#your opinion literally doesn’t matter and nobody asked I’m sorry to break it to you

[perfect-snaccccccc]

okay but are the productive, helpful, non-confrontational ‘critiques’ of these fan fictions in the room with us?

[shadyteacup]

Hello! If you’re free, I was wondering if I could have a request where 15y/o Dazai meets his future s/o which he feels comfortable around them and has good impression abt them. Like he’s wandering somewhere and suddenly run into them. They have a chitchat abt their thoughts on something and have fun talking to each other. Then leave and meet again when he joins ADA. (s/o is a weird kind of person, like out of this world)

I’m not an English speaker so sorry for my terrible English y-y. Btw, i love your writings!!💟

This is such an amazing idea! I had fun writing this! And dw, your English is spectacular ♡ Enjoy, dove!

Dazai Osamu x gn! Reader||Reader has a time traveling ability

Timeless

You were a time traveler. Your ability allowed you to visit places from different timelines. The only drawback was that you aged no matter where you were, even if you were using your ability. This meant that if you wanted to enjoy the present, you had to ensure that you didn't spend much time in the past. You couldn't visit the future.

But that was okay. You loved finding out the root of all problems. That's why you joined the ada. Your ability helped them to identify who the perpetrator was. You would travel in the past and be there at the crime scene at the right time. Then you'd come back and reveal important information like the hiding place of the murder weapon, or if they had been looking at the wrong suspect all along.

You were currently investigating the death of a businessman. His body had turned up near the docks. It was highly decomposed, and probably atleast 2 years dead. You decided to travel 2 years into the past, and made your way to the docks. While searching for the potential crime scene, you bumped into someone. A mop of brown hair stood a few steps ahead of you. The boy wore bandages all over his arms and neck, and had an eye covered. Judging by the absence of any outline of his eye on the bandage that covered it, and the lack of moisture, his eye probably wasn't injured at all. He was probably only wearing bandages to appear weak. But this was just an assumption on your part.

"Ah, I'm so sorry, boy. I didn't see you there!"

He looked at you with a dead look in his eye, then gave you the fakest smile to ever exist.

"It's alright. May I ask what you are doing at a place like this?"

You were taken aback by his cold demeanor. It reminded you a lot of your own self.

"I'm here to investigate a death."

You said. His eyes darkened at your words.

"You see, the body will be discovered two years later. No tangible evidence will be recovered, then. So I must find something useful here, now."

The boy smirked.

"Time traveling ability?"

You smiled.

"Yup."

His smirk dropped and he glared at you.

"I see. This is a dangerous adventure, dear. You might get caught in a string of trouble, one that might lead you to harm."

The boy's aura and dark look had made you suspicious about his employers, but now you were certain that he worked for the mafia.

"Don't worry. I'm pretty positive that the murder wasn't committed by someone from the mafia."

His surprise was momentary, but obvious. It caught your eye.

"Before you ask, no, I don't know your future self. Also, the method of the crime doesn't match the mafia's M.O."

He nodded, thinking.

"Well in that case, I don't think you and I should be enemies."

He chirped, a happy look on his face.

You were taken aback by the sudden change in his mood.

"Sure, kid."

You said, patting his shoulder and walking away, trying to find the crime scene. The area was littered with compartments and shipment goods. It all looked so similar, almost like a maze.

"Hey, kiddo, can you lend me a hand?"

He blinked in confusion.

"Um. Sure."

He was confused as to why you weren't afraid of him. You clearly knew he was from the mafia, but you still acted so casually around him. It made him think that you either represented somebody powerful, or worked for an influential employer.

You rummaged through your pocket, trying to find the picture. Handing him the the snap of the crime scene, you observed him as he peered into the paper.

"This way."

He said, walking between two cargo containers, and leading the way.

"I never got your name, boy."

He shrugged, peering at you over his shoulder.

"Does it really matter?"

You mimicked him, raising your shoulders in a lazy shrug.

"Maybe, maybe not. But I'd like to call you something other than 'boy'."

He hummed in thought.

"How about 'knight in shining armour'?"

You scoffed.

"I get the whole 'I'm helping you, so I'm a knight' thing, but I'm no damsel in distress."

He smirked.

"Oh? And what if I were to abandon you here? What would you do?"

You smirked.

"I'd find my way on my own. I don't need you, eye-patch."

He grinned at you smugly, stopping in his tracks and moving towards you. He leaned in, his face almost touching yours.

"And what if I were to overpower you, hmm? What would you do then?"

You shuffled closer to him, much to his surprise. You whispered near his ear.

"I'll ensure that you'll never be able to have kids."

Pushing him back, you snatched the picture from his palm, and continued searching for the location. He was astonished at your bravery. He always comes across as intimidating, and that was putting it mildly. You were very courageous.

Following you like a lost puppy, he watched you hide behind a bunch of wooden crates.

You patted the space next to you, beckoning him to sit there.

"The show's about to start, eye-patch."

You took out your camera and were ready to click.

That's when two men, clad in expensive suits walked over. One of them was explaining something to the other.

You began clicking a few snaps.

The guy who was observing, turned his back on the other for a second. That's when he brandished his knife and plunged it into the other's back. You were furiously tapping away on the camera's button, determined to get every detail of proof.

The victim suffered atleast 50 stabwounds, 53 to be exact, when the killer decided to stop and hide the body. You snapped every single second of the ordeal.

When the killer left the crime scene, the two of you got up, and dusted your clothes.

"Do you have any plans after this?"

He asked you.

"Well, not really. I was planning to grab a drink, maybe something to eat, before heading back."

You said.

"Or heading 'ahead', since I'm going to the future. I don't even know."

Dazai nodded his head.

"How about I treat you to a drink?"

You eye him suspiciously.

"I have no reason to harm you. You literally don't belong here, so I've got no reason to hurt you."

You hum in acknowledgement.

"Okay then. Lead the way."

....

"How old are you?"

He asked, swirling his drink in his glass.

"A few years older than you."

"Cryptic."

"Intrusive."

"Touche."

"You have so many questions, don't you, eye-patch. "

Dazai hummed, taking a sip.

"Consider me intruiged by your... ability."

He turned in his bar stool to face you.

"Why didn't you prevent it from happening?"

"Because if I break the flow of time, or even mess with it, everything will go haywire."

"And if you were able to prevent it, without disrupting the flow of time, would you have intervened?"

You gaze at your own glass.

"I would do some heavy research before I make my decision."

Dazai was curious. Did you not want to save people?

"Everybody has a reason for murder. Nobody wakes up one day and decides to kill someone. I'll dig into their lives and find out why the killer did it. And I'll decide whether or not preventing the murder would save an innocent life, or harm many others in the future."

"So, in short, you intend to play God."

You chuckled.

"If given the power, who in their right mind would turn down the offer? Everybody wants to play God. Our entire society is built that way. The one who has more money, more power, more influence, has the right to play God to those beneath them."

Dazai found you very interesting. The way you viewed the world was so unique. You were a textbook 'good person' but could easily become the 'bad guy' if given the resources. Good or bad doesn't really matter to him, he finds the difference between the two very confusing.

"Doesn't that make you, and everybody who has power, a "bad" person?"

You chuckled.

"Funny coming from a mafioso."

Downing the rest of your drink, you answer his question.

"The distinction between good and bad is so distorted. The same set of actions can be termed as good for certain circumstances, and bad for others. The villain is always the hero when you try to see the world through his shoes, and the hero is always the villain for those supporting the so called 'bad guy' ."

"I agree. I don't care about what's 'good' or 'bad' ,either."

"Then what do you follow?"

"What do you mean?"

"There must be some set of rules that you abide by. What are they?"

"I.. Don't have any. I'm a free bird!"

You tap your chin in thought.

"One must have something to fall back on when they don't know what to do. Something to blindly follow. For example, I follow a set of rules created by my morals and values. When I don't  know how to proceed, I remember them and act accordingly. "

Dazai observed you as you spoke, absorbing every single syllable that floated out if your luscious lips. He was attracted towards opinionated, strong and focused people. He adores the look on people's faces when they speek about their passions, and express their opinions on matters. Even if he disagreed with them, the fact that they have a strong reasoning behind their actions, and the way they calmly portray their points so skillfully, makes him like them more.

The way you were effortlessly articulating your inner thoughts was something that he was fascinated by. He had so much going on inside, so much turmoil, that it was impossible for him to express it out in words. But you seem to be so sorted and disciplined. He loved that about you.

"You'll get there someday, eye-patch. Don't worry. "

You comforted, smiling at the young man.

He smiled back at you. For the first time that day, he had given you a genuine smile.

"You should smile more. It suits you."

He blushed at your words. It was a weird feeling for him. He didn't understand why his face was heating up, or why his ears felt like they were on fire.

Flicking your wrist to check the time, you sighed.

"Well, time to leave."

Dazai held your wrist as you were about to get up.

"Wait!"

You looked at him quizzically.

"Will we meet again?"

You tilted your head and smiled at him.

" I can't say for sure, but I do hope that we do."

With that, he watched you walk out of the bar. He only respected Odasaku. But now, he respected you, too.

....

Time skip to a few weeks later.

....

"L/N san, please get yourself together, we're expecting a new member to join us, soon."

You laid on the couch of the ada as Kunikida rambled on about how everyone must be in their best behavior to greet their newest member. Yosano was handling most of it, so Ranpo and you had no work to do.

"Yes, yes, Doppo. Also, it's Y/N."

You said, stretching your arms above your head.

"Y/N kun, you need to try this new type of cookie. It has two different flavors!"

Ranpo said, offering you a cookie from his bag.

You smile at him, accepting it.

"Yum!"

"I know, right!"

"Ranpo san, Y/N san! Please come here! Our newest member has arrived!"

Both of you lazily got up and strolled over to the front of the office.

"What is the big deal, Doppo-"

You stopped mid sentence when you saw the person standing at the doorway.

"Eye-patch!"

Dazai's eyes widened when he saw you, the one person who had managed to intruige him other than his deceased friend, standing in the office. The office where he was to work at, today onwards.

"Damsel!"

He said, pointing at you.

You scoffed at his choice of nickname.

"Ha! I knew your eye was fine!"

"Do you both know each other?"

Kunikida asked.

"Ofcourse they do. They met a long time ago, right, Dazai?"

Ranpk said, muching on his sweets. Ofcourse, he figured it out.

"Well, not that long ago for me."

You smiled.

Dazai had finally met you. He was elated.

"I'm glad we met again."

"Don't worry, eye-patch, we have a lot of time to catch up. ;)"

[writingtoforgetreality]

Power Broker - TFATWS Rewrite Chapter Three (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

[Marvel-Masterlist], [TFATWS Rewrite-Masterlist]

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Summary: Zemo & you had a history. That did not stop you from following him. Much to your dismay. Madripoor. That was where you were headed. You would see what awaited you there.

Words: 11,979

Warnings: language, violence, injury, blood, angst, sarcasm, humor, sass, Zemo being himself (help, I love him), cute & protective Bucky, fluff, spoilers for TFATWS, (Y/E/C) = your eye color

If you like my work & wanna support me: a coffee would be highly appreciated ❤

Berlin. You would so regret the decision to really do this. It was no secret that you did not agree with Bucky’s plan. At all. The three of you followed a guard down a white hallway. The atmosphere here was everything but comfortable.

“He’s just through that corridor.” his thick, German accent came through. He left the three of you alone.

“Alright, I’m gonna go in alone.” Bucky started. Your eyes widened at that.

“Why?” thank you, Sam. An explanation was needed here.

“’Cause you’re an Avenger. You know how he feels about that.” you silently observed the conversation between the two men in front of you. If it got out of hand, you would intervene.

“It’s not like you two were known for frocklin’ in the sun together.” if it were not for the situation to be this serious you would have actually laughed at that. Not the right timing.

“He was obsessed with HYDRA. We have a history together. Trust me. I got it.” the moment Bucky wanted to walk away, you spoke up.

“Uh, I hate to interrupt…” you stopped briefly when two pairs of eyes stared at you. “But you’re not the only person to have a history with him, you know that, right?” your eyebrows raised in question. The super soldier simply rolled his eyes at you. He knew what you were trying to do.

“You don’t like him.” Bucky reasoned.

“And you do?” you shot back, arms crossing over your chest. He sighed out & put his hands on his hips. “That’s what I thought. Let me come with you.” slow & steady words left you.

“I won’t let you, (Y/N). That’s something I have to do alone.” your mouth opened to argue with him. Something he stopped right away. “And you can’t change my mind.”

“Sam.” you eyed the man next to you, waiting for him to reveal his opinion. He simply shrugged & motioned for Bucky to go ahead. Great. Back facing them, you took deep breaths to calm yourself down. Sometimes, you were so done with both of them.

“Why did you let him go in alone, Sam?” you started the conversation when Bucky was out of view.

“Because it was his idea in the first place.” he gestured.

“Sure & it was such an incredible idea that we didn’t even have to overthink it.” rolling your eyes, Sam kept staring at you in confusion.

“Wait…You said you had a history with Zemo.” Sam pieced everything together. At least he thought he did.

“So?”

“You didn’t like…fondue, did you?” Sam was careful while asking this question.

“Oh my God, could you not?” throwing your arms up, you covered your face with your hands. “No, we did not, Sam.”

“What kinda history do you two have then?” you could not even blame him for being curious. If you were in his position, you would ask the exact same question.

“It’s not important. Just…don’t bring it up again, okay? Please.” your (Y/E/C) eyes locked with his. The sincerity was shown through them. Whatever happened, Sam did not want to mess with you. After all, it looked like it really bothered you.

“What are you talking about you wanna break Zemo outta jail? Where the hell are we, Buck? Have you lost your mind?” the three of you were walking inside a barely lit room & Sam did not take the news of Bucky wanting Zemo’s help all too well. Was it the right time to tell him “I told you so.”? Whatever, you decided to keep it to yourself.

“We have no leads, no moves, nothing.” Bucky pointed out. Yeah, because you had not had enough time for research.

“Yeah, what we have is one of the most dangerous men of the world behind bars.” Sam clapped back.

“If you think Zemo is one of the most dangerous men then I’m really sorry for you, Wilson. Clearly you’ve never really met him.” your flashlight was not helping you to find your way through this room a lot.

“It depends, (Y/N)…” Bucky mumbled. “But we also have eight super soldiers on the loose.”

“Zemo is gonna mess with our minds. Especially yours. No offense. And (Y/N)? After our little talk, I don’t know what to think anymore.” Wilson looked into your eyes, as much as it was possible in the dark.

“Didn’t I tell you to not bring it up?” you growled out quietly.

“What are you talking about?” Bucky turned around to face you two. A shrug was enough to brush him off for now. Though, you expected more questions to follow soon. Finally, light illuminated the room & you could abandon your flashlights. “Super soldiers go against everything he believes in. He is crazy, but he still has a code.”

“Bold of you to assume that this man believes in anything, Buck.” looking around, it seemed like you were in some sort of a garage? You were not entirely sure.

“What (Y/N) said. I’ve been on the wrong side of that code, guys, & so have you.” Sam tried to talk some sense into Bucky but it was useless. “He blew up the U.N., he killed King T’Chaka & framed you for it, Bucky. Did you forget that? You think the Wakandans forgot about it?” he had a point. “It’s a rhetorical question. They didn’t. I know why this matters to you, but, come on, it’s pushing you off the deep end.”

“Sam, we don’t know how they’re gettin’ the serum. We don’t even know how many of them there are.”

“Because we haven’t had enough time to research.” you chimed in. “We just need some more time.”

“More time won’t change anything.” Bucky raised his voice slightly. Not enough for you to flinch back, though. “Look, let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?”

“This doesn’t sound good.” you said at the same time as Sam spoke up.

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything.” Bucky stated. Raising your eyebrows, you saw right through him.

“That’s his “I did something.” stare, Sam.” you leaned closer to him to whisper in his ear. Your voice got a little louder again. “So Bucky, tell us what you didn’t do, will ya?”

“The weakest point in any system isn’t the software, the hardware, it’s the meatware. The human element. Now, in this lockup, it’s nine to one, prisoners to guards. And if two prisoners start fighting, then the protocol says four guards have to respond.”

“So why would two prisoners randomly start fighting at that moment?” Sam asked another good question.

“If I’m being honest, I don’t think I even wanna know.” you shook your head & put your face into one of your hands.

“Who knows? There could be many reasons…” Bucky’s look left you with an uneasy feeling.

“Bucky.” you let out a warning growl. Whatever would follow, it would be everything but good.

“But the point is, these things escalate. Lockdown procedures would have to be initiated, & with all those bodies flying around left & right, wouldn’t be hard to slip down a hallway or two. And if the fire alarm got tripped while the prisoners were being separated…someone could use the chaos to their advantage.” Bucky finished.

“Um, I don’t know about you, but the fact that you could describe all of it so detailed without even having to stop for a second to think about your next words is truly scary.” your eyes rolled because deep down, you knew that this was not just hypothetical.

“I have to agree with (Y/N). This is unnatural. Are you…And where are we, man?” at least Sam was on your side this time. A door opening in the distance caught your attention. A threat? But before you could start your flames, a familiar face showed up. Oh no.

“Woah.” Sam breathed out, immediately going into fight mode.

“No, listen.” but Sam did not listen. You, on the other hand, tried to stay hidden behind the two men.

“What are you doin’ here?” really, Sam? Bucky literally told you like a minute ago. Sam went to attack but he was held back.

“I didn’t tell ‘cause I knew you guys wouldn’t let this happen.” damn right he was. You would have done everything to stop it.

“What did you do?” Sam’s voice got a few octaves higher.

“We need him, Sam.” scoffing quietly at that, you eyed the situation carefully. It was not part of your plan to meet him again. Not ever, for that matter.

“You’re going back to prison!” Sam was really heated right now, you could tell.

“If I may…” there was his voice. The one you had not heard in so long.

“NO!” Sam & Bucky yelled in union.

“Apologies.” you were pretty sure that they did not hear it. Slowly, you made your way out of your hiding spot. Zemo saw a dark figure approaching, silhouette way too familiar. His eyes widened at your sight. Nobody told him that you were here as well.

“(Y/N)?” his voice, barely above a whisper, broke the two arguing men out of their discussion.

“Zemo.” you nodded at him, feet dragging you closer to Bucky where you felt safe.

“Long time no see.” he stood his ground, sensing that you were uncomfortable. Because, unfortunately, he knew you better than you would have liked to admit.

“Not long enough.” you countered & he scoffed at you. “Hey Bucky?” he turned to you, that threatening smile on your face. The one everyone you were close to feared. “What the actual fuck?”

“(Y/N).” Bucky sighed in frustration. “Let me explain.”

“Sure thing, go ahead…”

“When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you backed him. You broke the law & you stuck your neck out for me.” the super soldier made sure that his words reached the both of you.

“And I would do it again. As would Sam.” you answered without a second thought. Yet, his next words caught you off guard.

“I’m asking you to do it again.” Bucky’s voice got lower, signaling that he was serious about this.

“I didn’t mean it so figuratively, dude.” you desperately breathed out.

“I really think I’m invaluable…” but you gave Zemo no chance to finish whatever thought his sick brain had formed.

“Shut the fuck up.” you snarled through gritted teeth. His arms raised in defense.

“Okay.” Sam stated after a few seconds of silence.

“Okay? What do you mean “Okay.”?” you expected a lot of things but you definitely did not expect Sam to be okay with this. “It’s bad enough I have to work with you two children. But him? Don’t do this to me, guys.” you whined like you were a little child yourself. Sam rolled his eyes at your behavior.

“How kind of you, (Y/N).” Zemo sarcastically added.

“If we do this, you don’t make a move without our permission.” Wilson looked at him with that stare of his that usually made you shut up in an instant.

“Sam? You do know who you’re talking to, right?” one of your eyebrows raised.

“Yes, I do.”

“Good, just wanted to check.” your tight lipped smile did not need another comment.

“Okay, Zemo, where do we start?”

“(Y/N)?” Can we talk for a second?” Bucky dragged you away before you could give him a proper response. When he was sure that neither Sam nor Zemo could hear you anymore, he continued. “What’s going on?”

“Funny enough, I wanted to ask you the exact same question.” your sarcasm was more than obvious right now.

“You & Zemo?” his face was incredibly close to yours but not in a good way. No, he was mad at you even though you should be the one being mad at him.

“I didn’t help him break out, don’t you dare blame me now.” you shoved him back, not with much force, just enough so he stepped back.

“What kinda history do you have?” his voice was a little softer now, though you did not know why.

“There’s a reason I haven’t told you about any of this, Buck.” sighing exaggeratedly. “We have a history. So what? I don’t like him, okay? I don’t. Why do you care anyway?”

“So there was nothing between you two?”

“What the hell? No, of course not. Sam asking that? Okay, I get it. But you? Do you really think so little of me? Bucky, since when don’t you trust me?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. Just, you’ve only mentioned him to me a few times.”

“And I have damn good reasons why.” one of your hands made its way to Bucky’s shoulder in order to catch his attention. When his eyes met yours, you continued. “You have your demons to fight & I have mine. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be alright.” you wanted to turn around & head back to the others but his metal hand grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“You can talk to me, (Y/N). Whatever it is, I’m here for you, too.” a warm smile was enough for him to let you go. Motioning for Bucky to follow you, he trailed behind to go back to Sam & Zemo. Hopefully they had not killed each other yet.

“So our first move is grand theft auto?” Sam questioned when the four of you made your way into a big hall filled with cars. So many cars. Why the hell were there so many cars?

“These are mine. Collected by family over the generations.” Zemo explained. Sure thing. Sometimes you forgot that he was a Baron. “I spent years hunting people HYDRA recruited to recreate the serum. Right, (Y/N)?” he sent you a wink which made you roll your eyes. He pushed your buttons & he damn well knew it. Your heartrate picked up its pace, past memories were flooding your brain. The sudden headache made you stop in your tracks. Bucky turned around when he did not see you walking next to him anymore. He approached you, squeezed your shoulders & tried to get you to look up. It took a few moments but when your head snapped up, a small smile was plastered on your face. A tired one. Bucky could tell as well. Nodding briefly, you began walking again. This time, Bucky stayed close.

“Because once it’s out there, someone can create an army of people…” Zemo rummaged through one of his many cars, searching for God knew what. “…like the Avengers.”

“Remind me to kick your ass if you keep making these pauses for dramatical effect.” Sam & Bucky scoffed at your little threat.

“Almost feels like the good old days, doesn’t it?” he made his way over to you. Instinctively, you scooted closer to Bucky’s side. Getting the message, he wrapped one of his arms around your middle. “I ended the Winter Soldier program once before. I have no intention to leave my work unfinished. Not like I left yours, (Y/N).” he teased. Your jaw clenched & you tried your hardest to keep your comments to yourself.

“Can you just cut to the chase?” Bucky spoke up with his deep voice. Zemo looked at you guys & explained further.

“To do this, we’ll have to scale a ladder of lowlifes.”

“We’ll join the party. We’ve already started.” Sam joined the conversation.

“First stop is a woman named Selby. Mid-level fence I still have a line on. From there, we climb.” Zemo walked away, ignoring you entirely. Glancing between Sam & Bucky, you noticed that they were on board with whatever Zemo had planned.

“Oh. Okay. Great.” mumbling out, you followed Zemo & left the others alone. You hated everything about this.

Zemo led you to an airport. Sort of. His private jet. Yes, apparently his Baron title meant a big deal. As an Avenger, you did not even have things similar to what he had. Not that you were complaining. It sure as hell fed his ego, though. Especially with this coat of his that made him look like he really was important.

“So all this time you’ve been rich?” Sam gestured with his arms. Gesturing to the huge ass plane right in front of you.

“I’m a Baron, Sam.” because he could not see you, you mimicked his words in a teasing manner. Bucky noticed & tried to hide his laugh with a cough. Without luck. Zemo did not seem to mind. “My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country.”

“Aw, bummer.” you joked which earned you a death glare from him. Zemo greeted the man waiting for you in Russian. Some words you understood. You grew up with HYDRA, after all.

“Please.” Zemo motioned for you all to follow him inside the plane. Truthfully, you had a bad feeling about this. Somehow, the blind trust Sam & Bucky placed in him left you angry. They knew what he was capable of.

“By the way, I think it’s not fair that I have to sit opposite of him.” your finger pointed to Zemo but your words were directed at Sam & Bucky. The Baron chuckled at you.

“Apologies if that’s a little warm, the fridge is out.” was it his butler? He was now. “But I will see if there is some good food in the galley.” these really were first world problems. Not. Zemo answered something in Sokovian. Something that even made you laugh.

“Wait…What did he say?” Bucky asked you with wide eyes.

“He just confessed that he would like to have your hair, Buck.” Zemo did not correct you but simply chuckled at your words.

“You don’t know what it’s like to be locked in a cell. Oh. That’s right. You do. (Y/N)?” he eyed you, looking at you expectantly.

“What is it my dear Baron?” you rolled your eyes when you answered him.

“Oh, I get all giddy when you call me that…You know, we need to talk.”

“Oh, do we now?” tilting your head, you hoped he would not keep talking. You knew how this would end.

“Maybe not in their company.” he shrugged his shoulders.

“Maybe not at all.” you snapped back with venom in your voice. If he did not stop talking then you would make him shut up. Luckily, Sam came to your aid.

“Why don’t you tell us about where we’re going?” took him long enough to ask that. Hell, you were already on your way.

“I’m sorry. I was just fascinated by this.” Zemo opened a book, focusing on whatever words he was reading. “I don’t know what to call it, but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?” immediately, you jumped up & ripped the small book out of his hands. Handing it to Bucky, you silently checked if he was alright. A small nod confirmed that he was. For now. Your face got closer to Zemo’s.

“You do something like that again & I’ll castrate you with my bare hands. Flames included.” his eyes got a little wider in fear. He had respect but he did not want to show it. “Got it?” he nodded frantically & you shoved him back into his chair, sitting down yourself.

“I’m sorry.” well, at least he was apologizing. Whether he meant it or not did not matter. “I understand that list of names. People you’ve wronged as the Winter Soldier.”

“Don’t push it.” Bucky warned him.

“I’ve seen that book.” Sam joined the conversation. “It was Steve’s when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man. He wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What’d you think?” risking a glance at Bucky, he looked outside of the window. Seemingly done with everything right now. Similar emotions were rushing through you.

“I like ‘40s music, so…”

“Oh, stop it, Buck. I’ve seen you throwing it down to Beyoncé.” you teased. Sam & Zemo laughed while Bucky only scoffed.

“I don’t mind Beyoncé.” he defended himself.

“You didn’t like Trouble Man?” Sam acted as if the world was ending. Again.

“I liked it.” he countered.

“It is a masterpiece, James. Complete. Comprehensive.” because apparently, Zemo thought everyone cared about his opinion. “It captures the African-American experience.”

“He’s out of line, but he’s right.” Sam had to admit. “It’s great. Everybody loves Marvin Gaye.”

“True.” you added quietly.

“I like Marvin Gaye.” Bucky confessed.

“But?” you asked.

“No but.” the super soldier breathed out.

“Steve adored Marvin Gaye.” Sam was right. The thought brought back a lot of memories.

“You must have really looked up to Steve.” Zemo really was one to push buttons.

“Zemo. Shut it.” your warning growl was deep.

“You’re very protective over James, (Y/N).” he noted.

“So what? You jealous?” you asked, your tone teasing. He simply shook his head & let the topic die. Bucky eyed you carefully when you talked to Zemo. It was true, you were protective whenever it came to him. But that was your personality, right? That was what he told himself. Zemo directed the conversation to Steve again.

“I realized something when I met him. The danger with people like him, America’s super soldiers, is that we put them on pedestals.”

“Watch your step, Zemo.” Sam’s warning would not change anything. After all, you had tried before.

“They become symbols. Icons.” Zemo did not stop. “And then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die. Movements are formed, wars are fought. You remember that, right?” his words were directed at Bucky. Your hand was held out for him to grab. While he eyed it, he did not take it. So you retreated it again. Probably too many people here to watch, you figured. “As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull? That is why we’re going to Madripoor.” huh, Madripoor. You had never heard of that before. Was it stupid to follow Zemo there? Most definitely.

“What’s up with Madripoor? You guys talk about it like it’s Skull Island.” sometimes you really appreciated Sam for keeping the cool during such situations. You let your emotions drive your actions most of the time. Something you needed to improve, you knew that.

“It’s an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago.” looked like Bucky knew about this place. “It was a pirate sanctuary back in the 1800s.”

“It’s kept its lawless ways.” your head turned to stare at Zemo again. Lawless? Great. “But we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves. James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone.” glancing between him & Bucky, you scoffed in hopes that this was a big joke.

“No. No, no, no. Bucky, you won’t go with that, right?” but he only shot you a sympathetic smile. Sam only shrugged. Well, apparently all the guys were against you.

“(Y/N). I expect you will not be happy about the role you have to play.” Zemo’s eyes bore into yours. They held something that left you uneasy. “You will have to become my partner in order to not blow up our cover.” please, let him be joking. The seriousness showed you that he was not. Bucky beat you to speaking up.

“Not gonna happen. Don’t even think about it.”

