#AND HE WAS LIKE 'NO FAIR WHY DOES SHE GET TO LOOK SO GOOD *devolves into a long rant avout the gender envy he feels about her* | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fruitcoops · 3 years

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hiii i've just spent the last 36-48 hours reading your works and oh dear do i lOVE your writing and this universe :') . i dont know if you are taking requests but i think it would be kinda interesting (and low key hilarious) if you would write the lions reacting/reading thirst tweets? idk if this is a dumb idea or not but just like some of them reacting to them and going "well i'm actually gay/married so.. no!.. but thank you!"

Part two of the six-month celebration, everyone! Thank you thank you THANK YOU to everyone who submitted comments--I had over 60 come in, and while I couldn’t include them all, reading them was a true joy. The Lion Pride channel was something I started writing on a whim; I never expected it to grow like this <3 Much love to all of you!

TW for alcohol mentions and thirst tweets (nothing explicit)

“Why do I always fear for my life around you?” Sirius asked as Marlene settled into a cushy chair to the side of their table.

She smiled, catlike, and crossed her legs primly. “Because only Finn appreciates me.”

“That’s just the Aries connection, Cap,” Finn said with a smug grin.

“We’re both Leos, Harzy.”

“Eh, close enough.”

Remus raised an eyebrow at her. “You should probably start asking questions before this devolves further, Marley. He’s gonna keep digging himself a hole and we won’t get anything done.”

Marlene’s smile returned with a vengeance. “That’s where you’re wrong, Loops! We’re not doing any questions at all today.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Read it and weep.” She tossed a small posterboard at him like a frisbee; he caught it, barely, though both Talker and Sirius had to duck out of the way. Marlene faced the camera and winked. “Welcome back to Lion Pride, everyone! Today I’m here with Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, James Potter, Thomas Walker, and our wonderful cubs to react to your comments on our videos!”

“Bet you thought we’d never see ‘em, huh?” James asked.

“The comments fall into four categories: thirsty, funny, mean, and sweet. I will be reading two of those groups, and my lovely fiancée will be reading the others because she is the human embodiment of sunshine.”

“If you make Dorcas read the mean ones, I’ll be sad,” Leo laughed.

Marlene gave him a look of disbelief. “You think I’m passing up a chance to roast you guys? Puh-lease. We’re starting off strong with some thirsty, thirsty comments! Loops, you’re up first.”

“This is going to be fun,” Sirius said, leaning back in his chair.

She cleared her throat, then turned a smoldering look on their table. “I didn’t know I had a freckle kink, but then Remus Lupin appeared and now here we are.”

“Oh, shit,” Remus muttered, covering his face with his hands as the others howled with laughter.

“Lupin has been looking sexy as hell on the bench for years now. I'm so glad people are simping over him like he deserves,” Marlene read. “And there’s a little heart emoji, just for you.”

“This is every one of my nightmares come to life,” Remus said, though his voice was muffled by his forearms.

James lifted his glasses to swipe away the tears of mirth that had gathered in his eyes. “Are you kidding? This is everything I have ever wanted.”

“Y’know, it is so good to see people drooling over this hot piece of ass at last,” Finn sighed, reaching over to ruffle Remus’ hair as his face turned bright red.

��One more, and it’s a good one,” Marlene warned. She licked her lips, then had to take a moment to laugh before speaking. “I feel like Remus Lupin is the type of guy to bake you muffins—”

“Accurate,” Leo said.

“—but is also a kinky motherfucker.”

Remus’ mouth dropped open as the table erupted into cheering. Logan pumped both fists in the air and Sirius was laughing so hard no sound came out; Talker sank so low in his chair that only his head and shoulders were visible as he applauded.

“Why do people comment these things?” Remus asked, barely above a whisper. “Holy fuck, I’m engaged!”

“Speaking of…” Marlene raised her eyebrows and Sirius smile drooped.

“Oh, no.”

“Oh, yes. Buckle up, Cap!” She rolled her shoulders out. “Get someone who looks at you the way Sirius Black looks at a hockey puck.”

Remus snorted; James’ laugh was so short and sharp that it set everyone else off as well. “That sounds like I have a hockey puck fetish!” Sirius complained. “Which is so, so not true!”

