#truthfully I’ve never cared enough to spend time on them..? and now look at me. useless!

[delineate-creates]

Day 3: Path

From chapter 8 of Lover’s Spit by @pinktom and @k3uuu

[avatarmerida]

Truth & Love

I had this idea awhile ago and I’ve been working on it in the background and I’ve been stuck on it writing so I tried. I had trouble ending it so don’t come for me I wanted fluff k bye 💚💛

———

Before, Willow absolutely dreaded potions class.

Her magic thrived when it could tap into her emotions but potions required a precision and exact measurements that Willow found tiresome. Eda had tried to help her improve, but Eda’s ‘measure with your heart’ method was best done by someone who had mastered and then evolved the subject, not by someone who had a hard enough time focusing without Boscha dropping things into her vial when she wasn’t looking. She always second guessed herself and potions were often time sensitive, which didn’t help improve her confidence.

But then when they were finally able to return to Hexisde she was much better at believing in herself. Not to mention Hunter was in her potions class and Hunter had never had trouble believing in Willow.

Of course they were partners, there was no question about it. The moment the teacher had uttered the words “pair up” he had teleported beside her without even thinking about it. How odd that just last year she was everyone’s last pick and now well truthfully she didn’t care about where she was on anyone else’s list because she’d choose Hunter’s everytime.

Hunter had a decent knowledge of potions, but Willow would pick him even if he had never touched a potion in his life.They worked well together; Hunter loved to sort the different ingredients and he allowed Willow the honor of mixing them. They were a great team, although honestly Willow cared less about her improved grade and just wanted an excuse to spend more time with him. Her studies revolved around getting to sit close to him and watch the cute way Hunter furrowed his eyebrows when he reviewed measurements.

“Okay, wait,” said Hunter as he counted the vials in front of him. “I usually sort them by colors but I might’ve mixed up the milled orc wing and obsidian dust because when they’re liquidized they have a very similar color.”

“Oh, which one smells more sour? That should be the orc wing,” said Willow. She watched as Hunter cautiously sniffed the first one and his face instantly contorted in disgust. She giggled as she took the ingredient from him and added it to their assignment.

“I hope the soaked rosemary can dilute that because otherwise I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep that down,” he said, clearing his throat.

“Hey, I had to do the hair growth potion,” Willow reminded him. “And that one was spicy, and not in a good way.”

“Yeah, I remember,” he said with a smile. Hunter had offered to cut her hair back to its original length after and had unintentionally gotten distracted and had ended up cutting it much shorter. He had felt terribly guilty but Willow ended up loving it and decided to keep it. The cut was still fairly fresh and Willow loved flipping it and feeling how light it and easier it curled at the ends. The distraction was fairly familiar, as watching her joyfully exist was part of what caused him to cut her hair so short in the first place.

“Okay, which do I add first?” Willow asked as Hunter went back to the book.

“Ummm, hold on the pages are stuck together,” said Hunter as he attempted to delicately separate them. “I don’t think it matters as long as it’s still boiling.”

“Okie doke,” said Willow, sticking out her tongue as she focused on not spilling a drop. “Oh thorns, I think I added too much.”

They were supposed to be making a potion to change the drinker's hair color and according to the book it was supposed to be a dark turquoise but Willow simply could not manage to balance the color to match the picture.

“Hmmm,” observed Hunter. “It looks close. Add the orc wing and see if that’s the missing part.”

Willow obliged and the potion color changed slightly, but Willow still couldn’t tell if it was getting closer to the photo.

“Hmmm, whaddya think?” Willow asked her partner. “You ready for a taste test?”

“Okay, but if I don’t look good with red hair, you’ll tell me right?” Hunter joked as he went to take the glass container from her, swirling it like it was a fine wine.

“Absolutely not,” she smiled back, secretly expecting him to look handsome as ever.

“Fine,” said Hunter, having grown more comfortable with this type of joking. “Then just promise me you won’t find a new potions partner if I decide to keep it red?”

“That I can promise,” she said, scrunching her nose as Hunter brought the concoction to his lips. He took a gentle sip and didn’t look immediately repulsed, but Willow could tell the taste was not what he knew it was supposed to be.

“Is it minty?” she asked.

“Not really?”

“Darn it, it’s supposed to be minty,” said Willow. “Is it almost minty?”

“I’m not sure?” he chuckled. “What does ‘almost minty’ taste like?”

“Hmm, I think if you have to ask then the answer is ‘no,’” Willow sighed. “I think the issue is the potion is supposed to be blue-green and this is more green-blue. And your hair is still the same, so we didn’t get it yet. But wait, then what did we make?”

She flipped the pages, looking for something similar or a cheat but saw that the pages were still sticking together which could be the reason the potion did not line up. None of the ingredients were toxic, so Willow knew she didn’t poison him. But it was rare for a mixture with this many components to have no side effects.

“Hmmm, what other potions do you know are this shade of green?” Willow asked as she tapped her pen on the table. Before, she’d chalk this mistake up to an F, but now she had someone to work through it with her.

“None come to mind immediately,” said Hunter as he pulled out another book. “But I think the prettiest shade of green is the one of your eyes.”

Willow froze, certain she had misheard him. “Huh?”

“Your eyes,” repeated Hunter. “They’re a beautiful shade of green, like gemstones or new leaves. They sparkle when you’re happy, and your glasses make them seem even brighter.”

“Oh,” said Willow, somewhat taken back. “Well, uh thank you.” Come on girl focus, she thought to herself. “Um…okay, so you can’t place the taste, what would you say the potion smells like?”

“I’m not sure, but did you know you smell amazing?”

“What?”

“You always smell like a greenhouse,” said Hunter casually as he skimmed his textbook. “Which makes sense since you’re there so often. Or maybe a meadow? It’s like a bunch of different flowers and fresh grass and dirt all mixed together. It’s really lovely. Like I can’t help but think of you whenever I go outside.”

“Oh, wow,” she said with a small smile. “That’s… so sweet Hunter, thank you.”

She was so taken back by Hunter’s effortlessly sweet words that she nearly forgot the task at hand until the professor started making her rounds to check everyone’s progress.

“Miss Park, the assignment was to create a follicle altering potion, this coloring is completely wrong,” said the professor. “I don’t know what you were trying to make, but if you don’t correct it posthaste it could settle into a more complex potion. Act fast now, I don’t want to have to dock you and Mr. Noceda’s final grade.”

“Oh yes ma’am, of course,” said Willow, redirecting her attention.

“No worries, professor; Willow is the most determined person I know,” assured Hunter. “I’m sure we can figure it out.”

“See to it that you do,” she said before walking away, unaware Hunter had already sampled the mixture. Willow hoped she would at least give them a hint as to what they had made instead, but the bell screamed to signal the end of the period.

“Alright everyone, that’s lunch,” said the professor. “This will give your potions time to settle and we’ll work on perfecting them in class tomorrow.”

———-

“Let’s see,” said Willow, zooming in on the photo she had taken of the potion on her scroll, every book she and Hunter had between them regarding potions took over the lunch table. “We had to have made something, right?”

“Yeah I probably should’ve waited to taste it until we knew for sure,” said Hunter, bringing over their trays. He didn’t have to ask Willow what she wanted; he always knew. “I guess I was just trying to impress you.”

Willow didn’t say anything about this time, she just tried to hide the blush creeping onto her cheeks as Hunter continued.

“So it didn’t really have a taste, it was more of an aftertaste I guess? So maybe it has a delayed effect.”

“Well I wanna figure it out before you start shrinking or something,” said Willow, only half joking. Hunter had a high tolerance for most potions, which is why he only let Willow be the tester if they were 110% sure they had nailed it. But that didn’t mean Willow still didn’t worry. “So it’s the wrong shade and consistency to be a mind reading or mind swapping potion, and you’re awake so it’s not a sleeping potion. Maybe it’s the lighting in the classroom but it actually kind of looks like this love potion? But that can’t be it, because you’re not in love with me.”

“Oh, I’m definitely in love with you,” said Hunter casually as he reached over to take one of her fries.

“What?” Said Willow, looking up from the book so fast her glasses nearly fell off. She was certain she had misheard him.

“Oh, could you not hear me?” Hunter asked. “I said I’m in love with you.

A vibrant golden sunflower appeared on the side of her head. She didn’t know how else to process Hunter casually saying the most accidentally romantic thing she had ever heard. He was so direct and so certain and it was so out of nowhere that she couldn’t think of the right thing to say. Willow was sure they were having two different conversations or that she was dreaming. The way he didn’t even hesitate, surely her mind was playing tricks on her! How was this real?

“Hunter, are you… um… are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I always feel great when I’m with you,” he said as casually as he would say “fine.” He spoke as though praising her was as natural as breathing. “Why?”

“I just uh…” Willow wasn’t sure what to say. She didn’t mind what he was saying, not one bit, but she didn’t know how to express that while still making it clear that she felt guilty for how it came to be. “Just wanted to be sure.”

“Hmm, ya know I think that’s one of the first things I loved about you,” said Hunter. “I mean, right away I knew you were beautiful but I’ve never met someone so kind. Sometimes I can’t believe you’re even real.”

“Oh, uh well… I am, heh. R-real that is.” Willow knew it was the potion talking but she couldn’t help but blush. She knew she shouldn’t encourage it, that allowing him to continue might make the potion more potent and harder to subdue. She knew it wasn’t real, and yet it flustered her just the same.

“Well uh, anyway we should get back to the potions classroom,” decided Willow quickly, clearing her throat. She didn’t want to act like something was off, lest she worry him and agitate the potion somehow. “I think I figured it out so we can go make up the counter potion, all the ingredients should be in the classroom.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Hunter agreed, quickly darting away for a moment to put back both their trays. He darted back to help her collect the books. “Can we hold hands on the way there?”

“Um… sure,” she decided as she extended her hand to him. It wasn’t totally unusual for them to hold hands as they walked. Hunter was still getting used to the layout of the school and Willow certainly didn’t want him getting lost.

“I lied about that, by the way,” he said as though he was responding to her thoughts as he took her hand delicately in his.

“Huh? About what?”

“Not knowing my way around the school,” he clarified as they began walking. “I studied the blueprints for weeks before I started. I wanted to impress you with how much I already knew on my first day but when you offered to take my hand and walk me to my classes until I got the hang of things well I liked that option even better.”

Willow wasn’t the best at potions to begin with so it was possible she had messed up her mess up, but she couldn’t help but wonder why it had affected Hunter the way it did. He was so… casual about it, like it was a natural occurrence that didn’t alter the set up of his mind.

They had only covered these types of potions briefly as they were only intended for the advanced class as the ethics of them were highly debated but it was well known that love potions were meant to border on obsession. Hunter should be overwhelmed sitting near her, like a lovesick puppy. But despite the things he was saying, it was like nothing had changed. He was able to function just fine. Willow wondered if the effects got more severe with time, or if bringing attention to the early signs could cause him to spiral. Was it like waking a sleepwalker? Would it be dangerous not to indulge him?

“Your hands are always so soft,” Hunter continued, looking down to admire them in his own. “And I know you always get in trouble for always having dirt under your fingernails but I love that too.”

She smiled, in spite of herself. “Really? You don’t think it’s kind of gross?”

“No,” he said easily. “I think it shows how hard you work and how much you care about what you do.”

“Well, thank you Hunter,” she chuckled. “I guess I never thought about it that way.”

“Well, I should tell you more often,” said Hunter, giving her hand a small squeeze. “You deserve to know how amazing you are.”

Willow felt like her heart was spinning around in her chest. Hunter wasn’t showing any physical signs of the potion’s effects, but the blush on Willow’s face was proof that she was. She suddenly remembered the time she had offered to paint Hunter’s nails when the Entrails had a team building night. How she took his hand and asked what design he wanted and suddenly he couldn’t decide. The longer he took to think, the longer she held his hand. She wondered now if it had been intentional.

“Oh shoot,” Willow groaned as they re-approached the classroom. “The door is locked, I forgot the professor always locks it when we have projects brewing so no one can mess with them.”

“Well, I feel fine,” said Hunter. “I think I can wait until after school for her office hours.”

“Hunter, are you sure?”

“Yeah, we can always go to the nurse if I start not feeling fine,” he said. “But I’ll take any excuse to spend more time with you though.”

“Okay then,” she squeaked, overly aware that he did not let go of her hand. “Why don’t we uh, go find the others for the rest of lunch?”

“Sounds good,” he agreed. “As long as I can sit near you.”

———-

“Oh, Willow! Hunter! Over here!” Amity called from across the cafeteria. “Hey! What are you guys doing here? Willow messaged me that you guys were working through lunch.”

“Well, that was the plan,” said Willow. “But the classroom is locked up right now, so we have to wait until after lunch.”

“Too bad, but pull up a chair!” Gus said, sipping his juice. “So what’s up?”

Hunter pulled out Willow’s chair for her, which was not new but given the current circumstances it made her feel guilty. “Uh, well…”

“Nothing much,” said Hunter as he took his seat beside her. “I’m just thinking about how pretty Willow is, what about you?”

Gus nearly spit out his juice. This was not a totally unique answer from Hunter, but usually Willow was out of earshot when this was the case. He didn’t sputter to correct himself and Willow didn’t react, which suggested this was not the first occurrence.

Amity and Gus exchanged a look and adopted matching grins.

“Whaaaat’s going on?” Gus asked mischievously.

“Yeah, is there something you two wanna share with us?” Added Amity.

“Willow is beautiful every day, why do you two seem so surprised?” Hunter asked.

Willow’s face flushed and she gave a tiny giggle which quickly turned into a nervous laugh. She looked down and suddenly a vine crept onto the table and knocked over Amity’s drink. “Oh darn ! Oh wow, uh… Hunter! Could you go grab a napkin, please? And uh maybe another drink?” She added, attempting to prolong his return beyond a mere golden dash.

“Of course,” he said, getting up. “I’ll grab you something too, I think they have the little cakes you like. They’re small and sweet, just like you. It’s like most things remind me of you, isn’t that funny?”

“Haha yeah sooo funny,” Willow smiled nervously as she moved her hand to the side of her head trying to hide the blooming flower he inspired this time. “That’s so… yeah. Um, take your time! Thanks!”

“So…” began Gus. “Did something finally happen…?”

Willow made sure Hunter was out of earshot before dropping her false smile, stuffing the flower in her pocket and turning to her friends to explain in a panicked whisper.

“I messed up our assignment and long story short I gave Hunter a love potion,” Willow confessed quickly. “I don’t want to worry him so he doesn’t know because I don’t want to make things worse or make him feel awkward because it’s not his fault.”

“Well how do you know it was a love potion?” Amity asked.

“Well for one he told me that he’s in love with me,” said Willow, pulling out her scroll to show them the photo of what they made. “I added something wrong or out of order and this is what we made instead of a hair changing potion.”

“Did you taste it?” Amity asked.

“No, we always take turns being the tester,” said Willow.

“Willow, I don’t think it’s a love potion.” Amity said delicately.

“What do you mean?”

Amity didn’t know the proper way to say the effects would be moot as the potion creates attraction but if attraction was preexisting it would cancel out. But she knew Willow had definitely made something and didn’t want to add something else to her friend’s plate before solving the problem at hand so instead she said:

“I mean, it’s the right color but don’t you need intention when making a love potion?” Amity asked. “I mean, isn’t it supposed to have like your hair or something in it?”

“I dunno, my hair could have fallen in it or something,” said Willow. “What am I supposed to do? I don’t want Hunter in love with me?”

“Oh, don’t you?” Gus questioned smugly.

A mini field of yellow flowers sprouted in her hair. She quickly dusted them off and tried to whisper but her voice still managed to squeak. “Well okay maybe but not like this,” she said. “Like it’s so wrong for me to be enjoying all the nice things he’s saying about me when it’s not real.”

Amity and Gus exchanged a look, both knowing that wasn’t totally true.

“Oh shh! He’s coming back!” Willow pleaded, brushing the latest garden from her head.

“We didn’t say anything,” Amity murmured.

Hunter offered Willow a wide smile as he slid in back beside her. “They had cake cups and I wanted to get you one but I didn’t know if I should get one with a heart or a flower because they both remind me of you so I got them both and you can choose your favorite and Gus can have the other one,” said Hunter as he distributed the sweets and goods from his tray.

“Thank you, Hunter,” said Willow faintly, as she allowed Gus to take his pick because she truly could not choose.

“Um, why didn’t you get me a cupcake?” Amity teased as she took her new drink.

“Because I’m still mad at you for telling Darius that my O’Bailey cosplay wasn’t modern human realm fashion so he wouldn’t let me wear it in our holiday card,” said Hunter nonchalantly.

“What?” Amity said. “But you still got to wear it in the one with the Nocedas!”

“Yes but if you didn’t say anything Camila was gonna find him a general Midas outfit to wear when we took the photo all together next year but now he knows it’s not ‘in fashion.’” Said Hunter. “Which is also why I set all your clocks back a minute and a half when we came over for dinner last week.”

Gus sighed. “Hunter, we need to work on your pranks because that’s not-.”

Amity gasped in shock as she pointed a finger at him. “I knew it was you!”

“I also moved everything on your desk one inch to the left,” said Hunter. “That was Willow’s idea. She has a wonderful mind for mischief, it makes me feel like a puddle.”

“Hmmm,” said Gus as Amity continued to express her woe. He couldn’t help but be suspicious of the way Hunter admitted this with such a straight face. It wasn’t snarky or defensive; it was just factual. It was way too casual. It was unusual. Gus had a theory.

“Hey Hunter, what did you really think about the way I wrote O’Bailey in my Cosmic Frontier fanfiction?”

“You had him monologuing a bit too much and I’m not sure you captured his humor as well as you could have,” Hunter said as he took a sip of his own juice.

“Okay, okay,” said Gus, knowing this response was very different from what he had initially said. “What happens in the story you wrote that you won’t let me read?”

“Uh, nothing major,” said Hunter thoughtfully. “I just wrote about what I think happened with O’Bailey and Ivy when they got stranded on that moon. It had a lot of kissing but I don’t really know how to describe kissing and I didn’t want to risk Willow finding it and realize that because I want her to think that I-.”

“Okay!” Gus cut him off, his theory confirmed. He cleared his throat as he prepared to share. “Willow, you didn’t give him a love potion, you gave him a truth potion.”

“What, wait?” Willow said.

“How do you know?” Amity asked.

“Gave who a what now?” asked Hunter as he used his fork to take a bite of Gus�� dessert.

“I had a feeling there was a reason Hunter was avoiding giving me feedback,” Gus explained. “And I know he would never tell me outright that he didn’t like my story, and if he did he wouldn’t do it without me having to force it out of him.”

“No, no I’m pretty sure it was a love potion,” said Willow. “I mean, why else would he be talking about my eyes and my smile?”

“Because it erases his filter,” said Gus. “So he’s basically just saying everything he’s thinking.”

“So he… thinks about my eyes a lot?”

“Yeah,” said Hunter, unaware it wasn't a question he needed to answer. “But I mostly think about your face in general, it makes me feel dizzy and warm and safe.”

“Awh,” Willow couldn’t help but openly blush as Hunter went back to sampling Gus’ treat as though he had Neely given her the time. His words seemed to hit her twice as it spun her back to everything he had said to her since class, and they echoed with a new air.

“So when he said he was… that means he really is…”

Gus watched as the truth washed over Willow, her emotions leaping in and out of focus as they tried to decide what to display on her face. Gus wasn’t sure if Hunter would remember saying the things he was saying now, considering they had not intended to make a truth potion initially and he had no reason to be suspicious. Very often when a consumer had not been told they had been given a truth potion (as they were often used in court or interrogations) their mind automatically went to the things they wanted to keep secret and blurted them out against their conscious will. But when a person was slipped a potion, they acted like they would act in a dream; unsuspecting of the unusual.

But Gus wasn’t certain if this was a dream Hunter would remember fondly or instantly regret.

“Hey, if you guys wanna head to the Owl House and have Eda help you make the counter potion, I can whip up some illusions to cover for you guys for the rest of the day,” offered Gus.

“Sounds good,” said Hunter. “That way I can still qualify for the perfect attendance award which for some reason the thought of not having makes me anxious and can spend time with Willow, which both excites and terrifies me sometimes.”

“Worried about losing the award to me huh?” Amity teased, hoping to defuse the tension before remembering it was technically impossible for Hunter to save face right now.

“Well I think I’m afraid of missing a core memory that makes us all closer friends like in all the stories Luz told me when I was preparing to enroll,” said Hunter thoughtfully. “I mean, I’m also still wary of breaking rules but Willow seems to enjoy it and I enjoy seeing her enjoy things,” he chuckled before he turned to speak to Willow directly. “Mischievousness was not something I thought attractive until I met you, but I think it’s the gentle way you laugh when you talk about that makes me feel like my chest is going to explode.”

“Uh we should probably get going,” said Willow, swiftly getting up to try and hide the newest blooms sprouting in her hair.

“I would go anywhere she asked me to go,”said Hunter, sharing his thoughts as casually as he might say goodbye as he went to follow Willow outside. “Oh and Amity, Luz got you Azura earrings for your birthday.”

—-

The Owl Lady left them alone, not wanting to hear Hunter’s true thoughts about her, and also knowing this was teenage drama best left to be solved by teenagers. She had everything they needed and promised to check the final concoction to avoid any accidental poisoning.

“You look worried,” Hunter observed in the middle of silence which was unusual for this setting between the two recently.

“I’m not,” she said, as she added some crushed juniper to the mix.

“I can tell you’re lying,” he said. “I can tell by the way you move your hands. I know you’re not sad but you do the same thing when the weather is bad and you’re thinking about your plants. I don’t like when you lie to me about how you’re feeling. I don’t want you to feel like you have to.”

She glanced up at him and knew he’d say this even without the potion prompting him. The potion typically didn’t allow his emotions about what he was confessing to be expressed, but his concern for her was just that heavy.

“I know,” she sighed. “I do know that. I’m just… worried that I didn’t respond the right way when I found out all your secrets.”

“Well you didn’t find out all my secrets,” Hunter said as he spun in his chair. “I didn’t tell you about the-.”

“Mhmm! Hey!” She exclaimed, cutting him off. “Careful! I’ll wear ear plugs; I mean it!”

“Fine, fine, but I do wanna tell you things,” he said. “Which you know is true, because of the potion.” She lovingly rolled her eyes and he smiled. “I’m really okay with you asking me things. I like when I can help you and I can tell there’s something bothering you.”

“Heh, of course you can,” she chuckled lightly. “It’s just… not something I was expecting to hear today, I guess? And I know it’s true but I’m still in disbelief, kind of. It’s just been… a lot? Ya, know not in a bad way I just mean like I know you weren’t planning-.”

“Is this about me being in love with you?”

The flowers sprouted back in her hair. She had given up trying to hide it at this point. “I mean, it’s not something you expect to hear at the lunch table I guess.”

It wasn’t the fact that he said it really it was the way that he said it. He didn’t say he had a crush on her or that he liked her, he kind of skipped a few steps. And Willow didn’t know if that was just how he happened to phrase it or if that was truly how deep he felt about her. She knew how serious Hunter took the things that were important to him, but she couldn’t help but wonder if he was even aware of these feelings. It took her weeks before she accepted she liked him more than a friend, but her acceptance didn’t stop the feelings from growing. She had tried to convince herself that it was nothing, that it would pass but one day her feelings just burst forth like water from a damn demanding to be felt.

Willow wondered if a Hunter in full control had already come to terms with these feelings or if this confession was news to him as well.

“Oh no, did it make you uncomfortable? Willow, I promise I wasn’t trying to embarrass you.”

“I know that, of course I know that, and I promise you that you didn’t.”

“Good.”

“It’s just that, you’re really in love with me,” Willow crafted her question carefully as she began to mix. “Then why haven’t you ever told me?”

“I don’t know how,” he said in the simple way the potion effects allowed him. “I’ve never really felt this way before, at least not toward someone I actually knew and knew for so long. I didn’t want to do it wrong and make things weird between us or offend you. I just kind of hoped I would wake up one day and just know how to do it.”

“Okay.” She didn’t want to pry further. Well no, she definitely did but she knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. She shouldn’t trick Hunter to find out his feelings about her despite desperately wanting to. She could at least be more open with her feelings with full confidence when this was all over but it still felt unfair that he didn’t have control over how she found out. But she couldn’t help being secretly happy about it anyway.

“Do you think you could ever fall in love with someone like me?” He asked calmly as though asking about the weather.

She wanted to say, no to scream: Not someone like you, you!

Instead she sputtered:

“Um, w-why do you ask?” She wasn’t sure if it was something he wanted to know right now or just something he was thinking about at the moment that slipped out against his will.

“That’s the main reason I never said anything,” he explained. “I didn’t think you’d like me back. And if I knew for sure that you didn’t then I’d have to stop feeling that way about you and things would be weird but I like feeling that way about you. It’s confusing, but nice?”

“Hmm you’re confusing but nice,” she giggled, feeling silly and bubbly for some reason.

He smiled. “Are you? Okay with it, I mean?”

Her smile grew. “I really like the way you get excited about things,” she said, looking down to trace some carvings on the table with her finger. “You take care of the things you care about and the way you care about things is really sweet. Being someone you care about is really special. And being someone you really like… well… I don’t see why anyone would mind that. In fact…”

She wondered if she should just say it. It wasn’t like she wasn’t sure her feelings were returned, but she didn’t want Hunter to think she was only saying it to make him feel better if his memory didn’t erase the moment. But she wanted Hunter to know that it was all equal; his hesitation, his confusion and his feelings.

But that would have to wait until it was his choice to tell her.

“… I’ll tell you after we have the counter potion ready.”

“You’re so wonderful,” he sighed, tracing the letters of her name on the front of her notebook. “You make my hands feel sweaty.”

Willow tried not to drop the spoon she was stirring with as she fought the urge to craft a flirty response. She wanted him to know she felt the same way but she knew it was wrong to dive too deeply into his trove of secrets. So instead, she giggled and bit her lip as she playfully responded. “Stooooop.”

“Do you want me to stop talking?” He asked, resting his chin on the back of the chair as he watched her work.

“Of course not, why would I want that?” She asked with a smile.

“Because what if I say something you don’t want to know?” He said. Willow marveled at a moment that even with his filter removed he still managed to be concerned about what she thought.

“I mean, I’m more worried about you saying something you don’t want me to know,” said Willow. “Maybe there’s a way we can erase the memories from today, about those parts at least. I know Eda could probably-.”

“I do want you to know,” he said.

“Huh?”

“I do want you to know,” he repeated. “I do want, well did want to tell you. I thought about it all the time. Sometimes it was hard not to say something. But there was always so much going on, I mean we’ve got playoffs and finals and then there was never a time with all the portal attempts in the human realm-.”

“Human realm? Wait,” Willow set down her supplies as she dreamily processed his latest confession. “Do you… you’ve liked me since we were trapped in the human realm?” Realizing what she had done, before he could reply she quickly leapt forward and her hand sprang to cover his mouth. “Don’t answer that! I’m sorry! I don’t want to trick you into telling me any more secrets!”

His response still came, muffled by her palm and safe from her ears. She felt him smile and his eyes softened as he went to remove her hand and held it to his cheek.