“Funny how (Y/N) doesn’t want you to play the Winter Soldier & you don’t want her to be my pretend-wife.”

“Guess what, Zemo? I don’t wanna be your pretend-wife.”

“I guess you don’t have much choice.” Zemo stated with a certainty. He was right. You hated it but he was right. A look at Sam & Bucky was enough. It was set. Zemo’s plan was about to happen.

Madripoor was colorful. If it were not for the fact that they lived without any laws here, you would have enjoyed it. Sam changed into a red suit, pretending to be someone called Smiling Tiger. Bucky pretended to be the Winter Soldier. Zemo’s clothes were the same. You wore a beautiful gown that matched Zemo’s colors. It hugged your every curve perfectly. The moment the super soldier first saw you in it took his breath away. You were drop dead gorgeous. Every day, actually. But in this dress? Damn, he was at a loss of words. The four of you walked the streets just like that. In this country, nobody cared. Nobody noticed.

“We have to do something about this. I’m the only one who looks like a pimp.” Sam complained about his outfit.

“I don’t know, I think people will dig that.” you nudged him with your elbow. This earned you a light groan & a laugh.

“Only an American would assume a fashion-forward Black man looks like a pimp.” sometimes, you thought Zemo tried everything to sound intellectual. Tried was the word. “You look exactly like the man you’re supposed to be playing. The sophisticated, charming African rake named Conrad Mack, aka the Smiling Tiger.”

“Sophisticated & charming.” you chuckled. “Not words I’d use to describe you, Wilson.” Sam rolled his eyes at you.

“Smiling Tiger. He even has a bad nickname.” Sam complained. But when he looked at the picture Zemo had shown him, he realized why he had to play pretend to be that guy. “Hell, he does look like me, though.”

“Show me.” Sam held the picture in front of your face. “Damn, you sure that’s not you? Secret identity, maybe?” you wiggled your brows & earned a playful slap from Sam.

“(Y/N), you cannot act like this here.” Zemo held your wrist to make you stop in your tracks. “You are supposed to be the Baron’s dame. Let your guard down & this mission will be for nothing.” usually, you did not care about other people’s opinions. Therefore, Zemo’s words did not affect you at all. Bucky pulled you away from him & shot him a stern stare.

“Stop. Threatening. Her.” Bucky growled. “She’s not new to this job. She knows the way.” Zemo’s hands raised & he took a step back, signaling that he would not do this again.

“You smell this?” Zemo spoke up all of a sudden.

“Yeah, what is that? Acid?” Sam asked curiously.

“Madripoor.” wow, what a great answer. Now you knew so much more. You had a lot of sarcastic comebacks but you decided to keep your comments to yourself. “No matter what happens, we have to stay in character. (Y/N).” Zemo held his hand out for you to take. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed it. His body pulled closer to yours & you wished it would be Bucky who held you close. It would make everything a lot easier. Plastering on a big, fake smile, you tried your hardest to be what he wanted you to be. His dame. You would kill him later, for sure. A car approached you & the four of you got in. Zemo, pretending to be the gentleman, opened the door for you & helped you in. His hands holding your hip in place. He was so dead. After this mission, you would so kill him. His smirk showed you that he knew exactly what he was doing.

Nope. You did not like this town. At all. Loud music. Drugs everywhere. Scary people wherever you looked. And to top everything off, you had to pretend to be utterly in love with Zemo. Now that you were thinking about it, you would have preferred talking to him instead of this whole undercover thing. The four of you found yourselves in the Princess Bar. The name itself would have been repulsive enough for you. But it was all for the job. All to get the job done. Zemo started speaking in Russian. You understood most of it. Someone close to you whispered something about the Winter Soldier being here. They knew him. Of course. People like them did know him. You made your way over to the bar. Your body being uncomfortably close to Zemo’s. Bucky had a role to play but you knew him better than that. Something behind his eyes told you that he hated this as much as you did. Not just him pretending to be the killer he had once been but also you having to play the Baroness.

“Hello gentlemen, m’lady. Wasn’t expecting you, Smiling Tiger.” the bartender greeted you.

“His plans changed. We have business to do with Selby.” Zemo explained.

“The usual?” obviously, the question referred to your drinks of choice. Unsure how to answer, you let the guys do the talking. In the corner of your eyes, you noticed Sam nodding. Bucky kept his composure. Your eyes widened when the bartender grabbed a very much alive & moving snake from a jar, put it down on the counter & went straight to cutting it open. It took everything in you to not gag but you had to act like none of this faced you.

“Ah.” you assumed Zemo wanted to ease the tension. “Smiling Tiger, your favorite.” oh no, poor Sam. You averted your gaze from the scene in front of you. Instead, your eyes bore into the side profile of the man hugging you close.

“I love these.” Sam commented, referring to the drink in his hand. If all of this was over, you would tease the shit out of him. Now was not the right timing, though.

“Cheers, Conrad.” Zemo clinked his glass with Wilson, then moved on to you. Honestly, you had no idea what kind of liquid your glass held. You knew better than to ask questions. Fingers crossed Sam could down his drink without making it look suspicious. Someone tapped your shoulder. An action which made you turn around. Zemo turned around as well, squeezing your hips as he did so. He was walking on very thin ice. Yet, your smile not even once faltered.

“I got word from up high.” the man talking to you was scary. It would not have bothered you as much if you knew you could use your powers. “You ain’t welcome here.”

“I have no business with the Power Broker, but if he insists, he can either come & talk to me…” he then gestured to Bucky who stood close by, jaw clenched. It had to be hard for him. After all, he wanted to erase the Winter Soldier from his mind. He was the main cause of his nightmares. Zemo would regret his decision to play pretend once you could let your guard down. “Or bring Selby for a chat.” that seemed to do the job. The man left you guys alone again.

“A power broker? Really?” Bucky questioned.

“Every kingdom needs its king.” you had to keep your comment about him killing King T’Chaka to yourself. “Let’s just pray we stay under his radar.”

“Do you know him?” Sam chimed in.

“Only by reputation. In Madripoor he is judge, jury, & executioner.” suddenly, Zemo began talking in Russian, clearly addressing Bucky. All you could make out was that he was supposed to attack. No. No, no, no. But it was too late. Bucky went straight into action. Fighting his way through the bar. People surrounding you screamed. Some of them put their phones out & you would have loved to just burn the place down. If these videos ever make it to the States? Only the Gods knew what it would do to Bucky. It kind of scared you that the super soldier could pretend so easily. Though, you knew that deep down, he hated every single second of it. With his entire heart. No matter what, you had to talk to him about this later.

“I will kill you for this.” you whispered into Zemo’s ear. A gentle smile on your face when you pulled away again. A smirk was the only response you got.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” he winked at you. Your jaw clenching was the only way to show how incredibly angry you were. Guns around you started clicking & you turned around only to be met with tons of people circling you. Zemo pulled you closer once again. His next words were directed at you & Sam.

“Stay in character or the whole bar turns on us.” what a reassuring thing. Zemo praised Bucky in Russian.

“Selby will see you now.” the bartender gave you an approving nod.

“Thank you.” the Baron said. Bucky let go of the person he had held down only a second ago.

“Are you okay?” you could not help but ask, of course only in a whisper. Bucky would not meet your eyes & just let out a deep breath. Maybe he would give you a proper answer later on.

“You should know, Baron.” the woman who you assumed to be Selby spoke up. “People don’t just come into my bar & make demands.”

“Not a demand. An offer.” he made it obvious to grab your hand & intertwine his fingers with yours. You offered the best heart eyes you could muster.

“A lot has changed since you were here last. Who’s that lovely lady by your side?” she eyed you up & down.

“My Baroness.” Zemo kept it simple, thank the Gods. At least one move you were alright with. Your warm smile made her smile in return.

“By the way, I thought you were rotting away in a German prison. How did you escape?” excellent question. You knew someone who could recall the story very detailed. Zemo sat on a chair & pulled you on his lap. Your jaw clenched but you would not let your smile fall. You did notice Bucky staring at you closely. Shooting him a quick glance, you hoped it was enough to let him know that you were fine but that you were not liking it one bit.

“People like us always find a way, don’t we? Darling?” he squeezed your hip, motioning for you to answer as well. The nickname he gave you? Oh, he would so get punched later.

“Most definitely, my Baron.” a soft kiss was planted on your cheek & you saw red. By the way Bucky’s fist clenched, it was obvious that he was slowly losing his temper.

“I’m sure you’ve already figured out what I’m here for.” his eyes directed to Selby.

“You’re taller than I’d heard, Smiling Tiger.” she did not even look at Sam, yet her words were meant to reach him. “What’s the offer?”

“Tell us what you know about the super-soldier serum.” Zemo did not waste any more time. He gently moved you off of him & got up, walking over to where Bucky stood. “And I give you him, along with the code words to control him, of course. He will do anything you want.” one of his hands brushed along Bucky’s chin & if it were not for the part you were playing, you would have punched him in his face. Flames added & all.

“Now that’s the Zemo I remember.” Selby seemed totally on board with that deal. “I’m glad I decided not to kill you immediately.” damn, she wanted to kill him back in the days? Why the hell did she not? “Yeah, you were right to come to me. Arrogant, but right.” again, Zemo sat back down, pulling you close to his body. And you could do nothing but obey. “The super-soldier serum is here in Madripoor. Dr. Wilfred Nagel is the man you wanna thank. Or…condemn, depending on what side of this you’re on. The Power Broker had him working on the serum, but…things didn’t go as planned.”

“Is Nagel still in Madripoor?” Zemo wanted to know.

“Oh. The bread crumbs you can have for free, but the bakery is gonna cost you, Baron.” great, so that was not going the way you thought it would. “And before you get all cute, don’t think you can find Nagel without me.”

A cell phone vibrating caught everyone’s attention. Looking over to Sam, you realized that it was his. Shit. Whoever was calling him did not know about this little undercover mission. Selby demanded him to answer it & Sam had no choice but to. On speaker, of course. It was Sarah. Wilson’s sister. No matter how hard Sam tried, in the end, it blew your cover. Selby got shot the second she ordered to kill you all. Confusion washed over you, Zemo pushed you behind him. Bucky was right there & covered your body with his, making sure nobody had a clear sight on you. Though you had him protecting you, something hard hit the back of your head & you were soon embraced in darkness.

“So what the hell happened to her?” you could make out a female voice. It sounded familiar but you could not quite tell who it belonged to. Your eyelids were too heavy & it was a struggle to open them. Yet, you kept trying. After all, you still were not sure if your were safe or not. Last time you checked, you were in danger with people pointing their guns at you. How you got here? Somewhere inside on a couch? No clue. Groaning slightly, you found it hard to move. Finally opening your eyes, you were met with a certain super soldier smiling down at you. Wait a second. Were you laying in Bucky’s lap? Thank the Gods your head was killing you still or you would have been embarrassed to be in this position.

“Good morning, doll. You okay?” when the others noticed Bucky talking to you, they moved over to where you were. When you struggled sitting up, the super soldier went to help you. One of his arms stayed around your body. Looking around the room, you saw Sam, Zemo & Sharon staring at you. Sharon? What?

“Sharon?” your eyes widened, she simply shot you a warm smile.

“Nice to see you again, (Y/N).” she nodded at you.

“Um, what-where…how…okay. What the fuck?” Sam & Bucky chuckled at your confused state.

“I saved your asses. Well, not entirely. Bucky saved your ass & then I found you guys & then I saved your asses.” Sharon explained.

“Some asshole punched his gun against your head. Buck picked you up & we ran outta there. Now we’re here.” Sam joined in. Nodding in understanding, you thanked Sharon first, then looked over at Bucky & smiled brightly. That was enough for him to know that you were thankful.

“And Zemo’s still alive?” you teased, raising your eyebrows.

“For now.” Sharon mumbled & you broke out in laughter.

“No, wait. I told him I’d kill him. Please let me do it.” you eyed the Baron who simply sat there in silence, observing the conversation from afar.

“What’s going on, Sharon? You don’t ever wanna come back home?” Sam asked while picking out an outfit to wear.

“We miss you.” you simply stated.

“They’ll lock me up if I step foot back in the States.” well, she had a point but that did not have to happen. “Madripoor doesn’t allow extradition.”

“Look, I’m sorry I didn’t call, but after the Blip & the chaos, I just…” Sharon interrupted his rambling.

“Look, you know the whole hero thing is a joke, right? I mean, the way you gave up that shield, deep down, you must know it’s all hypocrisy.”

“He knows. And not so deep down.” for the first time since you woke up, Zemo spoke up. Nobody had asked him but you did not want to tell him that. All you did was sending him a death stare.

“Sharon. I did call. You never picked up.” you looked over from the couch to where she & Sam stood.

“I know you called.”

“Oh, okay. Great.” you mumbled, head hanging low.

“It wasn’t exactly easy, (Y/N). If there was a chance, I would’ve called back. You know that, right?” her eyes met yours & behind them, you saw the sincerity. A short nod was enough to drop the conversation for now. “By the way, how is the new Cap?”

“Oh my…please don’t ever mention that asshole again.” groaning, you put your head into your hands.

“Don’t get me started.” Bucky added. Sharon scoffed at your responses.

“Please. You buy into all that stars & stripes bullshit.” she walked over to her couch where Bucky & you were still sitting close to each other. “Before you were his pet psychopath, you were Mr. America! Cap’s best friend.”

“Wow. She’s kind of awful now.” Bucky leaned closer to your ear & whispered to you. Chuckling quietly, you clapped back a little.

“Not cool, Sharon. I’m being serious.” she rolled her eyes at you. A smirk formed on your face. You knew she was joking, but still.

“Karli Morgenthau & at least seven others have taken the serum.” Sam fixed the shirt he just put on.

“You guys really should steer clear of all of this for your own safety.” Sharon shook her head.

“We know it’s a risk, but we won’t leave until we find the one who cracked the code.”

“We got a name. Wilfred Nagel.” the super soldier followed.

“Nagel works for the Power Broker.” Sharon got up & walked across the room.

“We need your help, Sharon.” Sam admitted. “I can get your name cleared.”

“You haggling with my life?” she poured herself a drink. A drink would do you some good, too. But because of the headache you were still experiencing, you decided to not ask for one.

“Not like that.” Sam’s eyes softened.

“I don’t buy that. You pretending like you can clear my name. (Y/N)’s name got cleared because of what now? Oh, right. Because nobody knows she used to work for HYDRA. Because nobody has read her file. Imagine if things were different. What would her situation be like, huh?”

“Thanks for dragging me into this convo, Sharon.” a tight lipped smile was sent her way. Bucky placed his hand on your shoulder & squeezed a little.

“I wasn’t all that involved in clearing (Y/N)’s name. She did most of it herself.” Sam made sure to add & you showed your gratitude by a small but present smile. “Okay, maybe it is hypocrisy. Maybe you’re right. What happened to you. But I’m willing to try if you are. They cleared the bionic staring machine, & he killed almost everybody he’s met.”

“Damn, Wilson. You’re getting better with nicknames. If you keep going like that, I will have to start a small book & write them all down.” you joked. Even Bucky chuckled. Not much but still.

“I don’t trust charity.” Sharon ignored your little banter.

“Alright, a deal then.” Sam really cared about her otherwise he would have stopped trying to convince Sharon by now.  “You help us out, & I get your name cleared.” it took her a few moments but eventually, she shook hands with Wilson. So you had her on your side. Almost like the good old times.

“Well, I sell to some pretty connected people.” right, because apparently, you were unconscious when Sharon showed the guys around her art exhibition? That was what you made out. Though you had no idea what exactly they were talking about. “Lay low. Blend in. Enjoy the party. Try to stay outta trouble. I’ll see what I can find.”

“(Y/N)?” Zemo asked when Sharon exited the room. Bucky visibly tensed beside you. Clearly, he wanted to keep him as far away from you as possible. Especially after what happened at Selby’s. Bucky blamed Zemo for you getting hurt. Because if the super soldier was close to you, you would not have to deal with a pretty bad headache right now.

“What, Zemo?” you snarled.

“I asked you earlier today. Can we talk?”

“No.” Bucky answered so quickly, you barely had time to register the question.

“I believe the lady can speak for herself.” Zemo stood up, holding his hand out for you to take. Shooting Bucky a quick glance, your eyes told him that you would be fine.

“The lady can. You got five minutes.” ignoring his hand, you got up yourself, stopping briefly to get used to the feeling of standing. Your head was pulsing. Bucky went to steady you by holding onto your waist. When the dark spots blurring your vision disappeared, you assured Bucky that you were okay. His titled head showed his uncertainty. Nevertheless, he let you go.

Zemo & you were outside on a balcony. The chill air of Madripoor around you. Propping your arms on the railing, you waited for him to speak up. It was him who wanted to talk to you.

“I am sorry.” his voice was quiet but loud enough for you to snap your head into his direction. Zemo. Apologizing? Maybe you were dreaming. “For not being cautious enough back there. And for what happened all those years ago.” you scoffed, averting your gaze again.

“Thanks for your apology.” your words were filled with sarcasm.

“I do mean it, (Y/N).” you could feel his eyes staring at you.

“Zemo.” you sighed. “What happened at Selby’s wasn’t your fault. It could’ve happened to all of us. And what you did back then…well, I think your apology comes a little too late. It’s in here, you know?” your finger pointed to your head, signaling that you meant it was a memory.

“What I did was wrong.”

“Took you a long time to figure that one out. It doesn’t matter anyway. You trapped me. Failed to extract my blood correctly to get to my special serum. And not in a way that was pleasant might I add.”

“And for that I truly am sorry.” his body turned towards yours. By now, you were looking straight into his eyes.

“I don’t hate you if that’s what you’re worried about. It’s not like I can change what happened. Will I ever stop disliking you? Highly unlikely. But I’m too tired to feel hatred. I’m too tired for revenge. I’m not the person I used to be. The girl who worked for HYDRA? She would’ve killed you without a second thought. Me? I’m far past killing when it’s not necessary. I know what it does to a person. So, thanks for apologizing, Zemo. Let’s just keep this simple, alright? We’re working together. That’s it. I don’t have to like you to do that & I don’t need your pity. Because this problem....” you gestured between the two of you. “Is in the past. And I’d highly appreciate it if you didn’t mention it to the others. Understood?” Zemo’s nod was your sign to head back inside, leaving him on the balcony alone. It was good to talk about it. Now you just hoped that Zemo would keep his mouth shut. After this mission, you would go your separate ways again. Nothing more, nothing less.

“You sure you’re okay?” Bucky walked over to you, making sure that you two were alone.

“I’m fine, Buck.” you breathed out. “Headache is almost gone. Give me another hour & I’ll be good to go.”

“I’m not talking about your head.” he sat down next to you, his arms on his knees.

“Why, thanks for your concern.” you chuckled sarcastically.

“No, I mean…Of course I care about your well-being but I know you well enough that a little hit on your head won’t kill you. Though I gotta admit that you scared me a bit back there.”

“Is that so?” your eyebrows raised, your head turning to your side.

“What I’m trying to say is…Zemo didn’t do anything, did he?” his eyes showed concern.

“He just wanted to apologize for what happened back at Selby’s.” it was not a lie. Not the entire truth either but enough for now.

“When you’re ready to tell me everything, you know where to find me. I won’t pressure you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. Come here.” he opened his arms & you gladly accepted his offer. So he saw through you. As he usually did. Maybe you would tell him what Zemo did all those years ago. Maybe when you were not as busy as right now. It was Bucky. He would never judge you. The exact opposite, actually. You were sure that he would help you through it. Because sharing your burdens made the weight lighter. In the future. That was what you told yourself. After everything decided to calm down a little more.

Again. Loud music. And it did not really help your head at all. Your headache had pretty much disappeared but the bass made it harder to keep it that way. Everyone around you was dancing, drinking alcohol & doing drugs. No, this was not your world. Zemo actually seemed to fit in quite well. You stood on the side, right next to Bucky. Mainly because he did not leave you out of his sight. Not after what Zemo pulled earlier.

“(Y/N), look.” Sam nudged you with his elbow. “Your husband has some moves. Damn.” he pointed over to the Baron who was throwing it down on the dancefloor.

“Could you please not call him my husband? It was hard enough not to kick him in the balls when he was all like “Oh, look at my Baroness.”. I still can’t believe I agreed on playing his pretend-wife.” you shook your head at the memory that was still so freshly present in your mind.

“I found it hilarious.” Sam admitted.

“Yeah? You know what I found hilarious?” Wilson motioned for you to continue. “When that bartender cut open the snake to put God knows what into your favorite drink.” Bucky & you laughed when Sam gagged at the drink he had to down.

“How was it like?” Bucky asked all of a sudden.

“How was what like?” your eyebrows furrowed.

“Pretending to be his wife.” there was something behind his eyes. Something you would describe as rage or maybe even…jealousy? Was he jealous? Deep down you hoped so.

“Like the worst nightmare ever.” that seemed to ease the tension a little, fortunately.

“Hey, guys. I found him.” Sharon joined you again.

“Here we go.” Sam eyed you & the four of you followed her.

It looked like you were at a harbor. Many containers. Whoever this guy was, he sure as hell did a great job with hiding here.

“Madripoor could give New York a run for its money.” Sam noted & you nodded at him.

“They know how to party.” Zemo added.

“With that bounty on your head, the longer you’re in Madripoor, the less likely you’re ever leaving.” Sharon kept looking at her phone for directions. Another thing you had found out was that after Selby was killed, there had been put a huge bounty on your head.

“What a comforting thing to say, Sharon.” you remarked with a hint of sarcasm & desperation.

“Welcome to Madripoor, (Y/N).” she met your eyes briefly, then added. “Alright. He’s in there. Container four-two-six-one” she gestured to a container that looked exactly like every other one around here. “I’ll keep an eye while you guys talk to Nagel. But hurry. We’re on burrowed time.” she handed each of you a little piece to put into your ear. That way, you were all connected together.

“Wait, wait, wait. Isn’t it better if I stayed with Sharon? I mean, It’s better to have two people out here, right?” you questioned.

“Not gonna happen.” Bucky grabbed your wrist to pull you closer to him. “You’re staying with me.”

“Your overprotective boyfriend’s right, (Y/N). I can handle myself just fine, trust me. You go talk to Nagel.” you rolled your eyes at her for calling Bucky your boyfriend.

“Aw, overprotective boyfriend. That’s cute.” Wilson joined the teasing. Of course he did.

“I hate you all so much.” you went ahead & approached the container, leaving the others behind. Bucky only clenched his jaw & shot Sam a look. One that made him snort. Then, he trailed behind you, making sure you were not too far away from where he was. So what? Maybe he was protective. It was not a bad thing. Besides, he saw what happened when he did not pay attention. No way in hell would he let you get into such a dangerous situation again. He actually told you to stay behind. After all, you were still hurt. Kind of. But you reassured him that you were fine. And they needed you.

Sam opened the heavy door, revealing a dark container.

“Hey, Sharon. You sure this is the right one?” Wilson asked. “It’s completely empty.”

“This looks like a trap, guys.” you noted.

“It has to be the right one. No trap.” Sharon told you over the coms. So you all entered. Staying behind a bit, you made sure to check the door. Just in case. If someone was about to trap you in, you would notice soon enough to stop it. Zemo turned on a flashlight, bringing a tiny bit of light inside the dark room. Was it a room? Container. Whatever, it did not exactly matter. Sam & Zemo checked out its entirety. Bucky & you still at the door. You heard something & saw the Baron pushing against the back of the container. A secret door. You should have guessed that. You pulled out your gun & followed them. Sam was first, then Zemo, then you & last but not least Bucky. That way, he could keep you in his sight. Music could be heard once you walked up the stairs. Yes, this looked like a lab. Gun at ready, you made sure it was clear. Bucky signaled you to stay behind him & you obeyed. If your were honest, you did not really feel safe without him around. So staying close to him was your preferred choice anyway. At the end of the room, a man was totally in his element, failing to notice your presence. Sam & Bucky nodded at each other, having another silent conversation. Then, they approached the man. You went ahead & stopped his music. That gained his attention. He turned around & faced you.

“Dr. Nagel?” Sam was the first to speak.

“Who are you? What do you want?” if this was the guy you were looking for then con-fucking-grats. He looked like he was insane.

“We know you created the super-soldier serum.”

“Get out of my lab.” he ordered but you stood your place. It took more for you to leave than such a little threat. Hell, it was not even a threat.

“I’m afraid we can’t do that, Doc.” your gun was still raised, not yet knowing the possible danger you were in. He went to walk away but stopped dead in his tracks when his eyes fell on Bucky.

“You know who he is, right?” Sam grabbed his arm to hold him in place. “This is Baron Zemo. And this…” he turned him so he had to look at you. “This is (Y/N). I know you’ve heard of her too, right?” as a form of greeting, you moved your fingers where blue sparks started forming. His eyes widened when he noticed. A smirk was making its way onto your face. Good thing if he was scared of you. “You seem like a pretty smart guy. So you better become conversational real quick.”

“How about a counter proposal?” that made your eyebrows raise. He was outmanned & he had the audacity to suggest that? Okay, strong move. “Make me a better offer & I’ll talk.” Sharon let you know that you had company. Maybe you should have stayed with her. Bucky noticed you wanting to move but his arm wrapped around your middle, holding you in place.

“No.” he whispered sternly & you rolled your eyes in annoyance. When you saw the look that he gave you, your gaze went down. No arguing with him, it seemed. Bucky then let you go & pushed Nagel onto a chair, gun pointing at his head. When he still did not start talking, Bucky gave a warning shot, right beside his head.

“Okay. Okay.” the doctor gave in. “I was brought into HYDRA’s Winter Soldier program to pick up their work after the five failed test subjects in Siberia. When HYDRA fell, I was recruited by the CIA. They had blood samples from an American test subject with semi-stable traces of serum in his system.” he was talking about Isaiah. “After much labor, I was able to isolate the necessary compounds in his blood.”

“Zemo? Maybe you should let him teach you how to successfully do that.” you mumbled, leaning a tiny bit closer to the Baron.

“Shut up.” he spat out, though there was something playful in his tone. Sam & Bucky looked at you confused but you simply brushed them off by a wave of your hand.

“I was a God.” he finished.

“Not really a Thor-like kinda guy but whatever helps you sleep at night.” you could not help but comment. The doctor then looked at you, clearly not pleased by what you said.

“I did what no other scientist since Erskine was able to do. But mine was going to be different. No clunky machines or jacked up bodies. Mine was going to be subtle, optimized, perfect.”

“How have we never heard about this?” excellent question, Sam. You had no clue.

“Because…Before I was able to complete my work, I turned to dust.”

“How unfortunate.” you rolled your eyes. Bucky silently told you to keep your comments to yourself. He only did that because he was concerned about you & did not want to risk anything. Nagel ignored you anyway.

“Then when I returned, it was five years later, the program had been abandoned, so I came here. The Power Broker was more than happy to fund the recreation of my work.”

“How many vials did you make?” Wilson kept asking the really important questions here.

“Twenty.” oh, awesome. “Karli Morgenthau stole those, so…I can only imagine what the Power Broker has planned for that poor girl.”

“Where’s Karli now?” you all silently agreed on letting Sam do the talking.

“I don’t know where she is.” oh, even more awesome. “But a couple of days ago, she called & asked if I could help someone named Donya Madani. Poor woman has tuberculosis. Typical of overpopulation in displacement camps like that.”

“Well, what happened to her?”

“Not my pig. Not my farm.”

“Is there any serum in this lab?” finally, Bucky asked a question. The gun pointed at the doctor’s head again when he did not answer right away.

“No.”

“And we’re just supposed to believe you?” you crossed your arms over your chest.

“If you believe me or not is none of my business.”

“Now what?” Bucky directed his words at you three. Shrugging your shoulders, you waited for the others to come up with a plan.

“Guys, we’re seriously outta time here.” you were surprised to see Sharon running in. Bruises were adorning her face. Whatever had happened out there, it was not pretty. The next thing you heard was a gunshot & when you looked over, you saw Zemo pointing a gun at a now dead Nagel. How the hell did he even get a gun?

“No!” Sam screamed. It was too late. Zemo was pushed against a wall by Wilson.

“What did you do?” Sharon breathed out, out of breath from her previous fights you assumed she had. The room around you exploded & you tried your best to shield your head with your arms. Bucky’s reflexes were faster than yours & he wrapped his arms around your form, his entire body keeping as much of the explosion from you as possible.

“You okay?” you did not hear his words but you read the question off of his lips. The ringing in your ears was almost too much. The headache that had faded, now being back worse than before. The lab would soon experience another explosion & the super soldier wasted no time in helping you get up. When your legs almost gave out, he picked you up bridal style & rushed out of the container with you in his arms. Your body was still weakened. But you had no time to think about the pain. There were people here who wanted you dead & you had to fight them. Whether you liked it or not.

“Alright! Wait for my signal!” Bucky yelled over the noises around you. Your hands were covered in blue flames, ready to attack. Ready to use your powers if needed. Fun fact: nobody waited for Bucky’s signal. Sam went off, shooting.

