouth. “And I mean that in all manner of things, if you get my meaning.”

“You’re terrible,” Ryunosuke informed him, though he allowed Kazuma to kiss him anyway, grunting slightly when Kazuma rolled over to straddle him, sinking his entire body into Ryunosuke’s, fingers digging into his sides. “Mm...Kazuma, th-they’re waiting for us downstairs - ”

“Let them wait,” Kazuma murmured, playfully nibbling Ryunosuke’s bottom lip. One of his hands had now moved to Ryunosuke’s thigh, caressing him teasingly. “It’s been too long since we’ve had some time to ourselves.”

“You were only here two nights ago,” Ryunosuke said breathlessly; Kazuma’s mouth had quickly made its way from his neck to his collarbone, leaving a heated trail of kisses down the length of his throat. “Remember? That’s when I finally agreed to - ”

“Ry-u! Kazz-y! Won’t you be joining us for breakfast?”

“Damn,” Kazuma muttered, reluctantly climbing off so he could smooth out the front of his jinbei. Despite Ryunosuke’s continued annoyance at Kazuma’s insatiable nature, if he wanted to put it kindly, he also couldn’t help but admire how flushed Kazuma’s ears, neck, and chest had become in the last few minutes alone. “We’ll be right there, Iris, sorry for keeping you!”

“That’s okay!” Iris called back, her footsteps already beginning to fade away. “Just as long as you’re both properly dressed, alright?”

Ryunosuke groaned, dropping his head into his hands. “This is all your fault, you know that?” Kazuma merely scoffed, rifling through his bag so he could find the fresh set of clothes he’d packed for his overnight stay. “Though I suppose nothing will ever be as bad as the time you pulled me aside in the middle of an investigation and - ”

“I thought we both found that to be a thrilling and memorable experience, but fine,” Kazuma said with a dramatic sigh. “I’ll see to it that we won't try anything that adventurous ever again.”

“We almost got caught!” Ryunosuke exclaimed, agitatedly flapping his shirt in Kazuma’s face. “Don’t you realize how much trouble we would’ve been in?”

Kazuma stared at Ryunosuke in complete and utter disbelief. “...Ryunosuke, you’ve committed treason. You’ve implicated so many government officials, exposed so many government secrets - ”

“...all the more reason not to take a chance?” Ryunosuke offered sheepishly. “Anyway, let’s get dressed before they come looking for us again. I swear I can hear Susato-san’s footsteps coming up the stairs.”

A little over an hour later, Ryunosuke, Kazuma, and Susato returned to the attic, pleasantly sleepy from the generous meal that Iris had prepared for everyone. The rain was still thumping against the windowpane, an erratic tap-tap-tap that filled the entire room, rendering the three of them barely able to hear themselves or each other.

“I know you were planning on returning to your own flat, Kazuma-sama, but I would advise against it in a storm like this,” Susato mused, momentarily brushing the curtains aside so she could look out over the soggy, sorry state of London’s streets. “And I’m sure Naruhodo-san wouldn’t complain if you stayed.”

“I’m sure as well, though Ryunosuke is clearly in no position to answer either way,” Kazuma said dryly, gesturing in Ryunosuke’s direction, where he was currently curled up on the floor by Susato’s tea set, half-asleep and hugging his daruma to his chest. Susato watched, giggling, as Kazuma walked over to gently prod Ryunosuke in the shoulder with his foot. “Come now, Ryu, don’t make me carry you back to bed.”

“We both know you’d like that,” Ryunosuke mumbled. Susato only just managed to refrain from rolling her eyes at them - she’d been privy to far too many of their supposedly private conversations for her liking - instead electing to pat Kazuma on the arm.

“I think this is the perfect weather for a nap, personally,” she said, looking at him meaningfully. “If you plan on returning to bed as well, I can let Iris and Mr Holmes know not to disturb any of us until dinner.”

“That would be great, Susato-san, thank you,” Kazuma said sincerely, though he secretly suspected she just wanted to leave them be. Once she disappeared back down the stairs, he looked down at Ryunosuke with an irrevocably fond sigh. “Ryunosuke…”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m getting up,” Ryunosuke yawned, reluctantly pulling himself to his feet. “Bed?” Grinning, Kazuma wordlessly took Ryunosuke by the hand and led him towards his bedroom - their bedroom, really, given how often he stayed over these days. Moments later, they clumsily tumbled back into bed, having changed into their sleepclothes once more.