“Well,” he sighed. “Can I at least tell you again how soft your hands are?”

She giggled, unable to help how giddy and dizzy his unfiltered praise made her. “Well okay, I guess.”

——-

The counter potion was much simpler to make, and thankfully much better tasting too.

Willow watched Hunter’s face as he drank for signs of whether or not he remembered the details of the day’s events.

She could instantly tell by the way his eyes widened that he did.

And the way his face flushed told her his calm demeanor about it all was no more.

“How are you feeling?” She asked anyway.

“Uh… a lot?” He said, his voice cracking. “I mean, I feel fine but I uh…” he now found he couldn’t look at her without all the things he had said today overlapping in his mind. They were nothing he didn’t truly believe, nothing he was ashamed of, but he was mostly embarrassed that she knew he couldn’t easily say them to her now despite how truly he felt them. “Soooo uh can we maybe pretend today never happened?”

“I mean, we can if you want,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I mean, it’s my fault that you drank the wrong potion anyway, and I really am sorry that you had to-.”

“Oh, no!” He jumped in to say. “I-I don’t mean because of what you did I mean because of what I did.”

“Yeah because of what I did!”

“No! No, I… I don’t want you to feel bad,” he tried again. “But I don’t want things to be weird between us because of what I said. I mean, I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable around me now that you know … ya know…”

“I know,” she said, reading between the lines. “And since we’re being honest… I was able to recreate the truth potion while the counter potion was settling and I took a sip of it and I can feel it starting to work.”

“What? Why?”

“Well I wanted to see what the after taste tasted like,” said Willow. “But also because I thought this would be a way to make things fair between us.”

“Willow, I don’t want you to admit all your secrets just to make me feel better,” said Hunter.

“I’m not gonna say all of them,” she said, mimicking his tone from before. “I’ll just answer any questions you wanna ask me.”

“But I don’t know what to say, I mean I don’t want to ask the wrong thing if it’s something you don’t want to tell me…”

“I figured you’d say that,” she said with a smirk. “So I wrote some questions down for you. That way you know what I want you to know and you can decide if you wanna know too.”

She slid a carefully folded piece of paper over to him, his name written in bold cursive with a tiny heart beside it.

“Are you sure?” He asked. “I’m fine with waiting for the potion to wear off, really. We still have some of the counter potion left and we don’t have to talk about… the other stuff.”

“I’m very sure,” she said. “I want to tell you these things.”

“Okay then,” he chuckled as he brought the paper closer to read. His eyes found the first sentence and he immediately slammed the paper down, his face beet red at the thought of saying it aloud. “Ok, uh..”

“Heh, you always look so cute when you do that,” she giggled, resting her chin in her hand.

“When I do w-what?”

“When you blush,” she clarified. “I love how the red reaches the tips of your ears and your mouth gets all squiggly; it’s very cute.”

“You… think I’m cute,” Hunter said, saying it more as an observed realization and purposely not as a question to answer. He cleared his throat as he tried to move on with grace. “Okay, cool. Cooooool. Cool cool cool.”

“I also think you’re cool,” she said, and the red on his face intensified and his smile grew. “I also love the gap between your teeth, especially when you smile.”

“Willow,” he said shyly, unable to suppress his smile now. “I thought you wanted me to ask you things.”

“You’re right,” she sighed. “But I can’t help it; no filter, remember? Did I make you uncomfortable?”

“No, no I just uh wanted to stick to your plan. So uh okay uh Willow,” he began, clearing his throat as he brought the list back up to his eyesight. “Uh ‘do you think I’m’ - oh wait, w-we just said that one heh.”

Willow bit her lip in anticipation as she watched him scan the rest of the list.

“Do you- hehehe,” he couldn’t help but laugh nervously at the sentence written plain as day in her bubbly green pen. He knew it was her own choice, that she wanted him to know, but it was a question he would never ask (at least not the way she had decided to word it).

“Go ahead,” she prompted.

“Do you think my hair looks… attractive pushed back?” He paraphrased from her list.

“Yes,” she said. “I like getting to see your face better, I don’t feel guilty about that.”

“Were you the one who let Hooty eat my history of magic notebook?”

“Yes, because you were stressing yourself out about the test even though you had everything memorized and it was the only way to stop you,” said Willow. “But I put a protection spell on it so it’s still usable, that I do feel a little guilty about.”

Hunter smiled, it had been his first official test at Hexside and he was determined to do well. Willow knew he knew the material and when his notebook ‘mysteriously’ went missing, the two of them went on a picnic. He had passed the test easily, and he knew without intervention he would’ve been up all night studying instead of getting a proper night’s sleep.

“Can I… actually ask you something that’s not on the list?”

“Of course,” she assured him. “I trust you.”

“I… uh,” he hesitated, if only to try and find the best way to ask her this. It weighed so heavily on the back of his mind and he knew what she’d say if he asked her any other time. But a sort of him would never believe her. He didn’t know if it would be better to really know but at least he wouldn’t wonder.

“Does it… bother you that I’m a grimwalker?”

“No.” She said without hesitation.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Like, not even a little?”

“I mean, it bothers me that it bothers you,” she said. “Because it’s not something you can change and I know sometimes you think it means you’re not deserving of things or that you have something to make up for. But I’m really glad you exist, and I don’t really care how it happened.”

“Okay,” he said with a sniffle, trying to not cry. “Cool. That’s… good to know I guess, heh.”

He was feeling better, but he couldn’t help but feel a small weight still tugging at him, he both did and didn’t want to keep going. It was scary, as Willow often was to him in a unique and safe way (yet another contradiction she summoned) but if he didn’t keep going it might haunt him forever. He knew deep down that no matter what she would not leave or belittle him, but this was still uncharted territory.

“Does it… bother you that I like you more than you like me?”

“No it doesn’t bother me,” she said. “Mostly because it’s not true.”

“What?” Hunter said, certain he had misheard her. “Do you not… Willow, I promise you it is true.”

“Mhmmm no it’s not.”

“Willow, I can assure you it is.”

“I can assure you it’s not.”

“Willow, I mean I know the potion was preeetty strong,” Hunter chuckled. “But I still remember everything I said. I know that I told you I’m in love with you which I know seems like a strong wording but it’s how I feel. I like you a lot, like… a lot.”

“Exactly,” she said with a smug smile. “You don’t like me more than I like you.”

As her mischievous grin grew, her words suddenly became understood and caused his ears to flutter. He felt like steam was escaping them, like he had finally landed after falling for so long. Her eyes sparkled the way they always did when she teased him like this and Hunter couldn’t help but feel like they were on the edge of something.

“Oh, then how does it make you feel? I-it’s okay then?”

“Do you wanna ask me the last question?”

“I mean, I don’t really know if I- wait, did you just ask me a question?”

“Yeah?”

“It’s just that you asked me a question instead of truthfully answering the question I asked which means… Willow, you didn’t really take another truth potion, did you?”

She knew the jig was up so she simply shrugged playfully and twirled a loose curl on her finger. “Okay, so maaaaaybe I lied about that,” she admitted.

“Willow!” He tried to say sternly but couldn’t help but laugh. He knew she meant no harm, that her silliness was not at his expense.

“I’m sorry!” She laughed in response. “But I didn’t remember exactly how I messed up the first time and I wanted to tell you I liked you too but I didn’t wanna wait until we got back to school because I’m pretty sure we’ll have to dump the potion and start over anyway so I-.”

“Wait,”said Hunter softly. “So… you do? Like me? Like… I like you?”

“Well, if you had read me the last question,” said Willow, reaching over to both point to the bottom of the page and to be closer to him. “You wouldn’t seem so surprised.”

[revserrayyu]

2.1 Penacony thoughts [part2]

**Spoiler warning** Covering up until we switch to Acheron’s POV alongside Welt (not their first conversation but actually playing as her, hence the cover photo), so be kind to yourself and look away if you haven’t reached that point yet. Brace yourself once more; I’m going to ramble.

First things first, this whole shrinking down scene where we traverse through a model of Penacony was so odd. Poor Ratio had to be rolling his eyes so hard just watching a tiny Aventurine run around like that.

I feel like we didn’t learn much about Sunday last patch, but hearing him speak about how orderly and presentable we should be at all times really fits his personality. The pretty boy certainly knows how to look good and leads me like him even more..

But only for a moment as he then uses some Harmony trickery against Aventurine so he’s forced to answer his several questions truthfully, or at least that’s the feeling I got from watching this interrogation. Seeing this was quite interesting to me because there’s this anime call No Guns Life where a character by the name Tetsuro has an ability called “harmonie” which allows him to control other extends (robots basically) and they way the anime shows it looked very familiar with all the color.

Moving on, Sasuke Uchiha vibes are coming in strong with our gambler being a potential sole clan survivor, not to mention Aventurine admitting his love toward his family is something he values more than himself. Also, I don’t like this bird.. sitting there, keeping an eye on everything, even during Aventurine’s chat with Sparkle later on. I know the Family has a big Nightingale theme going on but still. Big Brother (or in this case the Family) always watching hm?

NOPE. Any small hope I had for Sunday being someone we could safely trust has flown straight out the window with this sinister smirk of his, no matter how handsomely good it makes him look here.

I love that no matter what is going on or who he’s talking to, Ratio always manages to mildly insult others without a care in the world.

So stuff about the Cornerstones gets revealed, how all Ten Stonehearts have one of their own and how very important said stones are to them, so what on earth was Aventurine doing with both his and Potaz Pazto Topaz’s? Also found it interesting how closely hers resembles Qlipoth’s body when she isn’t a Preservation unit like Aventurine is.

Sunday then gives Aventurine only 17 system hours to live and he has to spend it solving Robin’s case with little to no outside help or hints on where to begin. Talk about immense pressure. Let my man gamble in peace!

And if all that wasn’t enough to make me start feeling bad for our fancy man, we get a sad backstory featuring his sister and even learning how both their parents died! Because OF COURSE they’re setting me up to get upset about him for some reason later on in the story and now I’m so terrified because if I learned anything from anime it’s that these kinds of flashback are major red death flags.

The feeling of joy came back to me though upon seeing Topaz show up. Despite Aventurine being around and all the mentions of the IPC, I honestly wasn’t expecting her to visit Penacony at all, but I’m very pleased to see her again! She definitely grew on me after that one quest in Belobog and even though she doesn’t have access to most places on Penacony like her coworker currently does, it’s nice she’s willing to lend a helping hand to us.

It doesn’t settle well with me that none of the Bloodhounds know who Gallagher is. Ain’t he supposed to be top dog around here and in charge?

Oh red text, why must you haunt me so easily? Imagine how different all of Penacony would feel if we had the option to completely turn off subtitles. People would definitely have various opinions regarding Acheron if they knew of her ominous words or not.

I wanna chalk this up as a HI3 reference, but I can’t be sure as I’ve never played. If so, I love how they can toss in hints about Welt’s past like this.

And hers.. I imagine bits and pieces would line up with her past one way or another too.

A little while after that, we cut back to Black Swan and y’all, we FINALLY get some sort of Boothill interaction in the story! Only audio for now but I’ll take it!

Hearing about bullets, him getting annoyed about Acheron being a “galaxy ranger” and the Hunt path are wonderful ways to confirm who it is and I can’t wait to eventually see him in game.

Seems like he isn’t too thrilled with Acheron though and of course, he too knows of her Emenator status. There goes my brief hopes of them being in friendly terms and seeing them work together I suppose.

This item that Ratio gives Aventurine before he suddenly disappears (again) and how it features one of his voicelines.. hilarious. It’s like it was spoken specifically for Aventurine and no one else.

I may be a little stupid.. do we know who the other mute is? The one dead is clearly Robin, but surely the other can’t be Sunday right? He spoke perfectly fine. I’m thinking back to all the Penacony characters we’ve met and they all sound fine, aside from Sam but he’s robotic so naturally he would sound a bit different yea? Maybe we haven’t met this other mute yet, I dunno. The “again” part of Sparkle’s line makes me feel like we have met them at least once.

Sweetie, how the fuck did you manage to sneak such a dangerous device into Penacony?? Even Aventurine is concerned about how the Family doesn’t know of it.

Okay.. so the whole flashback with Aventurine being bought as a slave and used to gamble for his master is tough. I know many people speculated what the mark on his neck said, and majority did think “slave” was written, but man, the hint didin’t make this story any easier to hear. Being blessed with luck ain’t always a good thing hm? Hearing the guy say “all or nothing” and learning from Topaz about how that phrase is now Aventurine’s mantra.. oh boy.

Siobhan is gorgeous and if she was playable I’d definitely pull for her.

SERVAL MENTION HUZZAH! I’m aware they mentioned my girl during the livestream and how they’re both the rebellious ones in their respective families, but Siobhan actually wanting to meet her? Oohhh~

Okay but the fact we’re encountered so many deaths, during the many story and side quests, in a short amount of time shouldn’t be normal. The way he seems so indifferent about it too.. “so what?” like sir, people are dying.

Oh, we did indeed receive one as well. That was the invitation, wasn’t it? I thought the music box Acheron stole from Duke was something different and special for different reasons. Nevermind.

I seriously need to check back into the creepy dream we experienced last time after Sparkle knocked us out, where we encountered that memory zone meme and listen to all the shouting we heard of this Mikhail guy. I figured he had to be someone important, but the Watchmaker and betrayer of the Family? Oh dear.

I bet you anything it’s Misha. Working behind the scenes in the hotel this entire time would definitely be an effective strategy, and his technique outside battle literally stops time and that seems like the perfect kind of ability for someone named “Watchmaker.”

Gallagher wondering if this certain person is real or not is another reason I think it’s Misha because apparently no one notices his presence at all. During that one scene with us, Firefly, Acheron, Misha & Clockie last past, the girlies didn’t acknowledge Misha at all. Only us and Clockie spoke to the boy. In return, Clockie is only seen by us and Misha as well. So that’s just strange.

For a moment I wonder if Misha is actually like.. a ghost of sorts and we’re just going insane seeing visions of people and cartoon characters everywhere. But that’s all stuff I shall find out later. Hopefully. If the story decides to answer my many concerns.

(originally written on 3/28)

[pherruhcreates]

I watched the barbecue sauce dribble down his chin as he gorged himself on chicken strips. Every bite produced a disgustingly wet sound. I wanted so badly to plug my ears and turn away, but I hid my discomfort and continued to pay attention to our conversation.

“What do you wanna do today?” he forced out between bites.

I didn’t want to do anything with him. I wanted to go home. I wanted to call John.

“Do you want to go to the art museum?” I asked behind a fake smile. Fake. Fake. Fake.

“Nah.”

All he ever wanted to do was drink and listen to music. I really didn’t mind listening to music, but he had this way of making me hate it by trying to explain the history of every song. Just let me listen to it! Stop talking through it!

I stared at the balding dorm room carpet, the stains splattering the hideous gray and green stripes. Who puts carpet in a dorm room? I wonder what John is doing. He would have gone to the museum with me.

“Hey Colton.”

“Mmm?” More barbecue sauce. Why can’t he keep the food in his mouth?

“I think I’m gonna go home.”

“Why?”

Why? Does he really not understand that I don’t want to sit there listening to the squelching of him eating? Waiting for him to want to do something even slightly entertaining? I know that he’s hungover- we drank an entire bottle of Southern Comfort last night. I don’t think this is a good enough excuse.

I get up off the floor and start gathering my things. The sweater I must have shed after getting hot while drinking, my toothbrush from the shared bathroom, my phone charger from behind the bed. He sits. Watching. Chewing.

We’ve been friends for close to 5 years and I never found him disgusting until recently. Not until after we slept together. Now everything he does makes me want to slap him. Hard. Maybe it’s because he’s not John. He’s tall and skinny, clothes fall on him just right, but I’m not attracted to him. John is shorter, thicker and more muscular. Was? He’s not dead, but he’s no longer in my life, so I don’t feel like I can think about him in the present tense.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. I just said that.”

He licks his fingers. Disgusting.

He looks at me incredulously. Like anyone should want to spend their precious time watching him choke down chicken tenders and explain to them what “Sweet Leaf” is about. It’s almost comical, the combination of his surprise and the satisfaction from his family-sized meal. I think about how he probably doesn’t care that I specifically am leaving, but that his ego must be hurt by someone- anyone- not wanting to spend their time with him.

I lean over and give him a tentative hug. He doesn’t even get up off the couch.

I grab my bag and head out the front door, looking forward to the three-hour drive ahead of me to listen to music and reminisce about John. I hope Colton doesn’t call me. I know he thinks he’s doing me a favor by keeping me company during the long drive, but truthfully, the pointless conversation bores me to tears and makes me want to drive into a ditch. Talking to people about nothing always makes my anxiety spike.

…

I get about halfway through my drive when the phone rings. I immediately assume it’s John and my heart drops when I see Colton’s name flash across my car screen. I know if I don’t answer, he’ll just keep calling. I let it ring anyway. Why do I have to answer when I don’t want to? Because it may hurt his feelings? I don’t care about hurting his feelings. I don’t care about him!

I realize I’ve never had this thought about him before and something catches in my throat. Of course I care about him, he’s been my best friend for years. Why would I have such a negative thought about my best friend? The events of the last few months start scrolling through my mind. The breakup with John, the first trip I made to see Colton. Why did I even make that trip?

My thoughts send me spiraling. I already get highway hypnosis, but now that I’m trapped in my thoughts, the headlights whizz past, shooting trails of light behind them and making my vision blurry. I need to pull over.

I pull into a trucker station and park around back. I need to think and I don’t want people to walk by if I start crying.

…

I spend close to an hour sitting in the gas station parking lot, going in circles in my head about my intentions and my relationships. I come to the conclusion that I have been using Colton. I never thought of myself as someone who uses people, or someone who would even be capable of using people, but that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.

I think back to last night when Colton and I were cuddling on the couch. He started tickling me (I hate being tickled) and I playfully shouted “John!” I immediately knew my mistake. Colton just looked at me and laughed. I think he knows. I think his ego is not as fragile as I thought. In fact, I think he’s well aware that he’s just serving as a temporary replacement for John. This makes me feel both better and worse at the same time.

I look at the clock; it’s getting late and I still have homework to do.

I pull out onto the interstate just as my car screen flashes an incoming call: John.

[wkemeup]

Play Pretend (II)

summary: In the aftermath of Munich, Bucky struggles to go back to how things were before. But now that he knows how it is to love you, he's not sure he can. pairing: bucky x reader word count: 5.8k warnings: smut (18+), mutual pining idiots a/n: here is the final part! make sure you catch up at part 1 first! gif by @crispychrissy

Bucky couldn’t get the image out of his head for days after the mission in Munich. Pictures of you laying so beautifully beneath him, the slight curve of your lips as a moan slipped past, skin so soft it begged to be touched and soothed and worshiped. He couldn’t let go of how you sounded, how you cried out his name or the gentle whimpers spoken so sweetly against his ear. He couldn’t stop craving you wrapped so tightly around him, your hands caressing down his arms, his back, his shoulders, your unbridged desire to touch every part of him, even the parts he despised.

Memories that found him in his sleep in the early hours of the morning, in the shower when his legs were weak and tired, at the breakfast table when you strolled in wearing a t-shirt down to your thighs and the evident curve of your breasts bare beneath the fabric.

Bucky tried to push the thoughts away. He tried to stop thinking of what happened in that cold, abandoned Hydra base. He tried to bury that longing somewhere deep, somewhere he’d never be bothered by it again. But it always came back in the image of you in that cell.

It plagued him. It taunted him.

He wanted more.

He didn’t know how to admit it. Not to himself, and certainly not to you. So, he did his best to suffocate those feelings, those cravings for something real, but they still found their way to the surface.

They spilled over on movie nights with the team and Bucky would find himself inching closer to you, in the gym when he took just a second longer to lift his weight from your body after a winded match that ended on the surface of the mat, on walks around the compound when he found himself wanting to capture your hand in his own as your fingers brushed by.

Those feelings slipped from his smothering hold on missions when he watched your back far more than his own, when he’d missed an obvious target in an attempt to clear your enemy line and ended up catching three bullets himself. He lost composure whenever you didn’t respond on coms or when you’d stumble back onto the quinjet with an injury you’d been hiding. He dove headfirst into fires and threw his body up as a shield and spent every night in agony wondering if you knew that he’d give his whole life to you if you’d asked.

It made him stupid. It made him reckless. It might actually get him killed.

But it hadn’t started in Munich. No, that was just the catalyst of it all. Bucky had loved you long before that drug infiltrated his system and left the two of you in an impossible position. He’d managed to keep his feelings at bay for years; hiding behind quick witted jokes and friendly banter and a genuine friendship and it had been enough. Honest, it had.

Only, now he knew what it was like to be with you. He caught a taste of what it would be like to make love to you and he didn’t know if he could ever forget and move on. It had been weeks since Munich and it still felt like it happened yesterday.

He had to do something to keep it from consuming him, even if it broke your heart. Even if it broke his, too.

***

“What the hell do you mean you can’t work with Y/n anymore?”

Steve groaned, pinching at the bridge of his nose. It had been a long day of debriefing with about a dozen agents making demands he was unwilling to compromise on. This, separating his best team, was among them.

“It’s just not a good idea, Steve,” Bucky said, arms folded tightly over his chest as he watched Steve pace relentlessly down the conference room.

“That’s ridiculous, Buck.” Steve slumped into the chair beside his friend. “You two are the best insurgent team I have.”

“Just trust me. You’ve seen how I’ve been in the field lately. I can’t keep a straight head around her, okay? Not after—” Bucky clenched his jaw, turning away.

Steve sighed, hanging his head. “You ever gonna tell me what happened in Munich?”

Bucky’s lip was chewed raw; scars over broken wounds, teeth digging into painful cracks. It was a nasty habit he picked up after Munich. He wasn’t used to this kind of nervousness; a deep and unsettling feeling churned to stone in the pit of his stomach.

“Reassign me, Steve,” Bucky asked again, firmer. He could feel Steve’s eyes burning on him, tracing every inch of his face, searching for a tell, but he wouldn’t find one. Bucky was trained better than that. He knew to keep his features cold, stoned, even if his heart was pounding against his chest. He wondered it Steve could hear it, too.

The silence hung heavy in the air.

“Alright,” Steve finally conceded. He shook his head reluctantly. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Bucky sighed a breath of relief, the weight of months filled with a longing he couldn’t tame and painful twist in his heart slipping from him in seconds. “Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” Steve stood up from his chair, gathered the papers from the desk and made his way to the door. He paused just at the frame, turned around slowly to find Bucky had relaxed a little too much for his liking and added, “you’re going to be the one to tell her.”

“What?” Bucky scrambled out of his chair, nearly losing his footing and all composure as he stood to face Steve.

“You’ve been partners for years,” Steve shot back tensely. “She’s had your back on countless missions, saved your life on more than one occasion, and—come on, Buck— you guys are friends! The two of you spend every day together, even when you’re benched! You don’t want to give me an explanation? Fine. But you sure as hell owe her one.”

Bucky shook his head rapidly, hands clenching at the fraying edges of his t-shirt. “Steve, I—”

“Just talk to her,” Steve said, a heavy disappointment lingering in his voice. His lips parted, as if there were more he wanted to say, but decided against it. He hung his head, pat Bucky firmly on his shoulder, and left.

***

Had he always been able to hear his own heartbeat like this?

It was pounding in his ears, thunderous, deafening, and he swore just about everyone else on the floor could its thumping as he approached your room.

The door was open ajar with a small glimmer of sunlight streaming out into the dimly lit hallway. You were singly quietly to yourself – humming, maybe – as you sat on the edge of your bed, staring down onto your phone. You didn’t seem to notice him at the door. He knocked.

Your head popped up, surprised at the sudden intrusion and your eyes only narrowed upon finding it was Bucky standing below the doorframe. You looked at him for a moment before you turned back to your phone without saying another word.

He deserved that.

“Can I come in?” Bucky asked sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. He was still staring into the room through the small slit in the door.

You shrugged. “Depends. Are you still avoiding me?”

A sharp sting burned in his chest as Bucky tried to unclench his jaw. Truthfully, he had been avoiding you for days now. Ever since he made up his mind to ask for a reassignment. It didn’t matter if Steve shipped him off to Alaska or the Amazons or out into space with the goddamn raccoon; all he knew was that every minute he spent beside you was agony and he needed to get away from it – away from you – before it consumed him whole.

None of that was your fault. You didn’t know why he was suddenly too busy to spar on your usual weekdays or join the team for movie nights. He never told you why he suddenly started pulling away, cutting off all contact as if you hadn’t been friends for years before Munich.

“I’ve got something important to talk to you about,” Bucky replied, clearing his throat.

You sat up, sitting the phone down by your side as you recognized the tone in his voice. Clinical. Mission oriented. Business. He didn’t want it to sound so cold, but he wasn’t sure he could do this if it wasn’t.

Bucky stepped into the room, prying the door open gently with a slow squeak on its hinges as he closed it behind him. He’d been in your room dozens of times before, but somehow, in this moment, it felt like an invasion of privacy, like he wasn’t supposed to be there.

He took a deep breath, trying to keep focus. He took a few steps forward and gingerly sat on the edge of your bed, keeping careful distance as he wrung at his hands in his lap.

“I’m being reassigned.”

You furrowed your brow. He could practically hear your heart skip a beat.

“What? No. They can’t do that!” You shook your head, determined. There were traces of disbelief on your face – anger, too. Your hands gripped tightly into the sheets at your sides. “They can’t just reassign you, Buck. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Y/n, you don’t understand,” he started to say, but you were already on your feet, pacing around the room. It was how you calmed yourself when your thoughts were racing too fast. The stabbing pain in Bucky’s chest only seemed to dig deeper.

“I know the field has been messy lately, but that happens to everyone! They can’t split us up because of a few extra trips to the med bay,” you argued, wearing trenches into the carpet of your bedroom. You stopped abruptly. “Who gave the order? Steve? Tony? I’ll take this up with Fury if I have to, okay? I won’t let them—”

“Y/n, stop. Please.” Bucky hung his head. His right hand was red as his left clasped and tugged at the skin. He couldn’t find the courage to meet your eye but he could tell from the way you stilled that you knew what he was about to say. “It was me. I asked for reassignment.”

It didn’t seem to hurt any less though because your stance still faltered. It was barely noticeable, not to the human eye, but Bucky’s sensed were advanced thanks to his time in Hydra. He saw the way your body weight shifted just slightly, how your breath caught in your chest, the slight flicker of your eyes. Shock. Betrayal. Hurt.

“You said it yourself,” Bucky reasoned, trying to find excuses where there were none, “there’s been too many ER trips lately. I keep getting hurt.”

“Because you insist on using your body as human shield, Buck!” you retorted, arms flung out to the sides. “Just knock that off and we’ll be fine!”

Bucky shook his head, his lips curling ever so slightly though it didn’t touch his eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

“Of course, it is!” you argued. You started pacing again. “Don’t be an idiot, Barnes. I’m not losing my partner. Go tell them you were joking or concussed and not thinking straight!”

“I’m not going to do that.” Bucky clenched his jaw. His right hand was starting to lose feeling from how tightly he was gripping it.

Why couldn’t you make this easy on him? You were supposed to be angry with him for ignoring you for the last week. You were angry with him and yet you still fought for him. He couldn’t make sense of it.