“Damn it. (Y/N), stay behind!” you were too focused to talk so you simply nodded. Hiding behind one of the containers. Still, you shot your gun. By now, you had realized that your powers were not really useful. Not in this moment. Your gun had to do. Your ears had not stopped ringing. The gunshots blazing around you did not help much after that explosion.

“Are you like living here?” Sam screamed, directing it at Sharon.

“It’s not terrible.” she answered in a haze.

“Oh, it’s lovely.” your usual sarcasm was back. You were running short on ammo & if you did not wrap this up quickly, you would actually have to use your powers.

“I thought we were going left?” the super soldier said through gritted teeth.

“You went the wrong way!” Sam shot back.

“I was clearing the way!”

“I came out first. You had to follow me.”

“And where are we now?”

“Guys, now’s not the time!” you ended their bickering right away. Tried to.

“This is a barricade.”

“It’s in every action movie!”

“If you don’t shut up right now…I swear I will pull a fucking Tom Cruise on you!” your voice was now at the same volume as theirs. That seemed to do the job. Children. You were working with freaking children. It was not even funny anymore. A third explosion caught you off guard. Again, Bucky shielded you from the force of it. How the hell did that happen anyway? And where the fuck was Zemo? Wait. Did he just blow up your surroundings? You would not be surprised if that was the case. It was him. You watched how he handled your opponents all by himself. Well, he could only do such a thing because you had caused them a good amount of damage already. Bucky motioned for you all to go & you did not think twice about it. The sooner you were away from this scene, the better. The gunshots were still going strong & when the super soldier noticed that you were not keeping up with their pace due to the pain you were still experiencing, he grabbed your wrist & dragged you along. Your legs did not want to move anymore. But you knew you could not stop now. Stopping would have you dead for sure.

“Buck!” Sam yelled over his shoulder. A door was opened & Bucky pretty much shoved you inside. Then, he grabbed a pipe & handled your attackers.

“Let’s go!” Wilson pulled him inside & closed the door right behind him. At least you had a second to breathe now. The super soldier grabbed your shoulder, eyebrows raising slightly, silently asking you if your were alright. A thumbs up from you answered it. He knew you were trying to play it cool but he decided against commenting on it. That could be done later.

Exiting the container again, a car came to a halt right in front of you. No way. Zemo. That motherfucker.

“Supercharged.” he smirked at your dumfounded expressions.

“I know I said I don’t hate you but the strong dislike is slowly starting to increase to an almost hate level.” you let him know.

“I can live with that.” Zemo’s winning smile did not falter.

“You’re going back to jail.” Sam was angry, his voice gave him away.

“Do you want to find Karli or not?” what kind of stupid question was that? Of course you wanted to find her.

“He’s right. We need him.” never in your wildest dreams had you ever expected Bucky to rely on Zemo. Yet, here you were. “And there’s three of us & at least twenty of them, come on.” Bucky opened the door for you to get in first. After you got seated, he entered himself.

“Fine. But if you try that shit again…” Sam’s finger pointed in a threatening way.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Well, that was one hell of a reunion.” Sharon closed the door behind Wilson.

“Wait. You’re not coming with us? Sharon, come on.” you almost pleaded.

“I told you I can’t. Just get me that pardon you promised me.” now, she was talking to Sam.

“You take care, okay?” your concerning eyes met hers.

“I will. You too. But it looks like you have someone who looks after you anyway.” she winked at you before moving away. Of course she was referring to Bucky. Sharon was good at reading people.

“You’re not gonna move your seat up, are you?” Sam sighed & you giggled at the déjà vu moment.

“No.” Bucky replied simply.

“Zemo? Can you move your seat up?” you teased, not expecting anything to come out of it.

“Of course. My apologies for taking up too much space.” & he really went ahead & moved his seat up. Putting your face in your hands, you heard Sam & Bucky snicker. Zemo seemed oblivious to everything. Hell, you just wanted to sleep for the next few days. It was exhausting to be around those guys all the time. Luck had not really been on your side in Madripoor.

You were back on Zemo’s private jet. Bucky sitting opposite of you, cleaning his metal hand. You had an ice pack that you held to the back of your head. Sam had a phone call with Torres, giving him the information you had found out. And the Baron? Well, you did not really care what he did.

“You okay, Sam?” your voice was soft.

“Yeah.” your eyebrows furrowed at that. “Just thinking about all the shit Sharon had to go through.” so did you, actually. If you were not as lucky, you would have ended up like her. Most definitely. “And Nagel referring to the American test subject like Isaiah wasn’t even a real person. Just makes me wonder how many people have to get steamrolled to make way for this hunk of metal.” you gulped at that.

“Well, it depends on who you ask.” Bucky joined your conversation. “That hunk of metal saved a lot of lives. “

“I have to agree with Buck on this one…” your eyes trailed to your lap.

“Yeah, I get that. Alright. Maybe I made a mistake.”

“You did. A huge mistake.” your head snapped up again, eyes slightly glossy by just thinking about it. You would not let the tears fall, though. Not here. Not in front of them.

“Yeah.” sounded like he realized that he was in the wrong. “Maybe I shouldn’t have put it in a museum. Maybe I should have destroyed it.”

“Look, that shield represents a lotta things to a lotta people, including me.” Bucky’s words were low. He chose them carefully, you could tell. “The world is upside down, & we need a new Cap, & it ain’t gonna be Walker.”

“I’ll make fucking sure of that.” you chuckled shortly.

“So will I.” the super soldier nodded at you. His gaze fell to Sam a second after. “So before you go & destroy it, I’ll take it from him myself.”

“This isn’t what Steve wanted.” it was almost inaudible, yet, two pairs of eyes stared at you. “I’m sorry to break it to you, but Steve made that decision. He thought this through. He didn’t want you to give up the shield, Sam. And he didn’t want you to take on that role, Buck.” again, Sam’s phone rang & he picked up. Zemo came over & brought each of you a plate with food. Thanking him silently, you waited for Wilson to finish. The Baron sat down, glancing between you all.

“They found Madani...” Sam started. Finally, good news. “Dead.” shit, bad news. “She died in Riga, a city near the Baltic Sea.”

“I have a place we can go.” Zemo told you.

“Is there a place on this Earth that isn’t part of your property?” rolling your eyes, you laid back in your chair.

“Believe it or not, there is, (Y/N).” he started again. “I, for one, am looking forward to coming face to face with Karli. Oeznik, we’re changing the course.” he ordered.

Riga, Latvia. If you were honest, you were surprised that you still followed Zemo. After all, he was kind of a criminal. But so were you. Kind of.

“I heard what became of Sokovia.” the Baron started a conversation as you walked down one of the many streets. “Cannibalized by its neighbors before the land was given cleared of rubble, erased from the map. I don’t suppose any of you bothered visiting the memorial?”

“I did.” your confession made him stop in his tracks. An approving nod was all you received. Neither Sam nor Bucky knew about this. You did not find it worth mentioning.

“We are here.” Zemo stated.

“I’m gonna go on a walk.” Bucky spoke up all of a sudden. Turning around, you saw something behind his eyes. He noticed something. You were not sure what it was but you would find out.

“You good?” because obviously, Zemo cared so much for you all.

“I’ll come with you.” walking over to him, you eyed him carefully.

“I’m gonna go on a walk alone.” he emphasized the last word but you were having none of it.

“Last time I checked, you barely let me out of your sight. I’m coming with you. End of discussion.” your eyes bore into his. You were serious & it was clear as day that you would not let him out of your sight now. Bucky threw his head back in frustration & sighed out.

“Okay, come on.” one of his hands found yours & he dragged you with him. Leaving a very confused Sam & an even more confused Zemo behind.

Bucky went to pick up a small beeping ball. Your question got ignored. He told you if you really wanted to join his walk then he would let you know sooner or later. The two of you followed behind what seemed like a trail of those little objects. Unknowingly, your fingers were still intertwined with Bucky’s. Neither of you seemed to mind. Being smarter now, you just let him do whatever he wanted or needed to do. Answers would follow soon. After all, that was what he promised you. Bucky came to a halt in a backstreet. Holding up one of the balls, he started talking.

“You dropped something.” who the hell was he talking to? Turning around, you were shocked when a woman was standing in front of you. Tugging one of Bucky’s sleeves, he looked into the same direction as you.

“I was wondering when you were gonna show up.” did that mean that Bucky was expecting her? She seemed somewhat familiar but you did not remember where you had seen her before. Realization hit you when she started speaking in a language you definitely recognized. It was Wakandan. You even understood what she said.

“I’m here for Zemo.” whatever that meant, it could not be good.

~to be continued~

Next Chapter

Published (04/16/2021) by Cathy

Tags: @taina-eny​, @tanyaherondale​, @cool-ultra-nerd​, @toribentleyva​, @buckyandlokirunmylife​, @annadier​, @howlongtillidie​, @mizz-kraziii​, @theetherealbloom​, @millenniumloki​, @marvelbros-oneshots​, @ajbwasnthere, @bilesxbilinskixlahey​, @mystictimetravelcolor​, @dbrees256​, @sxpxrnxturxl, @dreamydreamerwriting​, @dolllstyles​, @angelicastiel​, @prettysbliss​, @infinitelyforgotten​, @sweetserendipity65​, @lilystilinskicullen​, @partypoisonsblog​, @btdsprayberry, @sarai-ibn-la-ahad​, @deamus-liv​, @simplybarnes​, @sethcohenluvr​, @sammypotato67​, @toribentleyva​, @farihafangirls​, @earthtonav, @lilacs-lavender​ (let me know if you wanna be tagged <3)

[nishisun]

suna rintaro is NOT a genius.

summary: you loved the idea of soulmates. suna rintaro didn’t. it isn’t that hard to put two and two together to realize that maybe people with different opinions on things don’t belong together.

part 2

a/n: this was literally supposed to be a series, i gave up on it because i just didn’t like the way it turned out. it used to be called “out of my league” and this was the intro. i also renamed it. just emptying drafts!! please don’t get confused with the random timeskip, once again, this was a part of a series i never ended up posting😭

WARNING!!: suggestive themes, mentions of death, idk kinda angsty but tell me if i missed anything

Soulmates. Whatever the hell that means. The idea of soulmates is something I truly don’t understand. It’s bullshit, honestly. It’s all-pervasive.

My mother always told me I'd eventually find "the one.” I used to believe that when I was younger of course. But in my opinion? It’s all cliches. It's unhelpful, and it's certainly not true. Destiny is an excuse for the weak. Why do you think most marriages end in divorce? It's 'cause people who believe they are “destined to be" assume everything will fall into place without any effort. I don't appreciate people pontificating bullshit like that just to make me feel better, especially if they haven't found their "soulmate" themselves. My sister once told me, “People who believe in soulmates are more likely to break up and encounter more difficulty in their relationship, which will lead them to give up on one another eventually.”

I sure do believe that.

My mother is a prime example. Fumeiko Suna, my dear mother. Well, she clearly hasn’t found hers. I found out when I came home after a tedious day of school in 5th grade and found my dear mother on the floor crying, with bruises all over her face and a busted lip.

Initially, I thought a burglar had broken into our home once again, but if that were the case then there would’ve been missing furniture. But there wasn’t.

In fact, the place seemed cleaner than usual. When I ran up to her and asked her what had happened, there he was. The devil himself. My father. He reeked of alcohol, and I could detect his shadow towering over me. It’s funny how that I think of it. I used to fear that son of a bitch. Now, I’m way taller than him, and hate his guts. I turned around to see a faux-sympathetic smile plastered on his face.

He explained how my mother was being “clumsy” and had fell and busted her lip on one of the corners of the kitchen table and when I turned back around to face my mother, she smiled gently and nodded in agreement. She didn’t say anything after that.

It was then I realized my father had beat my mother to a pulp.

Long story short, when I found it was my father, sure, I was frightened. In fact, I remember going into my siblings’ rooms to inform them, they shrugged it off and told me that dad had been doing it for a while now.

Over time, when my dad had found out that I was aware, he didn't mind beating the absolute shit out of my mother in front of all three of us. This was when my burning hatred for that man started. Nobody in the house even attempted to stop him. I did a few times, though. He took all his anger out on me. At least my mom had a break for the day.

I almost pitied my mother. Almost. Maybe if she was strong enough to leave him, then yeah, I’d feel bad. But she still decides to stay with his sorry ass. It’s pathetic. It’s unrequited love or whatever you call it. How could she still love that asshole?

I mean, I’m not even going to lie, I’m an asshole too, but I’m definitely not my dad. I would never want to be him. He’s not someone I looked up to, he doesn’t do anything inspirational. He’s a businessman. He travels the majority of the time, and I’m pretty sure my mom invites men over when he’s gone. I don’t care enough to find out. But if I ever hear some guy rearranging my mom’s guts, I’ll kill him. I don’t even blame my mother. What she’s doing is wrong, she knows it and so do both of my older siblings. But they don't seem to care so why should I?

Who knows why she just won’t leave him. Maybe it’s cause they don’t want to ruin how people view our “picture perfect” family. I wonder what they’d say. “I thought the Suna’s were the ideal family? I guess not.”

My dad would probably lose it if he heard that.

Both my mother and my father are the cause of this broken family of mine. They never fed me or any of my siblings the love we always desired when we were younger. They never came to any of my volleyball games when I was younger. They never applauded me for the little recitals we’d have in class in primary school. They were never even here for most of my childhood. They always put money first and left us with the housekeepers. Hell, the housekeepers probably know me better than my own parents.They failed as parents. I despise them for it. They’re most likely the reason I am the way I am, but to be honest?

I don’t give a fuck.

In fact, I should thank them! Because of how they “raised” me, i’m extremely blunt, which is why people respect me. I use the hatred I have for my family and take it out on people and no, I’m not proud of that. I may be a heartless asshole, but I like that people fear me. The hell? Does that make me a sadist? Either way, people know to never fuck with me cause I’d fuck their shit up. I’ve overheard many people say it’s ‘cause of my privilege. It probably is. Money can’t buy happiness, but it sure can buy you many other things.

If my parents were broke, I’d probably be expelled from school by now. Abuse of alcohol and drugs are forbidden on school property. I don’t even take them at school, I somewhat care about my education and health, but sometimes I just need to blow some steam. Even if I did, nobody’s gonna say shit since my dad is the head of Japan’s board of education. How did his ass even get there?

Call me lonely or cynical. Maybe I am. But how is that a bad thing? Why do people need a significant other to rely on? What, a soulmate is just going to turn my life upside down then suddenly bring me happiness? Pfft, I’m gonna need actual proof that shit like that still happens. I’ve only seen shit like that in fairy tale movies. It’s whatever, though. I can live with being alone. I’ve basically been alone my whole life and it isn’t as bad as people make it.

You loved the idea of having a soulmate. The thought of meeting someone who just understood you, accepted you for who you were, and most importantly, loved you excited you. You couldn’t wait to meet your soulmate.

But recently, you weren’t sure soulmates existed.

When your older sister, Akira, came into your room and burst into tears, it frightened you. Your older sister, the one who’d always provide you advice on relationships and how to keep one was in your room sobbing hysterically because hers hadn’t worked out.

“I just can't believe it,” she sobbed.

You couldn’t believe it either. Your sister had recently gotten engaged to her boyfriend of 9 years. They started dating at the age of 15 and managed to make things work out even after high school, and out of all those years of dating, they never broke up. Not even once.

They’d go on romantic dates on Saturdays and they’d always write love letters to one another every day, just to remind one another of how grateful they were to have each other in their lives. On Halloween, they’d dress up as fictional characters from TV shows and books and take cute selfies and bake a bunch of sweets. They’d invite you to come bake with them, but you would politely deny. You knew they were only offering so you wouldn’t feel left out, which you appreciated.

Of course, they’d argue every now and then, but at the end of the day, they always managed to talk things out. Oh to have a relationship like theirs. They were everything you wanted to have in a relationship and more.

“I really thought he was the one for me, y’know?” No, you don’t know. But that doesn't matter. What mattered was cheering your sister up.

“Maybe he wasn’t ‘the one’ Akira, and that’s okay! People come and go all the time, soulmates come and go all the time as well-”

“You still believe soulmates are real, huh?” she let out a humorless laugh and sniffed her nose, “What If I missed my one shot at love, Y/N? What if I lost my soulmate?”

That’s some deep shit.

Now that you think about it, were soulmates real? Soulmates come and go, yes, you’re aware of that, but even though they leave, it’s always temporary. Soulmates always find a way back to their other half, the piece that completes them.

Your dad never made it back to your mother.

He died in a car crash 5 years ago. Your mother and father had been arguing because she claimed your father was cheating on her since he wouldn’t let her check his phone.

You were 13 at the time. Your sister Akira was accompanying you in your room, listening to them arguing back and forth with one another. There was furniture flying across the room, glass breaking, and both of them throwing curses at each other. You were scared. They never argued in front of you and your sister. They'd bicker sometimes, but it was never anything too deep.

Eventually, your father had enough of your mother’s false accusations, and out of anger, he packed his things and left home. For weeks. It wasn’t until one of your uncles called your mother and broke the news. She didn’t take it very well.

Late 2012-early 2013.

Not many people came to your father’s funeral, his family didn’t like the fact that he and your mother were together, they said your mother was trouble, but your dad still stayed with her, even if that meant it would completely destroy the bond he had with his family. Now that’s true love, you had thought. Only your mother, Akira, the Sunas, your uncle, and you, of course, attended the funeral.

It hurt a lot. It hurt when your mother informed both your grandparents on your mother and father’s side and all they could do is put the blame on her. It hurt how they had claimed you, Akira and your mother were a hindrance to your dear father’s well-being. How could they be so cruel at a time like this?

That was the first time you ever questioned if soulmates were real. Maybe they fell in love at the wrong time? Who knows.

After your father’s passing, Fumiko Suna, your mother’s best friend, was there to help your family out financially. Your mother couldn’t even find the motivating to go to work. Your mother and Fumiko have been best friends since junior high, they’ve literally been inseparable ever since. In fact, after they both got married, they decided to live right next to each other.

Your mom didn’t cope with your father’s death very well; none of you did. But your mom had it the worst.

She would cope with alcohol and clubbing which would always result in her bringing different men home almost every night. You didn’t say much about it, you thought it would be selfish to since that’s what seemed to make your mother feel better about herself, but your sister hated it. She was already 19 and in college at the time, but when she visited and found out that your mother had basically been neglecting you, she was furious.

“Seriously, mom? This is what you’re gonna do while your 13-year-old daughter is in her room having a literal mental breakdown because of your childish behavior?” Your sister had barged into your mother’s room when she thought you were asleep, she was screaming loud.

“You’re interrupting something important, Akira. You know better than to-”

“Oh, shut the hell up mom. You’re the last person on earth to be saying shit like that.”

“Well, if you’re done, you can leave my room now. You’re being disrespectful, and this behavior is not tolerated!” Your mother was screaming now. The man in the bed covering his body under the covers and looking back and forth between Akira and your mother.

“Sakiya, maybe you should hear your daughter out-”

“Not now.” your mother scarcely interrupted the man, eye contact never leaving Akira. “Y/N has never complained about this when you were in college. She knows this is my way of coping, why can’t you understand that too!”

Akira scoffed. “So what, getting fucked by random strangers you find on the filthy streets is your way of coping? Getting wasted every damn night to the point where Y/N has to drag you up to bed is okay with you? Do you even know how much this is affecting Y/N? Did you even bother asking her how she felt? I hate breaking it to you mom, but you need serious help.”

“You selfish child!” Your mother screamed, grabbing a towel and wrapping it around her body, getting up from the bed. “How dare you say that to your own mother?”

“I’m only telling the truth! If you’re the mother, then it’s your job to be taking care of Y/N, not neglecting her. When’s the last time you’ve engross in an actual conversation with her when you were fully sober?”

Your mother was silent. She quickly walked up to Akira and grabbed her by the hair and slammed her headfirst against the wall.

“You’ve got a big mouth! Maybe I should wash it with soap like I did back in the day, hm?” Akira was attempting to push her mother away, but she wouldn’t let go of her grip. The man that was still on your mother’s bed was in panic, yelling her name, which didn’t have any effect. He might as well stop.

"Look," Akira mumbled, struggling to get away from your mother's grip, "I know it's been hard ever since dad left-"

“Mom! Let go of her!” You cried from the door of her room.

All 3 adults froze and looked at your glassy eyes, mouths wide open.

“Hey, kiddo, I thought you were asleep?” Akira playfully said, your mother let go of Akira and crossed her arms then looked away from you.

“Well, I can't really go to sleep when there’s a bunch of adults yelling about my well-being,” you muttered incoherently. You quickly wiped the uncontrollable tears off your face and sighed.

“Honey,” your mom started, she walked slowly to you, carefully examined your face, and attempted to hug you, but you didn’t accept the offer which made your mother frown. She stopped walking until she was almost face to face with you and placed a hand on your shoulder gently. “Baby, your sister told me that you weren’t happy. Is this true?”

You looked away from her and stared dully at the floor, subtly shifting your feet, then you softly shook your head “no.”

“See Akira, Y/N is happy. So please stop stressing her out.” Your mother said through gritted teeth, then faced you once again. “Y/N honey, how about I go tuck you into bed, hm? I’m so sorry for the excessive noise that was caused.”

“Mom, how clueless can you be? Y/N looks miserable! It’s unhealthy for Y/N to be living-“

Slap.

Your mother just slapped Akira on the face.

“I know what’s best for my daughter! I am her mother! You are not the one who should be telling me how to take care of my own kid!”

“That’s enough, Sakiya.” a familiar voice said from the door.

“Fumeiko-“

“It’s fine. Sakiya, we need to talk.” It was Fumeiko Suna, your mother’s best friend, also known as your next door neighbor. She had been standing in the hallways the whole time, you didn’t even know she was there. Akira was the one who called her over.

That night your mother agreed to get help for her drinking problem. She was gone for 6 months. During those 6 months, the Suna’s took you in since Akira would be in college and you couldn’t have been more grateful.

You and Rintaro were the only kids in the house, being that you both were the same age and the others were in college. It was okay, they were all very polite, dinners were awkward, you could feel some sort of tension between the family but you didn’t pay any attention to it.

When your mom finally came back, it was awkward at first. She still seemed the same, loving and caring, just sober and free of alcohol. It was nice. You two spent the weekends bonding at the mall, watching a movie, or even getting your nails done. Eventually, she gained your trust back, and you couldn’t have been happier.

January 2017.

“Akira, don’t say that. You may not believe me now, but you are such an amazing person, don’t ever think you’ll never find love again. It’s all about having a positive mindset!” you said, thoughtfully stroking her hair as her head laid on your chest.

“I told you that.”

“You did,” you chuckled, “you should take your own advice.

“Oh, shut up!” you both laughed, and Akira let out a shaky sigh. “Thank you, Y/N.”

“Of course, you don't need to thank me. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

— so this is one of the writings that i wrote in January 😭 it’s been in my drafts and i re-read it once and instantly hated it right after. if there’s any typos please tell me!!

— also i wanna apologize again for putting gmds on hiatus,, i feel so bad 😭 i wanna make it up to you guys but idk how so if you have suggestions pls tell me

[johnconstantinesdick]

Okay *cracks knuckles, accidentally dislocates fingers* @agentscamander-romanoff and @steel-phoenix took the bait and enabled me by asking me to elaborate on my Children of the Watch origins theory. Which means I am about to go ABSOLUTELY feral.

Apologies to anyone for having incorrect Star Wars lore, I’ve barely consumed canon content and I don’t intend to start now. Also sorry if anyone has already said this! I’ve never seen this particular theory/interpretation and it’s made me go a bit insane.

Warnings: discussion of child abuse, cults, and the aftermath of genocide. I don’t go super in depth on any of it but it’s there. Also, I typed this in the notes app of my phone and autocorrect hasn’t quite submitted to some of these names.

SO. I’m going to break this up into sections. 1. Exploring canon 2. Extrapolations/Connecting the red string 3. What does this MEAN??? 4. Complaining about Bo-Katan.

First off, though, here’s my thesis: Children of the Watch is a “splinter group” made up of the children that Death Watch stole, indoctrinated, and abused. They’re also not a cult (Death Watch is though lmao).

1. Exploring Canon:

Okay, so. Canonically, Death Watch has abducted, tortured, and brainwashed children. Arla Fett is an example of that, having been abducted at the age of 14 after her parents were killed and she was subsequently brainwashed into becoming an assassin for Death Watch. She didn’t even hesitate when she found out her brother was alive! That’s how strong the conditioning was! She was so fucked up from it that she spent YEARS in a mental facility, and she outright begged a Jedi to wipe her memories in exchange for a favor. DEATH WATCH DID THAT. And you CANNOT tell me she was the only one they’ve done this to. PLENTY of fic writers have extrapolated off of this and mentioned it, but it’s important to me that everyone know this shit is absolutely rooted in canon.

Another Death Watch Child Abuse Fun Fact: Dred Priest and Isabet Reau, two of the trainers of the clones, canonically had Death Watch leanings and tried to instill Death Watch beliefs in the clones by FORCING THEM TO FIGHT EACH OTHER IN SECRET BATTLE CIRCLES THAT ENDED UP KILLING SOME OF THE CLONES. THEY WERE CHILDREN AT THE TIME, IF IT WASN’T CLEAR. WHAT THE FUCK. If THAT’S not an example of Death Watch abusing the kids under their care then I don’t know what is. It’s suuper not a stretch for me to think that this wasn’t an unheard of thing in more official Death Watch circles.

Also canonically, Bo-Katan has referred to Din’s covert as “Children of the Watch”, and Din, despite obviously being an important and respected member of his community, doesn’t recognize the name, which implies to me that it’s not a name the covert chose for themselves. Rather, a moniker that was given to them after they splintered off of Death Watch. Since this isn’t an opinion and it’s more just… information, I’ll trust Bo-Katan on this one.

We also know for sure that Din’s covert IS connected to Death Watch in some way, seeing as the flashback sequence very clearly shows Mandalorians in blue and gray beskar’gam, the colors of Death Watch. HOWEVER… the Armorer, who seems to hold a high position of authority in the covert, wears gold and copper beskar’gam. Din wears unpainted (v2) or mismatched colored (v1) beskar’gam (I do grant that his paint color counts less towards this because he’s pretty much one of the only people interacting with the outside world and so colors associated with Death Watch are probably a no go no matter what). Paz Vizsla’s armor is a very dark blue with yellow and cyan details and, oh my fucking god I didn’t even know this but he has a fucking MYTHOSAUR SYMBOL ON ONE OF HIS PAULDRONS. THE FUCK???? THAT’S LITERALLY THE SYMBOL OF THE TRUE MANDALORIANS IM. Ok. Okay. I needed a minute. Like I KNOW that the mythosaur skull is Mandalorian symbol in general but I think it just hits different when a Vizsla is wearing it, you know? Especially because the placement is the same as Jaster Mereel’s???? Literal founder of the True Mandalorian movement????? Excuse me???????

Let’s uh. Let’s get back to armor. I can address that… later. So. Anyway. Armor is super important, and it’s uhhh very telling that the covert doesn’t emulate the Death Watch colorscheme strictly. Like, yeah, there’s gray and light blue in there, if you go through some wiki pages, but they’re not the only colors they use, and the Armorer doesn’t even have either of those colors! And she’s the biggest authority we’ve seen! Very fucking interesting!! Bo-Katan still has her armor painted in Death Watch colors! And yet she’s derisive of Din’s covert! Verrry interesting!

We also know that Din’s covert emphasizes children VERY much, more than Death Watch ever would have, imo. It’s expected for the adult members to provide for the foundlings (and it’s VERY interesting that the kids are seemingly all referred to as foundlings iirc. More on that later.), and even though Paz disagrees with Din working with the empire, he and the other members of the covert immediately and with no hesitation come to Din’s aid for this child that Din hasn’t even claimed as his own—it’s amazing! And I will note that Bo-Katan and her warriors do the same upon their initial meeting with Din—Koska dives into danger with no hesitation as soon as Din says the child is still in danger. We see that this solidarity does come at a price for Bo-Katan, though, while the Armorer sees protecting a foundling as a duty that is completely worth all the trouble it brought.

Fascinating also that Boba was 100% on board to help out Din to save Grogu past what Din or anyone else would have expected of him, while Bo-Katan had to be bribed into coming by the promise of Moff Gideon and the darksaber. And she thinks she’s somehow more Mandalorian than him.

And NOW, going way back in time to the beginnings of the True Mandalorian movement, we know that Jaster Mereel originally authored his Supercommando Codex by looking back through history to the Canons of Honor and the Resol’nare, and he took those ideals and ideas and he modernized them to create a set of moral guidelines to follow. And people loved that shit! Death Watch had to infiltrate the True Mandalorians and then trick the Jedi into slaughtering them just to get rid of them, because Jaster’s charisma and his sexy sexy morals were too strong. (God. I fucking LOVE Jaster Mereel if you couldn’t tell.) Anyway, there’s precedent for Mandalorians looking back to their history to bring forth old ideas, repurposed to a modern context. We also know that, canonically, Din’s covert follow the “old ways” of not sharing names and of never taking their helmets off in front of others.

Moving on.