Finn made an ‘ehh’ noise, and he leaned around Remus to smack the back of his head. “Hey!”

“Next one!” Marlene announced. “Sirius Black was my bi awakening.”

A beat of silence passed. “Is that it?” Sirius ventured, looking nervous.

“Yep.”

“Aw, man, that one’s lame,” Talker said, shaking his head. “Everyone thinks Cap is a little hot.”

Remus shot him a look. “A little?”

“Fair. Marley, I dare you to find one person who wouldn’t tap that.”

She rolled her eyes. “Me, though that dovetails nicely into the last one for our lovely captain. Ahem. I understand why Remus is with Sirius: he's hot as hell and rich, I'd hit that too.”

“Oh, fuck, you’re right,” Leo gasped. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Finn and Logan turned to him in unison with a mix of disbelief and offense written all over their faces. “Dude.”

“First of all, Leo, you found yourself two hot rich boys,” Remus interrupted. “Second, that comment is forgetting that he’s funny, and smart, and nice, and—”

Seconds after the initial cover, Sirius took his hand off Remus’ mouth as if he’d been burned. “Did you just lick me?”

“Moving on! This is in all caps, so be prepared.” Marlene shuffled through her posterboards and turned to Leo with an ominous smile. He glanced toward the camera in mild fear. “What does a person have to do to get some hockey player ass?! Like why is Leo Knut so fine?!”

“Amen!” Logan called as Leo blushed.

“According to six of the seven people at this table, the answer to that first question is to be a hockey player,” Talker laughed. “The world may never know the answer to the second, sadly.”

“Lily could play hockey,” James said, resting his chin on his hand. Every single one of the others rolled their eyes. “She could! She’d be so good at it, too.”

“We know,” Finn groaned. “You only mention it every other day.”

“Speaking of the lovely Mrs. Potter,” Marlene began with a sly look as she held up a new card. “Do James and Lily Potter need a third? Asking for me specifically.”

James paused, dumbstruck, while the others drummed their hands on the table. “…no?”

A general sigh of disappointment went up. “I was really hoping he’d say yes,” Leo said.

“Ask Lily next time,” Remus recommended.

James turned to him and blinked slowly. “What are you insinuating, Loops?”

“Oh, nothing.”

“Don’t worry, James, you’ll like this one,” Marlene assured him. “James Potter is the ultimate dilf.”

“You’re damn right I am!” James whooped. “Vindication, bitches!”

“Marley, what have you done?” Talker whispered. “He’ll never shut up about that, now.”

“Oh, never,” James all but cackled. “I’m officially a dilf, you guys!”

“I hate you,” Sirius groaned.

“Tremzy, are you ready? We’ve got a couple very special ones for you,” Marlene said.

“Anything to get us out of this hell,” Logan begged.

“In that case: Logan Tremblay’s ass is better than Sidney Crosby’s. I said what I said.”

A pleased flush rose to his cheeks as Finn and Leo high-fived over his head. “Really? Thank you!”

“And they would be correct!” Finn announced. “Best ass in the league.”

“Come on,” Remus scoffed, though he was smiling.

Marlene cleared her throat to get their attention. “I don’t think I can legally read this on air without being censored or getting the video taken down, but…”

She turned the board around; all seven of them leaned forward to read it, then slowly looked at Logan, who turned vivid red. “Mon dieu. Is that—someone commented that on a video? Like, for people to see?”

“I feel like I need to bleach my eyes,” Sirius said just as Finn began shaking with silent laughter.

Leo’s face fell. “You wrote that, didn’t you?”

“I did,” Finn wheezed, scooting forward to fist-bump Marlene. “We wanted to see what you guys would say. Fuckin’ hell, your faces.”

“Alright, Talkie, are you ready?” Marlene asked around her laughter. “Seeing Thomas Walker with a baby makes me want to have his babies…please hit me up.”

He held up his index finger and took a second to laugh before responding. “If that’s Noelle, yes. If that’s anyone else, I’m flattered, but absolutely not.”

Logan made a face. “Ew.”

“We have two more,” Marlene warned. “For some very special people that aren’t here today, but I think you’ll like them anyway.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “I don’t trust the look on your face.”

“Daddy Dumo makes me swoon.”