The pacing stopped again, though this time it came in slow, like a realization that found its way piece by piece until it melded into a visible image.

“Was it something I did?”

Bucky jumped up to his feet, instinctively wanting to walk towards you but you held your ground. He froze, standing several feet away.

“No,” he said firmly. “God no. You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/n.”

“Then what?” You raised your arms out to the side in question. “We’ve been partners for years, Bucky. I’ve relied on you all that time to have my back, to keep me alive out there, and—and—” you groaned rather loudly, “you’re my best friend! You can’t just up and decide you’re done with me and move on!”

Bucky frowned. “That’s not what this is.”

You shook your head, arms folding tightly over your chest protectively. “Sure feels like it.”

The silence between you was unbearable. Bucky didn’t have a good excuse. You were right to be angry with him. He was abandoning you. He was a coward. He was running away from a painful situation to avoid facing it head on because he was terrified to lose you. Though, as you pressed the heels of your palms into your eyes, pulling them away a moment later to find a soft glisten of reflection in their wake, Bucky started to wonder that were already true.

“Oh God,” you exhaled, a heavy realization in your voice as you turned to him. Your shoulders slumped. “This is because of Munich, isn’t it?”

Bucky flinched. He tried not to, but you noticed. A look of absolute devastation crossed your features as your lips parted, sinking down onto your bed.

“I knew things were different after that mission. I mean, how could they not be?” You leaned over against your thighs, letting your hair fall down to shield your face where Bucky could not see. “I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have given in. You couldn’t consent with that shit running through your veins. Not really. So— fuck – I completely understand if you can’t be around me after I—”

“That’s not what happened,” Bucky interjected sharply, shaking himself from the fear coursing through him as he crossed the room to you. He knelt down beside your bed and waited patiently for you to lift your head and let the curtain of hall fall away from your face. “I could have fought it. It hurt like hell, but I would have survived it even if we… if we hadn’t…”

He let his voice trail off, his cheeks turning a slight side of pink. He sighed. “The point... is that I wanted to. I really wanted to. And that’s the problem.”

You narrowed your eyes, confused.

Was he really going to tell you? Wasn’t this what he had been trying to avoid? Throwing away years of friendship to confess deeper feelings he was all but sure you’d never reciprocate?

But there was something about the way you were looking at him. With tears glistening in your eyes and a grief he couldn’t quite place nestled into the lines on your forehead, Bucky began to wonder if walking away would give him any relief at all. He wasn’t sure he could ever leave this room again if you were left blaming yourself for his crimes.

Bucky slowly placed his right hand on your knee, rubbing his thumb gently along the dimple. Your eyes followed his movements, watching curiously until he found the courage to speak.

“We’ve been partners for a while,” he started, clearing his voice when it came out shaken. You nodded. “I feel like sometimes I know what you’re thinking just by looking at you and when we’re out in the field, even in the middle of chaos, it’s like you can tell what I’m doing before I actually figure it out myself. We’re really good together. Out there. It’s hard to find that these days.”

You didn’t say anything and for that, he was grateful. He needed to get this out before he shut down completely.

“I think we only got that good because we’re… uhm… we’re close, you know?” Bucky took a deep breath, releasing his grip on your knee when he realized he’d started to squeeze it a little too hard. Your hand was sitting on your thigh, but you’d inched it closer to his, enough so the tips of your fingers overlapped onto his.

“We’re friends.” Bucky paused at the term, deciding it wasn’t strong enough. “It’s more than that though. I trust you with things I wouldn’t even tell Steve. You were the first person I felt like I could be myself around. Not the Bucky that Steve remembers or the one Hydra manipulated. This one. Whatever that means.”

Your whole hand covered his now, as much as it would allow. He glanced up to find your fingers curling under his, a slight squeeze to tell him you were still listening. He exhaled another breath and the pressure in his chest felt a little lighter.

“What happened in Munich didn’t awaken anything or… or open my eyes to something I didn’t know was there,” Bucky continued, his eyes trained on your legs, unable to find the courage to face you. “I’ve known how I felt about you for a long time. I was okay with it. I learned to live with it and manage it because being your friend and being your partner was too important to lose. But…”

He felt your hands squeeze his again.

“But after Munich… I don’t know how to go back. I don’t think I can.” Bucky didn’t dare to meet your eye. He could feel the words slipping past his lips before he had a chance to pull them back in. A waterfall of confessions he couldn’t hope to control. “It’s why I’ve been so reckless in the field, why I keep ending up in the med wing. I can’t shove it down anymore and it punctures me right through the goddamn heart when I see you surrounded by armed agents or when there’s a weapon aimed at you and my instinct is to run towards you. Screw what happens to me.

“I know you’re good at your job,” Bucky stressed, shaking his head. “I know you can handle yourself and you don’t need me to protect you but… but I want to. I want to keep you safe and hold your hand when you’re getting stitches and curl up beside you at night just so I can remind myself you’re real when the nightmares get the better of me. I want… I want more than I should.”

He could hear the skip in your heartbeat, how it gradually picked up in pace the longer he spoke. Your breathing was shorter, too. Shallower. Bucky was certain it was all confirmation of the story he’d been telling himself for years.

“This… How I feel… It’s not good for us. As friends. As partners. I’m trying to do us a favor and just remove myself from the equation.”

Bucky still had yet to meet your eye. He’d turned to examining every detail he could find on the fabric of your sleep shorts, in the sheets you sat upon, in the divots and dimples and blemishes on your thighs. He wasn’t sure he’d have the resolve to leave if he looked at your face.

Several beats of silence passed by and Bucky wondered how it was possible you hadn’t lashed out at him yet. He expected you to be angry for driving a wedge between you with something as reckless as love and affection. He expected you to turn your shoulder, reject him for everything he was, because it was one thing to befriend the Winter Soldier, another entirely to love him.

Bucky slowly rose back to his feet, letting his hand slip away from your knee and your gentle hold on him fell away. He mistook your silence for acceptance, maybe even agreement. He cleared his throat, starting to back up towards the door.

“So, um,” Bucky said nervously, trying to fill the silence in his escape, “that’s why. I hope you can forgive me some day for all of this. I’ll, uh, I’ll go.”

Bucky barely had his hand on the knob when he heard the soft squeak of your mattress springs as you rose to your feet.

“You’re wrong.”

The sound of your voice startled him, enough to get him to look back at you before he could stop himself. Your hands were clenched at your sides, eyes red with tears, bottom lip chewed raw.

“Y/n, I—”

“You’re wrong,” you said again, almost angry and somehow that was a relief. It would make it easier for him to leave if you were angry, but you had different plans. “You’re wrong if you think you’re doing me some kind of favor by leaving.”

Tears were on your cheeks now and Bucky’s stomach lurched. This wasn’t what he wanted. This was agony.

He took a step closer to you. “You have to trust me, it’s not a good idea for us to—”

“You’re wrong,” you continued, cutting him off again as you rubbed at the tears under your eyes. “You’re wrong to assume that I don’t feel the exact fucking way about you and—and if you leave, Bucky, I swear to God it will kill me.”

Bucky froze. His heart stopped beating completely, might have plunged down through his stomach, broken through the floorboards and buried itself into molten lava and dirt, because of all the things he was expecting you to say, that was not one of them.

“Don’t do this,” you implored, voice a little broken, barely above a whisper. “Please don’t go.”

Bucky was at a loss. He didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t prepared for this. He never even considered you might beg him to stay, that you might feel for him in the way he felt for you. It never once crossed his mind. It felt like a dream.

“I miss you.” Your voice was so small and still, it nearly tore him straight in half. “I miss how we used to be. I miss seeing you smile and your stupid jokes at the most inappropriate times in the field.” You laughed to yourself, under your breath, and even through the tears it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever heard. But you sighed, the smile falling away. “I miss you when you’re not here. All the time. So much it hurts. I feel like I’m going out of my mind when I’m not with you. You’re my best friend, but I… I also… I miss Munich.”

Bucky’s eyes widened and you only caught a glimpse of him for a second before your face was in your hands, trying to shield yourself from him.

“I know it’s wrong,” you murmured, muffled by your palms. “I know it’s not right to miss a moment when you were in pain and made to feel something you didn’t ask for, but… I think about it a lot and... how much I want more.”

Stunned silence. Throat dry. Heart pounding.

“What are you saying?” Bucky finally found the courage to ask.

You lifted your head, finally meeting his eye and there was a relief there as you looked up at him. Your shoulders eased. A soft smile returned to your lips and it nearly melted him completely.

“The same thing you are, I think.”

He swallowed. “Oh.”

Bucky watched, near frozen, as you crossed the room, bare feet padding softly over the carpet until you were only inches from him. The space between you closing as your hands slid up his arms, resting against his shoulders, cupping at the sides of his face, just observing, just feeling. There was no venom in his veins and yet, Bucky felt electrified under your touch. His heart stammered in his chest as your fingers wove at the strands of hair at the base of his neck.

“I’m going to kiss you now,” you told him and he wondered for a moment if he stopped breathing entirely. "No Hydra chemicals. No foreign influence. Just us, okay? You and me.”

Bucky nodded, a little stunned.

Slowly, you inched up closer to him, your eyes drawing closed until you were a breath from his lips. Just barely grazing upon his own, waiting, and Bucky let his hands slid up against your back, tugging you closed against him, and captured your lips in his own.

It was different than the first time in Munich, less rushed, less desperate, but instead filled with a longing that had spanned years between you, coated in affection and heartache and need for one another beyond anything a serum in a lab could fabricate.

Your hands wove into his hair, his arms pressing you firm against his chest, and it was like you were holding onto him for dear life. Your feet began to carry the two of you backwards, dragging Bucky towards the bed, and you yelped as your knees caught on the edge of the mattress, sending the two of you spiraling onto the bed.

“You alright?” Bucky laughed, brushing away the hair in your eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows caged around your shoulders; most of his weight laying upon you in the sweetest comfort of pressure.

“I'm perfect,” you replied, bright smiles and joy radiating from every pore. It was contagious.

“We can stop here, if you want,” Bucky offered sincerely. He was riding a high he never thought he’d ever experience and anything you’d be willing to share with him was a gift within itself. He’d kiss you for hours if you’d let him.

“And if I don’t want to stop?” you questioned, staring up at him with a hunger in your eyes. Your fingers trailed down his t-shirt, dancing around the hem of the fabric at his hips. “If I wanted to keep going... If I wanted you...?”

“I’m yours, sweetheart.”

A simple answer. A true one. He’d never been more certain of anything in his life.

Bucky knelt back, tugged on the fabric of his shirt between his shoulder blades and pulled it over his head. You watching him as he tossed it to the corner of the room before he settled back down against you. Your hands ran along the lines of his muscles, over the scars and imperfections, and for once, Bucky didn’t shy away from the hands of a woman. It didn’t feel like a twist to his gut, he didn’t hold his breath. No – instead, it felt renewing, healing almost.

His hands slid under the waist of your shirt, inching it higher as he rand his touch along the curves of your sides, until you leaned up for him to help remove the fabric. It joined his shirt at the edge of the room.

Perfect and bare. Stunning in your nakedness. A privilege he never thought he’d be granted.

“You want to take a picture or...?” you teased him, noticing how long he’d been staring at you.

Bucky laughed, shaking his head. “Don’t temp me. Besides, I’m hoping I won’t need a picture to see you like this again.”

“Definitely not,” you confirmed, tugging him down to meet your lips again.

It was laced in smiled and laughter and ages of holding back from one another all rolled into one. A freedom of taking your time, of enjoying one another, and learning to memorize your bodies. Bucky would have wondered if he were dreaming if not for the way you wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding against his hardening cock – no dream could produce a feeling like that.

With his lips on your neck, Bucky played with the hem of your shorts, waiting until you lifted your hips just enough to give him the access to slid them down your legs, removing the last remaining fabric along with it.

Bucky kissed his way down your body, mapping a trail from your neck, to the hills of your breasts, to your ribs, to the comfort of cushion at your stomach, to the crevices at your legs and inner thighs. He paused for a moment, setting his cheek against your thigh as he drew his fingers between your lips, separating them to give access to the sweetest parts of you.

You flinched a little as he touched your clit, a gasp emitting from your lips as your hands curled into the sheets. Bucky grinned, encouraged by your reaction as he began to circle the pads of his fingers at your entrance. Listening for the subtle changes in your breath, the moans the slipped past, and the curl of your fingers, Bucky leaned in and wrapped his lips around your clit.

“F-fuck, Bucky,” you whined, hands snaking into his hair and gripping tight against his scalp.

He smiled at the feeling, at the way you cried his name, and he pressed his slicked fingers inside of you. Perhaps it was the haze of the foreign chemicals the last time he had you under him like this, but he didn’t remember you being so vocal, so sensitive to his touch. It was a rush and he had to keep himself from rutted up against the mattress as added a third finger, curling them just enough and massaging at the walls as they squeezed tight around him.

Tongue lapping at the wetness, sucking around the sensitive bud of nerves, fingers perfectly drawing out the high as it built at your core, it only took moments before you crashed. You cried out his name, legs wrestling against him in the sensitivity as he drew out the feeling as long as he could, moving slower and slower until you stilled under him.

“Fuck,” you exhaled, a laugh entranced in your voice.

Bucky grinned, pleased with himself as he crawled his way back up the bed to meet your lips. He didn’t bother to wipe the remnants of your high from his mouth and you didn’t seem to mind as you kissed him, certainly tasting yourself upon his lips, and it only made him want you more.

“You’re turn,” you smirked, trying to slide out from under him as you licked your lips, but Bucky held you down.

“Next time, okay?” he countered and you sunk back into the mattress with a pout on your lips. “I don’t think I can last if you get your mouth on me.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” you teased, running your fingers down his stomach until he began to shiver.

“Yes,” he chuckled, swatting your hands away playfully. He winked. “I’m gonna die if I don’t have you right now.”

“Jesus, Buck, don’t even joke,” you laughed, hiding your face in your hands.

“Hey, someone's gotta,” Bucky grinned as he tugged down his pants, kicking them off to land amongst the rest of the discarded clothing. “If it got me here, I’ll happily make light of a fucked up Hydra breeding experiment.”

“Would you have told me if it hadn’t happened?” you asked, voice a little softer, peering out from behind your hands.

Bucky stilled, his grin falling into something gentler and he shrugged. “Don’t know if I ever would have had the courage. I never thought we’d be here. Never could have imagined you’d feel the same way.” He leaned down to press a kiss to your shoulder. “Would you have said anything?”

“I don’t think I really knew until you threatened to walk away,” you admitted.

“Well,” Bucky sighed, pressing a trail of kissed along your collarbone as he settled between your legs, his length pressing against your thigh, “good thing I’m not going anywhere.”

“Better not,” you murmured against his lips as you drew his mouth to yours.

Then, as he felt the hitch of your breath against his lips, he sank into you. Stretching walls and guiding your legs to wrap at his waist to offer an angle that left your jaw slacked. Your eyes fluttered closed, lips parted, and Bucky felt a rush unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Even through the smoke filled haze of that serum in Munich, he’d never felt an ounce of the relief as he did in this moment. To be completely and entirely yours.

He felt you squeeze at his shoulders, urging him to move, and slowly, he rocked his hips against you. Slow and steady. Needy. Until your nails dug into his spine and Bucky couldn’t prolong the tender build up any longer.

Chasing and chasing; higher and higher. Bucky could tell you were close from how tight your walls were clenched around him. It took near everything he had not to come on the spot, but he held on, waiting, watching as your lips parted, as the most beautiful sounds he’d ever heard slipped past, and you cried out his name.

“Oh fuck—fuck—Bucky, don’t stop.” Your breath was hot against his cheek. “I’m so close. I’m—ah—”

A hitch in your breath and your whole body seemed to fall slack. It only spurred him on. Hips snapped, fingers rubbing quick circles at your clit, until you were whining and shaking under him, until he was satisfied with the blissful look on your face and he let himself go.

He spilled into you, rutting his hips in a few final, lazy thrusts as he sank into the crook of your neck, panting. Dizzy and content, riding a high that extended beyond his body, Bucky hummed into your collarbone as he felt your nails draw patterns along his back in gentle sweeps. It tingled on his skin, send shivers along his spine, and he never wanted it to stop.

“Hey, Y/n?”

You paused, just for a moment, before you resumed tracing the lines on his back, over muscles and scars alike. “Yes, Bucky?”

He could hear the teasing in your voice, the light-hearted laugh, the warmth that made him fall in love with you and his heart clenched. He wrapped his arms under your shoulders, the full weight of his body still pressing you down to the mattress, still buried inside of you.

“Promise me this is real.” An embarrassment crept up as he said it, though the drawing on his back didn’t skip a beat. “You and me. I’m not dreaming or stuck in my head. This is real, right?”

Your hands slid up along his shoulders to his neck, and then to the sides of his face as you guided him off your chest to meet your eye; more beautiful than he’d ever seen you, with a glimmer of sweat and an afterglow radiating in the smile lifting your cheeks.

“This is real, honey,” you told him, leaning in to kiss him sweetly on the lips.

“Okay. Okay, good.” Bucky grinned, cheeks flushed in heat. He settled back against your chest, resting his cheek to your heart as you resumed drawing the lazy patterns on his back.

Perfectly content.

Warm. Safe.

Home.

---

Thank you so much for reading! ❤️ If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me at my ko-fi account ✨

[seokjinsonlyone]

so i got on tiktok for more than five minutes for the first time in like a month the other day and i saw they was doing this trend where it’s sorta like fmk but like husband, boyfriend, or sneaky link and i just wanted to add my two cents

namjoon:

this is your boyfriend

i know you may be thinking ???? boyfriend???? not husband??????????

but yes boyfriend listen we all know this man is brilliant; big brained and big bodied; cognitive skills off the charts; he knows a thing or two about a thing or two

however, he just ain’t there yet 😭 he don’t even got his license y’all gon flub on the contraceptives once or twice and next thing you know you strapping your kid into the basket of his bike so he can drop them off to school 😩

and his cooking……….. like watching this man with a knife gives me anxiety

he has a bit of growth to do but that’s why you date before getting married 🥳🥳🥳

y’all would go on the beeeest dates i’m talking museums, picnics, hikes, and yes bike rides

and like he’s just so sweet and thoughtful and he tries his very best to be gentle despite his destructive nature so it would just be so cute and fun for him to be your boyfriend

seokjin:

it goes without saying that this is your husband

to be honest ion even really need to elaborate on this one like…

he cooks; he cleans; he’s thoughtful, supportive, silly, will do anything to make you happy…

everything you could ever want and need in a man is manifested in kim seokjin

so just lemme tell you what this ^^ gif is this is like three months after you’ve given birth to your second child

he got home from work way later than expected he was tired exhausted really but still helped you with your new baby taking turns tending to them on and off all night

you had just gotten into a really good sleep when your alarm went off signaling it was time to get child number 1 up and ready for school

you groaned sitting up but before you could even get out of bed he was wiping the sleep from his eyes and telling you he was going to take care of it

“but you got off late last night and you helped me too”

he reassured you that it was fine and that he had it he knew how hard you worked all day everyday and you never got the opportunity to clock out

it was his day off anyway so he kissed your forehead and told you to get back to sleep

which was a bit easier said than done bc those two were like bulls in a china cabinet there was whining and scuttling all around a few disagreements on which outfit your child should wear and what they should eat for breakfast

but soon enough you looked out the window and saw jin adjusting his shorts and a few seconds later your child bobbling out after him backpack a little too big for their body before they walked hand in hand to the car

that’s… what that is… that’s your husband

and when i say your i mean mine that’s my husband

you can keep scrolling 😗✌️

yoongi:

husband <33333

like jin this man is the total package

he cooks, cleans, is loving and supportive, will take care of you emotionally, and on top of that he’s handy! extensive knowledge about interior design!

like if you want some pictures hanged or a shelf built or something this is the man for you

your lil bob the builder <3

like idk what it is with this man but something about him is just so soft and makes me want to love and be loved by him

like if this is not your husband this is your long term boyfriend you are dating him for no less than five years and when you part way you ain’t gon know how to live without him

so don’t leave

bring the documents he already said so

hoseok:

boyfriend 100%

hobi just seems so partnerable

i look at him and i see movie nights and pillow talk

i see cuddles and late night facetime calls

your own personal hope on the streets when he wants to loosen up or practice or relieve stress😩

you go to a restaurant and each pick a dish and share it with each other like he’s very much giving one milkshake 2 straws

or you two cook together side by side he’s chopping vegetables and cleaning while you’re sautéing and stir frying and what not

you go shopping with him and critique his outfits when he tries them on and vice versa

i don’t even know man i just see hobi and i think he’s flawless i want to give him the world

and i think about that time when he said one of his personal goals was to become special to someone 😭😭😭

so like girl get your boyfriend and just give him all the love he’s searching for all the love he deserves

jimin:

….sneaky link

look at him smh caught in 4k sending a “you up?” text at the tender hour of 3am

idk what to tell ya man he just ain’t bout it rn

he ain’t looking for nothing but fun

atm it’s just him and his bros

every once in a while he’ll go searching for a connection for a night or two

there may be a few repeat offenders a string of flings if you will but never anything serious

i can see it in his eyes everyone can really bc he flirts with every living and nonliving thing in sight

taehyung:

husband

now you may be thinking… is he not on par with namjoon when it comes to practical skills???

and like yes perhaps but he definitely is not as much as a liability

like i think i can trust him to open a packet of barbecue sauce without risk of ruining my outfit and like i know i wouldn’t fear for my life if he was slicing a hard boiled egg

which is not to say that i wouldn’t mind getting stabbed by joon there are certainly worse ways to go but that’s not what we’re talking about

what we’re talking about is tae and how i just know with him you’d be safe physically mentally and emotionally 🥺🥺🥺

and idk if it’s bc i done seen him in slacks one too many times but something about him just screams commitment

like he’s giving 401k he’s giving life insurance he’s giving condo in florida where you spend the winter bc your bones get too cold where you normally live

but you know what he’s also giving passion like you will 100% spend the rest of your life in love with this man

like in that picture it’s giving you’ve been married for three years it’s wednesday and he’s off so he asked you on a date

it’s taking you longer than anticipated to get ready you wanted to look pretty for him bc truthfully you don’t get to go on dates often as much as he’d like to

your hair and makeup is finally done so you find him and tell him you’re almost done and you’ll be out as soon as you slip on your outfit

he lazily turns his head to you and tells you to take your time there’s no rush and he’s just looking at you with absolute hearts in his eyes

you’re not even fully ready and there’s hearts in his eyes 😭 it makes your heart race and you can’t keep the smile off your face as you get ready for your date, for the rest of your life together with him

jungkook:

i know y’all gon hate to hear this one but… sneaky link

^^ that may be your boyfriend but you ain’t his girlfriend 😭

that is the face of someone you called and told that you wanted to stop messing around bc you was getting attached but he convinced you that it didn’t have to be all that and acted cute until you changed your mind

listen this man is in his prime he ain’t tryna settle down

the moment you try to commit is the moment he jumps out the window

and this is not to say that he’s not a good boy but like i’ve known jungkooks i’ve been friends with jungkooks and the second you try to take things farther than what they want that’s when they stomp all over your heart

however i do firmly believe that jungkook ain’t like them others he’s more than a good boy he’s the best boy

and if he like idk heard bells when you walked by or was pulled by the red string of fate or like felt the yearning or whatever it is that he done conjured up in his head he’d be everything and more 🥰🥰🥰🥰🥰

[devildomdisaster]

Can you do the first choice with Satan if possible? Love your work <3

Satan is Mc's first choice

Content warnings: None

Mc/ reader is Gender neutral

Lucifer:

Lucifer is pleased Satan finally has something that is uniquely his. Something he can’t compare to what Lucifer himself has. He sees the way Satan lights up around you. His carefully controlled expression slipping from his face and making Satan look altogether more innocent.

While Lucifer is happy for Satan, he also wishes that you would have chosen him. He knows he isn’t the easiest demon to be around, but Mc, he would have tried for you. But then, that’s the difference, he supposes. Satan doesn’t have to try. It just happens, he becomes free around you in a way no one has ever seen Satan be before.

“Morning Lucifer!” you chirp on your way past him.

He looks at you suspiciously, you are clearly hiding something behind your back and he sighs warningly, “Mc…”

“Have you seen Satan? I have a surprise for him!”

Lucifer knows he is creating more trouble for his future self but points you in Satan’s direction anyway. He regrets his lapse in judgment almost instantly when he hears a distinct meow and your quiet murmurs shushing it in response. You’ve brought Satan a cat. And if it’s a gift from you there is no way Satan is going to give it up.

Mammon:

Ok, Mammon is so in love with you Mc. Everyone knows it. But he also loves his family more than anything. He knows that Satan has always been the odd one out. He didn’t experience the Celestial realm or the rebellion or the fall. There is a lot that the other brothers went through that Satan missed out on. Not all of them were good experiences but still, they were experiences that brought them closer together. So seeing you favor Satan is both a hardship and a relief.

It’s good to see Satan so interested in another’s wellbeing. The way Satan treats you reminds Mammon of the way his brothers behaved when they were angels. He is so soft around you. He could have you wrapped around his finger in an instant but he doesn’t. Instead, he lets himself be wrapped around yours. Mammon knew from the first time he saw you hide behind Satan and watched the protective stance he took in front of you that no matter how much he loved you, for Satan’s sake he would content himself with just being friends.

Levi

Jealous. So very very jealous. He tries not to be but why not him Mc? It’s just not fair! Levi knows how his sin can come across to others so he tends to avoid you. He doesn’t want his jealousy to affect you or your relationship with Satan, so it’s easier to remove himself from the situation. For a while, you think Levi hates you and he’s content to let you think that. But he still cares about you and about Satan, so eventually, he’ll start trying to deal with his jealousy in other ways. If he can’t be your favorite at least he gets to be friends with you.

“Levi! You won’t believe what happened at RAD today! Oh! But I’ve got to tell Satan first!” You are so excited that you don’t stop to realize the effect your words have on Levi. And he has to fight off his envy.

But oh well, at least you want to tell him too. He’ll just have to wait until you find Satan first. “He’s in the library Mc. But once you tell him you’ve got to come back and tell me too, I’m curious now.”

Asmo

Asmo sort of understands why you’d pick Satan. Asmo still thinks he’s the best but Satan isn’t a bad choice either. Plus you do get along surprisingly well with Satan. He's even seen Satan reading aloud to you with your head in his lap! In the middle of the living room no less! No one has ever seen Satan in such a vulnerable position before. What right does Asmo have to interfere with something so unexpected? He gets the feeling, and Asmo is seldom wrong about this sort of thing, that Satan is just as in love with you as you are with him. He finds it part sickening and part adorable.

If you need advice about Satan, Asmo is your demon. He is almost as invested in your relationship as you are. He also loves to help you pick out outfits for dates you or Satan are planning. And you trust him with this, so the way he sees it the two of you still get to spend plenty of time together.

“Oh, Mc!” Asmo sings “Satan would just love to see you in these cat ears!”

“A-Asmo! No way. I can’t just waltz into the house of lamentation with cat ears! It’d be too embarrassing!”

Asmo shrugs but doesn’t miss the fact that you put the cat ear headband in your shopping cart anyways. Nor do you miss the smug look on Asmo's face after you listen to his advice.