2. Extrapolations/Connecting the red string:

So if we extrapolate from the fact that Death Watch are, uh, super fucking abusive towards the kids that they stole/their own kids, then we’re left with… this group of kids, who have been mistreated and indoctrinated for a LONG TIME, and possibly don’t have that great an understanding of non-toxic Mandalorian culture. And if they’ve been abducted or rescued, whatever, they might not fit back in with the places they were taken from, or they may not have a place to go back to, or they may not even remember where they’re from originally. It’s some prime angst material! Good stuff.

And if we pull the implication from the names that “Children of the Watch” is a splinter group off of Death Watch, it really does make you think… huh, you know what? These two things may be one in the same. Maybe.

And, like, we know that Jaster Mereel and Din’s covert both looked to Mandalorian history to find pillars for their community’s morals. Jaster did so in the middle of a lot of political turmoil, as a way to say “Hey, we can still be Mandalorians in the ways that matter, but being Mandalorian doesn’t mean being a morally bankrupt conqueror. We can have honor and still wear armor and fight and uphold the Resol’nare.”

And I think Din’s covert did so when they were struggling with unlearning the toxic ideals that had been shoved onto them by Death Watch. I think they had to figure out their own way of being Mandalorian or else they would have crumpled under the pressure. And so they looked back to the old ways and picked out the more extreme interpretation of Cin Vhetin (clean slate) which says that, once you swear the Resol’nare and become a Mandalorian, your past doesn’t matter, it’s what you do now that does. You don’t take off your helmet, and you don’t let others know your name, because those things don’t matter to who you are and what you do. (There’s also the issue of the helmet and name rule being an important defense tactic to protect the covert, seeing as how Mandalorians post-Empire are the survivors of genocide. There’s already a fantastic post on it here)

Related, another Mandalorian saying is “Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la.”, meaning “Nobody cares who your parent was, only the parent you’ll be,” which IMO fits in very nicely with how I’m interpreting Din’s covert. It’s all about your actions and future mattering more than your past. I think that when the covert was splitting off and being built, this would be a huge component of them healing. Because the way they were treated and indoctrinated by Death Watch doesn’t have to affect their future actions. They don’t have to perpetuate the cycle of abuse, they can build a covert and a community around caring for foundlings.

Now, onto the foundlings! I find it very interesting that, whenever the covert’s younglings are mentioned, it’s always as foundlings. I think this implies that there’s a focus on saving and raising children more than there is on sharing blood with them, and I think that the covert would be more inclined towards communal raising than typical family units, if only to keep everyone in check and to protect the children from ever being treated as they were. I also find it VERY interesting that there’s a lot of emphasis put on returning children to their own kind. I don’t think Death Watch would have employed that practice, and I think that’s another example of the covert wanting to make their community a better place for children. I think it’s likely a lot of them didn’t get that choice, and they had to leave their cultures and people behind. And so they want to give that choice to their children.

I think it’s also amazing that, like. They keep finding and raising children instead of deciding they’re too damaged or whatever to have kids. Because it doesn’t matter if they have baggage or trauma when a child needs them. That’s FANTASTIC. I’m losing my MIND. It really doesn’t matter who their parents were to them, just the kind of parents they will be. It’s all about breaking that cycle and deciding to be better and I LOVE THAT.

3. What does this MEAN???:

Well. What this means is that Din’s covert has a very clear set of motivations and structure when it comes to how their covert is run. It’s not a cult; in fact it is specifically a group created by cult survivors who are determined to not do to others what was done to them. The rules may seem weird and strict at first glance, but they have a clear purpose and rationale, and no one is trying to amass power. They’re just… trying to do better, and be better.

(This also means that I’m 99% sure that, with the assistance of time travel, at least half of the covert would be SUPER INTO Jaster Mereel. I like to imagine that Paz had, like, a poster of him on his little sewer bedroom wall. I fully believe he painted that mythosaur skull on his pauldron in honor of a good man who was killed by Paz’s own relatives for standing by his morals and daring to try to reform and rally Mandalorians. I also think it would be funny if, like, Din doesn’t know shit about ANYTHING to do with modern history, but Boba mentions that his grandfather is Jaster Mereel and Din is like “OH I KNOW THAT GUY! Yeah he’s cool, he’s the historical crush of like, my entire covert.” And Boba is like. What.)

It also means that it can be up in the air about whether Din was found by Death Watch before his covert splintered off, or if his covert was still just wearing Death Watch colors when he was found. Fun thing to play around with, but right now I don’t want a solid timeline.

Hmm just thought I should add: while the Armorer does seem to have a position of authority, I don’t think the covert can be structured politically with clans and houses like other Mandalorian groups. Like, clan just means family in this context, and is less a part of hierarchy, and I don’t think they would even recognize houses within the covert? Like they MIGHT decide to call themselves part of House Djarin now that Din is Mand’alor, but before that they weren’t like. House Vizsla with Paz as the leader just because they used to be Death Watch. I don’t vibe with that. This isn’t really super relevant, I just wanted to add it.

4. Complaining about Bo-Katan:

Anyway Bo-Katan is absolutely full of shit and it’s doubly disgusting that she’s standing there in Death Watch armor, seemingly still allied to this fucking cult of imperialism and conquest, and she accuses Din of being in a regressive cult, and she implies that the way he engages with the Resol’nare is wrong and like. Repressed or something. God I hate Bo-Katan. But I love to hate her. She’s horrible but I want her to be included in the list of Din’s friends but not the list of people he’d trust his kid with. I have contradictory Bo-Katan feelings, whatever. The most important thing is that all of her opinions are horrible, like, all the time. And we shouldn’t trust her when she says Din’s part of a cult. Literally why does anyone take that at face value. If we’re taking her word as the authority on Mandalorian issues then I guess Boba and Jango aren’t Mandalorian!!! Seriously.

TLDR; Din’s covert (aka “Children of the Watch”) is made up of survivors of childhood abuse, torture, and brainwashing at the hands of Death Watch, and they’re dedicated to making sure their children don’t go through the same thing. They’re not a cult, but Death Watch sure was! Jaster Mereel is the love of my very aromantic life and Bo-Katan’s opinions can’t be trusted. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[heyyyharry]

Red or Yellow

(a blurb from the Flatmate series)

…in which Harry and Y/N argue over the paint colour for their living room and split the room into two (pre-relationship flatmates).

Word count: 2.5k

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“I think this place is haunted,” Ben remarked as he swept his eyes around the living room which was covered in plastic sheets.

“What gave that away?” Mark, Ben’s fiancé, asked as he followed Ben inside. “The claw marks on the door or the blood on the wall?”

Harry scoffed as he waved the paint roller at the claw marks. “She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named was dog-sitting the other day. The dog was pretty aggressive.”

“She-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named?” Ben asked.

Mark squinted his eyes, hands on his hips. “You mean Y/N?”

“Mmmmm.” Harry rolled his eyes.

Before either Ben or Mark could ask him what was wrong, Y/N emerged from her room, dressed in overalls and holding her own paint roller. As soon as she made eye contact with Harry, she gave him a look of contempt and said hello to their neighbours as if Harry wasn’t there. Harry gave a sly smile as he watched her pick up the yellow paint bucket she’d left in the corner of the living room. In her corner, to be exact.

Long story short, they’d divided their flat into two halves, and she was still bitter that he got the one with the couch. He didn’t know why she was upset; she had the entire kitchen all to herself because he wasn’t allowed to cross her side to get there.

“I thought you two were still in your honeymoon phase,” said Ben with an eyebrow raised. “What happened?”

“He happened,” Y/N said before Harry could speak. “And when have we ever been in any phase?”

Harry let out a bitter laugh as he threw his hands in the air and accidentally splashed red paint onto Mark’s sleeve. Mark gasped, but nobody cared.

“We’d agreed to paint the living room’s walls red for the vintage look!”

“We never agreed to paint it red,” she countered, lifting her yellow paint bucket. “And when people say vintage, they would think yellow!”

“No. Red.”

“Yellow.”

“Red!”

“Yellow!”

“Green!”

Everyone looked at Ben, who raised a smile. “I thought we were naming the colours of a traffic light.”

“Could someone please tell me how to get the paint off silk?” Mark said, but once again, nobody cared.

“I swear to God, you’re gonna turn half of our living room into a sex dungeon like the one in Fifty Shades of Grey.”

“Okay, whatever you say, Miss Minion.”

“What did you just call me?”

“Do you want me to sing that Banana song?”

Ben nudged Mark, still smiling while Harry and Y/N were literally screaming at one another. “Remember when we used to fight over silly things? Oh, young love.”

“Whatever,” Harry scoffed and turned back to their neighbours. “Are you guys free at the moment? I really need some help.”

“A tough guy like yourself needs help to paint half a living room,” Y/N asked in a mocking surprised tone.

Harry purposely ignored her. To Ben and Mark, he said, “Well?”

Ben’s mouth was hanging open as he looked to Mark for an opinion. Mark raised both hands over his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, eyes wide. “I’m wearing silk today. Can’t get more paint onto this shirt.”

“It’s okay. You guys don’t have to help him,” Y/N said, glaring at Harry.

Ben bit his lip, thinking for a long moment before he tossed his head back and turned to his fiancé. “Hey, babe, you could go home first. I’ll stay and help them.”

“Okay, babe,” Mark said as he leaned in and kissed Ben’s cheek.

Harry swore he could see a look of concern crossing Mark’s face before he left the flat. Harry received that look a lot from the residents in this block who’d seen him and Y/N argue, so he wasn’t offended by it, just amused.

“Okay,” he exhaled happily, rubbing both hands together. “What we’re gonna do is–”

“Thank you so much for helping me. You don’t have to but–”

“Hey!”

Ben froze as he’d just dipped his roller into the yellow paint bucket. Both Y/N and he looked over their shoulders at Harry, who was gaping at them both.

“I was the one who asked for help!” cried Harry.

Baffled, Ben opened his mouth to speak, but Y/N put up one hand to stop him before he could make a sound. “Harry’s a grown man. He doesn’t need help,” she said.

Harry sneered at her, putting both hands on his hips. “All right, little missy. I see how it is. Good luck with your Despicable Me theme.”

“I wish you no luck with your sex dungeon.”

“Honestly,” Ben said, taking a deep breath. “I’m only here for the tea so don’t expect me to help too much.”

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“The tea is ready!”

Harry wiped the sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt as he glanced back over his shoulder at Y/N. She had her AirPods on so she probably hadn’t heard Ben call out from the kitchen. He could let Ben tell her that it was time for a tea break, but he needed an excuse to speak to her anyway. Yes, he was still annoyed by her wanting to paint the living room yellow knowing how much bright coloured rooms pestered him. No, it didn’t change the fact that he wanted to kiss her every time he was looking at her when she wasn’t paying attention. And well, another reason was that he couldn’t get to the kitchen, so either she or Ben would have to bring him tea.

He put down his roller, wiped his hands with a cloth and walked to the piece of duct tape on the floor they’d used to divide the room. “Psst!” He aggressively waved his arms to get her attention.

Y/N stopped painting and turned off the music on her phone, seemingly agitated. “I’m not lending you one of my brushes.”

“I don’t need your brushes.” Harry rolled his eyes, gesturing to the kitchen. “Ben said tea was ready.”

“Oh.” Y/N threw on a cute little smile that almost made Harry forget he was supposed to be cold towards her.

“Hey!” he called as soon as she turned away. She stopped, raising an eyebrow at him. “Could you bring me a cup? Thanks.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes as she folded both arms over her chest. “Not when you’re asking me with that attitude.”

“What attitude?”

“That.”

He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath. “Okay, fine. Could you please bring me a cup?”

Y/N glanced upward as she tapped a finger to her lips. “Hmmmm...maybe if you say: Please, my sweet, beautiful flatmate, whom I’ve wronged so many times before and never apologized to.”

Harry made a face. “I’m not calling you my sweet, beautiful flatmate whom I’ve wronged so many times before and never apologized to.”

Y/N smirked as she lifted her shoulders. “Too bad, you just did.”

“Damn it!”

She shook her head, and he could tell that she was trying her best not to laugh. He didn’t want to think so highly of himself, but he knew he was charming, and it was just a matter of time before she agreed to have this entire living room painted red, so they could get this goddamn tape off the floor, and he could set foot back into the kitchen again.

“Tea’s coming!” Y/N announced as she carried a tea tray to the living room. “Ben’s eating all the snacks in our fridge, by the way. He’s done helping us.”

“He didn’t help at all.”

“He helped with the first few strokes.”

Harry breathed out a laugh. “That’s what she said.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’re so immature.”

Shrugging, Harry sat down on the couch and held out his hand for her to give him a cup. Y/N was humming a familiar tune as she put the tea tray on a small table across the room. Harry watched in bafflement as she picked up a cup, stirring it with an evil smile and just staring at him like that.

“Hey! Where’s mine?”

“Right here. Come get it.”

Harry stood up as he scoffed, shaking his head. “Baby, we both know you’re a tease but don’t challenge me.”

He could see her cheeks turning red but she tried to mask her shyness with a feigned sassy expression. “Are you sure you don’t want tea?”

“I want tea so you’d better give it to me,” he said, raising an eyebrow with both hands on his hips.

Y/N took a sip, smiling innocently. “Nope. I don’t want to. Do it yourself.”

“Are you telling me to come get it?” he asked, taking a step forward.

She opened her mouth to speak, but what came out was a loud gasp as he crossed the duct tape line and padded straight towards her. He didn’t say a word, took the cup from the saucer she was holding, took a sip and put it back down. He wished he could snap a photo of her gawking at him like she’d just seen him commit murder. He had to try his best to stay in character and not guffaw right then.

“You broke the rule,” she said softly, but the look in her eyes was deadly as hell.

He straightened and wiggled his brows. “You said you’d bring me tea. Guess we’re both liars.”

Her lips curled to the side. He could have sworn he hadn’t seen her pick up the paintbrush. Before he could even blink, she splashed yellow paint onto his shirt. It was an old shirt and already got paint on it, but what she’d done had declared war.

“Apologise, Y/N,” he demanded, calmly.

She, also calmly, put down her tea and waved the brush in front of his face in a provoking manner. “I don’t think I did anything wrong.”

“Oh, you didn’t?”

“N–What are you doing?!” Y/N yelled as Harry dipped his entire hand into the bucket. He grabbed her by the wrist, tugged her into him and smeared paint all over her face. She was shouting at him to stop as he laughed viciously. To his surprise, Y/N wet both of her hands with paint and spread it all over his head. His shout turned into startled laughter; he didn’t think she’d have it in her to do that.

They started ‘fighting’ for her paintbrush. As Harry was trying his best not to overpower and hurt her, she took advantage of that and coated his mouth with paint. She was in hysterics as he spat in disgust. Without warning, Harry cupped her face firmly with his large hands and pulled her back in. “Let me give you yellow kisses.”

“What? No! Get off of me!” She tried to escape, laughing uncontrollably as they both tripped and ended up in a heap on the floor. One of them accidentally kicked over his red paint bucket, and as they tried to get up, they tripped for the second time and fell into a puddle mixed between red and yellow paint.

“You’re such torture!” he said between laughter.

“So are you!” she exclaimed, getting on her knees as he sat there with his legs spread.

She stuck out her tongue and cringed as she saw paint dripping down from her hair. It took him everything not to lean in and kiss her right then.

“Can this be washed off?” she asked.

“I can wash it off for ya,” he said cheekily.

She made a face. “If I didn’t know you so well, I’d think you were flirting with me.”

He said nothing, just smiled. Maybe she didn’t know him that well after all.

“What in the world?!”

Both Harry and Y/N whipped their heads to the kitchen door and found Ben standing there with his hands on his hips and his mouth hanging open.

“Did that aggressive dog come in here and make this mess or did you two do the dirty while I wasn’t here?”

“We did the dirty but not the kind you’d enjoy watching,” Harry said.

Y/N buried her face into her palms as Ben made a gagging sound. “Ew! Don’t ever say that again! You straight people are so weird!”

Harry burst out laughing as he got to his feet and offered Y/N a hand. She didn’t take it and got up on her own.

Ben swept his eyes around the room, taking in the mess they’d made. “So I guess you’ve both agreed to mix the paint?”

Harry gave a half-shrug. “I don’t mind a yellow room, to be honest.”

Y/N’s face lit up. And it was probably the cutest thing Harry had ever seen. “Really?”

He pressed his lips into a soft smile, unable to help himself. “I just want you to talk to me again…”

“Aww,” Ben said.

“And because I want to use the kitchen. I’m too broke to keep going out to eat three meals a day.”

Ben sighed as Y/N rolled her eyes, but Harry knew it was all good because she was smiling at him. “Fine,” she said, crossing her arms. “Why don’t we pick another colour that both of us would like? Well, one that at least one of us would not hate.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“Aww, would you look at that?” Ben interjected, placing both hands on his heart. “So cute. I’m here if you two need any help. Honestly, if you need anything, just ask.”

“Well, we kinda need help to clean up this mess—”

“What was that?” Ben cut Harry off, straining his ear as if he’d actually heard something, while Harry and Y/N just stared at each other in confusion. “Oh, I think Mark’s calling me. He’s probably having trouble with our shower again.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Y/N said.

Ben ignored her as he shouted into nothing. “Baby, I’m coming! Sorry kids, thanks for the snacks and the tea and the literal tea. Good luck!” And just like that, he dashed straight out of the room.

Once the door had fell shut behind him, Harry turned back to Y/N. They held each other’s gaze for a second before bursting out laughing for two minutes straight.

When the laughter finally died down, Harry swept his eyes over the mess they’d made. “This looks so sexy in porn,” he said, squirming in his paint-covered clothes, “yet feels so uncomfortable in real life.”

His heart skipped a beat as he heard her giggle.

“Not gonna lie,” he inhaled, suppressing his Cheshire Cat grin. “I miss you laughing at my jokes.”

Y/N seemed to be hiding her blushing as she looked away. “Laughing at you mostly,” she mumbled.

“That, too,” he said, grinning. “I just miss making you laugh.”

Y/N laughed again; he could tell she’d tried not to, yet couldn’t help it. It made him forget the fact that he was covered in paint and would probably spend the next couple of months trying to get his natural hair colour back.

“Stop being weird,” she said nervously, giving his shoulder a gentle shove. “We have a mess to clean.”

[euphoricsunflowers]

queen’s whore — lee hoseok/wonho

a/n: sorry to anyone named adrian, i just needed a name lol

a/n: hi welcome back to me getting so into a concept and writing out a complex story instead of just writing something sexual for this nsfw blog 😔✌️ i promise the next one will actually be horny

word count: 3.1k

content: only the last section is nsfw and it’s pretty soft, peasant!wonho, queen!fem!reader, kiki and kyun are in this too and honestly kyun in this is my icon, wonho is not treated well by the people so don’t read if that’s uncomfortable for you, like he mentions being called a whore but nobody directly says it to him in what’s written, riding le dick, aftercare i guess??? it’s vv soft at the end, the king is a sexist dick and i literally just looked up royal baby names and his is what came up so sorry to anyone named adrian

summary: hoseok, your secret lover, asks to become your consort so he’s not just seen as some peasant trying to get power by having an affair with the queen. kihyun, a royal advisor, and changkyun, a war strategist, help you do so against a king who is a really, really big asshole.

“oh my darling hoseok, why are you here so suddenly?” you mumble, allowing him into your chambers despite the absurd time. he trudges in, seemingly something disturbing his peace of mind, settling down on the bed, lying back with a miserable expression on his face that haunts your heart. it makes you want to do nothing more than absolve him of all this pain.

his eyes flutter close as he breathes in, taking in your words as if they are the only comfort he has left in the world, “i love you, you know.”

his bluntness startles you, “i do know, hoseok, i love you too.”

“no you do not understand, i really, really love you, i—” he stops, breaking down suddenly. Your heart shatters when he chuckles cathartically, covering his face with his arm out of embarrassment as he cries, “why do they have to say such cruel words? they say i’m fucking the queen so surely i must be trying to take advantage of her status or raise mine, but i am really not! i’m not just your whore!” he shouts, before looking over at you and remembering the situation. he, a common peasant, just cursed in front of you, the queen. Even if you did love him, he so desperately wished to go back and stop himself, “I apologize, my queen, for my words, i— please forgive me for tonight.”

“dear, please do not apologize tonight. you have every reason to be acting irrational right now,” you reach out to grab his hand, and he holds back with every last ounce of strength in his body, “the things people have said about you since the beginning of rumors concerning our… affair, have been vile and invasive. I wish that I could stop them, but I can only do so much without confirming them more. we both know my husband would not appreciate that.”

your husband. the king. not an ounce of love was shared between you two, and yet, even though he expected you to be fine with his constant affairs with other women, he would be livid if he knew you had a lover of your own. for that reason, the rumors concerning hoseok never made it to the king, because the people knew you would probably be in for hell. you were definitely the more well liked out of the two, and that meant that hoseok, a little nobody from a small fishing village in the kingdom, got the brunt of it, “does his opinion have… to matter so much?”

“hoseok...” you murmur with a warning tone, “sweetheart, i… i do not think…. it’s wise to talk about my husband in such a way—”

“you don’t love him! you sleep in separate rooms for god’s sake!” he shouts in a hushed tone, “make me your consort. i am not asking for political power, but i am sick of being called a whore.”

“and you expect me to take the brunt of my husband’s anger?”

“my queen, and more importantly, my love, please don’t imply such a thing. you have the support of the people, and many of your husband’s advisors would love to see him—” he says, and you place a finger over his lips.

“you speak far too loudly for someone trying to convince me to commit a crime.”

“i never said you had to kill him.”

“you were going to.”

“no i was not... because…” he takes a breath in, “i know you think he’ll have your head, but with the way the kingdom views you, and especially how the people view him, he would be a fool to lay a finger on you.”

silence fills the room, and hoseok wants to take it all back. it’s always felt like every time he opened his mouth to speak, nothing good would come of it. he sits up, but stays on the bed as you look away from him, “hoseok…”

he doesn’t answer when you call out his name, even though he knows he should. frankly, he should be on his knees in your presence, but in this room only he felt like you could be equals; he’s once again reminded that you are not, “my queen, i know what i’m asking of you is far too much, i know i’m overstepping and asking you to step into deadly dangerous territory, but… i’m so tired of being viewed like i’m using you, and i’m tired of the things they call me. i’m tired of being nothing to you outside these walls.”

“my dear,” you breathe, speechless at his words. it would be fatal to make one wrong move, but… would it be worth it?

“i’m not going to attempt to guilt trip you, you deserve better than that. if you don’t feel safe doing this, or just simply don’t wish to, i will accept that. and my love will be unwavering no matter what,” he raises your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles, falling to his knees, and resting his forehead against your thigh, “just, please think about me too when you make that decision.”

—

“kihyun,” you murmur, and he perks up hearing your voice as you reach out your hand for him to take, “come here, please. i require you for something.”

“of course, your highness,” he nods softly, letting you lead him to somewhere more quiet. kihyun was a royal advisor, but he was also a good friend to have on your side. he was too smart for you to allow to become an enemy, but he had a good heart. it didn’t take much effort from your husband to get kihyun to… not be fond of him, to put it mildly, “what is the matter?”

“i… i have a favor to ask,” you gulp, the full weight of what you were going to do hitting you hard in that moment, but you push through it. hoseok needed this, “have you heard the rumors about me?”

he bites his lip, but nods, “i— yes, your highness. my lips are sealed if you wish to speak about them.”

“they… are true. and i wish to make him my consort, but…”

“you’re worried about the king’s reaction to knowing you have… a lover,” he finishes the thought for you, and you��re both left to silence, until he speaks up with a chuckle, “forgive me, but you’re in a rough situation, my queen.”

“it’s… it’s not me who’s had to take the worst of it,” you shake your head, “i need to do this, kihyun.”

“i know you do. so tell me what you need me to be specifically, and i will do my best to be exactly that—” kihyun says, before getting interrupted.

“the king must understand the backlash he’ll get from punishing the queen, right?” you hear a voice say, cutting kihyun off.

your heart stops.

it’s all over isn’t it? the king found out about it before you even got the chance to try. you failed hoseok.

“i could attempt to help?” the voice adds on. you turn to see the face that the voice belongs to, and you breathe out a sigh of relief.

“changkyun,” you whisper, a hand over your heart, “you scared me.” *changkyun*. he was a war strategist that worked very closely with your father and now your husband, despite being a rather young strategist when your father was still on the throne. though he runs in the big political leagues, you trusted that kid with your life.

“i apologize, your highness, i seem to have that effect,” he winks, “anyway, i am sure we could convince the king to let it slide and allow the queen to appoint her mystery lover as a consort.”

though changkyun always seems to speak nonsense, his nonsense is giving you too much hope right now that you have to consciously hold yourself together and keep your expectations realistic, “tell me how, changkyun.”

“we could threaten to reveal information that, to be blunt, would ruin the king,” changkyun smirks, “i have been waiting for the chance to screw him over for years.”

“what information do you have?” kihyun speaks up, “and, no matter what it is, you know you’re painting a target on your back if you do this, right?”

changkyun, suddenly somber, nods, “of course i know that this would make me a target for the king, but… i owe it to you, your highness. you’re the reason i am alive. i live to serve you, not the crown. and.. do you think exposing to the kingdom that the king wants to invade our northern allies because they wouldn’t give him their princess to fuck would work? let’s just say, the king is one incredibly unpleasant man.”

you glance over at kihyun, who is in turn, looking over at you, and you mumble, “what do you say we… pay a visit to my husband, just the four of us?” you raise an eyebrow at kihyun, and he just wants to laugh at the obvious death sentence.

“of course, my queen. let’s meet back here after dinner and say hello to him then.”

—

“my king,” kihyun says, entering first. he hears the disgruntled groan of the king before even daring to look up. he keeps his head down.

“what is it, yoo? this better be important,” he spits, and kihyun does his best to keep his cool. now that he’s really thinking about it, maybe they should have… not bothered the king during his personal time.

“the queen wishes to speak with you, your highness,” he mutters, hearing the scoff from the king, he can tell the attention is soon off of him because he hears your footsteps behind him.

“good evening, adrian,” your voice is cold and unwavering as you speak to the king, much different than the kindness and softness in your demeanor when you spoke to others. the difference is night and day.

“for what reason are you in my chambers this evening, y/n? i doubt you’re here for romance,” he chuckles half-heartedly, but you keep your glare pointed at him.

“you would be correct. i’m here to say i… i am appointing a consort.”

he laughs, actually bursts out into a fit of laughter, when you say that, “really?! you?! i hate to tell you, my wife, but that will not be happening.”

“actually, it will be,” kihyun stands up after kneeling, and meeting the king’s startled gaze, “she came here for a reason, and we’re not leaving until we do what we came to do.”

“who is this consort?!” the king doesn’t even spare kihyun more than a glance after he gathers himself together, “i feel bad for the poor thing, he’ll be dead before you even get the chance to do anything for him.”

the thought lingers in your head. that is definitely a possibility. hoseok was definitely physically strong, but there was a good chance he wouldn’t make it out of this alive. you have to remind yourself that this is what hoseok wanted, that he is fully aware of the danger, and that you’re doing this for him. you pull yourself back together, feeling kihyun’s hand on your shoulder, being a comforting and supporting presence, “you will allow it, adrian, i assure you that it’s in your best interest to let this happen.”

“and why is that?!” he shouts, making you flinch a bit, but you’re saved when changkyun comes in. it’s now three against one, and changkyun raises a piece of paper, with his signature smirk in place.

“take a look,” he murmurs, his voice deep and soft. it would be soothing if it wasn’t filling you with the same confident energy that he always has. it’s infectious, in the best way, “i’m sure the people would love to know how you tried to steal the princess of another kingdom away. that’s some real comic book supervillain stuff, my king.”

“and remember, public opinion heavily favors your wife, my king. sure, they’re terrified of you, but i doubt that is enough to stop them from rising up. we wouldn’t want a coup, would we?” kihyun seems to share the same sentiment, his usually respectful and reverent demeanor suddenly disappearing, “so how about settling this here and now?”

—

“hello, and good morning, my people. i hope you are managing well during these hard times. please know i am doing my absolute best to serve you all well and take care of each and every one of you. your needs are incredibly important to me and i wish i could be doing more to make your lives easier. i promise to do everything in my power to help you. please hold me to that if you feel i am lacking.

“today, i am here to confess and to ask that you hear me out. for over a year now, you may have heard rumors about affairs my husband and i have had. i am here to tell you, that at least on my end, the rumors hold true. i have… fallen for someone else. when my husband and i talked this over, we came to the conclusion that our titles mean we rule together, but neither of us have romantic or otherwise feelings for each other.

“as such, i am deciding to do something that… i should have done long ago. my lover— his name is lee hoseok— and i have let him be treated cruelly just to protect myself from rumors. that is something… i do not feel proud about. he is the kindest soul i have ever had the pleasure of loving, and i wish for him to only feel happy feelings for the rest of his existence. starting from today, he shall carry the title of ‘queen’s consort’. please treat him like you would any royalty. calling him what some have will not be tolerated any longer.

“thank you for your time, this has been queen y/n. i wish a kinder tomorrow for you all, take care.”