A muddle of horrified noises echoed through the studio as all seven of them cringed. “Oh, my god, that’s my dad!” Logan yelped, covering his ears. Sirius looked vaguely ill and Remus’ shoulders crept toward his ears; James shuddered.

“The worst part is, we all know he can get it,” Finn said with a grimace. “God, I feel like I just heard someone talking about my parents having sex.”

“I’m sure he’ll love to hear that,” Marlene laughed. “Last one, from one of our truth or drinks.”

Remus went pale half a second too late. “N—”

“Hope Lupin is a milf.”

A broken noise escaped his mouth and he clamped his hand over it while Talker rubbed his back in sympathy. Sirius shook his head. “Somehow, that’s worse than Dumo’s.”

“Whoever sent that in, show some respect!” Leo said indignantly as Remus bonked his forehead against the table. “Hope Lupin is a lovely woman!”

“I think they noticed that particular fact,” Marlene pointed out, earning herself several scandalized shouts of her name and a whine from Remus. “That’s all we have for thirst comments! Are you ready for some funny ones?”

“Anything,” Remus pleaded. “I am begging you, anything else.”

Marlene shook her head as she stood, still smiling, and kissed Dorcas on the cheek when she entered the frame. “Go for it, love.”

“Dorcas!” they all cheered, lighting up immediately.

“Hey, guys, it’s been a while!” She curled up in Marlene’s vacant spot and took her own posterboards out from underneath the seat. “Alright, let’s rock and roll. Pascal Dumais is the team dad and nothing will change my mind, and Tremzy is the annoying youngest child.”

“That is so accurate,” Sirius laughed, leaning just out of range of Logan’s playful punch. “Whoever commented that has no idea how right they are.”

“We’ve got a whole sibling dynamic thing going on,” Talker agreed. “Tremzy’s the baby of the family, Cap is the quietly chaotic middle child, and Pots is the older brother that starts shit and inevitably gets blamed for however out-of-control it gets.”

Dorcas nodded. “You are one hundred percent correct. In a similar vein: Pots was the dad jokes friend before he was even a dad.”

“Painfully so,” Leo confirmed, shaking his head as they all groaned in agreement. James looked rather smug about the whole thing. “So many puns.”

“Oh, you’ll like this one,” Dorcas mused as she drew a new card. “If Tremzy looked directly into my eyes for even two seconds, all of my problems would be solved. I am sure of it.”

“Yes,” Finn and Leo said in unison.

“It’s something about the eyes, I think,” James added. “They just stand out so much that it’s a little startling straight-on.”

Logan looked to the camera and stared at it, unblinking; it zoomed in slightly on his face. “Everything will be fine,” he said with mock solemnity. “Your problems are solved.”

“Well, that was terrifying,” Sirius said drily. “Got any more for us, Ms. Meadowes?”

“Of course I do! We’ve got quite a few for Loops and Leo.” She took a sip of her water before getting comfortable again. “My favorite thing about these videos is that we can all see Loops get steadily buffer as the season goes on. Good for you, king!”

“Flex! Flex! Flex!” the six of them chanted; Remus rolled his eyes, but slid his sweater sleeve to his elbow and flexed his forearm, resulting in enough hoots and hollers that they could probably be heard a block away. Talker fake-swooned into Leo’s arms and Remus lightly whacked him on the shoulder.

“Remus Lupin looks like he has squishable cheeks,” Dorcas read aloud.

“He does!” James cooed, scooting over and reaching out.

Remus narrowed his eyes. “I swear to god I’ll bite you.”

Sirius cupped his face between his palms and kissed his nose, then pinched both his cheeks gently. “Ta-da!”

“How many of these do we have?” Remus asked, though his voice was a bit muffled by Sirius’ hands.

“Just one more for you, and it’s my personal favorite.” Dorcas assured him. “I love how the team probably had no impulse control until Loops joined.”

Sirius let go of his face and dissolved into laughter as Finn nearly fell on the floor. “Oh my—you think he has impulse control?” Talker slapped the edge of the table as he shook his head. “Absolutely not. Hell no, Loops is the first person to do stupid shit with us.”

“Yeah, I just don’t get caught,” Remus added around his own laughter. “Everyone thinks I’m such a hardass goody-two-shoes and it lets me get away with so much more than you delinquents.”