Satan

He’s surprised. Most of what he’s known until now has been stained with carefully controlled wrath. His brothers know that his smile is often concealing something much darker, and Satan himself knows exactly how dark his hidden thoughts are. But you come along and change everything. Being born from another’s anger he never expected to be capable of feeling more than surface-level emotions and underlying wrath. And while that initial expectation did fade over time he has always been careful to control his emotions. But around you, he feels so free. Like all the bad, dark feelings he has got replaced by something bright. Satan is often more reserved than his brothers, so he is surprised you know him, understand him, so intimately.

Being your favorite is deeply satisfying. Part of him wants to use this to make his brothers (Lucifer) jealous. But he finds he cares for you too much to use you against Lucifer. Satan revels in the pure feelings of affection you invoke in him. There is very little he won't do for you once he realizes his feelings for you are returned.

He is almost too smug when you skip past all of his brothers after a long day at RAD “Read to me?” you ask curling under the arm he is using to hold his book.

“It’s in Latin,” he murmurs. Eyes barely leaving the page.

“So?”

“So I'll translate for you.” he fake sighs, while stroking your hair. He pointedly ignores the shocked looks his brothers are shooting the two of you and begins reading to you.

Beel

Beel is a little sad, but he is mostly happy for Satan. He, perhaps more than any of the others, realizes that while Satan is as much part of their family as anyone else he has struggled to feel as closely bonded as the rest of them. Beel knows that Satan sometimes feels like he doesn’t belong due to the way he was created. It’s ridiculous, of course, but that doesn’t change the way someone feels.

Beel has a hunch that being your favorite might help Satan stop questioning his worth as part of their family. Beel can’t help but smile when he sees you favor Satan. You’ll wait for him to walk back from RAD, and go straight to him when you have good news. You remind Beel a little bit of a puppy. This isn’t to say Beel doesn’t wish he was your favorite instead, he just thinks you and Satan are cute together.

Belphie:

Didn’t Satan almost kill you once, Mc? Sure Lucifer stopped him in time, but really, have you forgotten that so quickly? Or do you just like Satan enough to ignore it? Belphie is a fair bit upset that you chose Satan despite the fact that he tried to kill you too.

Belphie feels like he missed out on getting to know you while he was in the attic. It’s not fair that his brothers got so much time to win you over. And by the time he left the attic, you had already chosen a favorite. He feels like he didn’t get a fair chance. But oh well, with the amount of time you spend ‘pestering’ Satan perhaps he dodged a bullet, he’d hardly get any time to nap around you.

Truthfully Belphie is a little bitter. But as part of the ‘Lucifer sucks’ club Belphie is begrudgingly happy for Satan. Besides it’s become increasingly easy to rope you into pulling pranks on Lucifer so perhaps Satan being your favorite isn’t so bad.

[reid-fiction]

A Progression of Touch

In which Spencer doesn’t like to touch people until you come along and then he can’t help himself

A/N: Look at me, dropping stories like flies. Also, I’ve been staring at this gif for far too long...

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

He doesn’t like to touch other people.

He knows it, you know it, the whole F.B.I. knows it. He told you as much the first time he met you by the way he awkwardly refused to shake your hand. Though he compensated with a friendly smile and a wave, you knew you were in for a ride with Dr. Spencer Reid. 

It wasn’t that he thought you were diseased. He just knew too much about germs and the human body to risk it, especially around cold and flu season which was exactly when he met you. It was bad enough that Garcia had dragged him to the Christmas party to begin with - there were so many people in close quarters, who knew what viruses were floating around - but he wasn’t a big fan of mingling and small talk either. And that was exactly what Penelope was forcing him into when he got his first glimpse of you. 

As soon as you had five minutes with Spencer under your belt, you knew you wanted a lot more time with him. He was unlike any person you had ever met and he fascinated you, especially his aversion to touch. 

A few months later, when Spencer finally bit the bullet and asked you on a date (after much prompting and borderline bribery from Garcia and multiple other team members she had coerced into helping her), he knew that his no touching rule was not going to fly for very long. He didn’t know much about relationships, but he did know that physical touch was a pretty important factor to most women. Though you never pushed him, he could tell that you were holding back for his benefit. He could see it in your eyes every time he dropped you off after a date. In most scenarios, a kiss goodnight would be expected - you wanted it, he could sense it - but it felt like you were the wrong side of a magnet that he just couldn’t get himself close to.

This was a problem, because he was falling for you and he was going to have to do something about it. 

Spencer knew that going the 0-100 method wasn’t going to work for him. He couldn’t just jump from not touching you at all to getting hot and heavy in the backseat of a car. But, gradual steps may work. If he eased himself in to getting acquainted with touching you, he could both push himself out of his comfort zone and give you a bit of the physical contact that you were clearly craving. 

-----

It started with a hug. 

One night, after walking you to your front door, you could tell that Spencer was concentrating on something and it wasn’t your current conversation. You were rambling on about some TV program you had seen the other night, and you knew he wasn’t listening to a word you were saying. 

“Hey, you okay?”

He glanced up at you, frowning, as if he had just remembered you were standing there.

“Yeah, fine. Why?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged, wrapping your arms around yourself after catching a gust of chilly air. “You just seem...far away. Distracted.”

He paused, pursing his lips at your accusation, and you suddenly felt extremely vulnerable under his gaze.

“Is something wrong? Did I...did I do something? I mean, are you -”

“No!” 

The suddenness of his reply caused you to jump, and he let out a nervous chuckle before running a hand through his hair. 

“No, it’s not you at all. I’m sorry, you’re right. I am distracted.”

“Well...about what? Maybe I can help.”

He paused again, and then smiled. “Yeah, maybe you can. Would you be able to just...stand still for a second?”

The strange nature of his request caused you to frown a bit, but you simply nodded and watched him with curiosity. A few seconds later, he slowly started to to move a few steps closer and raise his arms slightly. You had absolutely no idea what he was doing, but you didn’t move a muscle. His arms eventually found their way to rest lightly on the sides of you waist and then started to wrap around your torso. 

Your stomach instantly flipped. This was the first time Spencer had ever touched you beyond the occasional brush of your shoulders when you moved past him, or a playful kick to his leg when he beat you at chess. It had been two months of weekly dates, dinners, museum trips and evenings of sitting and talking until you were both too tired to form coherent sentences but, as much as you loved those times with him, you’d by lying if you said you never wished that he would throw caution to the wind once in a while and toss an arm around you or caress the side of your face with his fingers. 

Now, just the feeling of his hands on your back was like opening up a can of worms that had been wriggling in desperation for weeks, and you certainly hoped that this wasn’t a one time thing, because there was no way you’d ever be able to put those worms back in the can after this. 

He took another step toward you and circled his arms tighter around your back. You knew he had asked you not to move, but you couldn’t hold back any longer. You slowly raised your own arms until they were resting on his shoulders and then, when he didn’t protest, you wrapped them around his neck and leaned in until your head was nestled just below his collarbone. He tensed up only a moment before you felt him lean his head in the crook of your neck. 

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, holding each other. It could have been a few minutes, it could have been a few hours. You didn’t care, all that you knew was that you never wanted him to let go. 

-----

After the hug, his next target were your hands. 

Although Spencer was keenly aware of just how many germs the human hand picked up throughout the day, he was determined to overcome his aversion. You were clean and had good hygiene habits, he knew that. He had been hugging you every time he saw you since that first night, how much more difficult could holding your hand be?

It was during a movie he wasn’t really paying attention to that he finally made his move. Lately, his go-to move during movies was to carefully put his arm around you and rest his hand on your shoulder. He was completely comfortable with that movement now and really thought nothing of it anymore. He could tell that you enjoyed it as well, so he was more than happy to oblige you and suggest a movie night as often as possible. 

Tonight, however, he had different ideas. He purposely kept his arm at his side for the first half of the film, and he knew that you noticed. Truthfully, you had come to expect the motion now and were slightly disappointed when it didn’t happen as soon as the opening credits started to roll, but it wasn’t long until you figured out why.

You thought it was an accident at first. You had both of your hands resting in your lap and had your eyes focused on the movie when you felt it. The lightest, softest brush of skin against your own. Your hand twitched involuntarily and you silently cursed yourself for probably scaring him away. But, a minute or so later, it happened again. Still soft, still tentative, but it lingered. 

You stealthily flicked your gaze down to your lap and saw Spencer’s hand hovering just slightly over your own. You weren’t entirely sure what he was aiming for, but you kept your hand deathly still while you waited. His hand finally came to rest on your thigh and the side of his palm rested lightly against your own. You watched as his pinkie brushed up over the back of your hand, then another finger, and another, and another, until his whole hand was on top of yours. You opened the spaces between your fingers in hopes that he would lace his own through, and you weren’t disappointed. His fingers slid between yours like butter and you felt him squeeze your palm and slowly caress the back of your hand with his thumb. 

It was your idea to shuffle closer to him, lift his arm with your hands still intertwined, and loop it over your shoulder. He glanced over to you, smiled, and squeezed your hand again.

You wished you had picked a longer movie. Truthfully, so did he. 

-----

The idea of kissing you was terrifying. 

Spencer had kissed and been kissed before, but it wasn’t a common occurrence and it hadn’t ever been with someone he truly cared about. It was one thing for two body parts to come together in what science called a kiss, it was a whole other thing for that kiss to mean something. The last thing Spencer wanted was for him to screw up a potentially important moment in your relationship because he was hesitant or overly paranoid. 

He also had no idea how to know when the “right” moment was, if there was such a thing. Hugging was easy now, holding your hand was routine - he could do those at really any time, in any location, in any circumstance, and it wouldn’t be considered awkward or weird - but kissing was different. It was intimate, it was private, and it required more thought. 

It had taken him weeks, but he finally had a plan in mind. It was elaborate and detailed - as most of Spencer’s ideas were - and he knew exactly what he was going to say and do leading up to the moment.

However, what he wasn’t betting on was the sudden, overwhelming, spontaneous desire that came over him one evening while you were sitting in his apartment. You hadn’t been doing anything out of the ordinary; you had gone out to dinner, walked back to his place, and had plans to spend the rest of the night talking, maybe doing a puzzle or playing a game, and then you would go home like you always did. 

But it was something about the way you laughed after he told you a funny story that happened at work that day. It was the way your eyes locked on his every time he spoke, and the way you looked so intensely interested in every single thing he was saying, even if you didn’t understand all of it. It was the way you leaned into him when he pointed out something in a book he was holding, and the way he could smell your shampoo - vanilla with a hint of lavender - when you got close to him. It was the way your hand rested lovingly on his back while he read a passage to you and the way you absentmindedly twirled your hair as you listened. 

He needed to kiss you, and he needed to do it immediately. 

He didn’t care that it didn’t fit into his plan, he didn’t care that it wasn’t exactly what he pictured, and he didn’t care that he hadn’t prepared himself for it. The only thing he could think of was the shape of your lips and his intense need to know what they felt like on his own. 

So, he went for it.

It wasn’t slow, it wasn’t subtle, and it was probably the messiest thing he had ever done. He put the book down on the table, looked over at you, grabbed the sides of your face and pulled you to him. You were initially frozen in shock - the last thing you had expected that night was for Spencer to kiss you, let alone like this - but you could feel the intensity and desperation as his lips moved over yours, and that was enough to thaw your surprise and trigger your response instinct. You put one hand behind his head and pulled him impossibly closer to you, scooting to the very edge of your seat. 

His hands dropped from your face and landed on the tops of your thighs before he slid them up to your waist and you could feel him start to tug you closer. There was nowhere for you to go other than practically on top of him, and you knew there was no way he wanted you to do that. 

Was there?

As much as it pained you to do so, you momentarily broke the kiss to catch your breath. 

“Wow.”

Spencer chuckled, still gripping your waist. 

“Sorry,” he said, “I guess I just...couldn’t wait anymore.”

“Oh, don’t apologize!” you said, a little too enthusiastically. “It was great, and I wouldn’t have stopped you, it’s just...”

Spencer studied you, and brought one hand up to the side of your face again.

“Just, what?”

“It’s nothing, I guess I just wondered - I mean, I wasn’t sure how far you wanted to...you know...go. I don’t want you to feel like you need to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

Spencer smiled, and you felt him tug you closer again. You gave him a questioning look, and he nodded.

“C’mere,” he said. “It’s okay.”

You tentatively stood and took a step closer to him before he gently guided you down until you were straddling his lap. You exhaled a breath of nerves as you seated yourself and brought your hands up to rest on his shoulders.

“You don’t need to worry,” he said. “I’m not going to push things any further tonight. But, right now, I would really like to keep kissing you. It’ll help me get comfortable with it. Repetition of an action you’re uncomfortable with is proven to retrain your mind in how you view the action.”

You grinned. “Is that the only reason you’d like to keep kissing me? To prove a scientific fact?”

“It’s more like a psychological fact. You see, in moments of intense satisfaction or pleasure, the brain releases something called dopamine which causes -”

You didn’t give him a chance to finish before you leaned in and kissed him again. 

The psychological facts could wait.

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

[astaroth1357]

Demigod MC Series: Athena

So. I have to deal with the virgin goddesses… By mythos, there really shouldn't ever be children of Artemis, Hestia, or Athena (yes, Athena was a virgin goddess). PJ got past that by making it canon that Annabeth and her siblings were born from cracking open Athena's skull (yes, that's also more or less the canon explanation). They gloss over it real quick but I remember, Rick. I've always remembered and that mental image has haunted me for years...

I can't, in good conscience, ignore the history around Athena's worship (call it an academic restraint) but I REFUSE to do the skull thing. So, since I make the rules here, I'm going with magic adoption. They still get magic powers, they're just more human than demigod. Cool? Cool.

Demigod MC Series: Intro, Aphrodite, Hermes, Hades, Dionysus, Demeter, Athena

Lucifer

The human that popped out of the portal seemed to have enough sense not to attack everyone in the room for a change, but even Lucifer could tell that was more of a strategic choice than for lack of ability...

Their very existence was highly unusual… and quite worrisome. He wasn't even aware Athena could have "children" of her own, but apparently she had been taking in some particularly bright humans to raise and train like her own...

Unbeknownst to him, a surprising amount of human scholars, diplomats, and generals have her to thank for their trade… and that alone should speak to the level of intrigue at play here. 

Was this an accident or Athena's attempt to plant an Olympian spy in the Devildom too…? Either way, he didn't trust them from the get go…

Look, Lucifer isn’t stupid. Athena is a goddess of Wisdom and War and war happens on more than just the battlefield… 

Since they've shown up records have been going missing, official documents keep getting misplaced, and he swears that there's some kind of bug in the student council room...!

It's infuriating watching the MC suck up to Diavolo when he's almost certain that they're running their own agenda behind the scenes! And he can't prove any of it!! They cover their tracks too well!

Lucifer has one of those corkboards covered in newspapers and string in a secret wing of the Castle - 100% dedicated to just tracking the MC's activities…. The longer they're there, the more obsessed he becomes...

He swears between Simeon, Solomon, and MC he feels like a shepherd wondering why the sheep are growling… The Devildom has never been in more danger than it is right now... Send help.

Mammon

To be honest, he kind of thought that they were just going to be Satan 2.0 but that's not really true.

They're more than just a book sponge! Though they do read, like a lot. Let’s just say from one schemer to another… Game recognizes Game.

They come up with plans and ideas soooo fast, it’s insane! Honestly, there are times where he has a new money-making plot and he just brings it to the MC first to run it over. 

Nine times out of ten, not only do they sniff out any problems but they have a solution for him in a matter of minutes! His scheme game has been on point since they’ve shown up!!

They’re also even better tutoring than Satan is, so he’s even managed to get a couple A’s for the first time in his life! Lucifer actually told him he was proud (which he secretly recorded and now uses as a ringtone much to his brother’s regret...)

So yeah, he likes them... buuut that doesn’t keep him from thinking they act a little weird sometimes... 

Mammon: *points to a unused tower close to the RAD building* Over there is the Tower of Sorrow. We use it for storage.

MC: Ah. Interesting… *starts writing in a notebook, muttering* It may need a few minor tweaks but the location is defensible...

Mammon: *stops* Ya say somethin’?

MC: *looks back up* Nope! Say, you’ve been to the Castle a lot haven’t you? Do you know any good ways in?

Mammon: Uhm… Why do ya want to know that…? *starts looking around for Lucifer*

MC: In case of emergencies. I like being prepared. 🙂

Mammon: Look, I don’t know what Lucifer might’a told ya…

MC: I’ll pay you a thousand Grimm for it.

Mammon: Well shit, ya want those maps with or without color?

... Yeeeah, that’s pretty weird… But it’s probably fine. I mean, as long as they keep giving him money, who’s he to complain? 🤷‍♀️

Leviathan

Also thought that they’d be a lot more like Satan but was pleasantly surprised that they were into more than books.

What else did they like exactly? Military strategy!!

It’s been a looong time since he’s been able to talk to someone who’s actually interested in all the battles he’s fought, both in the Celestial Realm and the Devildom, and their curiosity is kind of flattering...! Not a lot of people take his strategic prowess all that seriously anymore...

Plus, they are the BEST partner to have any turn-based strategy game. Hands down. He once got stuck on a level of D-COM for weeks until the MC walked in and mopped the floor with the AI!! They have a serious head for probability and tactics.

The House once made the mistake of letting these two be on the same team during a Hell Game and they absolutely demolished the competition. Mammon didn’t even get a single shot off before half his team was lost to a rigged paint grenade… It took a whole day to clean up… 

However, Levi’s also noticed some odd things about the human… He likes that they’re interested in his past but maybe they’re a little… too interested?

Levi: -and that’s how we defeated the Four Horsemen before they escaped from Purgatory. 

MC: Wow, Levi that’s seriously impressive!! *furiously scribbling on a notebook*

Levi: Well t-thanks… 😅 But, uhm... are you writing that down…?

MC: Hm? Oh no, just doodling. *they lift up the notebook to show a bunch of cute little sketches on the page… and not the magic-based invisible ink all over them…*

Levi: Oh you draw too? Can you do fanart???

MC: Eh, sometimes. But say Levi, can you tell me about your naval ranks again? I’m still really curious… *gets the pen ready again with a smile*

Satan

Oh, it's been a long game of cat-and-mouse between these two… and unfortunately, it’s been pretty addicting too.

He honestly had every intention of tricking the human into making a huge mess do he could bother Lucifer, but at every turn they proved just a hair too clever for him...

He once gave them a cursed book to “lend” to Lucifer, but they saw through it the moment they touched it and lifted the spell before handing it over.

He rigged a podium to spray glitter during one of Lucifer's speeches but the MC disconnected the trigger mic before he even got on stage. It was pretty dang frustrating...

At one point he got so desperate that, just as a test, he tried to trap them in the House's Music Room. Fortunately for them, it only took a few minutes to work out an escape. They even passed by him in the hallway with a wink!

It's confounding! It's infuriating!! 

...and it's so damn sexy... He should be furious but he’s just in awe!!

Add on that they know their art, literature, and multiple different crafts thanks to the tutelage of their adopted mother and that’s it. He’s finished. This boy is in love.

Truthfully though, a part of him is 90% sure that they’re also gathering state secrets… Like, they’re watching Barbs and Diavolo far too close for comfort - but he just can't bring himself to care. 🤷‍♀️

The MC could walk into his room one day and say, "Hey, do you want to help overthrow the monarchy with me?" and he dreads it because deep down he knows that he wouldn’t say no…

Take some notes, kids. Some bad influences get you to drink or do drugs. Others pull you into a centuries long conspiracy to destabilize and topple rival realms from within… But he has fallen for their brain hard. Devil help them all…

Asmodeus 

They’re pretty clever, he’ll give them that, but uh… Are they a little off to anybody else?

Asmo is a charmer by birthright so he has a bit of nose for when someone’s just a liiittttle too nice… Not much of a nose mind you, because he can be thrown off by compliments himself, but enough to think that the MC might be a little too… “kind” for their own good...

First off, who wants to spend that much time with Levi?? They don’t even seem that interested in anime! They just keeping asking him for old war stories…

Then all the sucking up they do to Diavolo and Barbatos? Look, he gets it. Diavolo is a delicious piece of man-hunk and his butler could give him a lesson or two in sweet-talk (and he has), but they seem to be just a little too… nosy.

Of course, Asmo’s suspicions disappear pretty quickly after they start to spoil him with spa nights and beauty secrets they picked up from “casual research” into the subject.

And you know, get a little Demonus in Asmo and start massaging his back? Oh, sweetie he’ll sing like a bird!! … with gossip. Singing with gossip.

Asmo: So I’ve heard that Lucifer has been spending more time at RAD than usual… His whole club is talking about it, they think he’s meeting with some witch!

MC: Hm, is that so? *works on a knot near his shoulder blades* What do you think?

Asmo: Ooh~! Right there, MC! *purrs and lays his head on his arms* Well come on, this is Lucifer we’re talking about! I’m sure he’s just working.

Asmo: Hmm... though come to think of it, I think I heard him asking Barbatos for the spare keys to the Tower of Sorrow…

MC: Oh really? Huh. *works out the knot and gets up* I just remembered that I left some papers with Satan... I’ll be right back.

Asmo: You’re going already??

MC: *waves him off quickly* I’ll be right back, Asmo. *hurries out the door to do totally on-the-up-and-up things… surely*

Beelzebub 

Honestly he doesn't like this one… But not for the reasons you'd expect.

He agrees with everyone else that they seem a little shady, but Solomon and Simeon are too so it's not like that's anything new... 🤷‍♀️

No, no. He dislikes them because they're the person who FINALLY figured out how to keep him from eating all the food in the kitchen!!

Turns out that the trick was to put a teleportation charm on the fridge door that would send all the food away if it’s opened after a certain time of night… 

And where does it go? The Purgatory Hall fridge. And where does the Purgatory Hall food go…? The HoL fridge…

It doesn’t sound so bad until you remember that it means half of their fridge is now Solomon’s leftovers…. 🤢

After they put the same kind of spell on the pantry, it was all over… He couldn't get midnight snacks from the House anymore… Everything was contaminated by Solomon…

The MC is a nice enough person, he doesn’t have a lot of complaints about them, but he wants them to leave. Now. This is inexcusable… He’s so hungry… and he doesn’t want to die by “goulash” or whatever Solomon calls his latest culinary catastrophe… He’s still too young for death… 😓

Belphegor 

In a way, he absolutely could not have asked for a better person to help him get out of that attic.

… In another way, he got one of the worst possible people to try and kill... Like. They saw through his scheme sooo fast…

How was he supposed to know that the human had training in body language and sniffing out lies???

Getting the door open was a piece of cake for them. They knew enough magic to undo the seals and just rummaged around Lucifer's stuff long enough to find the key to the door. He could not have found a more competent individual for a break out, really.

It’s just… well he didn’t expect to go from locked in a room like a prisoner to tied up in enchanted rope, still like a prisoner but now mobile. 😑 

They even used his own hug ruse against him! They caught his wrists when they got close and tied him up before he could shake them off...

Admittedly, it wasn't exactly the best look for them either - what with walking Belphegor downstairs to the others like a one-man-prison-caravan but they're as silver-tongued as they are sly so they talked their way out of it beautifully… 

And like hell was he going to trust them after that!! And not even Beel liked them so something had to be up...

Well, you want a detective? Look no farther than Belphie (no seriously, it’s in the canon). He can put things together pretty fast when he puts his mind to it and watching the MC for a while gave him enough proof to work off of...

He always knew that, humans were bad news and the MC just proved it to him all over again. They are bad news, bad bad news and they’re going to-!

Overthrow… Diavolo…? Is that what he is getting from them…? Huh…

Wait a second, MC. You might just have him interested… 😏

[honeypiehotchner]

you’re still a traitor (Hotch x Fem!Reader) — one shot

This is all angst because my brain wanted to write something based off “traitor” by Olivia Rodrigo 🤭🤭🤭

Warnings: angst, mentions of sex, mentions of excessive drinking as a coping mechanism, no happy ending (and no there won’t be a part 2 soz)

Hotch Masterlist || Main Masterlist

brown guilty eyes and little white lies i played dumb but i always knew

Your relationship with Hotch wasn’t even a real relationship. Not in hindsight, at least. At the heart of it, though, as it was happening, it felt real. It felt more real than anything you had ever experienced.

Nothing was glorified, over-exaggerated, or unnecessary. You’ve always been a straight-to-the-point person, and so has he, so it struck neither of you by surprise when you began spending nights together on cases.

The tension between the two of you had always been high from the day you started at the BAU. He blames it on the skirt you wore to the interview. You blame it on the way he looked you up and down every chance he got.

No wonder he didn’t look surprised to find you on the other side of his hotel room door.

That first night you had said something stupid, something about the girls being lame and going to bed early. But the truth was that they were raiding the minibar, and as much as you wanted to join them, you wanted to see Hotch more.

You knew he didn’t sleep much. It wasn’t hard to conclude, not with his recent divorce, late hours, entire pots of coffee to himself, and dark circles under his eyes.

Not to mention, of course, the small throw pillow and blanket that magically appeared on the couch in his office one day.

You weren’t surprised when he opened the hotel room door, still fully dressed, minus his jacket. You were barely a fourth of a way through your explanation for turning up at his door when he pulled you inside, lips bruising yours and hands gripping your skirt.

To him, it was always the damn skirt.

That night was the first of many. No one knew. No one knows now. Hotch continued to book you a room of your own, and you continued to spend your nights in his bed.

You mastered the art of sneaking to his room after everyone was in, and sneaking back to yours before anyone woke up.

Occasionally, you’d stay back at the BAU until everyone had left, just to spend a moment more with Hotch.

loved you at your worst but that didn’t matter

No one knows this, but you’re the reason his dark circles left. The reason he didn’t stay as late anymore. Because you always coaxed him away, wanting dinner, or even just company as you walked to your car (where you’d then ask for dinner, or rightfully point out that he’s already at the parking garage, so he might as well go home).

Dinner one night turned into almost every night, except when he had Jack. Sleeping in his bed once became almost every night, except when Jack wanted to spend the night.

A label was never spoken about, but you never felt the need to speak about it. As far as you were concerned, you were the only one he was sleeping with and vice versa. Why did a label matter?

That’s what you told yourself, at least. Labels didn’t matter to you. Exclusivity is all that mattered, and you had that. You thought.

You had suspected Hotch started seeing someone else. But all you had was a gut feeling, and a feeling isn’t enough evidence.

i kept quiet so i could keep you

Soon it wasn’t just a feeling. Soon Hotch didn’t want to go to dinner anymore because he was leaving earlier than you — earlier than anyone else. Soon he started actually leaving for lunch on his lunch hour, and that’s when the rumors started swarming.

“Okay,” Garcia ushered everyone over in the bullpen. “Is. Hotch. Dating?”

Rossi chuckled. “I. Don’t. Know.”

Morgan shook his head. “Nah, that sounds like he knows something.”

“Not really,” you shrugged. “Why do we think he’s dating someone?”

“Are you kidding me?” Garcia gasped. “He just left the building on his lunch hour! I’ve never seen him leave for lunch the entire time I’ve been here.”

“Me either,” JJ agreed, to your horror.