—

hoseok had been waiting in your chambers since you left to deliver your speech that morning, watching it from the tv in your room. he watched the heart-wrenching moments when he could see the fear and regret within you coming together in one big release. he thinks about all the things he needs to say to you when you get back, but once you’re walking through that door, he was at a loss for words.

“good morning, my hoseok,” you murmur softly, nudging him out of his dazed state, “how are you doing today?”

“i am… amazing. i am doing so well,” he finally breaks out into the brightest smile you’ve ever seen from him. he always gave lopsided grins or small smiles, all full of love, but he truly just seemed so happy, and the sight was incredibly endearing, “come kiss me, please.”

“of course, dear,” you mumble, pulling him by his collar to crash your lips on his. his hands cup your cheeks and yours find a home resting on his beautiful chest and shoulders. you kiss him feverishly, and he reciprocates with the same intensity. you pull back to kiss along his jaw, dropping down to kiss his neck as well, and the room is filled with the beautiful breathy moans he lets escape.

“i love you so, so much, y/n,” he whispers breathlessly, gasping when you bite down. his hands hold your waist, pulling you impossibly close, and god he never wants to let go.

“i know, bunny, i know, and i love you so much more,” you whisper as he whimpers out of need when your knee brushes his crotch, pushing him down on the bed, feeling all up on him under you. it’s exhilarating like always, a feeling he’ll never get used to no matter how much he tries, “tell me, bunny, today is about you, so tell me what you want.”

“c-could you—,” he stutters, always struggling with words when you touch him the way you do, “—please ride me?”

“of course, sweetie,” you giggle, of course he wants that. well, you’ve never been one to deny him what he wants, bunny’s so spoiled.

you both undress rather quickly, even as he struggles to get his shirt off. he pulls you back on top of him as soon as he has the chance, and you immediately kiss him with ferocity, hands massaging the skin of his waist, making him giggle slightly, “hah, that tickles!”

you smile at his cute reactions, before taking his hand and pulling it so his fingers barely graze over your sex, “feel that, angel? that’s all you, this is what you do to me” he groans as he feels the wetness on his fingertips, “now stay still, i promise i’ll make you feel really good.”

“you always do,” he breathes with a smile, meeting your soft gaze for a second before you lower yourself down on him and you both moan simultaneously, and he adds on, “o-oh my god!” you take a second to adjust, but you soon start rocking your hips slowly, gaining speed gradually. nothing else, and nobody else, existed in that moment other than you and him.

“bunny,” you murmur, and he tries to pay attention to your voice, but he’s losing himself in the pleasure, “touch me, will you?” he reaches out to rub your clit as you continue to ride him. god, it’s so easy to see stars, especially when there’s the prettiest one right in front of you. you grasp his hair as you start speeding up, feeling your orgasm coming, “cum with me, hoseok.” he attempts to nod, unable to speak from the warmth begging to burst in his body.

he cries out as you pull one last time, orgasming with the most pornographic moans and look on his face you’ve ever seen. you’re right there with him, and if sucks you don’t get a chance to admire him fully, but that can be saved for later.

once you’re done, having both hit your highs and come down, you take care of him like always. he reaches for the snacks you keep in the drawer of your nightstand. it seemed like the boy was always hungry, but especially so after his soul practically left his body from how good you make him feel. you run him a bath where he just plays with bubbles and asks for nose kisses, but he looks so happy that your heart just melts.

and then you tuck him into bed, warmly dressed with fluffy socks to top it off. sure, it’s only 11 in the morning, but you don’t have anything to do until evening, and he could always use some cuddles.

—

taglist: @lovingonrepeat @neosincity @sub-hoshi-enthusiest @rosethefae @staranonthoughts @maknaeronix @multidreams-and-desires @mellowriting

[cautionworks]

Okay, so I wanted to write some NSFW Headcanons for Hisoka. All of these headcanons I said are purely based on my interpretation. I have read some other Hisoka headcanons before but I forgot about them a while ago. Plus I know nothing about actual sex. So I'll have fun writing this. Here we go lol.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

It depends on who's he with. If it was just a one-night stand he won't attempt to be comforting or try to care about the other party. The most He'll do is clean himself and nothing more. If he had a "significant other" that's a different story. He would cuddle the hell out of you. I imagine him as a clingy person (Which I hate). Once he's finished he just wants to fall asleep with you under his arms. He finds it relaxing to have your back against his chest. Especially when it's soft.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

The back. I do not know why but I have the feeling that he would like a person's back. Especially if the person has slightly defined back muscles. Something about a person's back seems so vulnerable to Hisoka that he leans towards it whenever he’s behind someone he finds attractive. It's part of the reason why he likes to be behind people. Because he feels it's the most vulnerable place and he won't hesitate to take advantage of it when it comes to his enemies. Seriously don’t have this man around women with shirts that expose the backside. Or bikinis. He will not stop staring. Now I think about it I think he’ll like a virgin sweater.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically... I’m a disgusting person)

Hisoka will eat it/swallow it. He's no stranger when it comes to being nude in his abode. So him being in his natural self, he won't hesitate to taste his own or his partner's bodily fluid. (Not pee you weirdos).

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Hisoka is a secretive man. It's literally what his name means. When asked direct questions he'll find a way to dodge them without seeming suspicious. And he's a liar. But when it comes to the bedroom. It's another side of him. He's not so secretive about it. It's just no one asks him about it and so he never felt the need to mention it. But when he did he will say it all. This man has done very risque things in his life. He once fucked a girl in an office building right after he killed her boss. There’s was a huge gathering of people including the girl's boyfriend. And he did it in one of those rooms where there's a glass that's see-through on one side and the other is not. Which the boyfriend happened to be there. You can guess which side he did it on. In the end, that girl was left with the time of life of her life and the loss of her partner and her job.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Extremely experienced. I'm sorry I'm a firm believer that Hisoka got laid many times by various women and men. If he's so strategic and calculated in fighting people then it's no surprise that he has skills in the bedroom. Plus he needs the release. I can't imagine how bored and frustrated he is when he can't kill anyone or there are no strong opponents. So it's understandable that he looks for partners to ease his stress. If there's nobody available at the moment. Then he will do what any man would do. Le master debate.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

Again this one depends on who's he with. If he just with one of his late-night booty calls he would do the normal doggy style. If he's with someone he's heavily interested in. He will do all sorts of positions. His favorite position is where he can always see your face. Because one he wants to know if he's doing a good job. Two. He likes to watch your face morph into different facial expressions as he touches you in different ways.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He can be hella silly sometimes. If he's having sex with you for a while he will feel comfortable being playful. Of course, he can be serious if he needs to. But that rarely ever happens. The only times he would get serious if he was actively trying to get you pregnant for whatever reason. Which is not an issue. He uses bungee gum. It contains rubber and gum. Free condoms everyone. (Lol)

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Oh hell yeah the carpet matched the drapes! You were surprised that it was the same hair color as his hair. You were so in disbelief that you considered that he just dyed it. Which was not the case. Let's just say Hisoka likes to keep things short. Normally you would find it to be shaved. Yet, sometimes he'll leave some hair to grow. A little hair never really bothered him.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect...)

*sigh* This one depends. Ima skip this one because Hisoka is not romantic. Just kidding. Because I think he would be good in the bedroom, I think he CAN be a romantic partner. Romantic how? I don’t know he can be that’s all there’s to it. (Talk about laziness)

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He does it more often than the average person. Like I said in my (E = Experience) Hisoka would do it if there’s nobody available at the moment. What I didn’t say is where and when he would do it. He’ll do it anywhere. This man has no shame. He will do it in a church, public bathroom, or hospital bed. Inside or out. It did not matter to him. Unless if it was raining. That would be his own little rule but he breaks it all the time. For some reason, many opportunities for sex happened to be on rainy days. When? He’ll do it even when he has a mission to do with Illumi. If he’s in the middle of a job and He's in horni mode. He’ll find a way to release without anyone knowing. He could do it right in front of a person without them knowing. Sometimes he just stands there with an orgasmic face on. The only way he’s able to masturbate in public is because he is using bungee gum. I know for a fact he’s use’s this ability in his sexual encounters with people especially for himself. This man could just stand there and you wouldn’t know if he was just being weird or he’s just doing it again.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

KINK SHAMING IS HIS KINK! I’m just kidding. Without a doubt, Hisoka would have one or two kinks. Bondage. Bondage. Bondage. As boring and well known this kink is. It makes sense at least to me it does. Hisoka bungee gum ability can grab, stick or even trap a person. So he finds pleasure in watching his partner's skin be wrapped in his bungee gum. He has so much control over it. How tight it can be. How rubbery or gummy it can be depending on the situation.Another thing I’d like to say. Hisoka is A SADIST AND MASOCHIST. He likes giving and receiving pain. That’s just how it is.

L = Location (Favorite places to do they do)

Anywhere that has a good spot to fuck you against something. Any surface that he can place you on. But if he were to have a “favorite place” it would be in places that are morally wrong to do or somewhere exciting like a carnival/circus. Hisoka hasn’t set limits to himself so usually, it's his partner that sets the boundaries.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

If he sees you in revealing clothing (Especially if your back is completely exposed) his wood is rising. You could just be lying on your stomach on the couch, scrolling on the phone. If you’re wearing a bra or nothing on and Hisoka happens to be there. There’s no doubt he'll find ways to lay his hands on you. It's not just the back that could turn him on. THIGHS AND HAMSTRINGS will have the man going. In particular, he likes it when it's Thicc/meaty. My man likes dem Thicc thighs. (Lol)

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

This one is only one of my most important headcanons ever. And I won’t accept anything other than this. Rape/Noncon. Hisoka does not find any joy in forcing himself on his partners. It’s not fun for him if his partner isn’t enjoying it either. The biggest turn-off for him would have to be anything related to bodily wastes like pee or poo.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

Oh, he likes receiving it more than giving it. But that doesn't mean he doesn't enjoy giving his significant other pleasure too. I would say his skill level is pretty good. Let’s just say when he does it, it's more than enough to please his partner. When he receives it expect lots of hair pulling and heavy groans.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Fuck! It depends on his mood. Normally he likes to do it slow and sensual. But on a bad day, he does it rough and fast. A Good example of this was after Chrollo told him he can not use nen. Hisoka kept his emotions to himself. The only face he allowed himself to show was his normal displeased face. But inside he’s pissed. Once he leaves the troupe he heads back to his partner's place and sleeps with them. At least he released his frustration without killing anyone. (Omg Imagine fucking Hisoka was the leading cause of people still alive) Other than that he just aggressively masturbates.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

*Deep inhaling* Hisoka IS THE KING OF QUICKIES. He’s a master at it. While he’s patient for riping fruits he rarely has patience for sexual activities. He's on the go constantly. If he finds someone that catches his eye he’ll go after them. So a nice quickie is great and all but it doesn’t entirely satisfy him. Because it doesn’t satisfy him overall, a proper well spent “shagging” (This will be the first and last time I’ll ever write “Shagging”) He’s happy. Just happy that he can give his all. Which he can not do often.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Absolutely! Hisoka has his life on gamble all the time. Whether it may be life-threatening or a simple card game. Risking taking is his character. Even if it's too crazy. He’ll do it anyway. He's an exhibitionist for sure. He’ll let people watch as long no one touches his partner.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last...)

To my knowledge. IRL men need a break after sex. In the show, Hisoka was able to clear the hunter's exam easily. So we know Hisoka has a lot of endurance than the average human. He’s stronger and faster. So that means Hisoka will not get tired after one round of sex. I think he can go at least 10 rounds. Of course, Hisoka would get tired at some point. He’s still human. Hisoka just has a lot of stamina. And that’s a fact.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Yall are probably gonna hate me for this but Hisoka doesn’t own toys. If his partner wants it during their time together, he will not hesitate to get it/use it. He doesn’t feel the need to use it since he’s very confident in his ability to please his partner without the use of toys. For himself? if wants something inside him then he’ll just look for a guy that’s decent for his standards. But that doesn’t stop him from using a dildo/vibrator for himself.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Hisoka is a sadistic devil. He can be cruel sometimes. One time he had this girl close to climax and he stopped in the middle of it. Or He would cause arousal to his partner and pretend it was all an accident. He’s a huge teaser. He likes to watch his partner be in ecstasy and switch to fits of anger.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

He’s a fucking whale. (LMAO) He’s the reason why kids know what moans sound like. He’s hella vocal in his private moments. He so loud that almost every troupe member recognizes his moans every time they hear them. But that doesn’t mean he can’t be quiet. Contrary to popular belief, Hisoka can be dead silent when he needs to be. He can be quiet as a mouse. Even quieter than the mouse. Now, what does he sound like? Well, we all heard his moans his fights. But I think it's different. I think his moans in fights are different while masturbating/sex. Just a slight difference. His moans would be more intense and he's a heavy breather. His tone of moans is a bit feminine with a tint of masculinity. He has the best of both worlds.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

He likes to have pictures of you. Like a lot. He has a private gallery full of pictures of you on his phone. That’s why this time he actually takes care of his phone. He’s prone to get his phone destroyed in his missions. So he’s much careful with it now. These pictures can range from cute photos of you and him together to butt naked pics of you not looking.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture, or words)

Now you horny Hisoka Simps think he has a 12-inch dick but I don’t think that’s the case. (I mean come on) I know there are Chinese HxH fans who took the time to measure his length by looking at manga panels. Based on what I found. Hisoka is 5 inches long (aroused) and 6 inch Inches long (aroused). To make him above “Average”. He is 6 inches long (aroused) and 7 inches Inches long (aroused). Beyond that I don’t know how a female or male have can have a size like that fit in them. Or maybe I’m not educated enough on this topic. I don’t know and I don’t care.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Very High. A lot of people who write Hisoka smut fics tend to make him a horny bastard. For me, I think that is the case. But my reasons are different. As I said in my E = Experience. Hisoka would look for partners to ease his stress. His obsession with finding/fighting strong opponents takes a toll on his mental and physical state. So once he can't think of another outlet for his tremendous amounts of energy, he'll use it to please himself with different partners.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

I'm going to say that depends on the person. If he only did 2-3 rounds of sex with an average person he's not going to fall asleep easily. Eventually, he will. Due to being bored and little tiredness. If he were to do it with a skilled nen user like Machi. He would get tired a lot more.

Oh woah that took forever to write! Let me just say it again this is purely my own headcanons. The questions are not mine only my answers. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed it!

[when-they-write-stuff]

Well, you're a hot mess (and I'm falling for you)

Written for this moodboard and I totally forgot to finish this, but here we are now! Thank you @fanficmakesmehappy for the permission and amazing moodboard, I had a ton of fun writing this!

~

Stiles was so ready for his first college party.

After surviving werewolves, hunters, literal demons, and a multitude of other supernatural creatures hellbent on killing him and his friends, a party was nothing. He was ready to get drunk under neon lights and forget about his (not so) normal life, thank you very much.

But then Derek Hale showed up.

Stiles knew he’d never escape the supernatural. He didn’t want to, not really. After four long years of running around Beacon Hills from some threat or other, he figured that was just his life now. But he also deserved a break, okay? A break from multi-colored eyes, from fangs and sideburns, from anything that had to do with Derek literal Hale.

Derek Hale, the guy Stiles had been pining after for years. Derek Hale, who he was planning on finally forgetting with lots of drinking, dancing, and whatever else started with a ‘d’ and ended with him pretending the supernatural didn’t exist.

And that was supposed to start tonight; at his first college party. 

Except Derek was such a stalker.

Stiles wondered if he was hallucinating at first. Sure, he got the occasional visit from one packmate or another. Sometimes they stole his clothes, sometimes they just curled around him and refused to leave until morning. But Derek only got in contact when he needed something. Research, a status update, questions about the bestiary.

And Stiles was supposed to be forgetting him, remember? Only, he didn’t know how he was supposed to do that when Derek was standing across the room looking like literal sex on legs.

This really wasn’t fair. The man looked downright sinful underneath the neon lights and why the hell could he never wear jeans that actually fit? It was way too hot in the room for a leather jacket, but Derek was definitely wearing a v-neck underneath and Stiles might have a heart attack if he took any more layers off. In fact, he might have a heart attack anyway.

He had two options, Stiles figured, turning his back toward Derek and gripping his cup tighter. Go over there and chew the asshole out for obvious stalking, or pretend like this was a hallucination and get as drunk as possible. Because Stiles had a plan; drinking, dancing, forgetting.

And you know what? He was so sticking to the plan.

Like a godsend, that came in the form of a blond-haired guy slipping onto the stool at Stiles’s side, a smirk going up to sharp blue eyes.

“Hey, there.”

Stiles was quick to down the rest of his drink, wrinkling his nose at the taste of cheap beer. But anything to give him a bit of an edge on this conversation, right?

The guy smirked when Stiles turned toward him, offering out a hand. “I’m Chet.”

“Stiles.”

“... Stiles?”

“It’s a nickname,” Stiles said, grimacing. He got enough strange looks from his professors to know that he was going to be explaining this to everyone for the rest of his college career. That was one thing he wouldn’t miss about high school. At least there, people had learned to just not ask.

“Weird,” Chet said, looking a little more disinterested. Stiles laughed a little, glancing across the room involuntarily. 

Derek was still staring at him. And now, the man was starting to look a little murderous.

“It doesn’t matter,” Stiles said, wrenching his gaze away. He smiled at the other boy, nodding toward the open floor. “You dance?”

Chet studied him for a long moment, then smirked back. Stiles firmly avoided looking in Derek’s direction as the guy grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him off the stool toward the neon flashing lights, a strange pit already forming in his stomach.

It wasn’t excitement, exactly. Or… Stiles wasn’t sure. Maybe it was. Maybe it should be. He swallowed hard and let Chet pull him closer, suddenly wishing he had drunk a bit more.

Or maybe had something stronger.

“You are so fucking gorgeous,” Chet said, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “You do know that, right?”

Those words were enough to snap Stiles out of his thoughts. He looked at Chet in surprise, who tilted his head, eyes traveling all the way down Stiles’s body appreciatively.

“Guy like you shouldn’t be sitting at a party alone.”

“I don’t usually do this,” Stiles said, the words tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. Chet tilted his head and Stiles flushed bright red, internally cursing himself. “Parties, dancing. Uh—”

“Well,” Chet said, cutting him off. “I guess I get the privilege of being your first, then.”

Despite everything, despite the intoxicating closeness of guy, Stiles felt his eyes drifting across the room again. Only to realize that Derek was gone. The place he’d been was empty, as if the werewolf had never been around in the first place.

“Hey,” Chet said, catching his chin and guiding his gaze back forward. “Stiles. Eyes on me.”

Stiles nearly pulled away. Because Derek— Derek— he hadn’t imagined the man, had he? That could be typical Stiles, though, he supposed. Getting out to his first party to forget about the fluffy asshole only to imagine he was seeing him everywhere.

“You,” Chet said, kissing him on the neck. “Are so fucking—” another brush of lips— “Hot.”

Drink, dancing, and forgetting. That was the point of tonight.

“My kind of fucking hot.”

“O-okay,” Stiles said, finally tugging away. He offered the guy his best apologetic smile, although he didn’t really feel it. “I’m sorry, man, really. But not tonight.”

Chet’s smile wavered. Stiles chuckled nervously, stepping back.

“I’m just, uh, tired. I should get going.”

“Oh, come on,” Chet said, catching the front of his shirt again. He pulled Stiles close enough that Stiles could feel warm breaths against his face, making him wince. “Stiles. Nobody likes a tease.”

“Okay, dude—”

But Stiles didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence before there was a pair of lips crushing against his own. He squeaked in surprise and tried to yank back but before he even could, there was a loud roar and Chet was ripped away from him. 

A loud crash filled the air as the guy went tumbling sideways into the punch table.

The sound of chattered died like someone had fired a gun. Stiles froze, his heart still thudding against his chest, and then he realized it was Derek standing in front of him. Fists clenched, shoulders squared— like a guard dog or something.

Derek Hale. Real and totally here, not just a pining part of Stiles’s stupid brain.

“Oh my god,” Stiles said, slowly coming back to reality. The music still played and the lights still flashed, but people were definitely staring now. And when Derek looked over his shoulder, meeting Stiles’s gaze, there was definitely a bit of red in his eyes.

Oh, god.

Stiles laughed nervously, grabbing the man by the jacket and pulling him away from the overturned drinks table. Chet looked like he was in shock, white shirt doused with beer and punch, his face as pale as a sheet.

“O-kay, Sourwolf,” Stiles said, guiding Derek toward the frat house door. His heart was still thudding against his chest and he could feel every eye staring them down. “We’re just gonna go get some fresh air now, okay?”

Stiles managed to get him to the door, but before he could pull him out, Derek pulled away and gave Chet a full-on death glare. The guy whimpered, shying even further into the floor, and Stiles could’ve sworn there was a growl in Derek’s voice when he spoke.

“You ever so much as look in his direction again, I’ll rip your throat out.”

Chet’s eyes rounded and he averted his gaze. Stiles’s heart was in his throat as he pulled Derek out the door, into the fresh night air, and all but slammed the door of the now-silent party at his back.

They barely made it to the sidewalk before Derek was grabbing Stiles by the arms and searching him up and down.

“Dude, dude, dude,” Stiles said, trying to wiggle free. “Stop it, Sourwolf, I’m fine!”

“I should have thrown him harder,” Derek growled. “Maybe out a window.”

“Woah, no,” Stiles said, raising his hands as he finally managed to pull free. “Manslaughter would definitely not be good for any of us, dude. Especially not you.”

Derek scowled, but some of the red was gone from his eyes, at least. Stiles searched him down, his brain still playing slow catch-up to everything that had just happened.

“Dude,” he said. “What the hell was that?”

“What was what.”

“What was— Derek! A simple knee to the nuts would have sufficed! You nearly wolfed out in front of everyone.”

Derek looked at him, face betraying nothing. Though, he didn’t look bothered by that fact. Stiles stared, then rubbed a hand over his face, groaning. 

“Oh my god. What are you doing here anyway?”

“I was in the area.”

Stiles lowered his hand, blinking at the man. “You were in the area?”

“Yes.”

“Derek, you’re never in the freaking area! Not without a text about some stupid thing that you need me to research, anyway. What the hell was that back there? How the hell did you know where I’d be anyway?”

Derek held his gaze, then growled, tearing it away. Stiles stared in shock as the man started down the sidewalk, hands shoved into his pockets. He bit down on his tongue, cursed, and then chased after the werewolf.

“Derek, dude, stop!”

“I was nearby,” Derek said, spinning around. “And— and—”

“And what?”

“And Erica told me you were going to a party!”

Stiles blinked. Faintly, he remembered texting Erica a few outfits to get her professional opinion before he’d left his dorm, but he’d never expected the beta to report back on him. Even in the darkness, Derek’s face was bright red, and Stiles nodded carefully, trying to process that information.

“So?”

“So,” Derek said, glowering. “Clearly, it’s a good thing I was there.”

“Clearly— hey! That’s an asshole move.”

“The guy kissing you when you didn’t want it was an asshole move.”

Stiles swallowed hard, dropping his gaze. For a moment, the silence reigned, the cool air filtering around them, and Stiles shivered.

Then Derek sighed. Before Stiles could even react, the man was slipping off his jacket and wrapping it around his shoulders, easily avoiding Stiles’s surprised stare. The stare didn’t last long though, as Stiles took in the man’s freaking too tight v-neck, and dammit, that so wasn’t fair.

“Dude,” Stiles said, averting his gaze. “Really?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles just flushed, unconsciously pulling the jacket tighter around him.

“Nevermind.”

“Do you,” Derek said hesitantly. “Want to go back inside?”

Stiles looked at him in surprise again. The man didn’t look happy at all about the words that had come out of his mouth, but he just shrugged.

“I can leave, Stiles. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

“Oh my god, Sourwolf,” Stiles said. “Please never apologize for threatening someone like Chet ever again.”

Derek scoffed slightly. Stiles grinned.

“Though, I thought the whole ‘rip your throat out’ thing was our thing.”

One eyebrow raised. Stiles blushed.

“Not like that. Er, you know. In like a sexy threatening Alpha werewolf kind of way.”

“Oh?”

“Shut up,” he said. “Stop smirking.”

“Okay,” Derek said, a hint of a smile still tugging at his lips. And why hadn’t Stiles seen him look like this before? “So, your first college party was a bust. But it’s usually not the only one, you know.”

Stiles blinked. “What?”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Don’t look so surprised.”

“You… went to college.”

The man’s face did something strange. “Stiles, you do realize werewolves do things like that too, right?”

“Yeah, uh, yeah,” Stiles said, shaking his head. “I just…”

It was Derek. The words died on his tongue as he eyed the man, some strange emotion forming in his chest again. But this time, he thought it might actually be excitement. Or maybe nerves. Or maybe a mix of both.

“Hey, Derek,” he said carefully. “Take me out?’

The man’s eyes widened. And what had Stiles been telling himself earlier? Drinking, dancing, forgetting. But the last thing he’d expected was to see Derek Hale. All green eyes, too-tight jeans, and a v-neck that was literally the sexiest thing Stiles had somehow ever seen.

Derek Hale.

There was no way he was getting over him tonight.

“Take me somewhere,” Stiles said, heart thudding against his chest. Derek’s eyes sparked a little red.

“Okay.”

-

“So,” Stiles said, sitting on the edge of the sidewalk. When Derek had taken him to get streetside hot dogs of all things, Stiles had thought he was joking. But then there they were, sitting in the dark, eating street meat. “Tell me about your college.”

The man glanced over, mouth full. Stiles snorted.

“Where did you go, dude? What was your major? Why have I never heard about this before?”

“I don’t like to advertise my life,” Derek said, swallowing. “But I went to NYU. And got a degree in Engineering.”

Stiles’s blinked. Derek’s ears turned a little red.

“I like fixing cars.”

Stiles huffed, grinning out at the street. It looked like there was a bar or something across from them, music coming from the open door and bright lights dancing out onto the sidewalk.

“You should start your own business or something,” he said thoughtfully. “Fixing up cars.”

Derek snorted. Stiles grinned over at him, elbowing the man.

“Shut up, I’m being serious!”

“Hm.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, sticking the last of his food in his mouth and jumping up. Derek gave him a surprised look as Stiles hauled the man to his feet and started across the street. There was a loud honk and a cab barely swerved to avoid them, making Stiles bark out in laughter.

Derek gave him a slightly terrified, slightly confused look.

Stiles just grinned brighter, stumbling through the door of the lit up the building and pulling Derek with him. And, turning around, he realized it was more of a club than a bar.

Which was even better.

“Okay,” Stiles said, eyes sweeping over the crowded dance floor. “This is so much better than a college party.”

“Stiles—”

“Oh, come on, you big lump,” Stiles said, pulling the man along again. “We’re going dancing.”

Derek made a noise of protest, but Stiles barely heard him. Tugging him into the crowd, he nearly lost the man’s hand in the throng of people twice. The lights flashed, almost blinding, the smell of alcohol hung heavy in the air, and Stiles spun around on the middle of the dance floor to see Derek looking wide-eyed and red-faced, the color going all the way to his ears.

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “You ever go dancing at NYU, Sourwolf?”

“Shut up.”

“Because,” Stiles said, stepping closer. “That’s what tonight was supposed to be all about.”

“Stiles, I don’t know if—”

“It’s a necessary college experience,” Stiles said, glancing up at the werewolf. “That’s what I’ve heard anyway.”

Derek’s eyes darted from Stiles’s own, to his lips, then back up. And for a moment, Stiles was almost nervous. Because what if he’d taken tonight one step too far? Oh god, what if he was pulling a Chet?

But then the man pulled Stiles forward by the folds of his jacket and slid closer to where he was obviously welcome. And Stiles smiled brightly at that— he couldn’t help it. 

If he was going to drink and dance with anyone tonight, it was going to be Derek Hale. 

Only Derek Hale.

“I want you to touch me,” Stiles said, guiding the man’s hands down to his hips. Derek’s eyes flashed red and he wrapped an arm around Stiles’s waist, pulling him even closer. 

Stiles exe. almost logged off, but somehow, he still managed to keep his head. Raising his chin, Stiles searched the man’s face, teeth sinking down into his lower lip.

And fuck, if Derek wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Under the ever-changing lights, his eyes were a kaleidoscope of colors. Stiles didn’t often see the Alpha let down his guard, but Derek was open and gentle with his arms wrapped around Stiles’s waist now. And Stiles didn’t know such a tight grip could be so careful when the man held him close, forehead brushing against Stiles’s own.

“Derek,” Stiles whispered, closing his eyes. The man’s breaths were soft and warm against his face. And it so, so different than earlier.

“Fuck, Stiles.”

Stiles’s heart skipped a beat and he huffed a small laugh. “Language, Sourwolf.”

“Oh, yeah?”

He glanced back up, smirking softly. The man searched his face, eyes dropping a little lower again, and before Stiles could stop himself, he was meeting Derek halfway, pressing his lips against the werewolf’s own.

He’d had a few rules going into college. Stay on track. Don’t eat curly fries for dinner every night. And try to move on from Derek Hale.

This was so far from trying but Stiles couldn’t find it in himself to even care.

Because dammit, Derek had been what Stiles had missed the most. Derek had been the one Stiles had always hoped to see when there was a knock on his door. It was Derek, it had always been Derek. And maybe, maybe that was just how it was supposed to be.