“You’ve still got a bit of egg on your face,” Kazuma observed, wiping Ryunosuke’s cheek. “How does this keep happening to you?”

“Eat too fast,” Ryunosuke murmured, turning to kiss the palm of Kazuma’s hand. “Food...good.”

“Your grasp of both the Japanese and the English language is incredible,” Kazuma drawled, carding his fingers through Ryunosuke’s hair. He then pulled him closer, burying his face into Ryunosuke’s neck. “I thought you went back home to finish school, did you not? Surely you can do better than ‘food good’.”

“You’re so mean to me,” Ryunosuke said, sighing, letting out an exaggerated exhale directly in Kazuma’s face. Still, he turned over so he could wrap his arms around Kazuma’s waist, snuggling contentedly into his chest. “I really should just kick you out and make you go home.” Laughing, Kazuma kissed the top of his head.

“Not in this weather, you wouldn’t,” Kazuma replied. As if to illustrate his point, there was a loud, thunderous crack that practically shook the entire room. “If this storm keeps up, I might have to live here indefinitely.” Ryunosuke merely grunted in response. “Well, you don’t have to sound so pleased about it.”

“Oh - no, it’s not that,” Ryunosuke reassured him, sitting up somewhat so he could look Kazuma in the eye. Despite Kazuma’s typical brusque, yet affectionate nature, he could tell that Kazuma was slightly hurt. “I was just thinking about how much I dislike storms. Rain is fine on occasion, but...it seems as if London is in a permanent state of misery sometimes, you know? And it makes us miserable all the while.”

Kazuma’s clouded expression cleared up instantly. “It’s been ages since we’ve had sunshine,” he agreed, now dropping his head to rest on Ryunosuke’s shoulder. “It would’ve been nice to go for a walk together before I leave...whenever that is.”

“Like we used to do before class,” Ryunosuke said quietly, nodding. “You could never convince me to join you during your morning exercises, though.”

“Forget morning exercise, I had to literally drag you out of bed sometimes,” Kazuma snorted, tangling their fingers together. “I hear Susato-san hasn’t had any luck with getting you to exercise more, either.”

“I exercise enough,” Ryunosuke huffed, pinching Kazuma’s side; much to his dismay, Kazuma merely laughed in response. “I do plenty of pacing up and down during trials, you see.”

“I do see,” Kazuma teased. “I should look for permanent scuff marks behind the defense bench and the witness stand the next time we’re in court. You have a tendency to drag your feet, after all.”

Rolling his eyes, Ryunosuke made a show of yanking his hand out of Kazuma’s grasp and turning over with his back to him, pulling his side of the blankets over his head. “...I’m really starting to think you have nothing nice to say about me at all.”

Even when he wasn’t looking at him, he could tell Kazuma was smirking. “Oh, I think I praise you plenty. But in case you were wanting to hear it…” In one quick motion, Kazuma swept the bundled-up Ryunosuke into his arms, Ryunosuke’s back pressed against his chest, his breath ghosting the shell of Ryunosuke’s ear. “...I love you, Ryunosuke. And I’ll say it as many times as you’d like; all you need to do is ask.”

“Wonderful, now I just sound needy,” Ryunosuke said, sighing yet again, though he craned his neck to kiss Kazuma anyway, tossing the blanket around his shoulders so they were both enveloped in its warmth. Kazuma slowly lowered him onto his back, onto the mattress, knees braced on either side of Ryunosuke’s hips, fingers digging into Ryunosuke’s waist.

“You can insult me back, I don’t mind,” Kazuma murmured, sucking a bruising kiss along the crook of Ryunosuke’s jaw. Though they’d crawled back into bed for a nap, Ryunosuke was starting to feel more and more alert by the second. “Do your worst.”

Ryunosuke hummed, thinking. “...sometimes, you try too hard. You need to relax more, Kazuma. There have been some jurors and witnesses who’ve been intimidated by you, even though you aren’t trying to be malicious.”

“Fair enough.” Kazuma’s voice was low, raspy, sending shivers up Ryunosuke’s spine. “Anything else?”

“You have a bad habit of interrupting people,” Ryunosuke continued, prodding Kazuma in the chest with an accusatory finger. “Even Iris seemed annoyed with you last night, when she was asking us about our latest trial. I know you think you were helping, but I can speak for myself just fine. We’re not in school anymore.”

“...ah.” Kazuma looked humbled, almost remorseful. “I...I’m sorry, Ryu, I didn’t realize. I honestly thought we were just telling them about what happened together.”