“Speaking of delinquents,” Dorcas continued. “This one is from our ‘Taste Testing Sexy Alcohol’ video: ah, yes, now I know how to do a body shot. 10/10, very educational video.”

“Do not take educational advice from us,” Finn blurted instantly. “I know this is a joke, but please exercise caution. That video was a ton of fun but a nightmare to recover from.”

Sirius winced at the memory. “I took two naps and then wished for death for a full day.”

“On a lighter note, who’s ready for some Knutty appreciation?” Dorcas smiled at her cards. “I've only had Leo Knut for a season and half, but if anything happened to him, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.”

“Big mood,” four of them said simultaneously.

Leo turned to the camera with a concerned look on his face. “That’s a meme reference, but are y’all okay?”

“No,” Dorcas answered. “Especially not this next person: Sometimes I do something productive and then I remember @LeoKnut is a 19 year old professional athlete who radiates happiness and with two of the hottest boyfriends the good lord has made, and then my bowl of packaged ramen seems less impressive.”

“I’m proud of your ramen,” Leo said, even as the corners of his mouth twitched in a smile. “And I appreciate the note about my boyfriends, because they are definitely the hottest people the good lord has made.”

Talker stuck his lip out in a pout. “Rude.”

“Sorry, Talkie, I’m biased.”

“Last one before Marlene comes back, so you’d better enjoy it!” Dorcas announced. “Did the Lions effectively utilize girl power when they wrecked toxic masculinity, yes or yes?”

“Can we utilize girl power?” Remus wondered, resting his shin on his hand. “Isn’t that exclusively for, y’know, women?”

“We can utilize himbo power,” Finn suggested.

James gave him an offended look. “Not all of us are himbos!”

“Okay, but you definitely are.”

“I am not!” James held up his fingers to count. “There are only, like, three qualifications, right? I might be strong, hot, and respectful, but I’m not dumb so it doesn’t count!”

“Pots,” Remus said quietly, hiding his smile for half a second. “Buddy, that was four things.”

James paused, then sighed in resignation. “Ah, fuck, I’m a himbo.”

“You really are.”

“At least we don’t promote toxic masculinity.”

They raised their waterbottles in a ‘cheers’ motion as Marlene and Dorcas switched spots; Marlene stretched her arms over her head and grabbed the new boards. “I’m back, beloved himbos. Talker, Leo, you are beloved by the people and have no mean comments. Cap, we’re starting with you.”

“Are they actually mean mean?” he asked.

“Sirius Black seems like a little bitch. Not in a bad way, necessarily. He just. Seems like he'd be a little bitch."

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Oh, okay. That answers one question.”

“He’s not a little bitch,” Leo said. “Pouty on occasion, but not a little bitch.”

Remus gave him a long look, then shook his head. “Yeah, I mean, you teared up a little when Hattie got a splinter in her paw but didn’t even yell when you almost sliced your finger off while making dinner.”

“Duality of man,” Finn said sagely.

Marlene cocked an eyebrow. “Finn O’Hara’s hair kind of reminds me of Garfield the Cat.”

“Alright, that’s just rude.”

“It does not!” Logan gasped at the same time Leo made a noise of agreement.

Finn turned to him in utter betrayal. “Nutter Butter, I thought you liked my hair!”

“I do!” Leo defended. “But they’re not entirely wrong. It’s very orange in the sun.”

“I’m never going to forget that,” Finn muttered, staring at the floor.

“Ugh, it bothers me so much that Lupin just objectifies Black all the time!” Marlene read in a high-pitched, nasal voice. “No respect in that relationship!”

Sirius raised his eyebrows. “Pardon?”

Marlene stared at it for a moment, then shrugged. “Yeah, I have no idea what videos they were watching. Do you feel objectified in your relationship, Cap? I know the opinion of total strangers really bothers you a lot.”

“I’m really glad you picked up on that,” he said with false gravity. “Yeah, it’s such a bummer when my hot fiancé says I look nice. Such a blow to my self-esteem.”

“That was supposed to be a roast against me,” Remus said, looking amused. “Talk about backfiring.”

“Are you ready, Pots? This one’s pretty brutal,” Marlene warned. James nodded and Finn linked their hands for moral support. “James Potter is a swiftie and you cannot tell me otherwise.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “…yeah? That’s true? T Swift is a regular occurrence on the locker room playlist.”