Derek kissed him soft, open, and warm. Fingers brushed over the skin above the waistband of Stiles’s jeans, looping through the belt loops and pulling him even closer. And hell, this was better than the stuff of Stiles’s best fantasies. Teenage daydreams when he’d been sixteen and slowly coming to reality with his sexuality.

“Goddammit,” Stiles murmured against his lips. “Fuck, Derek.”

“Language.”

Stiles laughed and kissed him harder, stubble rubbing against his cheeks, sweat beading on his forehead. It was so freaking hot in the club and Derek’s jacket wasn’t helping— except for it, for everything around him smelled like Derek.

Leather, pine, and aftershave. 

Faintly, Stiles realized loved that smell. He loved the fit of Derek pressed up against him. The way the man felt kissing him.

Faintly, he realized he just might be in love with Derek Hale.

Stiles didn’t know what kind of song was playing when they drew apart, heart thudding against his chest. Glancing up, he was almost pleased to see the red in Derek’s eyes, the hunger on his face. Stiles grinned, tilting his head.

“So, Sourwolf. Maybe it is a good thing you showed up after all.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles laughed.

“And maybe, I might just need you to attend other parties at my side in the future. You know, because no one would ever cross a werewolf and what belongs to him.”

The man’s eyes sparked even brighter. Flashes of pure red in the neon lights. Stiles leaned forward and brushed his lips against the man’s again, just barely not making full contact.

“So, Alpha? What do ya say?”

Derek’s grip tightened, and all assumptions of ‘careful’ from earlier went down the drain. Stiles could help the way his heart leaped into his throat as Derek growled, nipping sharply at his lower lip. “Mine.”

“Yeah?”

Derek kissed him again, hard and hungry. Stiles closed his eyes again, drinking in the taste of the man, the feeling of the hands tight around his waist. And yeah, he could be that, he thought. Down the drain with with ‘careful’, down the drain with drinking, forgetting.

Down the drain with almost all things except for a few beginning with the letter ‘d’.

He thought Derek Hale might be a good start.

-

I had a slight idea where I wanted this to go and then it didn't go there at all XD But I'm alright with how it turned out!

(if you enjoy my writing, consider sending a coffee? You can also request a prompt if you’d like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

[puckinghell]

The Plus One Pact | William Nylander | Part 2

Summary: Your ex is getting married, and you don’t have a date, which means the unavoidable “why don’t you have a boyfriend” question is about to haunt you for the rest of eternity. But then there’s Will, who could be the answer to all your problems. A simple business pact, no feelings involved: that won’t be hard for you, because you really don’t like him anyways. Except pacts were made to be broken… or something. Right?

Note: This is part 2. Click here for part 1. 

-- 

“I’m sorry I bailed.” Zach is sitting on the couch, his leg up on a pillow. Lady is laying on the floor, and both of them are looking equally guilty.

You think maybe Lady puked in Zach’s shoes somewhere again, and maybe he kinda deserved it.

“I hate you,” you tell him, but there’s no heat behind it. Alannah comes out the bedroom holding a pair of shoes.

“See if these fit you,” she orders, giving them to you.

“I like your wife more than you,” you say to Zach, who just laughs. He knows that’s not true: you love them equally.

You may love Lady a little more than both of them combined, however.

“I think it’s good that you’re going with Willy,” Zach says. “You can practice looking like you don’t hate him.” He holds out your cup of coffee, and you take a sip before handing it back to him.

If he’s not going to this wedding with you, he might as well hold your drink.

“I don’t hate him,” you mumble. “I just don’t adore him like you do. You worship the ground he walks on.”

“I think you’d get along great, if you tried,” Alannah says, although you can’t remember asking for her opinion – fine, maybe you’re a little grumpy about it all. “He’s very funny, and he’s easy to chat to. Your family will love that.” She grins. “Besides, he’s hot.”

“Very hot,” Zach nods in agreement, and it would be weird if it wasn’t how everyone responded to William Nylander.

It’s exhausting, to be honest.

Zach, being the great friend that he often is, must notice your reluctance, because he smiles, and his voice is gentle when he says: “Hey, you look beautiful, Y/N. Honestly, nobody is gonna believe that you brought Willy, you’re way outta his league.”

You’re about to tell him to stop lying – you’re not stupid, thank you very much, and William Nylander is still very much not in your league, maybe not even in the same sport - when there’s a knock on the door.

“Must be him.” Alannah fixes your hair and your dress, and Zach gets up and hobbles towards the door, Lady on his heels.

“It’s gonna go great,” she whispers with a wink, and you wonder if you look that nervous, or if your friends just know you very well.

It’s just…

Fine, normally you don’t like Will, but you can stand him for an hour or two. Especially because you’re never alone with him, so you just plaster yourself to Zach’s side, or Mitchy’s, or Dermie’s, or…

Well, anyone, really.

But now you are alone with him, and for multiple hours at that, and you’re going to have to convince your boss and your colleagues that he’s your plus one.

How on earth are they ever going to believe you? Worse, what if someone recognizes him?

“Wow, you look great.”

You turn around to see Will staring at you, a genuine smile tugging at his lips. He’s cleaned up nice, to be fair; his grey suit fits just right, hugging his muscles in all the right places, and you can tell he’s actually put effort in his hair today.

“Already told her she’s out of your league, buddy,” Zach jokes, slapping Will on the shoulder the way bro’s do, sometimes, and then there’s some pleasantries exchanged and Alannah fixes your lipstick and then suddenly you’re in Will’s car.

It’s a nice car, but it’s not overly posh or flashy, and it surprised you a little. With Will’s ridiculous clothing choices something – Balenciaga socks, really? – you’d expected him to have some sorta matched car to Mitchy’s stupid sports car.

“You look like I’m putting you in a tractor,” Will laughs, as he starts the car. You must’ve been looking around a little dazed, and you feel your cheeks heat up at the notion that you’ve been caught.

“Sorry,” you say. Then, because you wanna start this day off on the right note: “It’s a nice car, just not what I expected from you.”

Will hums. “Usually when people say that, it’s not a compliment.”

But he doesn’t say it in a malicious way, just very matter of factly, so you don’t bother to defend yourself – he’s kinda right, after all – and just listen to the music that he puts on.

“Country?” you feel yourself smile. “Where’s the ABBA?”

“I was born in Calgary,” Will rolls his eyes in a playful way, then turns up the music.

It’s not until you’re almost there that Will speaks.

“So, how do you wanna do this?”

For a second, you wonder what he’s talking about; you were lost in the music and staring out the window at the beautiful scenery surrounding you. Your boss is getting married in an old, beautiful mansion somewhere in the countryside, and you’re surrounded by green fields and scenic streams.

“Oh, I thought we’d just go in and like, see what happens. We’re only gonna go to the reception, not the ceremony, so it should be good. Drinks and food and music, and stuff.”

“I meant more in regards to the fake dating stuff.”

“Oh.” Now your cheeks are truly flaming. “I mean, I guess I could just introduce you as my plus one and they’ll assume we’re dating?”

Then, - and you have no idea where this came from - you add: “We could try to look flirty, so it makes more sense.”

Willy nods in agreement. “You’re a smart one.” When you snort in response, he raises an eyebrow. “What, I can’t say that?”

“No, you can.” You decide to tell him the truth. “It’s just funny cause the one thing I never liked about Noah was that he would always compliment me on my appearance when I was dressed up or whatever, but he would never compliment me on any accomplishments or my characteristics or just, anything other than my body, basically.” You look out of the window. “I’ve been thinking a lot about him because of this wedding stuff, and I guess it’s just one of those things that tells me it was never meant to be.”

It stays quiet in the driver’s seat, and when you glance up at Will he’s frowning.

“Literally everything you’ve said about this guy makes me want to punch him in the nose,” he finally says, and there’s an edge to his voice. “You deserve so much better, Y/N, and…” He cuts himself off, settles on; “He just sounds like a dick.”

You must be staring at Will like he grew a second head, because that’s not what your… acquintanceship, has ever been like. You’re not even really friends, and Will has never said anything to you that wasn’t a mere observation – “nice restaurant” – a question about logistics – “did you wanna hop in this Uber or are you going to ride with Matts?” – or, well, a chirp.

But he seems genuinely offended on your behalf and you have to admit it warms your heart a little.

Maybe, just maybe, you kinda see why Zach likes him. This type of loyal, fierce protectiveness reminds you of your best friend a lot. Maybe Will isn’t so bad.

“We’re there,” Will says then, and the mansion that dooms up in front of you is big enough to be classified as a castle, you think. Will parks the car, but doesn’t get out. “So,” he asks, eyeing you carefully, “you ready?” 

Not really.

But you nod anyway. 

--

As soon as you walk into the building, which is massive and beautiful, one of your colleagues comes running up to you.

“Ellie,” you greet her with a smile, and she kisses your cheek quickly.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” she beams. “It’s just no fun without you.”

Ellie is one of your favorite colleagues, always down to go on coffee breaks with you and talk about whatever is on your mind. If anyone would know that you were going to take Will to the wedding, it would’ve been her, except she hadn’t known, so you’re not surprised by her wide eyes as she takes Will in.

“Hello?” she asks, an obvious question mark at the end of her sentence.

“Hi, nice to meet you.” Will’s smile is bright and polite. “I’m Will, Y/N’s plus one for the night.”

“Oh, how lovely!” Ellie smiles, then turns to you and hisses: “You didn’t tell me you were gonna bring a hot guy!”

Except she’s not being quiet or subtle at all, and a smug smirk appears on Willy’s face.

Just when you thought his head couldn’t get any bigger.

It turns out to be way easier than you thought it would be, to go around and introduce people to Will.

Nobody mentions that they recognize him and you’re glad for it, because the one time someone stared at him a bit too long Willy started shuffling on his feet and staring at the floor, as if the attention made him uncomfortable.

You know it doesn’t, because you’ve seen him with fans before, but you can’t help but be glad that he doesn’t have to be William Nylander from the Toronto Maple Leafs, tonight.

It’s not like you would really know how to handle that.

Apart from that moment, Will fits in like he was always supposed to be there. He charms your coworkers, your boss, and it doesn’t surprise you because you don’t think you’ve ever met anyone who’s not been charmed by him, but it still lifts a weight off your chest.

At first, Will follows you around the room while you talk to people. He stays close enough that his shoulder keeps brushing yours, and every now and then his hand lays heavy on your lower back.

You suppose it’s better that way, to make people think that you actually like each other.

Somehow, though, and you really don’t remember the exact time you lost him, Will ends up talking to some people you’ve not even ever met before, while you’re standing by the bar with Ellie.

“So,” Ellie says, and the knowing tone in her voice puts you on edge. “You forgot to mention you have a smoking hot boyfriend.”

Immediately, you go into defense. “He’s not my boyfriend. He’s a friend of Zach’s, and he’s come as my plus one as a favor.”

Ellie knows Zach from your birthday dinners, and she nods knowingly.

“I figured. He plays hockey, too, right?”

How the hell does she know that?  

The question must show on your face because she laughs. “It’s not rocket science. Have you looked at his ass?”

You can’t say you’ve never looked at it, but you haven’t looked at it today. However, now that she’s mentioned it, you can’t stop yourself from letting your gaze travel.

His ass looks really good in that suit, you have to admit.

“If you thought he was my boyfriend, why were you looking at his ass anyway?” It’s mostly teasing, but Ellie hears the underlying edge under it and rolls her eyes.

“I don’t have to drive the car to admire the engine.”

It such a ridiculous comparison that you burst out laughing. You’re still giggling when Ellie adds: “However, if you’re not dating, maybe I’ll go shoot my shot.”

Something twists in your stomach, but there’s absolutely no reason for it. Why would you care if she flirts with Will? He’s not actually dating you. 

“You do that,” you tell her, and you ignore the heavy feeling in your stomach as she winks at you and saunters over at Will.

The thing is, Ellie is exactly the kinda girl you’d expect Will to be interested in. She’s beautiful, with long legs and long hair, and she’s witty and funny and smart. She’s also actually good at flirting – you’ve seen her in enough bars to know that.

You watch as Will turns to her, welcoming her with a sly smirk and a hand on her elbow. She throws her head back when she laughs, and suddenly your wine doesn’t taste so good anymore.

You don’t really see Will – or Ellie, for that matter – the rest of the evening. You go around and mingle with people you don’t really care about, congratulate the happy couple and drink a little too much wine.

It’s a lot later when suddenly, a familiar hand lands on your lower back.

“Don’t kill me,” Will’s voice sounds low in your ear. “But I did something kinda dumb.”

Oh no.

You put on your fakest smile as you excuse yourself from your conversation and let Willy pull you with him through the crowd, until you’re in an empty hallway that you think leads to the kitchen.

“What did you do?” you hiss, and Willy’s hand drops away from you as he stares to the floor.

“First, you need to promise not to get mad,” he says.

You really can’t promise that, but Will has crossed his arms and is stubbornly staring at you, and you know Will is used to getting what he wants and won’t tell you unless you agree with him. So you do.

“Fine.”

“So your friend Ellie was flirting with me,” he starts. Instantly, your blood runs cold; if he did something to upset her… “Fucking hell, Y/N, I didn’t hurt her.” Will rolls his eyes. “What kinda jerk do you think I am?”

He seems genuinely offended and you chide yourself for rushing to conclusions like that, when you’ve never known Will to be that kinda guy.

Sure, he’s annoying, cocky and loud and flippant, sometimes, but he’s not evil. He’s one of Zach’s best friends, after all.

“I was nice to her,” Will continues, “and she was nice, too. Super hot.” His eyes twinkle, and you have to shove back the flash of annoyance that tears through your body. You don’t need Will to see that.

“Anyway, I’m here supposed to be dating you, so obviously I didn’t flirt back, but she wasn’t giving up and it was getting a bit much, so I thought, if I just talk with someone else she’ll get the hint. And I was just being nice to that other girl, but I guess it looked like I was flirting.”

The most horrible thought crosses your mind.

“You didn’t flirt with the bride!”

The sigh Will lets out is heavy. “No, obviously not. You have a really low opinion on me, huh?”

You kinda do, but you just stare at him blankly.

“It was just some girl who maybe kinda has a boyfriend, and now that boyfriend maybe kinda wants to break my face.” His eyes widen comically. “I have a very nice face, I don’t want to break it.”

You can’t help it; immediately, you’re snorting out laughter.

“Willy,” you giggle, “are you telling me you’re about to get beat up at a wedding?”

Will huffs. “It’s not funny. He was massive.”

Suddenly, you think of something. “Oh my God, please tell me it’s not Rick from finance.”

“What does Rick from finance look like?” Willy’s eyes are wide and a little wild.

With every detail you describe, he gets paler, until he nods. “Yep, I’m pretty sure it was Rick from finance.”

“Rick from finance does MMA fighting in his spare time,” you tell him, finally feeling a little sorry for him. “He could destroy you.”

Will reaches out and grabs your hand, squeezes it tight as if that will somehow keep him safe. “We have to get out of here.”

Maybe, if you were a lesser person, you would’ve stayed, just to see Willy sweat. But you do feel bad for him and to be honest, you’re tired and kinda done with the wedding, anyway.

“Okay, let’s go home,” you promise him, softly patting his hand with yours. “But when we get home, I’m so gonna tell Zach you nearly got beat up by some guy in finance.”

“Don’t you dare,” Will threatens, but he’s smiling again and you won’t admit to yourself that you’re glad for it.

“Hey, Y/N?” 

“Yes?”

“I really wasn’t flirting with that girl, or the other girl. I wouldn’t do that when I came here with you.”

And it shouldn’t matter, it really shouldn’t. 

It kinda does, anyway. 

[moon-mirage]

uhhh I don't know how many prompts I get for your cresswell drabble thing, but it's exam season so how about an "I know we've literally never spoken but my roommate has their partner over and I have an exam tomorrow and i CAN'T focus when they're around so please can I hang out with you until then?" AU 👀

You can enter as many prompts as you like. :) It would be good to have just one word because then I can maybe manage to write a drabble only. But only maybe. 

But since you gave me more than a word, you’ll also get more words back ... 2,7k actually. :P I hope you have some time to spare. ;)

---

It was one thing to see her crush from far away, maybe even in a group of shared friends.

It was a whole different matter if he actually walked around her little apartment as if he owned the place even though he had never been here before.

"You like Vietnamese food, right?" He asked over his shoulder as he looked though the little kitchenette for some cutlery. Scarlet had organised the place well, so he easily found it. "You know Wolf, so there shouldn't be any cilantro in any of the dishes. Not sure what his deal with cilantro is since he usually eats everything that can be chewed. Weird if you ask me," he told her with a shrug.

"I do," Cress piped up. "Like Vietnamese food, I mean," she added lamely. After he said it was weird, she didn't want to reveal that she didn't like cilantro either.

Why oh why, couldn't have Scarlet warned her?

Although what could have prepared her for the sight of Carswell Thorne in her open door with two big bags of takeout, asking her if he could come in?

A devilish smile, a wink and Cress lost her ability to speak. Or behave like a normal human being.

She wanted to hide in her bedroom, change into something pretty and practice a conversation. She would like to be smart and witty and maybe a little bit sexy so he wouldn't know what hit him. He should be impressed by her, fall in love with her but instead she hardly could say a word.

He gave her his best smile. "Great." He hummed a few notes as he arranged the dishes on her counter, and she saw him glance at the pictures at the wall.

Oh stars!

It's not that she was particularly embarrassed by the fun pictures with her friends, when they had dressed up for a Disney-themed party (although with quite some booze which was hardly Disney-approved). But she certainly was now that her crush saw her in a full-blown Rapunzel costume, including the braided wig!

She cleared her throat, relieved when he turned his attention on her instead.

Well, that relief was short-lived now that he looked at her.

With those dreamy eyes that haunted her since her first college party.

Since then, Carswell Thorne had crossed her path more than once though she had to to speak with him more than ten words.

"What are you doing here?" She blurted out.

"Um." For the first time since he entered her apartment, Thorne looked sheepish. "Right. So, Scarlet is at our place."

Cress nodded. That wasn't anything new. Since Scarlet and Wolf got together, they had been almost inseparable. Wolf had come by their apartment a few times but tall as he was, he always looked caged in their small apartment, almost afraid to move and accidentally break something. Even sitting on their couch had been a sight. Cress and Scarlet fit snuggly into it but when Wolf sat on it, he used the whole space for himself. He had tried to make himself look smaller - an unsuccessful endeavour.

So, Scarlet was usually at his place that he shared with Thorne.

Which still didn't answer why Thorne was here.

In her apartment! With takeout!

Rubbing his neck, he seemed surprised that his reply hadn't answered her question. "So, Scarlet and Wolf are at our place ... together." When she didn't say anything, he gave an exasperated sigh. "I mean, together-together." He gave her a pointed look before folding a few napkins. "And I could hear everything. I mean, my bedroom is next to Wolf's so they know that I can hear them. They just didn't care."

Cress blushed furiously. Scarlet had been considerate enough not to bring Wolf to her place to be, as Thorne had put it, together-together but it had never occurred to Cress that they would go to Wolf's place instead since he also didn't live alone.

"But um, don't you also bring... girlfriends over?" The words were difficult to say with ease and she hoped he didn't notice. Thorne was many things - a charmer, very smart, good-looking and fun - but also, to her detriment, quite popular among the female students for all the reasons she just listed. She knew he went out with Shan from one of her classes for a while, Scarlet's friend Émilie had also talked about dating Thorne during their first semester and she had  seen him with Elia from Cress's dancing class as well. And those were just the ones she knew about.

Maybe if he flirted with her, if she at least got the chance for a date ... She never wanted to be another girl for Thorne, she wanted to be the girl for Thorne but he never extended his excessive flirting to her. More often than not, she had wondered if he even knew who she was despite sometimes hanging out together with Scarlet, Wolf, Cinder and Kai and Iko.

He gave a short laugh. "We usually have a kind of understanding ... or a schedule." A wink. "And I'm more discreet. I tell you, Scarlet brings out the wolf in Wolf," he said with a snicker. "Dinner is served!"

With flourish, he revealed the counter where he had strategically placed all the dishes, the rice, the sauces and even some candles she recognised as the ones they usually placed on the little shelf next to the door.

When she didn't say anything, he faltered for a second, his proud smile turning into a frown. "Oh wait." He looked through one of his pockets until he found a lighter and proceeded to lit the candles. "What do you say?"

Cress's heart was beating hard in her chest. "It's beautiful," the told him truthfully.

He preened at her compliment. "Well, the stuff you have is quite nice. The table pretty much set itself." Reaching for her, Cress felt his warm hands on her shoulder as he led her to the counter and helped her sit on one of the barstools.

This wasn't happening. Was she really eating dinner with Thorne?

When he looked expectantly at her, she reached for a summer roll, dipped in one of the sauces and hoped she wouldn't spill the whole content on her shirt as she bit into it. It was delicious and she hummed in pleasure.

"I take it tastes good?"

She opened her eyes, trying her best not to blush. "Amazing. Where is it from?"

"It's a few blocks from our place. Next time you come over, we can order from there again. Although there is also this great Indian restaurant you've got to try."

Cress munched on her roll, trying to figure out if he had indeed invited her to his apartment. Probably along with their other friends but still. She had only seen his place once not too long ago when he and Wolf had a little housewarming party.

A thought occurred to her. "Wait. If you, Scarlet and Wolf ordered it ... and you brought it here ... did you steal their food?"

He gave her an innocent look that could fool nobody. "I wouldn't say steal. I told you, they were otherwise occupied. Food is the last thing on their minds right now. And why let it go to waste?" He dug into one of the rice dishes, chewing thoughtfully.

They ate in silence but somehow, it wasn't awkward. At least, Cress didn't feel it was. But she was usually silent, so maybe it was awkward for Thorne?

Gathering all her courage, she asked him about his classes. An easy and safe topic for her and though he answered, he was more monosyllabic than she was used from him. He must have noticed himself because he gave her an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, Cress, it's just ... I'm doing okay but I'm no match for the golden child from campus. I doubt I could tell you anything you don't know already."

"That's not true." They shared a literature class together and he had eloquently interpreted a piece of fiction with ease. His view on the book had impressed her, despite having read on it and knowing the many ways to interpret the book. But he had made it his own and expressed his opinion, while Cress was usually too shy to raise her hand and join the discussion.

When she told him, he laughed warmly. "Ah, that pulp fiction story, I remember. Honestly, Cress, I was just bullshitting. I haven't even read the book."

"But then it's even more impressive."

There was a short silence during which she carefully evaded his gaze and focused on some fried vegetable. "That's sweet of you to say. But still, you're the genius who is acing pretty much every test without trying from what I've heard. I'm jealous," he said with a conspiratorial wink.

She blushed but didn't deny it. She wanted to let him know that it wasn't anything special, that learning was easy for her and that studying had been the only thing she had ever been good at - but no, it would come off as haughty or patronising. "I would like to be more like you," she confessed before she could stop herself.

"Sure you do. Who wouldn't?" He meant it as a joke but Cress didn't miss that there was a sombre tone to it.

She shrugged, trying to find the right words. "I'm good at tests, so I do well at college that's true but I'm not ... one day, we'll have our degree and then those grades won't matter much. I suck at personal interviews and my soft skills are really bad. I freeze up when I'm asked questions even though I know the answer. I'm not someone you remember among all those other college students aside from my grades."

"I remember you," he said without missing a beat. Cress blushed furiously at that and had no answer. Before the silence stretched on for too long, Thorne spoke again. "I'm actually relieved. I always saw you and heard the way people talked about you and thought, wow, there's someone who doesn't have to worry about life after college."

"I wish."

He nodded. "I actually excel at interviews. I can bullshit my way through them. Hey, I could teach you!" His eyes glinted with honest pride. "It's all about confidence."

"I don't have much of that," she murmured.

He waved her concerns away. "Just pretend you do then. Believe me, if you go into an interview, thinking you deserve the job and they have to convince you to take it, you'll automatically act all confident. It's easy, I'll show you how." He tipped at his temple, as if an idea had just occurred to him. "And in return you help me studying for my tests, deal?"

Thorne was all smiles and Cress couldn't help but grin back at him. He was so genuine and kind, in ways she was never able to discern from away. It just made her heart ache more. "Deal."

From that moment on, their conversation flowed more easily and Cress learned more about Thorne, his dreams and ambitions she had ever thought possible. Shy at first, she was nevertheless gaining some confidence as she talked to him and wasn't embarrassed when he pointed to the picture of her, Scarlet and Cinder in their Disney dresses.

"Please, let me borrow it. I need to make fun of Cinder, please, Cress? You can't deny me that one chance to one-up Cinder."

"She would so kill me."

"But Cress, she's wearing a dress. A poufy one, with glitter! And a tiara! An ugly one but still. Maybe I should take her shopping for a new one. See, I need that picture to help Cinder. That's me being a great friend."

"How selfless of you."

He nodded earnestly. "Selfless is my middle name. Right after suave and daring."

Cress giggled as she finished the last bit of her rice pudding dessert. With some sadness, she realised their nice evening together would be soon over. She didn't want it to be but takeout was what he came here for and now nothing was left.

Even Thorne was quiet, as he looked at all the empty boxes, cleaning a few specks on the counter with a napkin.

Cress wondered where he would go now. It was unlikely that Scarlet would return tonight or that she and Wolf would not take advantage of the empty apartment.

As if he read her mind, Thorne asked. "Would you mind if I crashed here for tonight?"

Cress stuttered. He wanted to stay the night? Here? At her place? Where she was?

"Or not!" He laughed. "Sorry, I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. I just assumed Scarlet's room is empty and since it's already late... I'm sorry, Cress." Reaching for her hand, he squeezed it lightly. His usually mischievous grin was replaced by something more soft and sweet and she knew he would leave if she asked him to.

Cress had never invited a guy into her apartment. She wasn't prepared. The bathroom was a cluttered mess and she desperately tried to remember if she left her underwear somewhere he could see. Or the braces she wore during the night. Aces, he would see her in her spaceship pyjamas! Her cute flowery ones were in the laundry. She was just not prepared for Carswell Thorne staying the night.

And still... "I-it's fine. I'm sure Scarlet won't mind." From the stories she heard, they had already shared a tent when they went hiking with Cinder and Iko. Cinder had absolutely refused to share the tent with Thorne but Scarlet and Iko didn't have the same issues (though for different reasons, she remembered).

His smile was soft but there was a touch of nervousness that was so unlike the Thorne she knew that she felt flustered and busied herself with cleaning up the dishes. "Thank you, Cress. I promise to-"

She didn't let him finish. "Is that why you came here?" She had actually wondered about that. Thorne could have went anywhere after leaving his apartment. Iko and Cinder's apartment was much closer to his place than hers, and Kai's place was really fancy. It was the apartment they would hang out the most since it was the most spacious one and had lots of anemities. For a group of ever-poor students, it was a dream come true.

The silence went on a heartbeat too long. "Yes. Right. Scarlet's empty room. I mean it makes sense right?" His laugh was a touch too loud before he helped her cleaning up the counter. "I promise you won't even notice I'm here."

Somehow she doubted that.

---

"I can't believe you actually thought I randomly came by with dinner."

"How could I think you were not? You were at my door with takeout, I didn't think ..."

Thorne tugged playfully at one of her locks. "- I wouldn't come by under pretense just to spend a bit of time with the girl I had a crush on?" He finished for her. "Come on, Cress. You are supposed to be the smart one in this relationship."

"But you were so convincing!"

His finger tips ghosted over her cheek and she leaned into her touch. "Just as I told you then ... I pretended to be confident. And apparently, it worked."

The kiss that followed still made her heart race. She laced her hands behind his neck, drawing him closer, his taste now so familiar to her.

It stopped way too soon. She looked up him questioningly, her eyebrows furrowed when she saw his mischivious grin. "What?"

Leaning closer, he whispered into her ear. "You want to know another secret?" She knew he would feel her nod. "Scarlet and Wolf had left for the weekend to visit Scarlet's grandma. I didn't see - or hear - them for two whole days."

She gasped and he bit his lips playfully. "You planned this?"

"Yes." He drew her in for another kiss. "And I'm glad I did."

Her heart warmed at his confession. "Me too."

---

Don’t ask me why but I feel this oneshot pretty much wrote itself (during working hours but no one needs to know that). It’s actually my first AU oneshot and it was a fun challenge. I hope you enjoyed reading it. Thank you again for the prompt. :)

[smol-and-grumpy]

Light My Fire - CH04

Pairing: CEO!Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: She always thought her boss was an ill-tempered man, but when he presents her with a proposition she can’t quite deny, she gets to know him better. It’s not bad, right? Because all she has to do is being fake married to him for six months, sounds do-able, right? Right.

Warnings: A dash of anxiety, confusion, fluff, teasing

WC: 2667

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons​​​ <3

SERIES MATSTERLIST

When they arrived at the venue, they had to wait in the limousine line for the people to move along, one after the other. It takes longer because of the photographers and interviews the guests are holding on the red carpet. 

Dean senses her anxiety and grabs at her hand. He threads his fingers through hers, his thumb massaging at the back of her hand, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” She says, even though her mouth feels dry and her heart is near exploding. She’s really not made for the spotlight. 