“And you need to stop biting me like I’m a piece of meat - ”

“No one can see them!”

“Kazuma, you're doing it again - ”

“Doing wh - oh.” Kazuma burrowed his face into Ryunosuke’s chest, cheeks burning hot with shame. Ryunosuke couldn’t help but laugh; it wasn’t often that he got to embarrass Kazuma and render him speechless. “I...see that I’m not quite the partner I’d thought or, or hoped I was.”

“Last, but definitely not least - ” Ryunosuke abruptly took Kazuma’s face in one hand, squeezing his cheeks until his lips puckered “ - you don’t need to be quite so dramatic, either. I still love you all the same, Kazuma.” He smirked. “And I’ll say it as many times as you’d like; all you need to do is ask.”

Kazuma stared down at him with wide, imploring eyes. Then, he cocked his head to one side, his frown melting into a warm, radiant smile. “...again.”

“I love you.” Ryunosuke kissed Kazuma’s cheek, then the tip of his nose, then finally, his lips. Beaming, Kazuma kissed him back, a little sweeter this time, a little less sensual. “Especially because you’re a little needy, too.”

They fell silent for a few minutes, save for the steady sounds of the rain and thunder and wind whistling past their window, exchanging slow, languorous kisses and simply enjoying one other’s company. Though Kazuma spent more nights at Baker Street than not, in a way, it still felt as if they had months, even years, of lost time to make up for, even though they hadn’t been apart - or a part of each other’s lives, for that matter - for that long. It was times like these that Ryunosuke found himself reminiscing about their university days, the early days of their companionship, when they’d have spirited debates that ended in spirited laughter and meandering conversations about nothing in particular.

“I can hear you thinking, partner,” Kazuma murmured, brushing Ryunosuke’s hair out of his eyes. “Something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” Ryunosuke said, pulling away momentarily to yawn. “Only that we were supposed to be taking a nap, and instead, we spent the last ten minutes poking fun at each other. Though I suppose that’s just an extension of the way we speak to each other in court at times.”

“Susato-san has been scolding you about that as well, has she? Perhaps we do need to - I need to be more careful,” Kazuma corrected hastily when Ryunosuke leveled him with an impressively Kazuma-like glare. “Though we’d be in even more trouble if I were to, say, openly comment on how handsome you looked in court just last week, when your hair was a little bit longer in the back. I thought it suited you.”

“Why do we need to be in trouble at all?” Ryunosuke retorted, elbowing him a little harder than necessary. “I’d rather we do our jobs like the proper lawyers that we are - ”

“Well-behaved schoolboys, you mean,” Kazuma teased.

“ - and come home at the end of the day, where we can do as we please,” Ryunosuke finished.

Kazuma looked at him consideringly, his gaze impossibly soft. “Ryunosuke Naruhodo, are you implying you’d like me to move in someday?”

“What? I - ” Ryunosuke stared at him, momentarily stunned. Then, he relaxed, his head dropping back to his pillow, where Kazuma followed him down, their eyes still locked. “I, er...I thought that was a given. Though I worry that...that people might talk, as they’re wont to do.”

“Professor Mikotoba lived here with Mr Holmes for some time, did he not?” Kazuma pointed out. “Besides, even if people talk, why listen? All that matters is what we think of ourselves, as trite as that might sound.” He leaned in close, pressing a lingering kiss to Ryunosuke’s forehead. “So, just know that whenever you decide to ask, you already have my answer.”

“Then I think I’ll make you wait for just a little bit longer before I do...if only to get back at you for two nights ago,” Ryunosuke added with a smug smile, laughing when Kazuma glared daggers at him in response.

“And you think I’m the cruel one,” Kazuma muttered, pulling Ryunosuke into his arms once more so he could hold him rather possessively, their legs loosely intertwined beneath their mess of blankets. “You told me you enjoyed yourself.”

“I did, believe me,” Ryunosuke grinned, blushing faintly at the sudden vivid memory that had come to mind. “But just this once, I’d like to have the upper hand.” He then leaned in to kiss Kazuma’s exaggerated pout. “Anyway, we really should be getting to sleep now, or it’ll be time for dinner before we know it. I can barely keep my eyes open at this rate.”

“Agreed,” Kazuma said, yawning. He shuffled closer, dropping his forehead down to rest against Ruynosuke’s. “Good...morning, Ryunosuke.”

Ryunosuke shot him one last sleepy, fond smile before letting his eyes drift shut. “Good morning to you, too, Kazuma.”