“Maybe it’s just something with Jack,” you shrugged again, not even aware of your defensive tone.

Prentiss narrowed her eyes. “Do you know something?”

“What?” You blurted, eyes wide. “No? Am I supposed to?”

“Answering a question with a question,” Reid pointed out lowly.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” you said. You grimace, thinking about it now, but you didn’t have any energy then to know it was rude. Or to care.

You were paranoid. Horrified. You were in Hotch’s bed two nights ago, and now he was leaving on his lunch hour, and you had no idea what for. All signs pointed right where the rest of the team was thinking, but the thought made you sick.

So sick that the next night, when you found yourself once again in Hotch’s bed, you brought it up.

You tried to be nonchalant. You don’t know where it went wrong.

ain’t it funny? remember i brought her up and you told me i was paranoid

“How was lunch yesterday?”

His eyebrows furrowed. Something you used to gaze at in awe, but in that moment it made you panic. “Lunch?”

“Yeah,” you murmured. “You left for lunch and the whole team thought something was up.”

He merely hummed. Hummed. That was his reply.

“Emily thought I knew where you went,” you continued, tracing circles on your arm. Normally, you’d trace circles on his chest, but that felt wrong all of the sudden. “I told them I didn’t and they didn’t believe me.”

He chuckled quietly. “I went to lunch. That’s all.”

“With who?” You asked, far too quickly. Maybe that was your mistake. You were too accusatory too fast.

“Did it have to be with someone?” He retaliated, and looking back now, you see this moment here, this was the downfall.

“I mean,” you paused. “You normally stay in your office if you’re eating alone. I figured if you left then you were going to meet someone.”

“Oh.”

You hesitated. “Did you?”

“Yes,” he finally said, ripping the Band-Aid off once and for all. “Her name is Beth. But we’re just friends.”

You nodded. “You sure?”

He turned on his side then, facing you with his head propped on his arm. “Why are you asking?”

“Because I’m curious.”

“You’re never curious.”

“You never leave the office to meet someone for lunch.” Especially not a woman, unless for whatever reason, Haley wants to have lunch and brings Jack, but the last time that happened was seven months ago, back when they were still trying to be friends after the divorce.

“I’m allowed to meet friends for lunch.”

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” you replied, probably too harshly. “I just meant...I don’t know what I meant.”

you gave me your word but that didn’t matter

Weeks passed by and you watched Hotch leave every now and again to have lunch with Beth. He never explicitly told you that it was Beth he was meeting every single time, but you knew. You always knew.

Because the look he’d give you as he’d close his office door, phone in hand no doubt to send a text to her, letting her know he was on his way. The look he’d give you said it all.

You knew the end was coming. Truthfully, you knew the end of the two of you was coming from the first day he met her for lunch.

You had never seen him as happy as he looked when he came back. And with every lunch date, it got worse.

Yet, for some reason, he still invited you over. And for some reason, you still agreed without hesitation.

February came and your heart broke with it.

You knocked on Hotch’s office door, bag in hand, the question of dinner on your hopeful lips.

“Can we talk?” He asked, speaking before you had a second to breathe.

You nodded, stepped inside to your demise, not even bothering to sit down. You knew it wouldn’t take long, and it didn’t.

Two sentences. That’s all it took.

“I don’t think what we’re doing is something I want long-term — for me or for you. I think it’s best if we go our separate ways.”

For me or for you. He was always thinking of your well-being. It always annoyed you.

“Okay,” you had said, cracking a small smile to hide the pain. “Fun while it lasted, right?”

“Right,” he agreed. “Well, have a good night. See you tomorrow.”

You couldn’t hold the tears in and they flowed freely before you were even out of the bullpen. You were thankful everyone had left. Imagine the explanation you would’ve had to conjure up. The web of lies he would’ve forced you to spin in five seconds.

Instead, you had to spin an entirely new web. All to explain why you weren’t sleeping, why you were drinking more, why you looked like you had cried all night the next day (you said it was allergies and insomnia; Morgan was the only skeptical one, but he let it go).

it took you two weeks to go off and date her

The real ending came when Valentine’s Day arrived. You were foolish to think he’d spend it with you, but you still did.

The jet landed back in Virginia after a long case, and you thought for sure Hotch would tap you on the way off of the jet, ask you to dinner, then back to his place, just like you did last year.

But he had made plans. With Beth.

You were delusional to think otherwise, but still, his smile cut right through you when he told Rossi he had plans.

guess you didn’t cheat but you’re still a traitor

Derek, Emily, and Penelope wanted to go out for drinks and you were the first to agree, ready to forget the past year of your life.

Thankfully, you didn’t spill any secrets while drunk. You did confess to going through a breakup, but not with Hotch. No one will ever know it was Hotch. The “he” in question will forever remain a mystery to them.

Meanwhile, you watched Hotch fall deeper and deeper in love. He decided to run a triathlon, and he trained every morning -- with her. He left for lunch almost every day to go eat -- with her. He never stayed late, he always had plans -- with her.

He hardly ever spoke to you anymore. And you never spoke to him.

It became an unspoken agreement for you to leave finished paperwork on his desk without a word (if he was in there) or better yet, to drop it off while he’s at lunch.

You sleep in the hotel room furthest from his every case.

The seats next to him on the jet are off-limits and you’ve even gone to make a shitty cup of shitty coffee before to avoid him (and everyone knows you hate the coffee on the jet).

You somehow managed to never meet or hear about Beth until the triathlon — and you were apparently the only one who hadn’t met her yet.

Jack hugged her immediately that day. He had already warmed up to her and it made you want to claw your heart out.

Beth is nice. Beth is an angel. Beth is older, prettier, everything you knew Hotch wanted and wasn’t getting from you.

She shook your hand with a smile, none the wiser to the fact that you’ve slept with Hotch more times than you can remember. That your heart belongs to him even though you don’t want it to. Even though you want it back.

now you bring her around just to shut me down show her off like she’s a new trophy

Once you met Beth, it seemed like she was everywhere. Visiting the office, bringing Hotch lunch, bringing Jack in to visit, having coffee with Hotch in the cafe you used to frequent, at Rossi’s for family dinner nights. Everywhere.

Worst of all, at JJ and Will’s wedding.

You weren’t the only one to show up without a date, yet you felt like it. Especially when Hotch arrived with Beth on his arm, glowing like always, with Jack holding onto his hand.

You avoided Hotch all night — Beth too, but mostly him — yet he somehow managed to find you alone in the kitchen.

The wine was your saving grace of the night, and he happened to walk in as you were pouring another.

“I can hear your liver screaming from here.”

A poor attempt at a joke, really. Maybe it was funny. But you didn’t laugh. “I’ll survive” was your dry reply before downing half the glass.

His face looked softer, but you know now it was the wine in your system.

“You look good,” he had said. “How are you doing?”

You stared at him. “Fine. Thanks.”

You don’t know why he kept trying to have a conversation with you. You felt insufferable and you see now that you were, but it’s all his fault.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

You chuckled dryly. “Not with you.” You paused. “How’s Beth?” Paused again, this time to bring the wine glass to your lips. “How’s a real relationship working out for you?”

Hotch’s face fell. “What we had was real. You know that.”

“I know it was,” you replied. “But do you? Do you really?”

He didn’t answer. His silence was all you needed.

and i know if you were true there’s no damn way that you could fall in love with somebody that quickly

You left him standing there in the kitchen without another word. You had nothing left to say to him, and he clearly ran out of words for you.

Derek found you halfway to the dance floor.

“Woah, I don’t like that look,” he said, taking the wine from you. “What’s going through that pretty head of yours?”

“Nothing,” you lied. “Let’s dance instead. Come on.”

You drug him away, meeting Penelope and Emily for the next song. You danced, you cried, you blamed the tears on the alcohol in your system. You slow danced with Emily, Derek, Rossi, narrowly avoided Hotch by swinging into Spencer’s fumbling arms.

No one knew. No one would ever know.

you betrayed me

[clairecrive]

Hello beautiful person! Do you take requests which ask you to write a second chapter for your writings? If you do, may I ask a second chapter for "Rare"? And if you don't could you please let me know so I can be careful for another time when I ask a request?

I hope this is not something that disturbes or irritates you. I love your writing, it is beautiful and sometimes I read your pieces over and over again. 😁

Thanks for blessing us with your writing. Have a nice day.💕

A/n: First of all anon, thank you so very much for your sweet words! They mean the world to me <3 Also, your request could never irritate me! I love them and I love the fact that you consider me half a decent writer enough to send me your thoughts <3 I'm sorry it took me so long to get around this but I hope you like this and are still around to read it x

I've decided to pair it with a request for juicy time with Eddie. there's no actual smut but it's suggestive let's say.

Warnings: bit of angst, fluff,

Word count: 2.4K

Tags: @mollybegger-blog, @evelynshelby, @br0ck-eddie, @fandom--0verdose, @shadow-of-wonder, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @sopxhiea, @fuseburner, @for-bebbanburg, @crazyclownchick ( fill in this form to be added to my taglist)

Part 1

TOM HARDY MASTERLIST

You weren't exactly new to heartbreak. You had been a teenager after all but your experience with adult relationships had not been that good either.

You knew that you'd be over Eddie even if it may take you some time. It's true that you had only been dating for a few months but you had really grown attached to him. It was one of the things you hated about yourself: the way you got attached way too soon, way too much.

Especially, in this case, seeing as Eddie hadn't been 100% in it in the beginning you had hoped that the more time you'd spend together, he'd see that you weren't so bad and that he'd grow to care for you. At least a little bit.

Turns out you were wrong.

As much as you hated being wrong, the thing that hurt you the most was that despite your best efforts, Eddie still didn't think you were enough for him. And how could you be when the benchmark was perfect Anne?

You stood no chance. You had been a fool for even trying. And now you were experiencing the burn for your foolishness.

This had happened often enough that you had developed a routine for dealing with heartbreak:

1) crying your heart out and indulging your sadness with whatever helped (mostly comfort food and Friends)

2) enough with indulging, it was time to pick yourself up. No more overeating although you still allowed yourself to cry if you felt like it

3) "I don't need him anyway" phase where you'd make a mental list of how your life was before and after whoever you had broken up with to remind you that they weren't as important as you made them out to be

4)"put yourself out there again" phase where you started going out again with the intention of meeting new people or simply having a good time.

As of this time, you were in phase 3. You noticed that there were some of Eddie's things littering around your apartment. So, you picked up a box and collected them with the intention of returning them to him, effectively closing this chapter. As you did, you made that aforementioned list. This time, with the added reason for your break up, it was a bit easier to remind you why breaking up had been the right decision.

When your hands closed on your favourite hoodie of his though, you couldn't help the pang in your heart as a flood of memories hit you.

You and Eddie doing a Friends marathon every Friday night.

Eddie giving this hoodie when you were sick because he knew how much you liked it.

Eddie taking the hoodie off for a whole other reason almost ripping it...

No.

Shaking your head, you pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the task at hand.

Enough of that. It was over.

It was only a week later that you finally got the time to come around Eddie's apartment. Sure, you could have called him, he could have come himself to pick them up or you could have dropped them at his job but that would have required you to call him. And recalling how that went last time you tried to reach him you decided you'd spare yourself the humiliation of him not ghosting you again.

Taking a deep breath, you straightened your shoulders and knocked on his door.

"Y/n." You were met with a dishevelled Eddie.

He looked like shit but what's new with him. He also looked very surprised to see you at his door and you also couldn't blame it for that. You would have reacted the same way if the roles were reversed.

"Hi, Eddie," you hated your treacherous voice that wobbled when you spoke. Clearing your voice, you tried again.

"Sorry to come here unannounced. I've found some of your stuff in my apartment and I thought you'd like to have them back." You explained as you handed him the box, his eyes taking it in for the first time.

"Oh," he paused as he considered your words. Was that disappointment in his voice? "Thank you, y/n. You shouldn't have." He smiled weakly as he took the box from you, your fingers touching briefly.

"It's not a problem, Eddie. I was just passing by anyway." You and Eddie actually lived far from each other. The truth is that there was no reason for you to be in this part of town if it wasn't for him. Eddie knew that but he was kind enough not to point that out.

He just nodded, accepting your words as he held the box close to his chest.

You awkwardly stared at each other for a while, you didn't know what to say but neither of you wanted to end this exchange quite yet. When you felt that you had been standing like a fool in front of your ex's door, you went to leave but Eddie beat you to it.

"So how have you been?" Your first reaction was to scoff at this attempt of small talk. Neither of you was very good at it. And truthfully, it was rich coming from someone who had not made any effort to keep in contact with you even before your breakup.

The scroll of your shoulders was the only answer Eddie got. You weren't in the mood to pretend nor did you want him to know how you were still suffering for him.

"I should ask that to you." You reverted the question to him. He really didn't look well.

"yeah, it's been a rough couple of weeks," he confessed scratching the back of his head.

"That, I don't find it hard to believe," you hummed as your eyes took him in, really took him in since you knocked at his door. You could also see behind him that his apartment was a mess.

"Yeah, don't have to worry about me though. I'm fine."

"Of course." You nodded at his dismissal, remembering harshly the situation you were in."Well, I'm going to go now. Take care." Cold but still polite you turn around, ready to put this -Eddie and this exchange- behind you.

"Y/n, wait!" he called when you were about to climb down the staircase. "Do you want to have a drink or something?" Stay for a while? he meant but didn't dare to say.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Eddie." You called over your shoulder, hand still on the railing.

"Please, I owe you an explanation." You didn't know if it was the desperate note in his voice or the fact that he really looked like shit but you turned around almost convinced.

"Don't you think it's too late for that, Eddie?"

"Maybe it won't change anything between us but you deserve to know." You knew Eddie and you knew how much he cared about transparency and honesty. This may not mean that you were going to get back together but he was right, you deserved an explanation.

"Okay," you agreed as you walked back and then into his apartment. Eddie closed the door behind him and set the box he was still holding down behind the coat hanger.

The sneak peek you had before was definitely right: Eddie's apartment was even messier than usual.

"Why does it look like a tornado hit your home?" You couldnìt help but point out. You knew Eddie wasn't that bothered by tidiness but this too much even by his standards.

"That would be my fault," a new voice answered you.

At first, you didn't register the difference in tone or accent even though you should have had because Eddieìs voice wasnìt that low or raspy. But then a black tendril entered your vision field catching your attention making you turning your head to better inspect it.

What.the.fuck??

"Eddie?" You asked perplexed, eyes fixed on this thing? even if you were addressing Eddie.

"Y/n meet Venom, Venom meet y/n." He gestured awkwardly with his hands.

"It's so nice to meet you, Eddie's always thinking about you, you know? It's a bit annoying." this time the voice didn't come from a tendril but a face. A fucking alien face with long sharp teeth and wide white eyes.

His words went straight over your head. How the fuck was this true? What were you even seeing? Did this thing come from Eddie's body??

"Fuck, I know I'm heartbroken but now I'm even seeing things?"

"Y/n," Eddie tried to get your attention. You thought you had only thought that but apparently, you had spoken the words. "You're not seeing things, this is part of the explanation I owe you."

"I think it's better if you sit," he said motioning to his couch when you did nothing but stare at Venom. Prompting by Eddie though, you sat down and listened as he spoke.

He told you everything. About Carton Drake about his project with aliens, about Venom and their rather troubled relationship. He even explained how Anne had got involved and how she and Danny had helped him.

It was definitely a lot to take in. But somehow, the thought that he could be lying to you never crossed your mind. The proof was right in front of you, wasn't it? Venom, as he had introduced himself, stood next to Eddie while he spoke. It had never spoken again and you were inwardly thankful for that. That he was giving you space to digest all of this.

"Why didn't you tell me when you came around that day, Eddie?" You asked once you thought you had wrapped your head around it.

"I didn't want you to drag you into this mess," he said with a shrug, head cast down he didn't meet your eyes.

You didn't know how you felt about all of this yet but you nodded anyway. Well, there was nothing you could do anymore, could you? He had already taken care of everything on his own and it wasn't like you had any right to worry about him anymore.

"Thank you for explaining, Eddie. I appreciate your honesty." Did this change anything for you?

"I'm sorry if I ever made you feel like you weren't enough of if Anne meant more to me than you did. That's not true but I didn't know how to tell you that without telling you what was happening." He nervously fiddled with his fingers without meeting your eyes.

You could see his point now that you knew what happened. Still, it hurt you that he decided to just keep you out of it without a word. He could have at least told you that something was going on, that he didn't or couldn't tell you anything - not right now. You would have understood and given him space. Did he really act like this to keep you safe or was it a way to dismiss you?

"I don't know if this changes things, Eddie. You still turned up to her when a major life-threatening event happened. I think this tells me everything that I need to know." You point out after a while, eyes fixed on the end of your shoes.

"She has been involved from the moment we broke up, Y/n. Hell, this was the reason we broke up in the first place." Eddie's head snapped up at your words. He looked surprised at your words like he couldn't believe that you thought Anne's involvement had been something he had actively sought out.

"That may as well be true, Eddie but still, you didn't tell me even after everything settled down. If I hadn't come around to give you your stuff I still would be none the wiser."

"I was afraid, y/n. How could I come back to you after how much I had hurt you? 'Sorry if I went m.i.a. for a while, I was infected with a parasite who knows permanently with me?' Come on, y/n, I wouldn't take me back either." Now upset, Eddie started to gesticulate frantically to prove his point. His eyes flickered between yours, he leaned toward you, his hands a touch away from yours as if he wanted to touch you but was preventing himself from doing so.

"I'm not saying I would have believed you straight away but still- aliens are way better than self-loathing you know?" You scoff at him- why was he so upset? He wasn't the one who had been beating himself up since that fight for being a worthless piece of shit, was he?

"I know I've never done a good job at showing you but I do care about you. Deeply." Almost as if he couldn't bear to not be touching you any longer, Eddie now reached for your hands. His hold on them tightening as he spoke the words.

You looked at him for a moment. Aside from that fight, your relationship with him had been good. The start wasn't promising, seeing as he was still taken by Anne but Eddie had treated you good. He was attentive and caring in his own way. Looking back to it now, you realized that the period where you started feeling him pulling back from you was the time when this whole alien thing had started.

But now you had settled this, right? So, could this mean...

"If I give you one more chance to show you," you spoke tentatively, enthralled by the twinkle in his eyes, "do you promise me to be fully transparent with me this time around?"

"What? Why would you do that?" He looked shocked but his eyes were hopeful.

"Are you trying to talk me out of it, Eddie?" You challenged him, arching an eyebrow.

"Like hell I am." He scoffed, a smile on his lips. "Nono, of course I do. I swear, y/n. You'll never feel like you don't matter to me again."

"Good." You gave him a small smile at the gobsmacked expression on his face. Oh, Eddie...

He does nothing but stares at you for a while. Like he hadn't seen you in a while and now that you were in front of him, he wanted to commit to his memory every little detail of your face.

"So," you said after a while, "do you plan to stare at me or would you like to get a head start on your promise?" you provoke him with a suggestive tone.

Eddie's mouth fell a little at that, Venom said something to him but you didn't understand him. Shaking his head, Eddie smirks at you.

"I would like nothing more." And with that, Eddie's lips are on yours making up for the lost time.

[flightfoot]

Masaya Has Two Hands

So my older sister really, really wanted me to write a Masaya/Ichigo/Quiche fic, since there seems to be only one in existence and the Tokyo Mew Mew fandom is currently the size of a thimble, so I thought about it for a bit and came up with this!

AO3

-----

Masaya gripped Ichigo’s hand firmly, trying to suppress a blush. Going to the zoo had been his idea - it’d been one of their first dates after all, and the one that’d convinced him he needed to put a bell on his cat. That he never wanted to lose her again.

But there was someone else he wanted to see. Someone who he’d had reservations about at first - mostly because the guy seemed intent on killing him, annoying and flustering Ichigo, and causing mayhem more generally. 

Quiche’s stand against Deep Blue showed him another side to the alien. That he didn’t just want to cause mischief, but genuinely cared for others, for Ichigo especially. To the point that he’d gone against his messiah, putting his life on the line to protect the girl he cared about. 

That passion, that care, kept hidden beneath a mask of meaningless flirtation and irritation, with the full depth of his dedication revealed when he needed to the most… how could he not fall in love with him?

While he loved Ichigo deeply and wanted nothing more than to marry her when they were both old enough (though the mock wedding party the Mews held for them in the Cafe had sated him for now), part of him still longed for the green-haired alien boy.

“You two having a good time?” a familiar voice called out. 

Masaya whipped around, eyes finally resting on a face he’d been missing for the last few months. Ichigo had mentioned his recent return, but he hadn’t seen him yet himself.

“You could’ve invited me, you know,” Quiche continued. “You’re not the only one who enjoys looking at all the different animals.”

Ichigo looked at Masaya, frowning, seeming worried. He could practically hear her pleading in his mind, I didn’t invite him, please don’t be upset at him crashing our date.

“Would you like to join us now?” he suggested. “If Ichigo’s okay with it, of course. We’d planned for it to be just the two of us, but I wouldn’t say no to more company, if it’s you?”

Quiche blinked repeatedly, having trouble processing what Masaya had said. “WHAT?! You’re- you’re okay with that?!”

“If Ichigo is,” he clarified, looking down at his girlfriend. “Truthfully, I’ve- I’ve wanted to spend more time with you for quite awhile. Ever since you stood up to Deep Blue to protect Ichigo, in fact. I’d love to get to know you better, become friends, and maybe…” he was sure his face had turned beet red by now. “Maybe something more.”

Ichigo bit her lip, her face as red as Masaya’s own. “I- I’d like that,” she admitted. “I never thought you’d be okay with it, so I didn’t suggest it, but- but I’ve had dreams of my own, involving both of you. I wouldn’t mind making some of them a reality.”

Oh? He’d have to inquire about those later, maybe they’d match up to some of his own.

Quiche held up his hands, shrugging, seemingly indifferent. Yet the pink in his face betrayed his true feelings as well. “You’re a very strange guy, Masaya, you know that?”

He laughed, putting one arm around Quiche, the other still wrapped firmly around Ichigo. “If being strange means getting to be with the two of you, I don’t think I mind.”

Together, the three of them walked off to view the new Iriomote Cat the zoo had just gotten in, Masaya using all of the skill he’d cultivated over the years in concealing his true emotions, in order to keep a handle on himself. Both his girlfriend and his potential future boyfriend by his sides, as his mind spiralled down rabbit holes of what it’d be like to kiss both of them, how their fangs would tease at his lips as his tongue-

He mentally shook himself. They weren’t that far along yet- well, not him and Quiche anyway, he’d explored that scenario with Ichigo many times before.

But soon… hopefully soon, he’d have two reference points for fanged kisses. He had a type, and that type had pronounced canines.

[goldenkirstein]

i've been on fire, dreaming of you

or alternatively, when both you and jean thought you lost each other

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

anonymous requested: hello there! I love your stuff. if requests are open, may I request a canonverse post-rumbling jean x fem reader where y/n is wounded + passed out from exhaution after the rumbling and wakes up warm and safe, with jean tending to her wounds. Y/n is shocked bc she remembers how she almost lost Jean (she didn't get turned into a titan, maybe she isn't Eldian?) and she just shoots straight up to embrace Jean without realizing the intensity of her wounds. Jean gets extra worried so he has to gently guide her back to lying down on the bed because she has a fever and her injuries aren't all better yet 🥺👉👈 maybe they cuddle afterwards until she falls asleep or smth aaaaaa 🥺 pairing: jean x fem! reader wc: 2.7k+ tags: angst to fluff, cursing, female reader, mentions of death, blood and violence, hints of blasphemy (?), mentions of injuries, aot manga spoilers.

a/n: sorry this took so long, (i was shadowbanned) i changed up the request a teensy bit but otherwise i hope you enjoy !!

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Hot, burning, searing pain is the last thing you remembered before your vision went black.

That and the sight of the man you loved transforming into the one thing you feared the most.

Whether it was the heartache or the open wounds on your body that made you lose consciousness, you don’t know.

Truthfully, you were angry at Jean.

It was a whispered confession on the Azumabito airship. You and Jean sat in the corner, Captain Levi and Pieck in front of you, eyes cast away. The rest sat in silence, reeling from the situation that had played out on the ground below, quietly preparing themselves for the hell that awaited them at Fort Slava.

Jean’s hands were trembling; you would expect that after years of seeing your comrades die at the hands of humans and titans alike, you would get used to the death.

This wasn’t that, though; this was a different fear and anxiousness. Jean’s hands were clammy and his face pale; you could gauge that from one look at the man next to you, whatever worries were bubbling inside him were the accumulation of all the events from the past couple of days.

Jean was a collected man most times; as commanding officer, he didn’t have a choice but to be stoic and calm in the face of danger. But when that facade began to crumble, you would be there to ground him, remind him of why he was fighting. You knew that if you locked eyes at that moment, Jean would be able to see right through the front you were putting up, see the fear etched into your irises as you all were hurtling towards your deaths. So instead, you made the executive decision to swallow that panic and be that rock he needed, offering him your hand.

You took hold of his hand, staring ahead, and squeezed it three times, a reminder for both him and you that at least you still had each other. You could feel his eyes on you after you performed the simple gesture, but you continued to look ahead, focusing on the clouds, knowing that a couple of meters below, havoc was being wreaked by those mindless titan drones.

He said it so faintly, so lightly that you barely heard it past the sounds of the engine reverberating around the metal cabin.

“I’ll love you now and forever, even when I’m a pile of burnt bones.”

It’s like he knew. It was his way of saying goodbye to you. And you ignored him.

You clenched your jaw and pretended that you didn’t hear, pushed it to the back of your mind because this was no place for hushed confessions of love and, even more so, goodbyes. You were sure as hell were not letting Jean say goodbye to you. There would be no reason to, not if you had it your way. The both of you were bound together, and goodbyes were never to be uttered between the both of you.

Even when I’m a pile of burnt bones.

Is that what remains of him now? The muscle, sinew, and skin that pieced Jean together all reduced to ash and soot? The body that you had spent hours tracing, memorizing every detail of scattered in the wind. You would never feel the weight of his body on yours again, be able to graze your fingers over the scars littered on his torso, feel the way his heart would beat against your hands.

Jean Kirstein would only exist in your mind from now on.

He had left you alone with nothing but his memory, but even then, it was plagued by the image of a senseless titan taking the shape of Jean.

You wished to go back and tell him to shut up, never to utter those words again. Tell him to get those foolish notions out of his head, slap your hands over his mouth, silencing him, so that you could continue to live in your deluded reality that both of you would make it out alive. Tell him that he was selfish, of leaving you here to endure this torment by yourself.

Would that stop the scathing agony you were feeling?

Maybe this was hell you were in, you thought. That you were being punished for ignoring him, that you were the foolish one. Perhaps you should’ve held him tight to you, found a way to fold himself into you, so you wouldn’t have to suffer alone. Were you angry at Jean, or was that resentment directed at yourself?

The pain spread from your chest to your arms, down your legs, coursing through your veins.

You should have looked at him, told him that you were just as scared; maybe that could have changed his fate. If only you repeated those words back to him. He would still be here now.

I’ll love you now and forever.

I love him. I love him. I love him.

Bring him back to me.