It’s moving quicker than she thought it would and then suddenly, she feels him squeezing her hand, “Ready?”

She takes a deep breath and nods. Dean nods back with a small smile. Maybe it’s just her imagination but she thinks that he’s nervous himself.

Someone pulls the door open and Dean gets out first, she looks out from the car, sees how he stands there, buttoning up his suit jacket, nodding at the photographers with a big smile decorating his face. He’s used to it, she can tell. When he finishes buttoning up, he holds out a hand for her, and she knows that it’s her cue to get out as well. 

Immediately, she’s blinded by the flashlights. Oh god, it’s worse than she thought it would be. She tries to smile as Dean weaves his arms around her waist, guides her towards where more photographers and interviewers are waiting. 

“You’re doing great,” He whispers through his smile.

“I hope you know where we’re going because I can’t see,” She whispers back and Dean has to laugh at that. 

He walks her to a marked spot and they stand there, intertwined. Reporters are shouting Dean’s name and she really doesn’t know how he can still keep his cool. She’d like to yell at them for being so loud and shouting out all at the same time. It makes her head spin.

“Who’s that beautiful woman by your side, Mr. Winchester?” Someone yells out from the back.

“That’s my beautiful wife.” Dean’s voice is equally loud and he looks down at her, smiling a warm smile, his hand around her waist as he pulls her a little closer to his body. 

At the mention of the word wife everyone seems to gasp and the flashes stopped for a second.

“How long have you been married and how come you never brought her to events before?” A female reporter asks.

“Yesterday marked one month, and my wife is a private person, she doesn’t like being the center of attention.” 

She nods at that.

“How did you two meet?” One reporter shouts.

Dean chuckles with a boyish smirk, “She literally bumped into me in the streets and I was a goner since.”

“Tell us more!” The reporter asks.

“I don’t think we have that kind of time,” Dean jokes, and grins smugly.

“Mrs. Winchester, would you consider yourself lucky to be married to the sexiest business tycoon?”

Y/N seizes her opportunity, chuckles a little, “I would consider him to be lucky that he’s married to me,” She says and places her hand on Dean’s chest, looking up to him lovingly. Dean smiles down at her, the crinkles around his eyes deep. She makes sure that the hand on his chest is her left one, they can all see the rings.

“I love your dress!” One photographer shouts out.

“Thank you,” She replies, feeling a little proud.

Dean nods his agreement, “A dream in gold, isn’t she?”

“Can you two share a kiss for us?” A photographer yells out and several of his kind agree loudly.

Dean looks down, he smiles but he raises an eyebrow at her, as if to ask if it’s okay. She winks at him and his eyes go wide as his smile gets warmer before he lowers his face to hers. 

She’s prepared for a kiss but not for her heart to jump as soon as his lips touches hers. 

Y/N instantly turns to putty in his embrace and when Dean breaks the kiss and looks her in the eyes, she sees them glistening. Just when she thinks their moment is over, he dives in again, kisses her a little bit harder, his tongue teasing at her bottom lip and she grins into the kiss, parting her lips a little more to grant him access. His taste fills her mouth, it’s minty fresh, and her arms move up to lock behind his head, fingers thread through his short hair. He pulls her tighter towards him, melting his body to hers. She can feel his heart beating against her chest. His hands move down her back, until he grabs a handful of her ass.

“Okay, we got it!” Someone shouts and that’s the cue to stop. That’s the jerk that pulled them back to reality.

They part but Dean leaves his hand on her waist. When she looks at him, she can see the pink in his cheek, the red of his lips. She probably doesn’t look any different. Her hands go up to his lips, brushes away at them to clean them from excess wetness and he does the same for her, fingertips ghosting over her lips and it takes everything for her not to suck them in and make the situation awkward.

“If you two lovebirds could give us room for the next guest?” A woman wearing a headset comes and leads them towards the entrance. 

The moment is over.

They sit down at their table and it seems like Dean knows everyone here. He introduces her as his wife and she shakes more hands than she ever has in her lifetime.

When the meal comes, she complains about the too tiny portion, which prompts Dean to laugh out loud, saying it’s a relief that finally someone voices their opinion. He can’t stop laughing even if it isn’t even that funny? She hasn’t eaten and this is just making her grumpy.

“Dean, people are staring,” She says as one woman at their table clears her throat audibly.

Dean’s laughter dies down after her warning and he leans closer to whisper to her, “I don’t really care about those people. Can you hold on a little longer? There’s going to be dessert and if you’re still hungry, we can go and grab something on the way home, okay?”

“Okay,” She says, picks at her food and in two mouthful, it is already gone.

“Hello Dean,” A voice makes both of them turn around.

“Hey, Crowley,” Dean greets the man, stands up to shake his hand so she gets up as well. 

Crowley smiles, stares at her and back to Dean, “Another month, another woman, I see?”

“Oh,” Dean shakes his head, chuckles softly, “This one stays. I put a ring on her.”

“Did you? Lovely! Congratulations!” 

Y/N gives the men space to talk business and excuses herself to go to the bathroom. 

When she walks out, Dean’s waiting right outside, back leaning against the wall. 

“What are you doing here?” She asks and Dean grins when he sees her, pulls her to the side and walks with her a couple of feet away where nobody could see.

“Look, I’m sorry about Crowley,” He apologizes and she has to frown because she doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Dean sighs, “The comment? You know? The woman of the month?”

“Oh,”

“I don’t want you to thin—”

“—Dean, it doesn’t matter what I think.” She interrupts him. Of course she knows about the women. She sometimes has to buy them flowers or book tables at restaurants. She’s not an idiot. Dean’s good looking and he’s single, he has the right to date around, “You're notorious for having a different girl on your arm all the time. You think I don’t already know that? I’m your assistant, believe me, I know.”

“It may be true that I take them out to social gatherings but it doesn’t mean that I’m fucking all of them.” Dean hisses, and she knows that he wants to keep his voice down.

She cocks an eyebrow and grins, “So, only some of them then.”

“Jesus,” Dean rubs over his scruff.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to tell me,” She says, and adds, “Do we need to go over a story so that we’re telling the same one?”

“Maybe we should,” Dean says and he places his hand around her waist, pulls her further away from the gathering until they are standing in a hallway next to the kitchen. She stands with her back against the wall while Dean crowds her in, shielding her from prying eyes.

“What do you say when someone asks how you fell for me?” She asks him, and she doesn’t know why her heart’s beating so fast.

Dean looks at her then, his gaze is intense, it makes something flutter in her stomach. His thumb comes up to brush against her bottom lip, “Your smile. You have a beautiful smile.”

She has to swallow hard at that, “And how did I fall for you?” 

Dean chuckles, leans down a little more, his lips ghosting over hers, “I can be persistent. I came to your work and showed up every day until you said yes. It’s not even a lie,” he kisses her and it’s so soft, too. She almost has to whimper. He grins, kisses her again, equally soft and gentle. 

He’s still grinning when he parts, “Come on, let’s go to the bar.”

Taking her hand, he pulls her away to the front again, and leads her towards the bar.

“But dessert,” She says, a little disappointed that she’ll miss it.

Dean laughs and places his hand around her waist, pulls her close and kisses her temple, “I think it’s going to be some weird marzipan shit anyway. It’s not worth it. I’ll feed you when this is all over, okay?”

Y/N sighs and rolls her eyes, “Fine!”

He grins at that, pulls her closer to kiss her cheek, “That’s my girl— oh no!” His grip tightens on her hips.

“What?” She tilts her head to ask him and notices his lips pressed into a thin line. When she looks back ahead, she sees what he is looking at.

He is looking at them.

Chuck and Amara.

“Did you know they were going to be here?” She asks curiously.

“No, I didn’t.” He hisses through gritted teeth.

“Dean!” Chuck greets his new business partner.

“Chuck,” Dean says, tries to stay professional and then he turns to the woman and nods at her, “Amara.” Dean clears his throat, “This is my wife, Y/N.”

She holds out her hand and Chuck takes it, lowers his face to kiss the back of it, “I thought he was just making shit up,” Chuck chuckles, “But look at you, you’re real. It’s nice meeting you, Y/N.”

When she holds out her hand to Amara, the woman doesn’t even acknowledge her. Her lips are thin. “Your marriage is fucking fake Dean, and you know it!”

Y/N’s jaw drops, “Excuse me?”

“Oh, please,” Amara turns to her, “We all know that he’s not married! And now suddenly he has a wife? I am his wife!”

“I—” She starts to speak.

“—Don’t you dare talk to my wife like that.” Dean’s loud, it makes everyone around him flinch. And then he hisses, “I don’t even know what happened alright? All I know is that I woke up the next day with a marriage certificate propped up on my fucking nightstand.”

“Don’t think you can get away with it, Dean,” Amara’s fuming, Y/N can tell, “My lawyer is talking to Sam. He’s still waiting for that court date to annul our marriage, isn’t he? I’m sorry to say but if you want out, I want more money or else I’ll sue. And I’ll win.” Amara storms off before she or Dean can say more.

Chuck stays, though. He keeps his cool. “Don’t mind her,” Chuck says, “She’s just not used to not getting the things she wants. I’m on your side. If you’ll excuse me,” Chuck pushes himself away from the bar to greet someone else but not without turning back before he leaves, “We’re still on for that dinner?”

“Yeah, we are.” Dean says, lifts his hand for a salute.

“Wow,” She turns to the bar and the bartender comes around and asks her what she would like, “Do you have shots of tequila?”

The bartender nods with a smile. 

“Then two please.” She holds out two fingers and Dean raises his eyebrows to which she just shrugs.

The shots are placed in front of her and Dean reaches out for one which makes her swat at his hand. 

“Hey!”

She chuckles, “Who said they were for you? Get your own drink!”

Dean laughs, loud and sharp. “You’re something else, you know that?” He kisses her temple before he orders a whiskey and watches her drink her two shots.

“What did Chuck mean by he’s on our side?” She asks Dean and he sips his glass.

“Chuck wants Amara out. He just doesn’t have the money to buy her shares from her. He’s about to do anything that would get her to hand over the shares to a reasonable price but she wants double for it.” Dean says in a low voice, “That’s why he was on board when I showed interest. He wants to slowly push Amara out.”

“She sounds greedy,”

“That’s because she is.”

*

Meeting Amara kind of put a damper on the evening that has started more than alright. They’re sitting in the limousine, neither of them talking for a long while. It’s Dean who breaks the silence first. 

“Are you still hungry?”

“Ugh, I kind of lost my appetite.” She sighs.

“Yeah, that happens every time I see Amara,” Dean chuckles tiredly. 

They return to silence. She’s looking out the window, and starts to count passing streetlights to pass the time and silence.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Dean says after a while.

Looking at him, she sees him smiling at her softly. How he can still manage to smile is beyond her. 

“Aren’t you scared that she’ll get what she wants?” 

“Is that why you’re so upset?” 

“Duh!”

“Hey,” Dean’s hand finds hers, he squeezes it, “Don’t worry about it, okay? We just keep on doing what we do. Sammy is good at what he does. All Amara has are empty threats, she’s got nothing on us.”

Us.

He says it so easily. It might be weird but she likes the sound of it.

Dean leaves his hand on hers the whole way back and takes it again when they get out of the limo and ride the elevator up in silence. 

Once inside, he lets go of her and that’s okay and not okay at the same time. She’s confused and she doesn’t even know why. All she knows is that she feels things she shouldn’t.

“I’m going to bed,” She says and he probably will too, because tomorrow is a work day and it’s already late.

“Okay,” Dean takes a step closer to her, reaches out to touch her, fingertips ghosting over her arm, “You did great today. I haven’t had that much fun at an event for a long time.” 

“It was my pleasure,” She replies, smiles a tired smile.

Dean takes another step closer and he’s so close  again. She tries not to think about their kiss but that’s impossible because it’s the only thing she can think about right now. He weaves both his arms around her waist, pulls her closer and places a kiss on her forehead, “Good night, Y/N.”

She nods, and takes a step away from him, keeps her head down to hide the fact that she’s beet red, and walks to her room with an extra sway of her hips (just because she can). She turns around at the corner to see him smirking at her. 

CH05

[bunnys-beetlejuice-blog]

Part two of my AU! You should start with But What If, Instead, or you may be a little confused. Or just dive in, that's cool too. Be a sexy rebel. It's what BJ would want.

He’s sixteen when green starts to grow on his face. He’s been dealing with the hair for years, now, and it’s mostly stable. Sure, he gets overwhelmed, and sure, it can still change quickly, but it’s not like when he was twelve and threw fits all the time that resulted in fire engine red. He wouldn’t say he’s the best at handling anger, for sure, for sure, for sure. That award will probably always go to his mother, Emily. But he’s gotten better at treating everything like a joke, which totally helps. Can’t get mad at what you don’t take seriously, right? It’s a philosophy that seems to frustrate his dad, who, in Betelgeuse’s opinion, takes everything way too seriously. Chuckster is lucky he’s got Emily to balance him out, or that case of stick in ass might have become terminal. So, yeah, alright, the green. He’s been growing facial hair lately, a thin pathetic little pencil mustache that nine year old Lydia calls his “creepo-stache,” and he’d be the first to admit, it’s pretty John Waters-esque, but it’s what he’s got, for now. That hair, of course, grows in green, and mixed with the corpse purple untertones he still hasn’t quite learned to glamour away convincingly, the effect is that he perpetually looks like he’s ready to put on a zombie remake of a 70’s porno. Metaphors sure are fun. At least the upper lip is starting to fill out, and the chin scruff has been on the rise, too, though he’s a far cry away from Charles’ majestic beard. He’s staring in his bathroom mirror after a shower, admiring his chubby, totally sexy self, when he notices a splotch of green on the left side of his nose. He smooshes his nose down a little with one hand, leans in closer, and squints. Must be somethin’ he ate? On his nose? For some reason? But then he notices there’s the same slight green color at his temples, too. He settles on scrubbing his face until his skin hurts a little, and when he’s done, he’s so flushed he can’t see the color, and assumes the matter is settled. And then a few days later, it’s darker. He’s sitting at dinner with the whole family, chewing with his mouth open to annoy Lydia, who gives him a swift kick to the shin under the table. “Now, if you ever hit me, and I find out about it,” he starts to tease, until he feels his mom flick his ear, and he turns to her. “You got some schmutz on your face, Bug. Come here.” Emily blots her napkin to her tongue, and then wipes at his nose, much to his chagrin. “Ew, seriously? Maaaaa,” he whines, but everyone at that table knows he’s soaking up the attention like a sponge. “I for sure feel so much cleaner with your spit smeared around my face, thank you so much, Emily Deetz.” Emily shooshes him and continues rubbing, but her napkin comes away clean. “Huh,” she glances down at it, and then back to the spot on the side of his nose, and squints. Lydia and Charles are leaning in too, now, and his sister grins. “There’s some on his forehead, mama, get him there,” and she’s successful in weaponizing their mother against him, because he hardly has time for a “Damn you-” before Emily is rubbing at the green stains on his temples, near his hairline. “What the heck is this, ink?” “I dunnoooo!” he winges, wiggling just enough to let her know he’s unhappy but not enough to flail and hurt her. When she finally relents and lets him go, a third hand sprouts from his back to pull the “hood” part of his black and white striped hoodie over his head, and he tightens the draw strings. “No more smearing spit on BJ, now, that part of dinner is done,” he says defensively, and Emily has the sense to look a little sheepish. “Sorry, Bug,” she pats his head, and he hisses in response, but no one, not even him, takes that seriously anymore. It’s a few more days until there’s a break in the case. He’s standing upside down on his bedroom ceiling, concentrating on a certain riff on his ukelele, and Lydia is flopped on his bed, passively watching Coraline on the beat up vintage TV he and Charles spent last summer fixing up. “I can’t get this to sound right,” he complains to her, and in response,

she turns the movie up louder. “Oh, haha, my sister, the fuckin’ comedianne, she’ll be here all week, everybody,” and he flops on the mattress next to her, which makes her bounce a bit before they both settle. He’s laying on his back, ukulele on his chest, mumbling and strumming, and she’s on her stomach, watching that kinda horny scene where the nude old lady with the huge honkers unzips her fuckin’ skin, when she glances over at him. “Your face spots are fuzzy, now,” she comments. “It’s called a beard, short stack. Dad’s had one since you were five, you’d think-” “Shut up, dummy, I meant the schmaltz.” “You mean the schmutz. Different words mean different things.” “Whatever. Your nose is growing hair, like grandpa. It’s barforiffic.” He frowns, and sets the ukulele down besides his bed, and conjures himself a little hand mirror from his pocket dimension. Lydia’s breath hitches, because no matter how many years it’s been, she still loves that trick, the way it’s like he’s pulling something out of nothing. He stares at the splotches in his hand mirror, beholding his face in mock horror like that episode of the Twilight Zone, the one with the pig faced people. All other details aside, she’s right, the splotches are growing hair, sort of. It doesn’t feel exactly like hair, when he reaches an experimental finger to poke at it, it’s sort of.. He can’t describe it. Grassy? Not really hair, more like a short, fuzzy… “It’s moss,” he realizes, positioning the mirror to check his forehead, where the vegetation is growing softly there, too. “Gross. How often do you shower, you neanderthal?” Lydia scrunches up her nose at him. “Careful, or you’re getting a face full of demon pits when you’re tryna sleep tonight,” he bites back at her. “I shower a normal amount. Maybe..” sharp teeth worry his bottom lip as he thinks. “I’m showering too much?” “That can’t possibly be your take away from this.” “Well I don’t know, Ly-dee-uhh,” he drags out her name. “It’s not like I’ve got a handy dandy guide to being an undead demon thing tucked away that explains all the rules that come with bein’ me, okay? I’m just thinkin’, I could count as dead cause, ya know. No heartbeat. Dead people probably.. I mean plants might grow on em, right? Like if one was left murdered and unburied in th’ world, like in a damp forest, and surrounded by nature, maybe somethin’ would grow on their putrid, rotting corpse flesh?” Lydia sits up, and leans over him, pushing the hand mirror out of the way. “I’m picking this off of you so I don’t have to hear about it anymore,” she says, simply, and then uses her surprisingly strong kid strength to dig into the runny splotch on his left temple. She runs a nail up his skin, scraping at him, and he purrs in response, tongue flicking out of his mouth, snake like. “Big scary demon dead guy, and all it takes to tame him is a little bit of attention,” she teases, and he gives another half hearted hiss. “You’re like a cat, BJ.” When she’s finished, she cleans under her nails and looks pleased. “I think I got it,” she nods, and he checks in his hand mirror. They both watch in silence as the moss seems to instantly grow back. “Moooooom!” he whines, sitting up and tossing the hand mirror over his shoulder, where it disappears into nothing without touching the ground, tucked back safe in his pocket dimension. Emily pokes her head in a moment later. “Yeah, what’s up, Beej?” She’s got her long blonde hair all done in a neat bun, and there’s the slight tone of exasperation to her voice. “You kids aren’t fighting, right?” she asks, stepping into the room. “I am literally just sitting here,” Lydia motions to the tv, still displaying the stop motion exploits of her current idol and role model. “The green crap on my face, it’s moss!” Betelgeuse whines to her, outright ignoring her question to begin with. “I’m growing moss on my face, and Lyds scraped it off but it instantly grew back!” “It was kinda cool,” Lydia admits, not giving her older brother the satisfaction of looking at him when she says it. Emily,

meanwhile, puts a finger on her chin, and scrunches up her nose in thought. “Maybe.. Some weed killer might get rid of it?” she suggests, clearly unsure. “So you want me to drink POISON,” Betelgeuse instantly flops back on the bed, left hand thrown over his forehead, all dramatic. “Lured me into the family just to try and murder me years later, huh? You fooled me! With love!” He opens his eyes in time to see both Emily and Lydia rolling theirs. “You can’t just magic it away?” Lydia pokes the moss on his nose. “The way you did your last report card?” “Judas,” he hisses, dropping the glamour enough to glare at her with his snake slit amber eyes. “You did what?” ``````````````````````````````````````````````````````` He’s back at school on Monday with a bandaid fix, which is literally a couple band aids across the spots, one plastered on his nose, the other one a large patch bandage on the spot on his temples where the green was growing in the most clearly. The bandages noticeably don’t blend in with his skin tone, despite touting themselves as flesh colored, because he’s got skin like a guy who never left his basement, and also is freshly fuckin’ dead. For extra cover, he’s wearing his “Guide” hat, a ratty gray policeman’s cap with a metal plate spelling out the word. Charles had bought for him from a Goodwill his first year up top. It does enough to hide the streaks of green, as long as he pulls it down a bit, and he’s not exactly known at school for being a style icon, so nobody thinks twice to see him wearing it, as he slips from the front seat of Charles’ car that morning. “Have a good day, son. Call me if.. If you need me,” Charles reminds him, and Lydia pipes up from the backseat. “Later, Bug beverage. Good luck.” She’s still feeling a bit guilty about snitching, apparently, because she blows him a kiss, which is super uncool and she clearly wants to take it back the second she’s done it, but he grins and pretends to catch it. “Later, family,” he closes the car door, and turns to face his day. School, he had learned a few years ago, is a uniquely breather torture experience thought up by the old to make the young loose out on their precious youths, there by getting back at them for being young and fun. That was his working theory all through his miserable first year of middle school, and high school is not disproving that theory in the least. He’s vaguely aware of the cliques that the breathers his age form, and there’s probably gossip about him, but for the most part, he’s just too weird for most of the humans his age to engage with him. He’s kind of got an aura, an indefinable something he can’t switch off, and it’s getting stronger the older he gets. Breathers are naturally more wary of him than they used to be. So yeah, he is the weird chubby kid in the striped hoodie and matching tripp pants, and under normal circumstances, he has to believe that would lead to bullying, but whatever ancient animal instinct these kids have, it tells them to steer clear of him. So school is, to put it frankly, lonely. It’s probably better to be mostly ignored than hated, he supposes, but that doesn’t make eating lunch in the quad by himself every day any less pathetic. He’s zoning out in first period, relaxing in his slacker seat in the back of the class, when things actually get interesting. Their teacher is a sort of slim, nervous looking man who teaches history, but right at that moment he’s announcing a new student. And it’s someone Betelgeuse recognizes, though he can’t place from where. The new boy, Kevin something Loh, apparently, is directed to take the only empty seat in the class, the seat right in front of Betelgeuse. As Kevin is walking down the aisle towards him, Betelgeuse is wracking his brain, trying to recall. Kevin is Asian, with high cheekbones and short black hair, carefully and deliberately styled. He’s also staring right at Betelgeuse. “You?” he whispers, sounding horrified. “Me,” Betelgeuse responds, propping his history book up on his desk and slumping down behind it, deciding he’s

fully content with napping this period away, and leaving this mystery unsolved. But Kevin is apparently worse at reading social cues than BJ is, because he’s still standing there, looming over Betelgeuse. “What are you doing here?” he hisses, sounding angry now, and Betelgeuse peaks up at him, amber eyes shining a faint amount from under the brim of his cap. “I am literally just sitting here.” “Mr. Loh, is there a problem?” their teacher askes, and the new kid whips around. “I refuse to sit next to this thing.” He points at Betelgeuse, who straightens up, a scowl playing across his features. “You wanna rephrase that?” the demon askes, gravely voice particularly dangerous sounding, because he’s NOT a thing. The humans all take note of the changing vibes in the room, growing uncomfortable. “Does someone want to switch with Mr. Loh, and sit in front of Mr. Deetz instead?” their teacher tries. The answer is silence. No one is giving up their seat next to friends to sit in front of the loner who smells like freshly dug grave dirt. “Well, then. Sit down, Mr. Loh. Mr. Deetz does not bite.” “But-” “Yeah, sit down, Kev, you’re interrupting my mid morning nap,” Betelgeuse scowls, fingers on his right hand twitching, and Kevin falls into his seat with a less than macho sounding yelp. From the glare he gets in return, he’s got a feeling Kevin’s not gonna be his new bff. When lunch rolls around, Betelgeuse finds his usual place in the quad, under the shade of a tree, and he’s about to summon forth his lunch from his little pocket dimension, when he hears a breather approaching from behind him. He’s sitting on the side that faces away from the main area, and all the happy friend groups enjoying their lunches and gossip, and towards the track field, cause if he’s gonna be sitting alone, at least he’s gonna get to watch boys and girls his age work up a sexy sweat. From a quick smell test he can tell the person approaching is Kevin. The guy reeks of some overly applied body spray mess, and it nearly puts him off his lunch. “What,” he groans, annoyed, not even looking back to address the other boy, and Kevin seems to freeze. He’d apparently thought he was being pretty sneaky. “Why are you following me?” is the first thing out of the new kid’s mouth, and that does actually cause Betelgeuse to turn and look at him, staring like Kev’s just proposed the earth is only round because Atlus keeps reinflating it to use like a blow up doll. “I,” Betelgeuse gestures very dramatically to himself. “Don’t knoooow,” he continues slowly. “Who you are.” Kevin, for some reason, seems to wilt a bit. “You really don’t remember me?” “I really don’t. Should I? You do somethin’ interestin’? Besides, single handedly keep Axe body spray in business?” “It’s not Axe!” Kevin stomps over to stand in front of him, offended. “Then axe it, my man, cause that scent is not workin’ for you,” Betelgeuse replies easily, leaning back against the tree to resume his track practice spying. “You juggled your head!” Kevin accuses him. Betelgeuse cocks an eyebrow, and his eyes flit back to Kevin. So he’s someone who had seen him use his powers, at some point? Yeesh. “You brought a field of pumpkins to life and nearly murdered me!” Ohhhh. “Yeah, well, you pushed me down,” Betelgeuse says, suddenly remembering. “So I guess we both suffered that day, didn’t we, Kev?” “So you admit it!” Kevin says tenselely, before sitting in the grass across from him. Betelgeuse watches him quietly. The breather seems confused. “Why are you here?” he asks, and Betelgeuse nods over at the bouncing, glistening track team. “The view.” Kevin glances in that direction and rolls his eyes. “Jackass, I meant at school,” he dead pans. Betelgeuse grins. “Well, th’ way my dad explained it, I have to be in government mandated kid jail, or else he goes to adult jail.” “So you’re a monster who has to go to school?” “Demon, but. Yeah.” Kevin’s eyes widen, and he whispers the word. “Demon.” There’s a beat as he ponders over that. “Those people, who were with you at the store.. Are they demons

too?” “What? Th’ Deetzs? Nah. They’re human as they come.” “And you live with them?” “Yup,” he pops the “p,” quickly growing annoyed with this line of questioning. “And they-” “Listen, man,” Betelgeuse apparates his lunch from nothing, which causes Kevin to flinch, before realizing it's just food. “Can we skip all this? It’s a life changing revelation for you, I’m sure, but forget bored stiff, this is giving me rigor mortis. Yes, I’m a demon. I go to school here cause I’m th’ Deetz’s son, and no, there’s nothing wrong with them.” He grimaces. “Just me. I’m not following you around to torment you, you’re not that special. And yes,” he holds up the sandwich from his lunch. “This is a turkey club on a croissant. My human dad packed it for me, because he loves me.” There’s a small moment of silence. Kevin opens his mouth, and Betelgeuse, own mouth now full of food, groans. “Why do you have bandages all over your face?” “Because I murdered a pedophile four years ago and his vengeful, freak ass ghost won’t let it go.” “Really?” “No. That’s not even how ghosts work. God, breathers are so gullible.” “You’re such a dick,” Kevin replies, but there’s a faint hint of a smile, there. Betelgeuse feels it tugging at his own lips, too. “I’m growing moss on my face,” he admits after a moment. “Wasn’t sure how else to keep it hidden, so. Bandages. Not that I really care what people think-” “I can tell from the tripp pants, yeah,” Kev interjects, and Betelgeuse flips him off before continuing. “I’m not trying to get a bunch of attention for being weird.” “Didn’t seem to bother you before,” Kevin comments, picking lazily at the grass around him, and Betelgeuse shrugs. “I was twelve. I’ve gotten a bit smarter, even if I was dragged kickin’ an’ screamin’ th’ whole damn way,” and this time, Kevin actually does smile. He mimics the other boy. He offers Kevin half his sandwich, and for the first time ever, he doesn’t eat lunch alone. They wait after school together, watching as their peers are picked up or loaded onto buses. “I used to have nightmares about you,” Kevin tells him, and Betelgeuse smiles flirtatiously. “So you’ve been dreamin’ of me. That’s hot.” He receives a punch in the arm for that. When his mom pulls up, with Lydia in tow in the backseat, he throws open the front passenger side door of the car. “Hey, ma, hey Lyds,” but Emily is looking past him. “BJ, is that a friend of yours?” She sounds thrilled. He turns and looks at Kevin, then back to her, and shrugs, but he’s smiling. “I dunno. He’s new, so we hung out at lunch, an’ talked. Maybe. I dunno.” “You should invite him over!” Emily grins, eyes shining. “Now?” “Now! We’re having take out for dinner, we could order more for him, easy! And he’s new, he probably doesn’t have any plans, and-” “Alright, alright, hold on,” he gripes, then waives Kevin over. The breather approaches the car, cautious. “Hey, so my mom, she says you can come over for dinner, if you want,” and God/Satan, he’s never felt more like an awkward, pimply faced teen than he does at that exact moment. If he sounds like a total loser, at least Kevin doesn’t seem to mind, cause he perks up. “Let me call my dad!” he whips out his cell phone so fast, Betelgeuse feels flattered. He actually wants to come over. He wants to spend some time together. Emily’s smile widens until she looks like a slasher on happy pills, and he climbs into the car front seat and nudges her. “Play it cool, ma,” he all but begs, and she looks to him. “I’m super cool, BJ. I’m a cool mom. Right, Lyds?” Lydia gives her best noncommittal shrug, the one Betelgeuse taught her, actually. “He said yes!” Kevin comes jogging back over to the car a minute later. “If that’s really okay, Mrs. Deetz?” “For sure! The more, the merrier!” They moved out of the apartment a little over a year ago. The new place had been a nightmare when they’d moved in, a Tudor style house with a lot of character, a lot of leftover trash, and a lot of bugs. He’d set about fixing that instantly, hunting down the tasty snacks, and Emily had stood in the middle of

the mess, chewing her bottom lip, and thinking. “I know, I know, it’s rough,” Charles had stood there, suddenly looking older than his age in a way Betelgeuse did not like. “But it’s a beautiful old house, with good bones, and room to grow, and.. It’s going to be a lot of work.” Lydia, precocious and eight, shuffled between her parents, and wrinkled her nose. “It’s a dump,” she declared, and both the adults looked down at her. “It’s not a dump,” Emily said. “It’s The Great Pacific Garbage Patch.” “Em!” Seemingly ignoring her husband, she turned and went back to the car, and didn’t return until she had her record player and a sample of her collection of vinyl with her. “BJ! Come give this a shock, please? The power’s not on yet.” Betelgeuse apparated at her side, a new trick he’d been practicing, and Emily, ever Emily, didn’t even flinch. She just patted his head, as he grabbed the cord and gave it a shock of green static. She placed a record in the player, and adjusted the needle. The familiar sounds of Calypso began to fill the house. “Let’s clean up,” Emily smiled, and, singing along and dancing and laughing, the family had begun their first of many clean ups. It’s a nice memory, one he looks back on often. They’re pulling up to the house, Kevin in tow, and despite the unease he feels at having a new person in his space, at least their house, full of love, is a comforting energy to be wrapped in.