_____

a/n: Welcome to my fourth entry for Asoryuu Week 2021! We've moved on from sad Kazuma hours to semi-horny Kazuma hours, I guess? Blame it on Kazuma talking about getting Ryunosuke off and holding his hand over a hot plate and finding ways to shut him up; you can't tell me he's not doing this at least a little bit on purpose. Anyway, I always love writing plotless cuddling fics where they basically talk about nothing. I could've made this way, way longer, easy, but we've still got three more days to go!

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs would be much appreciated, and I hope you're all safe and healthy and doing well ❤️

[shintorikhazumi]

(Diakko Week) There’s no way she- (2): “There’s no way she did that.”

@dianakko-week

A/N: BOY, OH BOY. I DIDN’T THINK THIS STORY WAS GONNA GO THIS WAY, BUT HERE WE ARE, I GUESS? Please do enjoy, I’m not sure about the quality of this chap, but I personally am enjoying this story so far an I hope you all do too!

Again, Enjoy?

~Shintori Khazumi

Day 2: Trust

“There’s no way she did that.”

Diana was seething at her desk, Hannah and Barbara desperately trying to calm down their long-time friend with a cup of tea and some rationality.

She wasn’t having it however. Not even the tea.

“There’s no way. There is just no. Possible. Way. That Akko would so such a thing!” Diana growled, head whipping in the direction of her poor friends-slash-secretaries-and-attendants. “Right?!”

Barbara nodded wordlessly, clearly unnerved by Diana’s foul mood while Hannah sighed, moving the teacup away from the clearly miffed Diana before any mishaps could occur.

“Yes, Diana. We think so too.”

Diana released a heated sigh, nostrils flaring as she slumped against her leather chair. Today just wasn’t her day.

Never mind it being only her second week of being chosen for the grand magical council and being harassed with much work simply because she was the youngest to enter at the tender age of twenty-three. That same council of old pricks were now interfering with her personal life by giving her a case that made her burn deep with rage.

They dared accuse Diana’s girlfriend of magical misconduct when Diana-for a fact- knew that Akko read the terms and conditions of being a traveling magician- yes, ALL the terms and conditions- back-to-back. Back-to-back to back-to-back. Diana had found it both unnecessary and incredibly endearing, and sweet Akko- oh, bless her sweet soul- had wanted nothing more than to be able to share the magic of dreaming to all sorts of people, gain experience as she traveled; and hoped to overall just help people along the way on her cross-country journey.

Sure, she had left her incredibly stable position as one of the council’s security personnel, and the job paid extremely well- especially for people who were relatively fresh from school. It really did. However, Diana knew Akko was far from happy with that job. In a somewhat similar position to Diana, she had been made a lackey by her seniors and superiors, and though she loved helping people through her job, it just wasn’t worth staying. She couldn’t even be assigned to Diana! Thus, Akko had resolved to go independent, under strict supervision and conditions.

That had been five months ago.

Sure, Diana had missed the other woman dearly and hadn’t seen her for all that time, but Diana knew this was what the other woman wanted to do- to make people smile. She loved making smiles blossom from one person to the other. Diana wanted to support her in her endeavor. She believed in Akko and in what she wanted to accomplish.

And anyway, Akko had always made it a habit to send one of her familiars to bring Diana little souvenirs of her travels, accompanied by the sweetest words on paper, reassuring her girlfriend that she was well and good, and living life to the fullest, and that she’d surely be back in a year.

She was coming back sooner than they’d both expected, and for reasons neither had desired.

Diana ran her fingers through her hair in frustration, massaging her scalp to nurse the quickly growing headache.

She hoped Akko would come home safe at the very least.

//

“Miss Diana Cavendish. Could you repeat those words to me one more time? I might have misheard.”

“I said. I refuse to vote against Atsuko Kagari’s innocence. I know her, and I know her well. She would never ever do such horrid things.”

Diana watched the council secretary bristle, eyes burning at her response.

“You can never know someone too well. You don’t know what people are capable of. They can cha-”

“And I trust that Akko only ever changes for the better.” Diana cut off, casting her own glare over the two high council members who held the papers and a sum of money in front of her. “I know nothing of what the inner circle of the council has been up to, but I can’t believe they would try something so terribly scandalous such as bribery and false report! Dare I assume you are hiding something worse-”

“One more word from you, and you will suffer the consequences. Not that you already haven’t.”

Diana would have lashed out had she not needed to remain calm for Akko’s sake as well.

“This is our final offer, Miss Cavendish. Push for her guiltiness, or lose your seat in the council.”