The silent prayer came from the depths of your heart; whether God or who knows what would hear it, you didn’t know, but the thought of having to live with this ache was enough for you to continue repeating the mantra in your head.

--

Jean looked at your unconscious form that laid next to his seat. If it wasn’t for the gentle rising and falling of your chest, he could have sworn you were dead.

The thought sent a chill down his spine.

Jean had made peace with the fact that he would die when he transformed into a titan. Seeing you, like this, however, barely grasping onto your own life, made his body ache; he was okay with dying, but the thought of having to live without you was a fate worse than death.

He reached over to grab your hand and rubbed his thumb over the back of your palm before grasping it and squeezing it three times. He let go of it, placing it back gently over the top of your torso.

It was time to change your bandages and clean your wounds. Jean was a strong man; he had seen firsthand what a titan could do to one’s body, but his hands quivered as they unwrapped the bloodied bandages from your thigh. One singular thought overcame his mind.

Was he the reason that you were injured this badly? Did he hurt you?

Jean had spent many nights tending to your injuries, his hands careful when it came to you. However, the cuts and gashes he would tenderly patch up would always be inflicted by other humans or titans. Never did he think that his hands would be capable of hurting you. Jean was disgusted with himself as he stared straight ahead at his hands, now covered in blood.

The worst part of this, Jean thought, was that he couldn’t even remember if he was responsible for this, or maybe, that was a blessing. Recalling the situation would drive him into madness. The man winced at the thought of his arms tearing up your body.

He reached over to the tiny side table holding the medical supplies, grabbing the antiseptic solution. Dabbing it on a cloth, he attentively cleaned the wound, instinctively checking for your reaction. You would always make a fuss when he would apply it, but Jean averted his eyes once he realized that there was no reaction from your comatose form.

Usually, he would scold you when you would pull back from his hands when he tended to your wounds, but now any response would be better than having to tolerate the silence in the tiny room.

Jean got up to clean his hands in the basin, warm water turning red once he dipped his hands in. This was his punishment; he would have to suffer the consequences of his actions. The both of you were alive; Jean knew that he should be grateful, get on his hands and knees and thank the gods above. However, why should he be thankful? It was cruel. The both of you were not alive by the grace of God; this wasn’t mercifulness or benevolence.

What good is living if you have to sit and watch the one you love the most deteriorate in front of your eyes.

“You need to sleep; this isn’t healthy.” Connie was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed. Although he was speaking to Jean, his eyes were transfixed on you.

Jean didn’t need to look at himself to know how terrible he looked. His eyes were bloodshot and puffy, his face pale and gaunt. He spent his days and nights in your room, never wanting to miss the moment when you would wake up.

If. If you woke up, not when. Even that was not guaranteed.

“I’m not leaving her side, Connie.” Jean dried his hands on the cloth next to the basin. He turned his head to look at his friend, whose eyes were now staring back into his.

Connie understood the situation; he wanted you to wake up as well, but it pained him to see Jean suffer like this, “Spending your days sitting next to her waiting for her to wake up won’t help her, Jean.”

“You don’t think I fucking know that?” Jean slammed his hand down on the basin, hair falling in front of his face. Connie’s eyes widened at his friend’s action; to say that Jean was frustrated would be an understatement.

“You got your mom back, Annie got to see her dad, even those damn kids found each other. I got her back, but it’s my fault she’s like this.” Jean gritted his teeth, lip quivering.

Connie’s heart sank; he had seen Jean at his worst, but this was almost unbearable to witness. He made his way over to the hunched-over man and squeezed his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault Jean. This is difficult, believe me, I know, but you can’t be blaming yourself.” Connie’s eyes flickered your form, and he clenched his jaw.

Jean shifted his head, sullen eyes peering at your face through strands of hair; the man shook his head as a sob escaped his lips, “I need her to wake up Connie. I can’t live without her; I don’t know how to.”

--

You felt a gentle breeze on your face and an odd pressure around your ribs. Laying still for a moment, you waited for the pressure to subside, but instead, it made its way down to your thigh. You tried to open your eyes, but it was as if they were glued shut; there was no strength left in your body.

How many days had it been? Where were you?

Questions circled amidst your clouded mind as you lay immobile. You realized that the pressure you were feeling on your body was the weight of someone’s hands. How badly were you injured?

Memories flooded into your mind as you became aware of the situation you were in currently. Someone had rescued you at Fort Slava, and you were being treated at a medical facility by nurses. No, not nurses; the hands felt oddly familiar. They were careful and precise in their movements but carried tenderness as well.

You tried to take a deep breath in, to gather strength to move any one of your limbs, but paused immediately as the pain in your ribs was far too great. Shallow breaths would suffice for the time being. You began to focus on moving your fingers, channelling whatever energy you had left to at least get them to move.

The sheets underneath your fingers were soft as you gently moved your digits along the fabric. The hands on your thigh briefly paused before continuing their movements. You waited a minute before moving again, this time lifting your hand.

You couldn’t feel the hands on your body anymore.

Whoever had been treating your wounds whispered your name. It was a man, but you weren’t able to recognize their voice as everything was still groggy.

The man sharply inhaled, his voice shaking as he said your name once again.

You mustered the strength to open your eyes; your eyelids were heavy and hard to fight to keep open. The room was blurry and far too bright for your liking, but you continued to blink, and soon, the details surrounding you came into focus. The figure was still, waiting for your next move; you lolled your head to the side to get a better look at him.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

He slowly came into focus; he was holding your hand between his and planting kisses on the back of your palm.

Why was he apologizing? Who was he?

Your heartbeat quickened as his voice became more apparent; this had to be some sick nightmare. You slowly sat up and reached out to him to cement the fact that this couldn’t be real. Your hand made contact with his knee; he was warm, he was alive.

Tears were running down your cheeks as your eyes scanned up his frame until landing on his face. Jean stared back at you, eyes wide, your hand still held in his.

Your face contorted as you took in the sight in front of you; you were so sure you had lost him, and yet here he was. Sitting up fully, you used your free hand to grip on to his white button-down and pull him into you with whatever remaining strength you had. Jean dropped your hand, and you swiftly wrapped both of your arms around him, eyes fluttering shut to take in his presence.

A pile of burnt bones.

It wasn’t a dream; you could feel his heartbeat against your body, feel his hair against your cheek. You sobbed into the crook of his neck, ignoring the immense pain you were feeling, scared that if you let him go, he would scatter in the wind.

“Jean, I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry, I should’ve told you-” Your voice was scratchy and hoarse, still weak from the slumber which had woken from a few minutes ago.

He brought a hand up to rest against your head, “I’m the one who’s sorry; why are you apologizing?” Jean pulled away from you, causing you to wince.

You furrowed your brows in confusion; he gently laid you back down on the bed before continuing, “I hurt you when I transformed into a titan; I’m the one who’s responsible-” Jean paused, his eyes landing on the gauze on your upper leg.

He wasn’t making any sense to you; shaking your head, you frowned at him, “What do you mean? I saw you transform before I passed out; I got injured by the rubble falling from the fort.”

“I should be apologizing, not you. When we were in the airship, you told me you loved me, and I ignored you, Jean, and then I thought you died and lost you. I’m terrible-” You looked up at him through teary eyes; Jean wiped your tears before kissing your cheeks.

“All this time, I was scared that I had almost killed you, and here you thought that I was dead.” He whispered, hands caressing your cheek.

“You’re not dead right; if I close my eyes, you’ll still be here?” You brought your hand up to hold his, letting out a shaky breath.

“No, my love, I’m not dead, and I’m not going anywhere.” Jean pressed a light kiss to your forehead. You cautiously sat up before moving over slightly to make room for him on the small bed.

“Can you lie here with me? Don’t wanna let go of you yet.” He nodded his head before getting up from his seat to lie next to you.

You placed your head on his chest, eyes fluttering shut. Your hand traced the buttons on his shirt, slowly getting lulled to sleep by the sound of his steady heartbeat.

Jean’s fingers skimmed your side; overwhelming happiness filled his chest; he was relieved that you were alright and that he hadn’t been the one at fault for your current state. He felt you press a kiss where his heart was, and his lips curled into a smile.

“You know why I said what I said on the airship?”

“Hmm, why?” Your ears piqued in interest.

“Because I knew that even if I died, I’d find you again, somehow somewhere.”

You let out a sigh, silently thanking whoever it was that answered your prayers.

I love him and you brought him back to me.

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this !! any feedback is appreciated !! i tried something a little different than how i usually write, so please don't be shy to tell me if you liked it or not and what could be improved !!

also i apologize for not being active these past couple of days, my tumblr went haywire and i was shadowbanned, its all fixed now but again super sorry !!

taglist: @c0urtn3y, @depressedbisexual, @dai-tsukki-desu, @clean-soap, @nevcrmxre, @conniesspringersgf, @glittrkink

click here to join my taglist

As always, please leave a like/reblog if you enjoyed this, I appreciate it lots <33

[naughtyneganjdm]

Caught in the Middle - Chapter 1

Summary: Daryl Dixon finds himself head over heels for the new teacher at the local high school that he works at, but she has eyes for Negan.

Characters: Negan, the reader (OC), Daryl Dixon, etc.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33634642/chapters/83581864

Warnings: Swearing, etc.

Notes: This is going to be another short story. I'm going to attempt to keep the chapters shorter so I can get through this story pretty fast. I was talking to a friend about something and this idea kind of came to me. I know it's kind of different, but I plan on switching POVs frequently so Daryl is not the main character of this story. There are three main characters. Negan, Daryl and Y/N. Hopefully you guys like it!

Y/N means your name or whatever name you want to put in there!

There weren’t a lot of things in the world that caught Daryl Dixon’s attention. For the most part, he had closed himself off in general. After the life he had growing up, he had become cold to things in the world. He’d get up, go to work, head home, sleep and then repeat. So, for someone to really catch his attention was a pretty big deal. Especially since Daryl wasn’t one for relationships or being attracted to people. Relationships were too much work and he just didn’t have the patience for them. Well, that was until someone new arrived at work. After that, it kind of changed everything for him. Which surprised the hell out of him, but he looked forward to every minute he got to spend with this new person.

Daryl was the auto shop teacher at the local high school. Was it a cool job? Fuck no. Was he good at it? Probably not as good as he could have been, but he was good at fixing things. When he was younger teaching was not something he would have ever pictured himself doing. Hell, he wasn’t exactly the most social person, so to say it was a struggle sometimes would be a massive understatement.  

When a friend offered him a job after an I owe you situation, Daryl quickly snagged that shit up. He would have been stupid to not take this job. With his background, he was lucky to have a job as it was. Every day, he would go to work and just do what he had to in order to get through the day. He never really got close to the other teachers, but he observed from afar. Watching people and learning things without being a part of them was something Daryl had become good at. The students liked him well enough, but it wasn’t like he was trying to make friends or be everyone’s favorite. He just did what he had to do and that was it. Going above and beyond was not Daryl’s style.  

A few months ago, a new teacher had transferred to their school and Daryl felt like they kind of immediately hit it off. They had literally run into each other in the hallway on her first day when she was lost. Daryl was coming out of his classroom looking at his phone and nearly knocked her over onto the floor. When he caught her, there was something about her smile that had caught his attention. When she had asked him for a tour of the school, he was eager to do it. Not that he was very good at it. Daryl was never a man of many words, but around Y/N he found himself opening up more and more. That was the nice thing about this girl. She made him step out of the box and be something more than he usually was.

Every day the two of them would find time to talk to each other and he relished in every moment of it. It became something where he started looking forward to going to work. He was excited to wake up every day. It was all because of her and the weekends were the worst because he didn’t actually get to see her. They texted each other, but the weekdays had become his favorite thing.

An overwhelmed breath fell from his throat when he looked over his shoulder after hearing the group of loud, boisterous laughter filling the bar that he was in. This was new for him. A lot of the teachers would get together some nights at the local bar to hang out. Of course, there were certain groups that liked to hang out more often than not. The source of the laughter stemmed from the staff favorite, Negan Smith. For some reason, every person seemed to love Negan. He always drew the attention of people and people found him hilarious. Daryl found him to be juvenile and somewhat annoying himself, but somehow, Negan was always the person people drifted to. Even being an asshole, all the students loved him as well as the teachers. Negan was the life of the party and very much the opposite of Daryl. Hell, Daryl didn’t even want to be here, but he was because he wanted to see Y/N. That’s really why he was there. It was the one time they would get together outside of work and Daryl loved being around her outside of a work setting.

Turning back toward the bar, Daryl reached out for the neck of his beer bottle and slid the bottle in front of him. It made him wonder if Y/N was actually coming tonight. Usually she would be here by now. When the laughter seemed to get louder, Daryl grumbled to himself and lowered his head. This wasn’t Daryl’s kind of scene and each moment he spent there proved that more and more.  

“Forget this,” Daryl got up from the stool and started pushing into his pockets to look for his money until he felt the sensation of someone nudging him.

“You leaving this early?” Y/N muttered when Daryl looked to her with his big blue eyes. A tiny grin expanded over his features and he immediately shook his head. Was he getting up to leave? Yes, but with her here he would reconsider that. Pulling out the stool beside him for her, Daryl felt his heart skip a beat in his chest when she moved in beside him. “Sorry I took so long. I got caught up at school checking some papers. I would have gotten it done earlier, but someone came to talk to me for a while so that kept there a little longer than I would have liked to have been there.”

“You finish everything then?” Daryl confirmed and she gave a nod before ordering herself a drink. Truthfully, he didn’t care why she was late. He was just happy to see her. “Did you have a good day?”

“Yeah, it was pretty nice,” she answered with a simple shrug. “What about yourself?”

“Oh yeah, it was great,” Daryl lied and her eyebrows arched in curiosity when he said that. A nervous laugh fell from his throat and he shrugged.

“Oh really?” she chuckled, thanking the bartender when he came back with her drink.

“Okay, so it was just like every other day. Until now,” Daryl reached for his beer and swallowed down the last bit that was left in there. “Now that you’re here, it’s pretty great. You could brighten any mundane day for me Y/N. You know that.”

“You are so sweet,” she reached out to hook her arm around his shoulders to give him a hug and his face flushed over when she pulled away. “That was smooth. That was real smooth.”

“Well, that’s me. Mr. Smooth,” Daryl brushed his fingers through his hair to straighten it out. “But you are pretty cool. You’re the most interesting thing in this town. I tell you that.”

“And that’s why you’re my best friend here. Even if it’s not true, you are always saying things to make me smile,” she reached out to place her hand over his and she gave it a firm squeeze. “You’ve been the best to me since I transferred here. You’re the greatest. You know that?”

“Yeah?” Daryl was happy to hear that. At some point he was genuinely hoping the best friend label would progress into more, but right now he was okay with settling with that title. Just getting to be with her was more than enough right now. He didn’t want to push too hard or too fast. “I’m only saying what I believe Y/N.”

“We know I am so far from being the most interesting thing here,” she denied his statement while she took a sip of her drink that she had gotten. When the noise from the group in the back filled the bar again, they both looked back. The other teachers at the school were surrounding a pool table and Negan was obviously playing against one of the others. “You know, we should do that one day. Play a round of pool. I’m actually really good at it. We should do teams. You and I could go up against Simon and Negan.”

“Oh, yeah,” Daryl rolled his eyes, turning himself back toward the bar while she kept her eyes on the game that they were playing. “That’s really not my thing. Putting myself into the thick of that. I have no interest in being part of that group.”

“They aren’t so bad,” she suggested and Daryl looked to see to see that her focus was still locked on them. Looking over his shoulder, Daryl noticed that Negan had lifted his head and his eyes connected with hers. With an arrogant bob of his head and a bright smile, Negan gave Y/N a wink. Looking to Y/N after Negan did it, Daryl could see that it made her smile and her face flushed over. “I think you would enjoy yourself at times if you opened yourself up to it. The people at the school would really like you.”

“No one had interest in me before you were here and I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t now either,” Daryl retorted with a snort when he looked back again to notice that Negan and Y/N were still staring at each other. Someone grabbed a hold of Negan to get his attention and Daryl felt his body tensing up over the moment he just witnessed. “They really aren’t that interesting Y/N. Plus, I’m not all that good at pool.”

“Well, I have a table at my home. One day you can come over and I could teach you some tricks,” she offered up, her eyes finally meeting his again. The air around them was cool and Daryl didn’t know if the chill filling his body was that or the jealousy of that stare between her and Negan.  

“That would be really cool. I’ve yet to be at your house yet you know,” Daryl reminded her and Y/N gave him a shifty look. “Well, I’ve dropped you off…”

“And I’ve asked you if you wanted to come in multiple times to hang out. Every time you turn me down,” she pointed out and he knew that he didn’t want to come in because he was afraid that he would do something stupid. It had been a long time since he was interested in someone. He didn’t want to make a mistake that made this girl leave his life forever. “You know you are welcome at my place any day. You at least know where I live. I don’t even know where you live.”

“Well, it’s not a nice place where I live,” Daryl explained with a frown knowing that he lived with his deadbeat brother. Most of the time Merle wasn’t there, but he didn’t want the one day she would come over to be one of the few times Merle came over. With his mouth, Daryl was sure that Merle would scare Y/N away forever. “It’s kind of a mess. You deserve to be in places better than that.”

“I don’t care what your place looks like. You’re my friend and I would like to spend time with you other than being here sometimes. You know that,” she professed with a shake of her head, reaching out to place her hand over his arm. “I’m not the kind of person that cares what your place looks like. I like you for you.”

“I think you’re the only person in the world that has ever said something like that to me,” Daryl confessed and he watched her roll her eyes. Obviously, she thought he was joking, but he wasn’t. That’s what was sad. No one had ever been as nice to him as she had been. How couldn’t he like this girl? She was one of the only people he had ever met that didn’t make him feel like a deadbeat or a waste of space. “You think I’m kidding?”

“Who wouldn’t like you Daryl?” she gave him a confused expression and he didn’t know how to answer that. “There is a lot of good to you.”

“The world never made me feel that way,” Daryl informed her with a weak smile before waving to order himself another drink.

“Well then the world needs to take another look. You need to throw yourself out there Daryl. You don’t have to be this loner for the rest of your life, you know?” she insisted with a shake of her head. “You deserve to be happy, just like everyone else.”

“Where did you come from?” Daryl sighed wishing like hell this girl would have dropped into his life sooner.

“You know where I came from,” she hesitantly laughed and then turned in her seat to look back at the rest of the group behind them again. “Truth be told Daryl; I like it here a lot more than I did at the old school I worked at. People here are more like family. They are friendlier. They don’t always seem like they are out to stab you in the back. People are willing to help and make you feel at home.”

“You must be talking to people I don’t know,” Daryl explained with a groan, turning on his seat to look at the crowded bar behind him.

“You don’t talk to people Daryl,” she replied with a silly glance and Daryl grunted while taking a sip of his beer. “You wouldn’t have even talked to me if I wouldn’t have run right into you on my first day here. It took me almost breaking something for you to actually talk to me.”

“Regardless,” Daryl knew what these people were like and he had no interest. No one really caught his attention or made it seem like they deserved his respect. In his opinion, most of the people at the school just liked the attention they could get. That was it. Noticing the way that Negan looked over his shoulder at stole another glance at Y/N made Daryl bite into his bottom lip. “Who did you talk to today after work?”

“What?” she muttered and Daryl could see that her attention was somewhere else and he frowned. Daryl reached out to nudge her arm and it took a second before she shook off to look over at him. “It was Negan. He’s funny. The two of us have been talking a bit over the last few weeks. The guy really likes to cook and he was bragging about his food about a month ago. Offered me some and every few days he is always bringing in things for me to try that he made. Today it was a raspberry danish that he made.”

“Oh, the guy is a good cook too, huh?” Daryl snorted, his eyes rolling when he thought about Negan and how everyone found the guy pretty much fucking perfect. Then again, he found himself super jealous at the idea of the two of them talking. Why had Y/N never mentioned the fact that her and Negan had been talking? “You know, you shouldn’t be taking food from strangers.”

“Oh come on,” she laughed, her eyebrows creasing with amusement when she gave her attention fully to Daryl. “Negan is not a stranger. I work with him and if something bad happened to me from the food, I’m not the only one he gives his food too.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you’re not,” Daryl scoffed at the idea, turning away in disgust from the rest of the people from work.

“What is it with you and Negan?” she pondered, sliding in beside Daryl elbowing him playfully while Daryl kept his head down.

“What is it with you and Negan?” Daryl repeated her question with an emphasis on the word you. His eyes narrowed and she stole another glance back over her shoulder at Negan.

“Okay, fine,” she let out a long exhale of air, lowering her head. It took a minute and she reached for her drink to quickly finish it off as if to gain courage to tell him what she wanted to say. “Since you’re you…I won’t lie to you, but you have to keep your mouth shut about it.”

Instead of saying anything, Daryl stared out at her with his confused blue eyes while her right hand spun in the air trying to come up with the right words to say, “I kind of have a crush on Negan. I know it’s silly since we’re adults and using that word is so juvenile, but I don’t know. I just find him so charming and he makes me laugh. When he smiles, I just find myself smiling, you know? Those dimples are gorgeous and he’s got a wicked sense of humor.”

“You are crushing on him?” Daryl restated what she had just said and she hushed him. Disappointment filled his entire body and his face felt exceedingly hot. An ache developed at the center of his chest and he had to pull his eyes away from her. It hurt way too much to even hear that from her. Especially since he had the biggest crush on her and yearned for more. Flicking his bar napkin aside, he rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Of course you like Negan. Everyone likes Negan.”

“What do you mean?” she tilted her head to the side noticing that Daryl no longer seemed to want to look at her. It made things a little uncomfortable because that wasn’t the reaction she thought she would get for being honest with her friend.

“I mean it makes sense that you would be like everyone else. Negan is the cool guy. The jock. The person that everyone drifts toward,” Daryl stated with a scoff hating that of all the people she liked, it was Negan. “I just thought you were a little more interesting than that.”

“Ouch,” she reached up to place her hand over the center of her chest, feigning like he hurt her with her words. “Where did that come from?”

“I just thought you were different than most people. Everyone sees Negan and their eyes just light up. He eats the attention up and people just attract to him like flies to bug zapper,” Daryl ranted hating that his jealousy was getting the better of him, but it was. “When I met you, I just thought you were someone who was attracted to something different. Like you said, you like people for who they are.”

“Just because I have a silly crush on someone doesn’t mean I’m not the same person that is your friend. You and I have gotten super close over the last few months. I think you know me better than anyone else does here,” she pointed out, hating to hear him saying the things that he was. “I just like the way that he makes me feel, you know?”

“And you’re attracted to him,” Daryl snorted knowing that there was no doubt that she was attracted to his looks by all the times he had caught her staring at Negan with heart eyes tonight. “You’re right…I know you better than anyone else here and I can promise you that you deserve better than Negan. No matter how much you love the fucking dimples.”

“Negan would never even look twice at me Daryl,” she talked down on herself and Daryl found himself upset that she would even do that. Talking illy of herself to bring up Negan made him just pissed off. “Look at him, he’s just so good looking and then there is me.”

“What was in this drink?” Daryl reached for her glass to look it over and he gave her a disgusted face when she said that. “You are fucking beautiful. I can’t believe you said that because you are absolutely gorgeous. Not only that, but you are super cool. Why wouldn’t someone like you? There is nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect.”

“Except for the fact that I crush on Negan which makes me just like everyone else,” she proclaimed, stating what he had said previously and it made him bite down on his bottom lip. Clearly it upset her that he compared her to everyone else just because she liked Negan.

“I’m just saying, with what I know about you I don’t think Negan would be your type. You take work seriously and Negan…I don’t think serious is even a word in his vocabulary,” Daryl complained about Negan knowing that he still was so upset that she was crushing on what he would consider the popular guy. God, life was still so much like high school and he hated it. He felt like a teenager instead of being a teacher that actually worked at a high school. “Like, he totally got fucking fired from this job a while back. You know that?”

“How?” her face wrinkled up in surprise when Daryl said that.

“It was like a year before his wife died,” Daryl clarified and he could see the sadness that flooded in over Y/N’s features when she heard him say that. “You didn’t know that his wife died?”

“No. No one ever mentioned that to me,” she answered honestly knowing that it wasn’t something a lot of people would open with so it made sense that she didn’t know about Negan’s late wife.  “What did she die from?”

“She got pancreatic cancer,” Daryl responded with frustration hating the way that she was looking at Negan now. Visibly it made her like Negan more and he damned himself for even saying it. “Him and his wife were at this bar one day. They got into an argument with a guy and Negan beat the fuck out of a guy here. The guy said something nasty to his wife, but he beat the guy almost to death. It was one of the student’s parents, so he ended up getting fired. Was on probation and everything. Then they found out about his wife being sick and dying. They felt bad for him and the community kind of got together to get him his job back to help take care of his wife. Who gets that fucking lucky, huh? Most people that almost beat someone to death don’t usually get people helping them like that. I can promise you when most people make mistakes, it follows them around for the rest of their lives.”

“Damn, he’s been through a lot then, hasn’t he?” she turned further in her chair to look back at Negan who was still playing a game of pool. “You wonder how he continues to be so positive and outgoing when he went through all of that.”

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” Daryl groaned upon hearing her say that and he could see that the story upset her. Empathizing with Negan over that story made him so angry to hear that. That wasn’t the kind of response he was expecting her. When he told her that he almost beat a guy to death, he thought she would look down on Negan. “He beat the hell out of some guy Y/N.”

“You said the guy he beat said something nasty to his wife. He was defending his wife’s honor,” she filled in the details and Daryl let out a frustrated exhale. “If someone said something bad about someone that you cared about, wouldn’t you do the same?”

“That’s beside the point,” Daryl reached to grab a hold of Y/N’s wrists to get her to look at him. “When I was a kid I lived with my older brother and my dad. My dad was always so drunk that he never got up. We didn’t have food. My brother was always gone and I was starving. People knew what my family was like, but they saw trash when they looked at me. I stole food in order to survive because I had nothing. Do you know what happened to me? I didn’t get a slap on the wrists and told to be a good boy. That stuff stuck with me my whole life. I wasn’t that poor kid that lived in a bad situation, I was that awful little boy that was a thief. No one felt bad for me.”

“Well that makes those people terrible Daryl. You were a little boy that needed help and instead they turned their head away,” she reached out to wrap her fingers around his to give them a firm squeeze. “I think…we all have our own stories. You know? There are things that I’ve…gone through. Horrible things and we all wish there was someone there that could have saved us. You know?”

“What does that mean?” Daryl saw the way she swallowed down hard and he tried to reach out to touch her, but she held her hand up to keep him from doing so in that moment. “What happened to you?”

“Nothing, I’m just saying,” she reflected the question and waved for the bartender to get her something else to drink. “Sometimes it’s nice to hear that people did what they did for Negan. I don’t usually have a lot of faith in the world, so when you hear that a community came together to help a man to help him care for his dying wife it makes you feel better about things.”