They lead Kevin in, and he follows Betelgeuse up to his bedroom.

“So, we got your common bedroom items,” he gestures grandly as they enter his space. “Dead rat, TV, dresser, mirror for inter dimensional travel, severed head for juggling,” he acknowledges that moment in their shared history. “Old trunk full of demon secrets,” he gives the antique steamer trunk by the foot of his bed a kick. It pops open to reveal very normal looking magazines. “All that good stuff.” The wall paper he chose for his room is a black and white pinstripe that dad had called “busy,” and mom had called “him,” and Kevin blinks a bit in surprise. “You, uh, really are dedicated to the stripes, huh? I prefer a simple black myself.. Black is always a statement.” Betelgeuse snorts. “It’s my pattern,” he says, and Kevin sort of nods, clearly not getting it. He tries again. “It’s, you know, important?” Kevin glances at him, and nods again, but seemingly more hesitant. “It’s a demon thing,” Betelgeuse says finally, tired of even his own clunky attempts at subtly. “My animal is a snake,” he explains. “And my colors are black and white.” Kevin looks mystified. “So, what does that… mean?”

“Means it’s my aspect. It’s important.. Demon stuff.”

The teens look at each other. Kevin squints. “You don’t know what it means.” “I got no fuckin’ clue,” Betelgeuse admits, flopping on his back in the air and hanging there, reclining on nothing. “It’s somethin’, somethin’, dominion over th’ beasts that crawl on their bellies, foul an’ tainted, I think was th’ phrase. But I don’t usually get many chances to be around snakes, so it’s not a talent I get to practice much.” Kevin looks insanely jealous of the way he’s floating there, weightless, which was exactly the point Betelgeuse had in mind when he struck the floating pose to begin with. “Point bein’, I’m drawn to black an’ white.”

“Same way you’re drawn to sweaty track stars?” Kevin smirks, and sits on the edge of the bed.

“Fuckin’ exactly,” Betelgeuse grins at him, a smile Kevin matches. He might be out of his mind, but he feels something here. Kevin’s a good looking guy, and Betelgeuse isn’t exactly “picky.” He’s known for a long time his exact type is “someone who will give Betelgeuse attention and affection,” without worrying what exactly that means in the long run. “Gross,” rings a female voice, and the prolonged eye contact between the teens is broken by his nine year old sister, leaning against the door frame. She takes in the scene before her, him floating there, and Kevin.. Kevin seemingly looking a little flustered on the bed. He’s not sure if she gets what that’s about, hell, he hardly does, though he likes it. But she’s a bit young to pick up on romantic vibes, he thinks. Hopefully. “You’re not even trying to hide the whole, being a demon thing, are you?” she scowls. “Whatever, he already knew. He recognized me from the pumpkin patch. You probably don’t remember, you were five, but-” “I remember.” She squints, and then looks at Kevin, who gives a little waive. “What exactly are your intentions with my demon brother?” she asks, crossing her arms. Kevin actually blushes, a reaction Betelgeuse can both see and smell. Smells like blood and hormones, and it’s cute… he’s cute. “He’s just… weird. I’m, you know.. I just wanna know more. About him, and demons, and this otherworldly, supernatural business.” Ah. A little disappointing. He tries not to look let down, but he knows Lydia catches the look on his face. God/Satan, she’s a clever kid. “BJ isn’t your personal encyclopedia of paranormal bullshit. Besides, he hardly knows anything.” “Fuckin’ rude.” “Well!” she throws her hands up, a gesture he recognizes that she’s picked up from Emily. “I’m just saying, you don’t know enough to be that interesting.” He drops to his feet and puts a hand out, and she glares at him as an invisible force gently pushes her towards the door. “That’s enough, I think you’ve fulfilled your annoying little sibling requirements for today,” he grates at her, and she’s about out the door when Charles’ voice booms from downstairs. “Dinner!” Dinner is from Charles’ favorite Thai place, and the amount of food ordered seems to throw Kevin off guard. There’s a tall stack of delicious smelling styrofoam boxes, all of which are systematically set on the kitchen counter in a line, and the Deetz family goes through with plates, and helps themselves. It becomes clear pretty quickly that the amount ordered has more to do with who is eating, and not what they’re eating. Betelgeuse simply picks up two or three boxes instead of a plate, and settles at the table. His excuse for being a glutton has always been that his powers require a lot of energy for upkeep, but he’s not actually sure if that’s true. Also, it’s an excuse he’s never actually had to use, at least not in this house, because despite being somewhat akin to a garbage disposal in terms of food, his parents never give him any crap for eating. When he’d shown up, a skinny feral bitey little fuck, they’d been very encouraging of him stuffing his face. Now he’s older, obviously, and maybe he’s a bit chubby for his age, but it seems the entire family figures it’s better than looking starved, like he did before. He doesn’t think he’ll die if he doesn’t eat, but it feels good to have a full stomach, and he likes the way food tastes, so yes, he eats a lot. The way he sees it, it just means more B-Man to go around. Kevin, meanwhile, takes a polite amount and sits down next to him. “So, Kevin! Today was your first day?” Emily smiles brightly to the teen, who nods. “Yeah, I’m living with my dad now, so... new school,” he explains. Betelgeuse has the urge to pick up one of his boxes of food and take a cartoonish bite, like it’s a sandwich, but he doesn’t think that gag will play, right at this moment. “BJ has never brought a friend over before,” Charles says, unhelpfully. “Have too!” Betelgeuse protests, because he’s not trying to look like a total freak ass loser in front of the one person who seems

interested in talking to him.

Charles furrows his brow. “Who..? Oh, well…” he pauses. “I don’t know if.. If Sam counts…” “Sam was cool,” Lydia interjects, staring at Kevin, the unfinished half of her sentence being, “unlike you.” He’s got no clue why she’s gunning for Kev the way she is, but it’s kinda funny to watch a nine year old intimidate a teen. “He came over, didn’t he? Sure, it was uninvited, through a mirror, but I’m counting it anyways.” “BJ,” Charles starts, but Betelgeuse just shrugs. “It’s fine, dad. He knows. He was at the pumpkin patch.” It takes Charles and Emily a moment, but they both suddenly look nervous. “BJ is a good kid!” Emily blurts immediately, sounding defensive and looking at Kev, who sort of gives a nod. “It’s cool, I… threw tantrums when I was little, too. I mean, mine weren’t like. Cool vegetation apocalypses, but, you know.” He gives an easy shrug, before looking at Betelgeuse. “Who is Sam? Another demon?” “A better demon,” Lydia mutters, and at this point, he’s a second away from teleporting her into the neighbor’s pool. “He’s like Santa for Halloween, if Santa enforced Christmas time cheer with extreme violence.” “He’s Halloween Krampus,” Emily supplies helpfully, and he nods. “He’s the spirit of Halloween, and he’s cool. He’s only around one night, and he’s usually busy workin’, but when he gets a moment he pops in and we hang out. You’d probably-” like him isn’t exactly the right words. Humans don’t tend to feel easy in Sam’s presence. “- get along?” he finishes, but that also doesn’t seem likely. Sam isn’t outright cruel… usually. But his aura is clearly threatening, and he doesn’t play nice. The only reason Betelgeuse isn’t worried about his humans is because Sam has very clear, very structured rules. Rules that Emily had already been following, regardless of demonic threat. Also, last Halloween, Lydia had gone as Sam, orange jumpsuit, burlap sack and button eyes and everything, and Sam, ever a being of few words, had said, Flattered. He figures that probably earned the Deetz family at least one get out of murder free card. “This is all so cool,” Kevin twirls his fork around his pad phak. “It’s like, something from a movie. I can’t believe demons are.. Real. And I know about them.” There is, for a moment, a shine in his eyes that makes Betelgeuse uncomfortable, but it passes so quickly, he starts to assume he imagined it. He gives in, picks up a styrofoam box full of spicy chicken, and takes a bite out of the whole thing. His dad groans. After they’re done eating, they play video games, and whatever that moment was at dinner, he forces himself to forget it. Kevin is cute, and Kevin wants to talk to him, and that’s about as much as he cares to think about, right now. When Mr. Loh comes to pick him up, Kevin gives Betelgeuse’s hand a squeeze. It’s just the two of them, on the front porch, under the stars only he can see, because light pollution makes them invisible to the human eyes. Still, the setting feels intimate, and that hand holding cements it, at least at that moment. He’s not imagining it. “See you tomorrow?” Kevin smiles, and Betelgeuse knows his face flushes a little more purple at that. “Uh, yeah, for sure,” he says, and Kevin steps off the front porch and hurries to his dad’s car, their moment broken, but he stands there a while anyways, even after the car disappears down the street. He takes his own hand in hand, and gives it a squeeze, trying to imitate what Kevin had done flawlessly. He wanders inside after a while, but just stands with his back to the front door, replaying that simple moment over and over, until Charles, passing him on his way up to bed, pauses. “BJ? Your hair is… pink.”

[idiot-children]

did somebody say u h h more roman angst?

(sidenote: i Very Much Enjoy the headcanon that Janus can make people tell him the truth That Is All)

(i also don't have a title because i'm lazy)

~

"Roman, I'm sorry."

Roman sat stubbornly in front of his door, listening to Janus's knocking getting louder and louder.  He scoffed.

"Roman, I'm telling the truth, just, please listen to me, talk to me, I was upset, I didn't mean it."

"I'm sure you didn't."  He muttered, burying his head in his knees.

"Oh, Roman, please don't get like this, childishness doesn't suit you."

"Your... your stupid hat doesn't suit you," he snapped, grasping for insults, "leave me alone."

Janus sighed and massaged his temples.  "I'm not leaving until you talk to me face to face."

There was a pause.  The door slammed open to reveal Roman, red-faced with puffy eyes and a glare that would have ended the conversation in three seconds flat if looks could kill.  

"What do you want?"

"Really?  No witty nickname or insulting quip?  You must be feeling off."  Janus smirked, face falling at the lack of a response.  He sighed.  "Listen.  I told you already, I didn't mean it.  You're nothing like your brother.  I was upset, you have to understand that-"

"I don't have to understand shit."  Roman spat.  "You're evil!  You're a villain!  You're deceiving and manipulating Thomas, so he-"

"Yes, yes, I heard you the first few times.  Do you have anything else to say, or are you just going to continue throwing baseless accusations at me while I try to apologise?"

"I-" He paused.  "Maybe?  Are you leaving yet?"

There was another tense moment of silence, before Janus finally had enough and walked towards the prince, grabbing him by the wrist and looking him directly in the eyes.  "Roman," he asked, slowly.  "Are you okay?"

The answer was quick and monotone, like he wasn't expecting to speak at all.  "No."  He looked up in shock and stared angrily at the snake, who was looking insufferably concerned for him.

"Why not?"

"I'm scared that Thomas doesn't respect me anymore-!   Wha- what witchcraft is this?  Cease your trickery at once!"  He yelled, trying as hard as he could to pull his wrist away but to no avail, and now sounding more frightened than angry.  

"I'm sorry," Janus murmured, sounding genuinely apologetic.  "It has to be done."

"It- does- not-!" Roman was shouting now, tugging on his arm and almost pleading with his eyes to be let go.  "Unhand me!  I do not owe vulnerability to the likes of you!"

"Really?  Then, please, enlighten me, who can you be vulnerable with?"

"Nobody- stop!"

"Why not?"

"I'm supposed to be the protector.  I shouldn't be giving them more problems to deal with."  His voice cracked as he spoke, using his free hand to wipe tears from his eyes before they dared to fall.  "Deceit, please.  I don't want to talk about it.  No- it's not even relevant!  You're evil!  You're making me lie for your- your own sick enjoyment?"

Janus sighed.  "You and I both know that isn't true.  I don't even think you believe it yourself."

"Oh, I believe it alright, you're a villain, and I hope Thomas-"

"Why are you lying to me, Roman?"

He paused.  Hesitated.  Tried desperately to cover his mouth with his free hand but found it unable to move.  "Because- because I don't have anything else!"  he sobbed.  "Because I needed a villain and I'd rather villainise you than get attached again!"

Janus blinked.  He let his grip on Roman's wrist loosen, not being surprised when he yanked his arm away from him.  "Get... attached?  Again?"

Roman's fear was almost tangible.  He nodded slowly, barely knowing what to say.  He considered just insulting him and leaving, but-

But he had nowhere to go.  He didn't want to see Patton.  Logan didn't want to see him.  And he didn't exactly feel like increasing his anxiety at the moment.  So he settled for attempting an explanation. 

"I- uh-  You-"

Maybe Virgil was here.  He was certainly feeling like it.

"You complimented me!  You were nice to me!  I- I just... felt wanted.  And don't think I didn't know you were manipulating me!  I knew!  Of... of course I knew.  I just couldn't help it.  I liked you."

"Roman-"

"I don't want to hear it!"  He snapped, wiping away tears before they dared to fall.  "Do you think I didn't see the irony in being the only one to get along with the liar?  Do you think I didn't know you were spitting out empty, fake, shallow compliments just to get me on side?  Did you think I was surprised when you told me you were only flattering me because you needed to?  No!" 

The poor prince was crying now, unable to stop the flood of angry tears running down his cheeks.  Janus couldn't find the words.

"I knew all of that.  I'm just... stupid.  And alone.  And unwanted.  And you made me feel... less like that.  I knew you didn't really think any of that.  But I could dream.  I'm allowed to dream!  That's all I'm good for!"

"Roman," Janus walked hesitantly forward, cupping Roman's face with one hand.  The lack of resistance surprised him slightly.  "You aren't any of those things."

"Don't." He growled.

"The others still love you."

"Stop."

"You aren't alone."

"Stop it!"  He yelled, pulling sharply away and staring him down.

"We-"

"I said stop!"  Roman shouted, finally cracking under the stress and slapping the former dark side so hard that he stumbled into a door, knocking his hat onto the floor.  It was silent for an agonising few seconds as Janus realised what had happened and Roman tried to pretend that it hadn't.  Roman was the one to break the silence.  "Look, I'm sorry-"

"No, I'm sorry."  Janus responded curtly, dusting off his outfit and standing up.  "I've never been good at empty comforts anyway.  Go to Patton if you want that kind of thing."

Roman blinked.

"Listen.  I'm not going to pretend I meant any of the things I said at the time, because lying to you wouldn't exactly be helpful.  But I am going to tell you that I'm sorry.  And that isn't a lie.  I mean it."

The prince just sat on the end of his bed, not even bothering to hide his wreck of a face.  Janus walked closer, but kept a respectful distance.  Just in case.

"Empty compliments won't help, so I'll talk facts to you.  You're insecure, you have awful self-esteem issues, and you have an over-reliance on the concept of black-and-white morality.  You're incredibly arrogant and self-aggrandising and it's increasingly obvious to everyone around you that you use that as a way to hide your crippling self-doubt from anyone who might actually dare to ask you what you're thinking."

"Way to make a guy feel good..." He murmured, rubbing his arm.

"But!" Janus continued. "You are passionate in everything you do, no matter how much you may doubt yourself. You assert your opinion and make sure you're heard, even if everybody else is against you, and sometimes even if it isn't even your own. Even when you're only acting to hide your feelings, your acting is sublime, and I have to admit that I could learn something from you. You are an asset to Thomas's personality. You are incredibly important to his mental health, considering that you literally represent all of his desires, and that puts a lot of strain on you. You are flawed. As are we all. But you are not as bad as you make yourself out to be."

Roman smiled weakly, still unable to look him in the eyes.  Janus picked up his hat and placed it carefully over his tangled bedhead, winking.  "My hair takes very kindly to wearing a hat all the time."

He playfully put a finger over his lips.  "Don't tell."  Roman rolled his eyes and mimicked the motion.

"Well, I'll take my leave, then."

He was just about to exit the room, when Roman looked up, giving what seemed to be (and Janus would know) a genuine smile.

"Thank you.  For this, I mean.  I needed it."

"Oh, really, it was nothing-"

"No, I mean it."  He continued, seriously.  "Thank you, Janus."

Janus hesitated, one hand on the door.  Then smiled.  "Won't see you soon."

"Yeah.  You too."

[lesbianrobin]

What are your thoughts on stancy in S2? More specifically the Halloween party scene?

Alright, so. St*ncy overall is... a very rough part of S2. To this day, I can’t understand why the fuck they chose to handle it the way they did. The whole thing makes Nancy look bad, it makes Jonathan look kind of bad too, and it absolutely beats Steve to an emotional pulp. This post is going to be so long I’m so sorry dklnckn...

It’s canon that Nancy wanted Jonathan the entire time that she was dating Steve. Almost a full year! Steve is planning his future around Nancy, talking about how he wouldn’t mind not going to college if it meant he could be around for her senior year. It’s clear that Steve thinks he and Nancy are in it for the long haul, which is reasonable considering that they’ve 1. Been together for a year and 2. Fought a monster together. Steve loves her, and he thinks that she loves him too. 

He goes to dinner with Barb’s parents for her every week, even though he doesn’t know them and barely knew Barb, even though he’s incredibly uncomfortable, but he does it to support her. When she has a rough moment in the library because of her grief, he pulls her into a private space, reminds her that talking about it in public could literally get them killed, holds her and comforts her, and then basically tells her that he knows it’s stupid to go to a Halloween party and act like normal teenagers when they know what they know, but it’s all they really can do, and he thinks they might as well try to be normal. He’s not belittling her feelings. He’s not ignoring her trauma. He’s just focused on making sure they don’t attract government attention and on trying to enjoy their lives as best as they can. 

Now, the party comes in. Nancy is being kinda shitty to Steve before she gets drunk. Billy and some other guys come up to Steve and start insulting him about the whole “King Steve” thing and how he’s a loser now, and Nancy just... walks away. She doesn’t even try to pull Steve away, tell them to knock it off, anything. Steve’s getting bullied, and she just leaves. Fine, whatever. Steve’s a big boy, she doesn’t have to try and fight his battles. Then he follows her over to the punch bowl, realizes that she’s chugging that shit like it’s going out of style, and he’s like “Hey, slow down.” Nancy, still sober, says something along the lines of (can’t remember exact words) “You wanted to get drunk like stupid teenagers!” before chugging down her cup of punch. 

This is why I brought up the dinners with Barb’s parents. Steve’s been doing this thing for Nancy every single week for a year. He’s kind to Barb’s parents, he does his best to make conversation and be polite, even when Nancy isn’t around. Then, he asks her to go to one party with him (that she wanted to go to as well, indicated by the fact that she enthusiastically pleaded with Jonathan to come and the fact that she and Steve had been working on their costumes for a long time). She responds by throwing his words back in his face, intentionally getting drunk at least partially to spite him. What the fuck?

Nancy’s grieving. She’s a teenager. She feels guilty about Barb’s death and blames Steve for it as well as herself, and she tries to suppress these feelings until she just can’t anymore. I understand that. All of this stuff honestly makes for an interesting plot! However, it falls apart the second she goes off with Jonathan, and it stops being the story of a girl struggling with complex survivor’s guilt and starts being the story of a girl who dated a boy she never loved for a full year while harboring feelings for someone else.

Steve and Nancy have an argument outside of the gym. He’s bitchy, tells her to go ask her other boyfriend what happened last night, and asks her to prove that she didn’t mean their love was “bullshit” by telling him she loves him. She can’t say it, and he tells her that she thinks she’s bullshit. Did they break up? I personally think it’s a bad argument and not a breakup, seeing as nobody actually said “we’re over” or anything, but you could argue that Nancy interpreted it as a breakup if you’d like to be charitable. However, I’m pretty sure that later on at Murray’s, Nancy and Jonathan refer to Steve as her boyfriend, so... Nancy cheats on Steve. Perhaps the cheating would be understandable as a result of her suppressed trauma and emotions surrounding Barb and Steve and everything, a moment of weakness, EXCEPT for the fact that she confirmed to Jonathan the night before that she waited for him and has essentially liked him the entire time. That, in my opinion, pushes it from “mistake made as a result of heightened emotions after a bad fight” to “opportunity taken that she’s wanted for a long time.” It’s a fucked-up writing decision that makes Nancy and Jonathan both look bad, as not only do they both know Nancy has a boyfriend, they also both literally owe said boyfriend their lives, and they still choose to sleep together.

The whole “thing” with J*ncy is shared trauma, right? They have the matching scars. Shared trauma, that’s “the real shit” according to Murray. But... what trauma do they share, exactly, that isn’t also shared by Steve? Steve was just as much “as fault” for Barb’s death as Nancy (of course neither of them were remotely responsible, but they were both there and they both had sex while Barb was dying out back in the pool, so). Steve fought the Demogorgon with them. Steve actually stood in front of both of them and held the Demogorgon off, protecting them! Is the “shared trauma” meant to be losing someone to the Upside Down? Will survived, but even if you do count him as a “loss,” then Joyce, Mike, Lucas, and Dustin all share that trauma, too. 

None of that really even matters, because the concept of shared trauma as the basis of a relationship is a mess that the show literally dismantles themselves in the form of, you guessed it, St*ncy!

Steve and Nancy both know about the Upside Down. Steve and Nancy both ignorantly had sex as Barb died, and now have to live with that knowledge. Nancy lost her best friend, and Steve has to wake up and go to sleep right next to the place Barb died every single day. They both fought the Demogorgon. They were both told by the government that they absolutely cannot tell anyone about what happened, and they will most likely be killed if they do. This shared trauma is what makes Nancy lash out at Steve, it’s what makes her get wasted, it’s what makes her blame him for Barb’s death, and it’s presumably what prevents her from loving him even though she clearly wants to (why else stay with him for a year?). So why should we, the viewers, accept that J*ncy’s shared trauma will provide the basis for a healthy relationship when the very same thing caused St*ncy to crumble?

So Nancy and Jonathan sleep together. They come back, Steve can tell what happened, and he says that it’s fine. I think that we’re supposed to take this as character development, or something? When he first thinks that Nancy has cheated on him with Jonathan, he responds by publicly shaming them and insulting Jonathan, but now, when Nancy ACTUALLY cheats on him, he takes it lying down, says that it’s fine when it clearly isn’t, and... this is a good thing?

We already know Steve is a better person now. We knew it back in S1, when he cleaned off the movie theater sign, went to Jonathan’s house to apologize, and then literally risked his own life to save Nancy and Jonathan! We knew it when he went to dinner at the Hollands’ with Nancy. We knew it when he ignored Billy’s jabs during basketball and at the party and let the insults roll off his back instead of allowing himself to be goaded into a fight. We knew it when he went to Nancy’s house with flowers to apologize, when he helped Dustin look for Dart, when he fought off the Demodogs, etc, etc.

I’m getting off topic, but my point is that St*ncy is a mess in S2 for a lot of reasons, but the way it ends is the worst part. Steve, for whom infidelity is a big fucking deal due to his parents’ strained relationship as a result of his own father’s cheating, gets cheated on by Nancy. Nancy never properly apologizes to him. They never really talk about it. Steve says it’s fine, his heart is broken, and Nancy and Jonathan are happily in love and never have to own up to the fact that their relationship began as infidelity.

The whole S2 St*ncy narrative essentially functions to grind Steve’s heart into the dirt while making Nancy and Jonathan, protagonists who we are presumably intended to like and root for, seem like terrible people. I have so many more thoughts about St*ncy, but most of those are already up in some other posts, so this is it, I guess! Thanks for asking!

[fangurk]

hi! could i get a ship? i’m a 16 year old pan female (she/her). im of asian descent with dark slightly wavy hair, extremely dark eyes, and a mildly pale complexion. my mbti sign is intj and i’m a scorpio. my harry potter house is slytherin :P

i love reading and going on walks when it’s pouring rain. i play guitar a lot and like painting. i’m big on listening to music (especially at 4 am when the world is silent).

i’m a very sarcastic and honest person but i’m also very protective over those that i love. it’s hard for me to open up but when i do people trust my judgment because i’m usually never wrong when it comes to judging one’s character. people say that i come off as harsh to those that don’t know me. my friends are the most important people in the world to me, some being like family. i get frustrated when things get hard and even tend to close off to those that want to help me.

- vampires for platonic but wolf for romantic

tysm in advance :D sorry for the trouble !!

hi! and don’t apologize anon >:( i’m happy to do these and my requests are open for a reason!

let me know how you feel and/or if you want me to change something!

Platonically I Ship You With... Emmett Cullen!!

-> everybody needs a himbo. everybody. and every introvert needs an extrovert. so it’s perfect.

-> you’re sarcastic, brutally honest, and considered harsh? that’s fine by him. I mean have you met his wife? my dude is collecting “mean” people and he doesn’t care what anyone else says.

-> walks are just a big thing between you two. there’s lots to see in the woods of forks, and it always raining, so whenever y’all don’t have school and have nothing to do, bet on him taking you out to some trail.

“hey, hey, look at this crazy stick I found!”

“...that’s literally a log, emmett.”

-> you like listening to music at like 4am? you can do that at his house! whatever genre you want, it doesn’t matter— nobody sleeps. (of course, edward has been known to be a party pooper.)

-> sometimes, when you’re upset, you instinctively close yourself off. good luck trying to do that permanently to emmett— dude is...as stubborn as a bear. (I’ll see myself out)

-> eventually, you’ll come to think of him as your brother...he’s already five steps ahead of you and honestly thought you were on the same page.

“you know, emmett, you’re really like a brother to me.”

“...”

“emmett?”

“dude i’ve been calling you one of the family for months!”

-> he totally teaches you how to play songs he learned growing up on your guitar and then sings them loudly along to your tune when you finally get the hang of it.

Romantically I Ship You With... Leah Clearwater!!

-> sarcasm? oh boy. you two can snip and snap at each other all day long to the point where everyone else wonders if there’s trouble in paradise or not.

-> as tough and protective as she seems, I’m a 100% sure she’ll totally melt when her girl is protective over her. she needs someone to defend her every now and then.

-> you and her are like goddesses of judgment. everyone comes to you both when they make a new friend and asks you guys about them— hardly do you ever have different opinions, and it’s even rarer that either of you is wrong.

-> this dork will make a playlist of your favorite songs and burn them on a cd so you two can take late night/early morning drives and sing at the top of your lungs.

-> tell. her. about. your. favorite. books.

-> seriously, she’ll retain every bit of information just so she can see the look on your pretty face when she brings it up.

-> you ask to paint her once and she literally breaks. like leah.exe has stopped working. nobody’s seen her that flustered before.

“hey babe can i paint you?”

“you...you want to do what???”

(she wound up consenting, of course, and now a pretty painting of her sitting in some long grass adorns your wall. she still can’t look out it without getting all squeaky.)

-> leah is also a great walking partner, especially when it’s particularly cold because she’s your own personal space heater.

-> she is never happier than when you two are just hanging out, you strumming a few notes on your guitar and her playing with your beautiful hair. it acts to calm her, and she would spend forever in that moment if you let her.