Diana’s eyes widened, fists clenching. These people-

“You have no authority over this matter!”

She shivered in repulsion at the grins that grew on their hideous faces.

“Oh, but we do.”

//

Kagari Atsuko, twenty-three years of age, stood at the podium in the courts of magic with steely eyes and a rigid frame. She dared not glare at the jury nor the judge, but she would like to at least show them her determination in proving her own innocence.

Chancing a glance at Diana who was sending her worried looks from the jury stands, Akko reassured her with a gesture that all was and would continue to be alright. Returning her attention to the presider of the meeting, Akko readied her words, carefully crafted by herself and her lawyer who ironically just so happened to be Amanda O’Neill. Akko tried her best to keep a grin from forming at the hilarity of that fact. She was, after all, still on trial. She had to keep things professional.

“Kagari Atsuko. What do you have to say for yourself?” The judge questioned after all her supposed ‘charges’ had been read out.

‘Magical misuse, abuse of title as a former council official, trafficking endangered species across borders, and exploiting my audience, huh... Honestly, what a bunch of-’

“Bullshit.”

Akko’s eyes widened, and so did everyone else’ at the accidental slip-up.

“I-I mean... I apologize, your honor. I didn’t mean to say that. Ehem. I’d like to plead not guilty of these accusations.”

With brows raised, the judge continued on with the ruling, the tension in the room not once lowering. Akko just hoped this would end smoothly, and end soon.

She didn’t know what the council got out of this, to be honest. To go so far as to forge evidence against her, what had she done against them? Honestly, this new council, with almost all-new members weren’t doing a good job in succeeding their predecessors.

If the whole jury hadn’t been bought out at this point, she really could only hope for the best.

//

“Thanks for driving me home, Amanda.” Akko bowed to her friend, clutching her suitcase.

“Hey, hey! None of that. C’mere.” Amanda pulled her shorter friend into a tight hug, patting her back firmly. “I’m just glad it all worked out in the end.” She sighed, running a hand through her hair after they pulled apart.

“No kidding.” Akko chuckled. “You’re the best, bud. Totally fit for this job.” She giggled, as Amanda rolled her eyes with a shrug.

“I know, right? Obviously knew this is what I wanted to do for a living all along.”

They shared a laugh before Amanda had to leave, having work to do the next day. Waving at the car until it had disappeared far beyond what her eyes could perceive, Akko turned to the porch, taking careful steps to the front of the door.

Facing that familiar wooden barrier, she took a deep breath before allowing her knuckles to meet with the hard material.

No sounds, no response. Not even the slightest shuffling could be heard from within. Akko’s brows furrowed, teeth biting her lower lip nervously. This was their house... This was the Cavendish manor... right? Amanda was above pranks as evil as this, especially after what had just happened, so there was no way that-

“Mrrmmhpphhggh! Mmrhg!”

Akko struggled against the hand covering her mouth, desperately trying to reach for her wand, however her assailant had already figured her out, catching her hand and holding it against her back...

-before releasing her completely.

“A-Akko?! I! I’m sor- wait, no time to explain, come.”

And Akko was dragged into the house by Diana herself who rushed her up the stairs and into their bedroom.

“Akko, do you have all your essentials in that suitcase you hold at the moment?”

“Huh? Diana, what is... why are you home already? Don’t you have a council meeting running until late-”

“Grab anything you’d like to bring with you. Hurry!”

“But Diana!”

Akko felt a duffle bag hit the back of her head, and she whipped her head around only to find her prepared glare fading at the sight of a scowling Hannah.

“Do what she says, idiot. And make it quick.”

Diana seemed as caught off-guard by the presence of Hannah and Barbara as much as Akko was.

“You two! I... You can’t be here. Go back to your home, and from this point forward, don’t come back to the manor. I’m relieving you of your duties as my-”

If Akko and Diana’s eyes could widen any more, they’d surely be the size of Diana’s large serving plates. Hannah had clapped her hands against both sides of Diana’s face, shaking her lightly.

“Are you truly going to just leave us?!” She hissed.

“Diana... we know we were wrong to snoop around, but... couldn’t you confide in us for something this important?” Barbara said, teary-eyed. “I know we can’t ever replace what Anna was to you, and when she... when she left, we didn’t know how else to help you after losing your only family. But we still wanted to be by your side.” She smiled, placing her hands on Hannah’s shoulders to rub them, getting her partner to calm down.