“Right,” Daryl stammered knowing that what she had just blown off made him think there were things about her that she didn’t tell him about. Now she wasn’t so much an open book, but someone who evidently had their secrets they kept to themselves. Daryl watched her toss back the drink she had gotten and he could see that their discussion had changed her a bit. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m going to go use the restroom,” she pointed over Daryl’s shoulder toward the ladies’ room and Daryl felt like he should say something to comfort her when she stood up. Something had changed in her beautiful features and he was just never very good at this stuff. With her getting ready to leave, he felt himself choking up at the idea of trying to make her feel better. “I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be here,” Daryl didn’t know what the hell to say as she moved around him toward the bathroom. Tapping his hands against the top of the bar again, he tried to gather in his mind what he was going to say to her when she came back.

“Daryl!” a loud voice boomed in beside him as he felt the warmth of a body moving near him. Turning his head unhurriedly, he saw that Negan had slid in beside him and Negan’s bright smile ate up most of his face. “You are just the man I wanted to talk to.”

“Why?” Daryl scowled hating to hear a statement like that.

“How are you doing today buddy? Can I buy you a drink or something?” Negan offered attempting to call out to the bartender.

“I have a beer,” Daryl nodded toward his drink and Negan’s right eyebrow raised. Having Negan coming over to him and act like he wanted to speak to him felt weird. It certainly felt out of place. “What do you want Negan?”

“Wow. You’re a man that gets straight to the point, huh?” Negan snickered before calling over the bartender to get himself a drink. When he was done, Daryl cocked his head to the side almost waiting for Negan to speak up.

“Well, considering you’ve never had an interest in talking to me before you undoubtedly want something,” Daryl suggested making Negan’s eyes narrow out at him and Negan bit at his bottom lip. “So, what is it?”

“That’s kind of bullshit Daryl,” Negan retorted with a grunt, his eyes still hooked on Daryl’s when he reached for his drink that the bartender brought. “I’ve asked you plenty of times if you wanted to join us in a round of drinks back there or if you wanted to play some pool. You’re the one that always says no. I just assumed you wanted to stick to yourself and shit after about the fifth time of asking you.”

“Well that was a smart deduction. I’m surprised you came up with it,” Daryl snorted making Negan laugh in response after Daryl said that.

“Wow, look at the smartassery on you,” Negan seemed impressed with Daryl instead of being offended by what Daryl actually said. “Here I was thinking you were this quiet guy, but you’ve got some bite to you. I fucking like it Daryl. You should use that spicy ass attitude more often. Good for you man.”

There was nothing Daryl could say to respond to that, so instead Daryl found himself laughing as Negan reached out to pat Daryl on the back in delight, “Here I was thinking you would get fucking offended and leave me alone.”

“It takes a lot to offend me since I really don’t give a flying fuck what people think about me,” Negan assured Daryl with a wiggle of his brow. Reaching for his drink, Negan swallowed it down before slamming the glass down on top of the bar with a wince. “I actually wanted to talk to you about the new girl. I saw that the two of you were close. Are you dating? Or are you just like really good buds? Because honestly, I’m really fucking interested in her. I was thinking of letting her know I was interested, but if you two are together I don’t want to fuck that up. So I figured I would ask.”

All of Daryl wanted to tell Negan that he was dating her so that way that Daryl could have Y/N to himself. Turning away from Negan to reach for his beer, Daryl debated on what to say. God, he like Y/N so much, but at the same time he knew how much he cared about her. With her just admitting to Daryl that she had huge crush on Negan, Daryl found his heart tangled with what it should do. Taking a minute, Daryl’s eyes lifted toward the ladies’ restroom and he shook his head.

“We’re not dating,” Daryl was honest with Negan while shifting on the seat so he could look at Negan with his intense blue eyes. There was an excitement that flooded Negan’s face when Daryl said that and Daryl was damning himself for even attempting to be a good person in this situation. He wanted to be greedy. He wanted to be an asshole, but he knew that he really liked Y/N and her being happy was worth more than his own happiness. “In fact, I think if you were honest with her, she would be fucking thrilled.”

“Why is that?” Negan inquired with an arch of his thick eyebrow.

“Because she has the biggest crush on you,” Daryl told her secret, but he knew by telling Negan that would help her get something that made her happy in the end. The amusement that flooded Negan’s features made Daryl feel like the biggest loser on the planet. Instead of telling the woman he was in love with that he cared about her, he was telling the guy that she had a crush on that she liked him. Who the fuck did that? “I found that out tonight. So, there you go.”

“So, you’re okay with this?” Negan stammered with a bob of his head while speaking with a big, pearly white smile. When Daryl nodded he knew that Negan was pleased with his answer. Cussing to himself, Daryl hated him himself. So much. Why would he do that? A moment later he heard Negan let out an enthusiastic breath. “Well speak of the devil, look who it is! We were just talking about you.”

“Negan!” Daryl closed his eyes hearing the way that Y/N said Negan’s name. It was the sound of someone that was pleasantly surprised with their guest being there. “I hope it was only good things that you were talking about.”

“Is there any other way to talk about you?” Negan flirted and Daryl silently groaned to himself when Negan moved over to make room for Y/N back at the bar. Glancing beside him, Daryl could see that Negan was still rather close to her while they sat next to each other. “I was happy to see you walk in here. I thought you weren’t coming tonight.”

“Well, someone made me late to checking my tests,” she reminded Negan and Negan snorted upon hearing her say that. “If it wasn’t for that person, I may have been here sooner rather than later.”

“My fault,” Negan placed his hand over the center of his chest and their eyes were hooked on each other. “I was worried that maybe my danish made you feel sick.”

“Quite the opposite actually, I think it put me in a better mood today,” she complimented Negan and Daryl found himself irritated that he had now become the third wheel. Before Negan was there, she actually acknowledged his existence, but with Negan sitting beside her Daryl realized that he may as well had been invisible. “I was hoping you would be bringing me more tomorrow.”

“See, now you’re getting greedy,” Negan teased with a cock of his head and a big, goofy smile. Daryl watched Negan while he interacted with Y/N and Daryl wished he had half of the confidence along with charisma that Negan did. “I bring you something out of the kindness of my heart and now you’re going to start expecting it.”

“It’s a compliment really,” she smiled, caressing her fingers over the back of her neck in a nervous swipe while her and Negan went back and forth. “It says you did a really good job making it and I think you’re a fantastic baker slash cook.”

“Well thank you,” Negan chuckled while he looked her over with his hazel eyes. “If it means getting to see you smile if even for a few minutes every day, I will happily bring you anything that I make.”

“Since you’re so big on sharing you should let me try it someday,” Daryl finally spoke up when they both had seemed to forget that he was there. Negan’s smile slowly faded when his eyes pulled to Daryl’s. “I mean she was gushing about your cooking skills earlier today.”

“Absolutely Daryl, I’d loved for you to try my danish,” Negan replied with a smirk and in the moment Daryl realized how awkward the whole statement actually sounded. Y/N’s laughter filled the air and Negan looked to Y/N with an amused expression. “You’re a fucking perv missy.”

“I’m sorry, the way you just said that at him felt so suggestive,” she waved her hand in the air trying to get herself to stop laughing. Daryl was embarrassed, Negan was entertained. “You can’t tell me you didn’t say it like that to not be…suggestive as hell.”

“Daryl’s a decent looking fella, I wouldn’t be embarrassed to being suggestive with him,” Negan threw his hand up in the air and she laughed harder, her hand reaching out to place over Negan’s chest. God, she even wanted to touch Negan. When Daryl would make her laugh, she was nothing like this. “You think I’m joking? I’m not. I’m not embarrassed.”

“Well at least you’re bold and honest,” she claimed before finally looking to Daryl who seemed less than enthusiastic with everything that was going on. “Without being perverted, I think you would really like his actual danish. I was surprised it wasn’t store bought.”

“Hey now, it tastes better than the store stuff,” Negan grumbled under his breath and once again before Daryl could respond Negan had her full attention again. “You can’t compare my freshly baked goods to something you would buy at a supermarket that has been sitting there for days.”

“Oh, my mistake,” she giggled and Negan reached for her to give her a big hug in his arms after they had their playful little bickering match. God, Negan was so brave. It was something that Daryl would have never done, but she didn’t seem to hate it at all.

“Do y’all want to come over and play a game with us?” Negan pointed over toward the pool table and she looked to Daryl with big eyes. It was obvious she wanted to play, but Daryl was still at a point where he had no interest. Negan was already so much better than him at pretty much everything, he didn’t want Negan to outdo him in pool too. “We’d love to have you over there.”

“Go ahead, I’ll watch from here,” Daryl offered to her seeing that she seemed upset that Daryl didn’t want to come. “I’m kind of tired and I’m not much of a pool player. So I wouldn’t be that much fun anyways.”

“Well, why don’t you just come over there and talk with a few of the other teachers? You can be near the table while I absolutely destroy Y/N,” Negan urged Daryl to still join them and almost immediately Daryl shook his head. He didn’t want to be included in something where he would have to be up close watching the girl that he was head over heels for swooning over Negan.

“Daryl, come on,” she reached for his hands and Daryl shook his head once more. “You might actually have some fun.”

“I’m tired Y/N, you go ahead and have fun,” Daryl kept up with his answer knowing that she was disappointed, but he didn’t care. There was no changing his answer. Part of Daryl wished she would have just stayed, but when she got up from the seat, he knew that spending time with Negan was going to win out over spending time with him. “Just enjoy yourself.”

“Well you should come over there when you want,” she reached out to squeeze his shoulder before walking toward the pool table with Negan.

When they reached the other side of the bar Daryl could see the other teachers eager to talk and laugh with Y/N. For a while they just all stood around talking and Daryl knew that he was staring, but he didn’t care. Biting down on his bottom lip when Negan’s arm wrapped around Y/N’s shoulders, he let out an upset breath and knew he should have just left.

After a while of talking, Negan tugged Y/N toward the pool table and they started playing together. Daryl was full of jealousy watching their interaction. It was obvious the two of them had a fuck ton of chemistry together. She was having a lot of fun and it was so easy for Negan to make her laugh.

Even knowing that Negan was her type made it so much more obvious to Daryl that he would never be her type. Negan was the opposite of him and he knew that. Which hurt all the more. It was best for him to just leave at his point, he wouldn’t have even been missed if he left now.

Finishing up his last drink, Daryl went to leave until he watched Y/N throw her arms up in celebration when she clearly beat Negan. Watching closely, Daryl saw the look of disappointment over Negan’s features as he moved around the pool table toward her. How close Negan got to Y/N made Daryl’s heart start to hammer inside of his chest.

Daryl’s mind was telling him to go over there and stop the interaction, but his body was frozen while Negan’s eyes were hooked on hers. Negan’s fingers stroked over the side of her face, brushing her hair behind her ear while they talked. Negan whispered something and she nodded before Negan lowered down. Tensing up, Daryl watched Negan’s lips descend over hers after he cupped her face in his hands in a tender stroke and this shit hurt more than Daryl would have thought it would.

When they parted, Negan’s head pressed up against hers and Daryl could see that it took her breath away. Negan whispered something to her while his right hand lifted with his thumb tracing over her cheek. With a smile like that, Daryl knew that Negan was sweeping her off her feet.

Daryl stepped forward when Negan grabbed a hold of her hand and led her toward the back of the bar. The rest of the group was distracted with their own discussions so the two of them were able to sneak out. Following the direction they headed, Daryl went to the backdoor and pushed it slightly open to see that they were at the back of the building.

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Negan slurred, while he had her back pressed up against the brick wall. His large hands were cupping her face as they kissed over and over again. Daryl watched the two of them through the small crack in the door that he had opened. It was enough not to draw attention to him while the two made out behind the bar. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for so long.”

“Negan,” she breathed out while his kisses pressed down over the side of her face and down toward her neck. Grabbing a firm hold of his thick hair, she tugged at it and made Negan stare out at her with desperation while he panted. Daryl wished that she would turn him down. “Do you…do you want to go to my place?”

“Right now?” Negan breathed against her lips and she nodded slowly. The smile that Negan gave her made an angry chill run down Daryl’s spine. “I’d love to.”

Y/N reached for Negan’s hand and led him away from the bar making Daryl want to chase after them, but he knew better. She made her choice and she wanted Negan. Badly, obviously.

Slamming the door shut behind him, Daryl went back to the bar and took his seat again where he was previously. Ordering something a little stronger, he wanted to drink away his pain knowing that he was super hurt to see how eager Y/N was to take Negan home with her.

“Where did the big man go?” a voice made Daryl grunt when Simon slid in beside him and Daryl muttered a slew of silent, angry words to himself. Suddenly so many people he had no interest in speaking to were coming up to him to talk. It irritated Daryl to say the least. When Daryl immediately took back the drink he ordered, Simon let out a long drawn out laugh. “It’s only Thursday Dixon, you might want to hold back. There is one more day of work.”

“I don’t care,” Daryl grumbled with a scowl, his blue eyes glaring at Simon. “I assume you’re talking about Negan and you’re too late. He just left with Y/N.”

“Like, they left together?” Simon was eager to get details and Daryl nodded, waving on to get another drink brought to him. “Son of a bitch! I didn’t think she would give it up that fucking fast. I got more of an innocent vibe from her.”

“What are you trying to say?” Daryl’s face scrunched up and Simon ordered a drink for himself.

“I’m saying Negan is going to win the fucking bet, that’s what I’m saying,” Simon sneered when he got the beer that he ordered. “Goddamn it.”

“What bet?” Daryl immediately questioned seeing Simon dramatically throw his head around. There was a pressure in Daryl’s head and it felt like the world stopped all together when he heard Simon say that. “What bet?”

“I made a bet with Negan that he wouldn’t be able to sleep with the new girl,” Simon informed Daryl with a long, drawn out sigh. “And evidently, I’m fucking losing which fucking sucks.”

“You guys made a bet about Negan sleeping with Y/N?” Daryl snapped, standing up from the stool that he was seated at. “What the fuck? That’s an actual person you are talking about? Someone who likes Negan…”

“Every girl likes Negan,” Simon snorted, his face scrunched up in amusement when Daryl seemed so upset. “Like I’m supposed to be surprised by that. I just thought she was your girl so it was the one time I thought I would win the bet.”

“Negan told me that he was crushing on her,” Daryl repeated what Negan had said and Simon laughed with an entertained expression when he reached for his beer again. “What?”

“You think Negan would crush on her? After losing his wife, that guy would pretty much sleep with anyone to forget the pain of losing her,” Simon cleared his throat noticing how uncomfortable that Daryl was with all of this. “There is no way that he has something for this girl other than the bet. He’s out to win it and undoubtedly, he is going to nail it. I guess I should say be saying he’s going to be nailing her.”

“Fucking asshole,” Daryl knocked into Simon as he headed for the door to leave. He didn’t know what to do with this information, but he had to stop it. Someway. He couldn’t just let Y/N get hurt like this. Why did he have to be so stupid? He should have never told Negan that it would be okay. He should have tried harder to keep them apart. This was just as much his fault for pushing the two of them together and Daryl hated himself for that.

----

Tags: @slutlanna976​​  @nubbinrobin​​ @oreostars​​  @fuckthis-and-fuckthat​​ @jennydehavilland​​ @felicity291​​ @de-gabyconamor​​ @ibelongtonegan​​ @smallsadjellyfish​ @labyrinthofheartagrams​​  @msjamesmarch​​ @thebeautysurrounds​​ @hotfornegan​​ @redmercysugar​​ @caprithebunny​​ @iluvneganandjamie​​ @ninamarietwd @tuttifuckinfruitty​​ @emoryhemsworth​​ @a-girl-interupted​​​ @akumune​​ @stoneyggirl2​​ @xsarcasticwriterx​​ @ritajammer21​​ @insertneganhere​​ @haleygreen23​

[iam93percentstardust]

Prompt: tony can’t get enough of Steve’s strength and Steve loves it bc he’s still quite self conscious of his body? 💚

I realized halfway through writing this that you probably meant for a canon-compliant fic, but I was already so deep into the worldbuilding for this little science fiction fic (seriously, you don't even know how much unnecessary worldbuilding I did) so I kept with it

Also on ao3 here!

~

“Steve!” Tony hollers through the communicator. Steve glances up from the board game he’s playing with Natasha and Clint and over at where the communicator hangs from the ship’s wall. He still doesn’t really understand the technology behind the communicators even after a year of being awake, but they’re hung all over the Avenger’s Shieldand he won’t deny that they’re useful.

“I’m here,” he says at a normal volume, knowing that JARVIS will easily pick up what he’s saying and transmit it to Tony. Tony’s just being loud because he’s always loud and because he’s down in the engine room of the ship with all its noises from the conversion of stardust into energy.

“Great! I need your muscley goodness down here like yesterday.”

Steve hides a smile and stands, passing his pieces off to Clint, who’s losing worse than either Steve or Natasha. “Here, you can have mine. Not sure how long I’ll be down there.”

Clint’s eyes narrow and Steve tries not to fidget under the cybernetic enhancements. When he went into the ice nearly three hundred years ago, mankind didn’t even dream of space travel, at least not realistic space travel, and now they’ve got colonies on galaxies as far away from their own, it makes his head spin. Humans have peace treaties with over two thousand alien civilizations. And mechanical body enhancements, meant to augment humans for travel and work and sometimes sheer entertainment, are as common as breathing. But Steve, with his serum-induced enhancements, is somehow still the odd one out.

“You know,” Clint says, “you don’t have to help him out if you don’t want to. Tony means well but that doesn’t mean he can’t be abrasive sometimes.”

“I don’t mind,” Steve says truthfully. Everyone else on this ship seems to dance around his non-cybernetic enhancements—and around the fact that he’d been frozen in the ice caps, now stretching as far south as Florida, for three hundred years—but Tony never once seemed to care. He’s thrilled about Steve’s enhancements—no one else on the ship is quite as strong as Steve is, not since Thor joined the crew of the Milano—both because of what Steve can help him with and because of what the serum means for scientific advancement, though Steve hasn’t let Bruce or Yinsen take any of his blood yet.

He heads down into the belly of the ship, pausing once at one of the portholes to look out at the stars flashing by them. It still amazes him that humans have achieved all of this (and horrifies him that they achieved this but left their own planet behind).

Tony’s “lair” (as Clint calls it) is located at the very bottom of the ship. It’s here that Tony holds his court, making sure that the engines that run the ship are still intact and running smoothly, tinkering with other projects that the other crewmembers give to him, and designing improved systems for the Shield, whether that’s comms, mechanical, or even medical. Tony does it all. According to Natasha, Tony, who’s one of the few nonhumans on the ship, was once a member of high society on his home planet, Aur’a, but left it all behind to join the Shield and travel the galaxy.

Steve opens the door and is immediately met with a wave of heat. It’s always hot down here. Tony says it’s because of the celestial energy, that stars run so hot that even residue energy is still too hot for unenhanced humans to handle. Fortunately, neither Steve nor Tony are unenhanced, and Steve would be willing to bet that the reason it’s so hot in the engine room today is because Tony is working with raw stardust.

The copper pipes running the room are too close to avoid bumping into for someone as large as Steve, so he doesn’t even bother trying to avoid them, letting them brush against his skin as he follows the sound of Tony humming. When he’d first joined the crew, he’d been worried about Tony complaining that Steve couldn’t move around the engine room without knocking something over, but Tony has never once complained, only just made easygoing jokes about bulls in china shops and told him that the pipes are built to withstand forces a lot stronger than Steve. It had gone a long way toward helping him feel comfortable in the space and now he spends a lot of time down here, talking with Tony about the mechanics of the ship, even though a lot of it goes over his head.

He ducks underneath one of the pipes and rounds a corner to find Tony sitting on a bench, carefully chipping at a speck of stardust on the benchtop in front of him. Tony once told him that it only takes a miniscule amount of stardust to power the ship for an entire week, which is good because stardust is difficult to mine. Tony’s goggles are perched on top of his nose, giving him an owlish appearance. Steve finds it adorable, but he waits until Tony is done with the chisel before walking over to drop a kiss on top of his hair.

The rest of the crew doesn’t know that they’ve been seeing each other for a month. After their first kiss, Steve had asked if it would be okay to keep it quiet a little longer. Steve’s brain is still firmly convinced at times that they’re in the forties, so the idea that he can date a man and have it be as accepted as dating a woman is still a little foreign to him. Tony had been more than accommodating though, which is only one of the reasons Steve loves him so much.

“Oh!” Tony exclaims, clearly startled. “Didn’t realize you were already here.” He turns, pushing his goggles up to his hair. “Did you get even more muscley since the last time I saw you?”

“Tony, you saw me this morning,” Steve says amusedly.

“Right you are, Capsicle, but I still stand by what I said,” Tony shoots back with a cheeky wink. He runs his hands over Steve’s biceps, making a low purring sound under his breath. Steve just barely manages to hear it over the sound of the engines, and it makes him smile.

Sometimes, he still feels self-conscious about his size. Spending most of his life looking and feeling one way only to change in only seconds had been disorienting, and he hadn’t had much of a chance to get used to his size before he’d been thrown into the war and then frozen in the ice. Tony’s always good to talk to though when he needs someone to remind him that this is okay, that he isn’t taking up too much room just by existing. Somehow, he always manages to get to the heart of Steve’s insecurities and allay them.

He indulges in Tony’s warm touch for a little longer before asking, “So what did you need me for?”

Tony perks up, spinning on his heel and picking up the speck of stardust with his bare hand. “I need your help opening the converter door so I can toss this in. Something must have gotten damaged during the battle with the Hydra’s Scales, because it’s not opening for me.”

“Huh,” Steve says, following Tony through the warren of copper pipes toward the energy converter. He has no idea how Tony knows where he’s going without a map. Steve still sometimes needs a map and he’s lived on this ship for a year. “That’s not something you can fix?”

“Not with what I’ve got on ship. I’ll ask Fury if we can stop in Knowhere later this week. They’ve probably got what I need.”

“Wow, Tony Stark admitting he can’t jury-rig a solution from his lab. Hell must have frozen over,” Steve comments, grinning when Tony turns to scowl at him.

“You shut your mouth,” Tony growls.

“Or what?”

Tony’s eyes turn dark and heated. He slinks closer to Steve, runs his fingers up Steve’s chest, and purrs, “Or I’ll shut it for you.”

Steve’s brain shuts down. “Uh…”

“But not right now,” Tony says abruptly, tweaking Steve’s nipple through his shirt. He spins back around and marches off, leaving Steve floundering in his wake. He gapes after him for a second before hurrying to catch up.

“You,” he says, carefully bumping Tony’s shoulder with his—he doesn’t want Tony to drop the stardust after all—“are a menace.”

“That’s me: mechanic and professional menace,” Tony says cheerfully.

They stop beside the energy converter. Steve can immediately see what Tony means by there being something wrong with it. The converter is made out of some sort of transparent material—Steve doesn’t know what—so he can see right in to where something is twisted in the converter itself, partially fusing the door shut. Even Tony, with all his abilities as an Aurum, can’t reach into an active energy converter without burning his hand to ashes, and the converter has to stay active or they’ll be dead in space, so they’ll have to stop somewhere where he can make the necessary repairs.

“See?” Tony says. “I need someone who can muscle that open for me.”

“Well, I’ve definitely got muscles.”

“Mmm, yes you do,” Tony murmurs. Steve wonders if Tony’s thinking about the same thing he is: that time he pinned Tony to the walls of their shared bunk and—well, now’s not the time to be thinking about that.

He grabs onto the wheel and wrenches it to the left. Tony sure hadn’t been kidding; the wheel doesn’t budge at all. He applies more of his strength, muscles bulging. Under the squeal of metal, he hears Tony’s breath catch, and he grins saucily at him. Tony sticks his tongue out and gestures at the wheel again.

“Come on, Captain Crunch. Put your back into it.”

Steve, having no idea what Captain Crunch is supposed to be a reference to, makes a mental note to ask Tony about it once they’re done here. For now, though, he uses all of his strength and slowly—so slowly—the wheel turns, protesting the entire way. Eventually, he gets it open, letting another blast of heat into the engine room. Tony tosses the stardust in. It flares in the heat of the converter, setting off beautiful gold and purple sparks. Steve closes the door. It closes a lot easier than it opened. Tony hums thoughtfully at it.

“Well, that narrows things down,” he says, once the door is fully closed.

“What, that it was easier to close than it was to open?”

“Mmhmm. Only a few things that could be. Probably need to tell the One-Eyed Pirate though that we have to stop on Xandar instead of Knowhere. I don’t think Fujikawa will have what I need. Steve, don’t let me forget to tell Fury the course change.”

“Got it.”

“And thanks, by the way. Definitely couldn’t have done it without you.”

Steve glows at the praise. Maybe it’s silly, but it’s nice to be reminded that even in this oversized, clumsy body out of time, he’s still able to do some good. “Happy to help,” he says honestly.

They head back to Tony’s little work area, Tony eagerly chattering on about the project he’s working on for Natasha. Steve listens, fingers itching for the drawing tablet he’d left in the galley with Natasha and Clint. Tony is lovely when he’s animatedly talking about his inventions. Steve has half a dozen folders saved on his tablet, filled with nothing but different poses of Tony.

Tony leans up against the workbench and pulls Steve in, looping his hands around his neck. “Now, where were we earlier?” he hums, eyes dark.

“Careful,” Steve warns, bracing himself with hands on either side of Tony’s body. “I might crush you.”

“You might,” Tony agrees, though he doesn’t sound concerned at all. “And I might like that. All that coiled strength pinning me down? Oh, honey, yes.” He shivers, a small delighted smile curling his lips up.

“You just like me for my body,” Steve accuses. It isn’t the truth and he knows that. Tony loves him for many reasons; Steve’s strength is only one of them. But it’s fun to tease his lover and Tony is always happy when he does. He frequently worries that Steve is too serious.

“Yes, darling, that’s exactly it.” Tony kisses him lightly. Steve lets himself lean into Tony’s body a little more, grinning when Tony shudders against him.

He pulls away, tucking his head against the curve of Tony’s neck. “Thank you,” he breathes. He doesn’t know how Tony always knows when Steve is feeling self-conscious about his body, but he somehow does and he always comes up with something that’ll help.

Tony strokes his hair. “Anytime, darling. Anytime.”

[syndxlla]

More To Love

Part two of the More to Love series

Summary: As you start adapting to Mandalorian culture and life in the palace, you have to start thinking whether or not you’ve made the right decision.

Word Count: 6.2k, NO USE OF ‘Y/N’

Warnings: Non-Consensual kiss, mentions of loss of pregnancy

Author’s Note: Wow wow wow, the support I’ve gotten for this fic already has been so awesome thank you so much especially to the people who have direct messaged me you’re all so kind I love you guys!!!!

Part One here

“Good-morning, Your Highness.” A Handmaiden said as she pulled open the heavy curtains, letting the bright morning light shine into your elegant room. You softly moan as the sun hits your eyes, and roll onto your side to try and sleep more. “Today you will be having brunch with Her Majesty the Queen and a few members of her court and we have set aside a bit of time for you and The Prince to get to each other this evening before dinner in the library.” Her accent was thick like the Prince’s. You sigh and roll around onto your back, letting your limp hand rest by your face. “I trust you slept well?” She asked as she walked towards your bed, in her hands was a golden tray with a teapot on it.

“Not enough sleep.” You groan, trying not to sound annoyed but failing.

“Would you like to sleep longer, Highness?” She asked.

“No, I’ll be fine.” You sigh before scooting to sit up in your bed, and she places the tray on the table by the mattress.