“Did you really think...” Hannah sniffed, wiping her tears off her sleeve. “That we wouldn’t make you take us with you?” She finished with a grin. “You are never getting rid of us, honestly.”

Barbara nodded, reaching forward to ruffle Diana’s hair before she was met with a deep frown because of the gesture.

“Sorry, always wanted to try that.” She said, not sorry at all. ���To sum all this up, Diana. You are taking us. There will be no further argument.”

Diana couldn’t help the relieved smile breaking across her face, her two longest companions also sporting their own. Tears slipped from her eyes as she pulled them into a long embrace.

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” She sobbed quietly, feeling arms rubbing her back from each side. “Thank you.”

“You better be thankful. We’ll never forgive you if we’re not the maids of honor at the wedding.” Hannah declared, half-joking.

“Wedding?” Diana parroted, pulling away as she wiped her remaining tears away. “Whose?”

Both girls simply rolled their eyes as Hannah walked over to Akko who felt seriously out of the loop. Barbara patted Diana’s shoulder, shaking her head, amused.

“Hannah? Barbara?”

She was promptly ignored from that point onward.

“Come on, idiot. Get packing. I’ll even graciously offer you my superb assistance.” Hannah said with a smirk, opening the closet she knew was designated for Akko’s belongings. “We don’t have all night.”

“I still... I still don’t understand what’s going on.” Akko stated, but began to do as she was instructed anyway. “What are we doing? Where are we going?”

“What part of ‘no time to explain’ don’t you understand?” Barbara quipped, before going over to assist the brunette pair. “I could’ve sworn we informed Amanda about this.”

“Even O’Neill knows?!” Diana continued to be ignored. “Okay, great. So who doesn’t know about this getaway?”

“Calm yourself, Diana. We only told our little circle of friends.” Barbara spoke over her shoulder as they finished closing Akko’s suitcases with a click. “Amanda and Constanze prepared as a cloaked little vehicle until we leave the country. You should be grateful.”

“Jasminka should be here to pick us up any minute now.” Hannah commented.

Diana remained slack-jawed, amazed at the follow-up her attendants had done.

“You didn’t think we’d just let you fly off on a broom in the middle of the night again, did you? Really Diana, we’ve been with you so long, your smarts should have rubbed off on us even the slightest bit.” She grinned. “The magical council really aren’t all that smart, huh? Look at their dullness contaminating our brilliant, Diana.” She shook her head in dismay.

“A shame indeed.” Barbara agreed as they began carrying their luggage out.

“No one’s still told me anything!” Akko announced, scratching the back of her head with her free hand as she followed Hannah and Barbara out with her own possessions.

She turned to Diana at the sound of a lock clicking in place, the former heiress running her hands over the grooves of the wood and the carvings.

Placing her things down momentarily, Akko walked over to wrap Diana in a hug from behind. “I hope we can come back one day. To the place where you began.” She whispered, placing loving kisses against Diana’s shoulders. “I’ll make sure we can.”

Akko’s heart cracked as Diana began to tremble in her arms, a hand going up to cover the sobs that were escaping her lips. All the memories of her family, her mother- they were probably much too painful for Diana to leave behind, but she had to. They had to.

Akko walked the mansion halls one last time with Diana as they locked each door one at a time, Diana embedding every room, every window, every banister into memory.

They finally came to the front door where Hannah and Barbara had awaited patiently, bags already loaded into their vehicle.

“No longer asking where we’re going, love?” Diana questioned Akko who had seemed to accept whatever was happening already.

“Do you trust me, love?” Akko responded with a question of her own, earning her Diana’s smile accompanied with raised brows.

“More than anyone and anything in the world.” Diana replied.

Akko gave her a chaste kiss as they all boarded the vehicle, watching the mansion disappear with an area cloaking spell that would hopefully keep it safe for as long as they were gone.

Squeezing Diana’s hand, Akko spoke. “Then know that I think the same. No matter where we go, how far away we are from here, and what we end up doing, just know... Just like those two dorks there,”

Akko laughed as the two snorted from the seats in front of them, knowing they were rolling their eyes at her.

God, she was thankful for them. For all her friends. For Diana.

Taking Diana’s hand in hers and entwining their fingers together, she placed a soft kiss on the back of her hand, laying all her worries to rest. They would figure things out. They all would- together.

“I trust you with all of my believing heart.”

A/N: WHAT’S GONNA HAPPEN NOW, WHERE ARE OUR BABIES GOING? OOOHHH. SEE YOU ON DAY 3!

~Shintori Khazumi