“I wasn’t sure what type of tea you liked, so I brought a chamomile, do you have a preference?”

You stop to think for a moment, “Chamomile is fine for today, but do you have any hsuaberry tea?” Hsuberries are native to Corellia, and you could use a little taste of home.

“I’m not sure, but I will check for tomorrow?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.” You nod.

“I’ll return in a half-hour with the other maiden’s to prepare you for the day then?”

“Alright… Miss?” You stop her as she turns to leave. “Do you have a name? What can I call you?”

“Oh… of course, Lady Soniee would be fine.” She smiles. “Thank you for asking.”

“It’s my pleasure.” You smile in return. “Lady Soniee, is my guard outside?” You ask.

“Yes, he returned to his post with my arrival, in the night we have the night guards patrolling so our individual day guards get some time off.” She explains.

“Would you… Would you send him in, please?” You ask.

“Yes, Highness. Is there anything else you would like?” Soniee asks.

“No, that’s all, thank you, dismissed.” You released her from her duty and she turned to leave the room. As her back was turned to you, you rub a bit of the sleep out of your eyes and run your fingers through your hair in an attempt to tame your bed head. You wanted to look presentable for the knight. Truthfully, you haven’t quit thinking about him since last night’s endeavor. You fell asleep picturing what he looked like under his armor, and brainstorming what his name might be. You even wondered if you dreamed about him, but it’s all gotten hazy now. You knew this was inappropriate, and that you were here for your wedding with another man, but something about the secret relationship the two of you were forming was exciting, you were addicted to it. You sigh deeply as she closes the door behind her and then quickly looks down at your nightgown, proceeding to pull the cap sleeves down your shoulders a bit to show more skin and more of your collar. You laugh slightly to yourself, “You are ridiculous.” You mumble, chuckling. Before you could consider anything else, however, he walked in, his stature at attention.

“Is there something wrong, Your Highness?” He asked.

You felt your cheeks heat up in his presence, “I just wanted to thank you again for last night.” You tried not to gush as you spoke.

“Oh… Yes, anything for you, your Highness.” He nodded in response. Your chest filled with warmth as you looked at him.

“You’ll be accompanying me today, correct?” You ask.

“Of Course, Your Highness.” He nodded once again, you really wanted him to call you princess again.

“Wonderful, I hope you slept well last night.”

“I did, Princess, did you?” You smiled a little too wide at the title, and tried to cool your cheeks, not wanting to look like an absolute child in front of him.

“Yes, I did, thank you once again, I’ll see you later.” You sigh in response. “Dismissed.” That word felt like poison to you, you didn’t really want him to leave but didn’t know how to keep him around longer. This was an accident waiting to happen, and you had the power to stop it in its tracks, the only problem is that you didn’t want to.

—

The Gardens were even more beautiful in the daylight, the sun shone spectacularly off the fountains and the various statues scattered throughout the estate contrasted lovely with the bright flowers. You sat at a round table ornately decorated with various different pastries, teas and sandwiches on it. Around the table was the Queen, the women of her royal court, yourself and of course the Elf. You really wanted to speak to the elf, unfortunately, you asat across from her, and was forced to mostly converse with The Duchess Wren and another woman you had never spoken to before. The Queen introduced her to you last night but you were having a hard time remembering her name. The women weren’t in such heavy gowns this time, and none of them wore the jeweled headpieces they had on the night before except for the queen. You wore a light beige and white dress which ruffled at the sleeves and had a scooping boat neckline. It was very beautiful, however the corset back didn’t go nearly as high this time as the last dress did, which meant you couldn’t use it as an excuse to spend more time alone with the silent knight. He stood a few feet behind you away from the table, watching over the event. Every now and then you would turn to glance at him, ceiling every time you laid eyes on his armor.

The tea was fine, not as good as the winter teas you had back home, they were far more bitter. Mandalorians clearly enjoyed more bitter-tasting food as you noticed the longer you’re here. Once again, you were being mostly ignored as the Women who knew each other talked about drama within the Mandalorian Royalty. It was all much more conspicuous than anything you would talk about at home, and you found yourself quietly listening in on the various conversations instead of applying yourself to them. The women most likely thought you were some sort of strange claude, not social enough and far too boring for their culture. Again, you tried convincing yourself that you were overthinking, but you had a hard time believing yourself.

“And what about you, Your Highness?” The Elf spoke up, interrupting your deep and self-centered thoughts.

“Huh?” You were not listening.

“What do you think about the conduct to come out of Coruscant?” One of the fatter women sitting by the queen asked.

“Oh… I think they’ve rather lost their integrity since the assassination of their Emperor…” You clear your throat. You were just saying what you remember hearing your father say, attempting to fit into the conversation and hopefully gain some affection, knowing how much Mandalore despised Coruscant (you were rather indifferent, however).

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” The Queen smiled, “I believe you will be well suited for the politics of Mandalore.”

“Oh yes,” you began, “I had been preparing to be Queen of Corellia my whole life, I find politics rather exciting.” You admitted.

“Hm, I prefer to leave the politics to the men.” The fat woman scoffed and sipped her tea.

“I nearly forgot, you’re the only hair to the throne of Corellia, aren’t you?” The elven queen asks.

“Yes, I am.” You nod in response.

“Ah yes, your mother got sick and lost a baby-” The fat woman laughed. Your face dropped and went pale.

“Excuse you-” You began.

“Lady Aryn, have you no respect?” The Queen frowned.

“There’s nothing wrong with it, just a rumor I heard.” She shrugged, not seeming to care that she offended you or The Queen.

“Well it’s not a rumor.” You swallowed thickly, wanting to put her in per place for such an inappropriate comment, “My mother lost a baby when I was all but five and you have the audacity to bring it up like there’s nothing rude about it.” You spit out.

“Well who is to take the throne once you marry the Prince?” The fat woman asked as she sipped her tea. Many of the other women involved stayed quiet, timidly watching the drama play out.

“I don’t believe that is any of your business.” You chuckle out of frustration.

“It is my business, whomever rules Corellia during the impending war will directly affect how Mandalore responds to it. Considering my husband is the Grand General of the Mandalorian Army, it is very much my business.” Lady Aryn raised an eyebrow and dread washed over your body as she finished.

“I believe that your Cousin will be taking the throne?” The Elf Queen vouched for you and you were thankful she did, but still found the entire situation rude and out of hand.

“It should be me, but I’m being married off and getting my title stripped away from me.” You blurted out and immediately regretted what you said. You looked around at the faces of the women at the table. Each one showing a different expression of shock or betrayal, everyone but the Queen. The Queen’s face was stern, her lips dangerously straight and thin and her eyes dark as the two of you made eye contact. You had offended the Queen of Mandalore, you had offended the most powerful and wealthy monarch in the world. You sighed, and closed your eyes for a moment. “May I be excused, Your Majesty?” You asked with your eyes closed, waiting to open them until you finished speaking. You looked up at her through furrowed eyebrows, awaiting her response. The air was deathly thick, the tension grew as the court looked around at the scene. Your anger was justified, the remark on your unborn sibling was out of turn and incredibly rude, and after feeling ignored and unwanted for twenty-four hours by the very people set up to be your family, you snapped.

“You are excused.” The Queen said quietly, almost too quiet to hear, and you slowly stood from your chair before turning to leave. You looked to your knight as you did, and he followed. After you made distance between yourself and the other Mandalorian women, you could hear faint whispers. That went so much worse than you could have ever imagined. You want to disappear, you want to go home. You swallow a tear and sigh of relief when you get back into the Palace, strolling the halls until you found an empty sitting room. You sit down on one of the blue sofas and bring your fist up to your mouth. The Knight waited at the door, watching your every move. You felt ridiculous, and the absolute last thing you wanted to do was cry in front of the only person who’s shown you any decency since you arrived in Mandalore. You look over to him with dewey eyes before clearing your throat.

“I apologize for my conduct, I didn’t want you to see me like this.” You shakily sigh out. He didn’t reply, and you laugh once, “I suppose you have your code to uphold here.” You look down as you place your hands in your lap.

“No, I’ve sworn to protect you, that comes before the code of arms.” He takes a step forward and you were almost startled at his voice, you weren’t expecting him to speak up, but you were incredibly happy he did. You look up to see him a little closer, and smile just slightly at his gesture. “I didn’t protect you out there, I’m sorry.” He nodded his head.

“There’s no way you could have known,” You shrug, you didn’t want him to blame himself for your mistake, “Besides, I wasn’t in any danger.”

“Maybe you weren’t in any physical danger, but.. I really shouldn’t say this but that was out of hand. You’re family with the Queen now, she should have defended you.” He continued to step closer to you. “I deeply apologize for being so careless and allowing you to be hurt.” He bowed after saying this, and you smiled.

“Your apology is accepted, Sir Knight.” You slightly teased. “Thank you.” Your chest and stomach was filled with that warm and welcoming feeling again, and the negative endeavor from outside was forgotten even for just a moment. You knew you would have to face it eventually, and formally apologize to the Queen for offending her, but until then, you would allow yourself to feel okay for now. “You’ve been the kindest to me since I arrived.” You tilt your head, “You have no idea what it’s meant to me.”

“As I said, I vowed to be there for you, I will honor that vow.” He said, you didn’t want to feel like he was only being nice to you because he had to. You suck your lips in for a quick second as you absorb his response, unsure of how to respond. “But-” he interrupted your thinking, “It has truly been a pleasure to serve you, and I would be happy to undress you when you ask.”

Your eyes widened, “Excuse me?” It’s not that you didn’t like what you said, you just weren’t expecting it so casually.

“That- came out wrong, forgive me.” He corrected himself. “I mean, I’m happy to help you with anything you like.” He clears his throat and you smile, blushing at his sheepish correction.

“I understand.” You look down at the floor again. “I’m sorry they only give you the nights off.” You switched the topic, not wanting to linger on the last one in case someone was walking by or overheard anything.

“That’s fine, I... enjoy my time with you.” He stopped mid-sentence to consider what he was saying. You smile and laugh a little again.

“It must be tiring, wearing the armor all day, standing at attention, only getting a handful of breaks every few hours…” You think out loud.

“I’m used to it,” He shifts to his weight on one leg, lightly poppin his hip out as he speaks to you. “It’s not so bad, anymore.”

“Is the armor heavy?” You ask, trying to distract yourself.

“Yes, but that’s another thing we get used to. Our bodies adapt to it.”

“So… are you saying you’re strong under all that metal.” You raise and eyebrow, flirting just a little. You could hear a light chuckle come through the helmet when you said this.

“I guess you could say that.” It was like you could hear his smile.

“I’ve found that all Mandalorians are very attractive, do you fall under that assumption?” You knew very well you were playing with fire, that this was uncharted territory and everything was screaming at you to stop before you got too far but you couldn’t. Everything about him was so intriguing to you.

“I’m.. I’m not from Mandalore, actually…” He slowly responded.

“Oh?” You tilted your head, “I thought you had to be in order to be a part of the guard?”

“Well, in a way, you do. You have to be either born in or taken in as a foundling, and that’s what happened to me.” He shrugged.

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” You blinked, “Where are you from? Or can you not tell me…”

“The Nevarro frontier.” He responded, “I probably shouldn’t have told you that.” He groaned. You felt a shiver run down your spine at the sound of his rough voice groaning in such a way. You swallow your thoughts.

“You’re a long way from home.”

“I guess you could say that.” You smile at him again after he says this before turning and looking behind you, taking in the room. This was a larger sitting room, and there was a baby-grand piano in one of the corners. Outside of the windows you could see a courtyard, not the same courtyard that the garden is placed in, but one that was stoned and had a large tree in the center of it. There was so much of the palace you hadn’t seen yet, it was far larger than the Corellian one. You stood up to walk over to the piano, feeling a bit better now, and sitting at it. “Can you play?” He asked.

“Yes, I learned at a very young age.” You bring your hands up to keys and begin playing a song, one you have memorized. It was your mother’s favorite song. You played it with such emotion that the Knight was drawn into it, relaxing from his attentive stature and enjoying the sound.

“You’re... very talented.” He nodded.

“Thank you.” You said, looking up at him from the instrument. “I’m a bit rusty I must admit.” You shrug.

“I know someone who would really love it, no matter how rusty you say it is.” He explained.

“Who?” You ask as you stop playing, wondering who he may be talking about.

“I-I shouldn’t say, I’ve already broken the code so much-”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, I fully understand.” You interrupt, “But just know that anything you say is safe with me, If you vowed to protect me from both physical and emotional harm, the least I can do is keep your secrets.” You nod. He sighs, you can’t hear it but you see it in the armor.

“My.. Uh, my son.”

—

“Soniee, do you know if any guards are fathers?” You ask as the handmaiden tightens the corset on a different dress, tying it to your body. You were preparing for some time alone (chaperoned) with the Prince. You knew you promised the Knight you would keep his secret, and you would do everything in your power to uphold that secrecy, but you figured there was no harm in asking a few questions here and there. As far as anyone is concerned, you’re just curious about the customs and traditions of your new kingdom.

“Well many of the Knights have families of their own, some have illegitimate children as well.” She said behind you.

“So, they don’t have an oath of celibacy?” You ask, hoping it didn’t sound too strange or specific.

“What? No,” She laughed as she said ‘no’, “No, marriage and families are incredibly important to Mandalorian society, the only thing stronger than power or war is love and family. Blood before anything else.” She explained, she had clearly said those words before.

“Maybe that’s why everyone is so cold towards me.” You sigh.

“Maybe.” Soniee confirmed, “But I also believe any new member of house Kyrze is going to be given a hard welcome.”

“And why is that?” You ask, wincing afterwards due to a tight pull of the corset.

“Well it’s taught in every Mandalorian history class: House Kyrze is the royal bloodline, but it wasn’t always that way…”

“What do you mean?”

“There was a civil war some years ago almost immediately after the assassination of Queen Satine. A bad man came in and tried to overthrow Queen Bo-Katan. He was successful in his endeavors for a while, and that's why the Elves and the Queen are so close-” The handmaiden explained.

“I never knew about a Mandalorian war that happened among themselves?”

“It’s shielded from the outside world, we fear that if it gets out, people will stop coming to us for their wars out of speculation that we are not strong enough to fight them if we can’t control each other.” She finished the corset and took a step back, admiring the beautiful dress. “Many Mandalorian’s blame Queen Bo-Katan for the civil war even though she gave up everything she believed in to protect the royal family. You see, she used to be on the side of the Bad Man, but switched after her sister’s death. Many see her unfit for the crown, including members of her own Court.” You didn’t need any more explanation from Soniee to assume who that might be. Considering your previous endeavor this morning, the fat woman probably did not approve of the queen.

“That is why it’s essential that this marriage happens. The people love Korkie, they always have. He is the true heir and the pride of his mother, who was revered and loved throughout all of the kingdoms. When he is back on the throne, not only will anyone who disapproves of Bo be silenced, but they will also see it as one of her many successes. Having to raise and prepare a child who isn’t even yours is not easy.” Soniee concluded.

Great, another weight to be placed on your shoulder based on your ability to fall in love.

“I had no Idea any of that happened.” Your eyebrows furrowed together.

“Personally, I believe that is why you’ve received such a harsh welcome, Korkie is the golden boy of Mandalore, and many will not see you fit for his wife.” You sighed, your belly filling with stress.

“Highness, the Prince is waiting for you in the library.” Your Royal Guard interrupts the conversation, and you smile at him.

“Thank you, Lady Soniee, you’ve been incredibly kind and helpful.”

“Of course, Princess. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask.” She curtsied and you walked out of a your suite into the hallway.

This dress was simpler than the last, a soft pink with embroidered flowers running up and down the smooth tulle and puffy sleeves. It was very beautiful, one you brought from Corellia that was gifted to you a few years ago. You wore pearls from Naboo, and had a soft look to your ensemble. You wanted to be perceived in a specific way by your fiancé, pure of heart, and genuine.

You open the doors to the hallway, and your guard is standing at attention.

“Would you escort me to the library?” You ask, smiling with your lips afterwards. He nods and holds his arm out for you to take, looping your own arms round his and walking down the hallway.

“You look very beautiful, your highness.” He said quietly through the metal, quiet enough that you were the only one who would hear it if anyone would be listening in. You got the lightest touch of goosebumps at his deep and gruff whisper in your ear.

“Thank you, do you think The Prince will like it?” You ask, looking up at his helmet with beady eyes.

“He would be a fool if he didn’t.” The Knight responded, and your stomach filled with butterflies. You blushed as you experienced the addictive feeling of his presence, and pulled him just a bit closer to you. The two of you walk in silence for the remainder of the journey to the beautiful library. This was a part of the palace that you had never been to before, and it was just as stunning as the rest of the castle. Books from all over the world in countless languages sat upon towering bookshelves that reached the tall ceiling. There was a large fireplace and in front of it was a number of red velvet armchairs and sofas. As you entered the quiet room, your eyes immediately found the Prince, who sat in one of the chairs reading a book, his head resting against his fist. You and the Knight walk towards him, and as you pull to unhook your harm, you feel him stretch his hand out to feel you for as long as possible before the contact breaks.

“Prince Korkie.” You curtsie, interrupting his reading. He looked up from the book and smiled, standing and bowing to kiss your hand once again.

“Your Highness, You look lovely.” After he compliments you, you turn to look at the guard, smiling.

“I hope you weren’t waiting for too long.” You as he takes your hand and guides you to sit on a sofa.

“Not at all.” He reassured, “Allow me to introduce you to Lord Vaughn, he will be chaperoning us today.” He gestured to a man sitting across from you.

“My pleasure, Princess.” He stood from his seat to bow.

“The library is beautiful, as is everything else in the palace.” You compliment.

“It’s less beautiful when it’s been your classroom growing up.” The Prince teased and you chuckle. “If you would like, please feel free to take any books at any time.” He nodded.

“Thank you, but I’ve never been very into reading.” You admit. “I much prefer music.”

“Ah yes, I play the viola, my mother taught me when I was a boy-“ Somehow he always made it about himself you noticed. You didn’t think he tried to, but conversations are rather boring when you’re just listening. He talked for nearly a half-hour about playing for the Queen of Naboo as a twelve year-old and being revered as a child prodigy for the early part of his life. You sat quietly as he bragged, telling the story to both you and the chaperone instead of keeping his focus on you. You even caught your mind wandering every now and then, glancing over to your knight to make a little face of boredom in an attempt to make him smile. You know you wouldn’t be able to see him if he had smiled, but the thought of it was enough to keep you occupied. After the Prince bragged about his viola skills for close to an hour, he finally asked what you played.

“Piano, actually. It’s my muse, if you will.” You smile, happy to have finally been included, although it was short lived. The prince then continued to talk about how the Queen could play piano but got sick of it after her sister died and hasn’t played in a very long time. He went on and on about it, and you were starting to wish you had picked up a book on your way in to pass the time.

“Allow me to show you to my favorite section of the library.” The Prince said, forcing you to snap out of your little trance as he held your hand out. You clearly hadn’t been listening for a while because you had no recollection of the previous situation, his voice was very tune-out-able. “I’ve asked the Chaperone and Knight to stay here while I do.” He smiled, and you take his hand, standing from the chair.

“Is that appropriate?” You ask.

“I’m the Prince, I can do what I want.” He shrugs and then proceeds to walk you towards a corner in the library. You look over your shoulder to the Knight one last time before you’re pulled around the corner. “This hall is where I would go when I was mad, isn’t it beautiful?” He asked.

“Yes, it is.” It had mostly desks and only a few bookshelves, but was covered in mirrors on both sides of the walls, showing an endless reflection of thousands of copies of yourself.

“I wanted to give you this, as an engagement present.” He held out a small box wrapped with a blue bow.

“Thank you…” You take the gift out of his hand.

“It was my mother’s.” He said as you untied the bow and opened the box. Inside was a beautiful necklace of a sapphire stone with a gold halo.

“It’s beautiful, thank you.” You held up the necklace to your eyes, watching how it sparkled in the light.

“May I put it on you?” He asked. You nod and hand him the jewelry. Turning around and pulling your hair to the side, you feel him hook the necklace, letting the heavy gem sit against your collarbone. You looked down at it.

“It’s incredibly beautiful, Prince Korkie.” You turn around and smile.

“Please, just Korkie.” He said before forcing a kiss on you, pushing his lips into yours forcefully and holding you in place. It startled you, you hadn’t expected this from him, especially considering how kind he had been before. This was your first kiss and was less than pleasant. You push him off you, and look at him in disbelief. You didn’t want to offend him, but couldn’t mask the look of shock and beytrayal from your face. Your stomach filled with regret, it was customary to not kiss one another until your wedding day, why had he broken that tradition? You felt as though it was your fault he forced himself onto you, and you swallowed back the feeling of anger and distrust. If anyone found out you had kissed him before the wedding, they would all blame you, regardless of who initiated the kiss. You both knew this.

“Excuse me…” You huff passed him, returning to the main room of the library and walked towards the door, you heard your Knight follow you close after, and in a fit of confusion and flusterment, you storm as fast as you can towards your room.

When you two got to a more private part of the palace, closer to the suite, you heard him speak up, “Princess, princess what’s wrong?” You hear your knight say, and before you can ignore him, you feel him grab your hand. It isn’t forceful and it doesn’t hurt, but he’s strong, he wouldn’t be letting you go unless he had to. You turn around to show a tear running down your cheek. “What did he do?” The Guard asked. You swallow thickly and try to look away, darting your eyes behind him, “Look at me.” He said.

“I can’t see your eyes.” You sniffle.

“Please, did he hurt you?” He took a step closer to you, your bodies almost flush against one another.

“We can’t do this here-“

“Did he hurt you?” The knight repeats himself, sterner this time.

You look at his helmet and sigh, “No.”

“Then why are you crying?”

“It doesn’t concern you.” You were embarrassed, and pull your hand away before walking away, trying to get to your room before bursting into tears. You heard him pick up his pace to catch up and then suddenly he was cutting you off with his body, firmly grabbing your shoulders.

“As your Royal Guard, it does concern me. I told you just this morning that I promised to protect you, and now you’ve gotten hurt twice because of my mistakes.” He said, startling you just a bit. No one had ever spoken to you this way, no one had ever shown that they care this much.

“It’s not your fault, really.” You reassure.

“But it is. What did he do to you?”

“It’s… I’m embarrassed. It’s silly and I’ll-“

“Nothing you say could ever be ‘silly’ to me.” He said, his voice hushing as he did, giving you those little goosebumps again.

You sigh, looking up at him and trying to get out your next sentence, “He-he kissed me. I wasn’t expecting it and he broke tradition and it was all so… so forced.” You admit, feeling as though he would blame you for the kiss.

“He what?”

“You’re really going to make me repeat myself?” You scoff and push passed him, you were almost to your room, if you could make it just a little further-

“He kissed you?” The knight asked.

“Yes. I told you it’s ridiculous but-“

“It’s… not. Ridiculous, that is. It’s not ridiculous. Did he ask if he could?”

“No…” You reply, “I didn’t think he had to.” You raise an eyebrow. “I just wasn't expecting such a stark betrayal of tradition and it startled me and if anyone else find out, they’ll all blame me-“

“He has no right to lay a single finger on you without your permission. He hurt you, and therefore I’ve failed at my job.” He interrupted you.

“Oh-“ You mutter, finally arriving at your door. He had done that without your consent, he had hurt you. The knight was right all along and you were stupid to not accept his help right away. You wipe a tear away from your cheek and open the door. You take a step in, and hold the door open for him to join you. “I have over an hour before dinner… I’ll have to see him again.” You swallow before closing the door.

“I’ll be there by your side, I won’t leave you again. I won’t let him hurt you like that ever again, I promise.” He was firm and confident with his words, giving you a little wave of relief as he spake them.

“Thank you.” You whipser. You take a deep breath and look at him, “You said he can’t do anything without my permission?”

“Yes. That’s how you protect yourself. Don’t give him power he doesn’t deserve.” The Knight explains.

You exhale sharply, “I had never been kissed before.” You admit, looking down at the floor. “It wasn’t what I expected, to say the least.”

“I’m sure it wasn’t… kisses are special, sacred.” He sounded pained as he said them, like it was hard for him to get the words out.

“Have you kissed anyone?” You ask, considering he had a son, you assumed he had, but never really know unless you ask.

“Yes, once, a long time ago.”

“So you haven’t had that helmet on since birth?” You lighten the mood just a little. You hear him chuckle and your stomach is filled with warmth at the noise.

“No, I haven’t.”

“Can you ever take it off?” You ask, walking over to sit on your bed, listening intently, he takes a step in that direction, too.

“Yes, I take it off to eat and bathe and sleep and sometimes I take it off to talk to my son…” He sighs, “But at work, in the palace, in the eyes of other people, it stays on. Always.This is the way.”

“I still don’t understand why.” You tilt your head.

“It… protects us, it keeps our knighthood separate from our manhood, an it’s an ancient tradition practiced by Mandalorians, we do it to respect the culture.” He nods as he speaks.

“Hm, I half expected you to say it was just because you were ugly.” You giggle, and he shakes his head. This time, you knew he was smiling under all that metal.

“Compared to you, I am nothing.” You could hear his smile in his words. You blush and the butterflies in your stomach only grow. You pause for a moment, carefully considering what you were going to say next.

“Will you… will you kiss me?” You ask, looking up at him, he goes still.

“What?”

“Will you kiss me?” You repeat yourself. He doesn’t respond at first, and for a moment, you fear you’ve made a terrible mistake. You wanted him to, you wanted to know what he meant by “kisses are sacred”. He had plagued your mind ever since you first spoke to him and you already have far more affection in your heart for the Knight than for the Prince. You wanted to kiss him.

He sighs in response, and nods once, “Close your eyes, and keep them closed.” You blushed at his agreement.

“Okay.” You say, slowly closing your eyelids and patiently awaiting his next move, feeling triumphant that he agreed. Your body fills with adrenaline as you wait, trying to slow your heart rate with deep breaths.

“Promise to keep them closed?”

“I promise.” You whisper and a few seconds after, you hear the sound of metal hitting metal, and the hollow echo of his helmet being placed on the mattress by where you sit. It took everything in you not to open your eyes, you wanted to look at him, wanted to see his eyes. But you made a promise, you had made promises to each other and had to keep those promises.

Then, ever-so-gently, you feel his warm and forgiving lips against yours.

They’re soft and light, like he didn’t want to hurt you. You melted into his touch, and against your soft skin you felt his stubble run against it. It was rough in the most satisfying and loving sensation possible. He was much kinder than the Prince, so gentle, so true. It wasn’t a very long kiss, but it was more than a peck, and held more passion and intimacy in it than any of the hours you spent with your fiancé combined. He moved just slightly against you, and you felt his bare hand come up to hold your jaw in place as he deepened it for a split second before pulling away. As your lips parted from his, your breath was taken right with them, and you had to consciously remind yourself not to open your eyes.

“Keep them closed, okay?”

“Okay.” You nodded, trying to remember the feel of his kiss. “Thank you.” Your voice was broken, and you wanted another, but before you could ask, you felt the helmet lift off the bed and the sound of gloves being pulled onto hands.

“Open.” He said after a moment, and your eyes fluttered open to see the knighted figure in front of you. “You’re welcome.”

Part three here