“Also, James Potter looks like someone who would think black pepper was spicy.”

“Now that one is mean,” he complained as the others burst out laughing. “It’s not my fault I have sensitive taste buds!”

“Oh, honey,” she said under her breath as she took a new card. “Get ready, Tremzy. This first one is short and sweet: Logan Tremblay looks like a lesbian.”

“That is not an insult,” Logan laughed. “Every lesbian I know is rad as fuck. I wish I looked that good in a leather jacket.”

“I just realized Logan doesn’t look short cause he’s next to bunch of hockey players, he’s short cause he’s 5’9.”

The smile slipped off his face in a millisecond as the others roared with laughter. “Quoi?”

“Oh, she got you good,” Sirius gasped, patting his shoulder clumsily. “Holy fuck, can I frame that?”

“That’s not what it says.” An edge of distress appeared in Logan’s voice. “Marley, that’s not what it says.”

James sat on the floor with the heels of his palms pressed against his eyes. “You’re fucking—whoever sent that in, you are my new favorite person. Jesus.”

“Do you need a second to recover before we move on?” Dorcas asked as she draped her arms over the back of Marlene’s chair. “The next one is our biggest section by far.”

“It’s the sweet ones, yeah?” Leo asked.

“Right.”

“It might be a good idea to do those before Lo spontaneously combusts.”

“Agreed!” She swapped with Marlene and hauled a short stack of posterboards out from their hiding place with a smile. “A hug from Dumo can probably solve any issue.”

“Facts,” Logan said. “I could really use one right about now, too.”

“Has anyone noticed how blue Leo Knut’s eyes are?”

“Yes,” the six of them chorused.

Finn gave him a dreamy look. “Every single day.”

“When I first read this one, I thought I wrote it,” Dorcas said with a snort. “Someone give Marlene a raise. No reason why, I just love her.”

“Can we do that?” Sirius asked, looking toward the camera crew. “Can we lobby to give you guys raises? Because you definitely deserve it after all the bullshit you deal with to make these videos watchable, and Marlene, you’ve drawn the short end of the stick ninety percent of the time.”

“How?” she called off-screen.

“You have to actually talk to us and try to get answers.”

“Fair.”

Dorcas finished scribbling something down on her notepad. “Just making a note of this conversation for future reference. Moving on! Sirius Black and James Potter are a prime example of hockey husbands, and I adore them.”

“The ironic part of that is that we’re both in committed relationships, but we’re basically married,” James mused.

Remus shook his head. “You guys are so married. Lily wanted to get you matching rings for your birthday, Pots.”

“That would be so cool!” they said in perfect unison. Remus turned to the camera and spread his hands in a case in point motion.

Dorcas stifled her laughter before moving on. “This one is cute. Give Remus Lupin all the hugs! I feel like I could tell him he’s an inspiration and he’d be so nice about it—” She paused to glance up at them. “—this next bit is in parentheses: all the LGBT Lions give me that vibe, but Cap and Knutty are super intimidating so I wouldn’t have the guts.”

Leo’s face fell and Sirius’ eyebrows pitched. “I’m not intimidating!” Leo protested. “I thought we already went over that! Loops gives fantastic hugs, but I want some, too.”

“He definitely deserves all the hugs in the world, but I promise I’m nice,” Sirius said, a bit softer than usual. “Is it because we’re tall?”

Dorcas half-shrugged. “Probably. It’s a little startling at first. Oh, I could’ve written this one, too: The Venn diagram of men I trust and the Gryffindor Lions is a full circle.”

Talker beamed at the camera. “Thank you!”

“So many hockey guys are such douchebags,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “I’m really glad we don’t do that shit.”

“Me, too.” Dorcas slid her old card under her chair. “Sirius Black’s hair looks so soft and I just want to touch it so bad.”

“It is so soft,” Remus agreed immediately. “You have no idea.”

“Everyone wants to touch Cap’s hair,” Finn said, sighing. “It’s so majestic.”

“I need a haircut.”

“No, you don’t,” Remus said as he tugged a stray curl. Sirius hummed.

“This one is from the interview some you did with Jules and Katie: these hockey boys being so soft with kids is my aesthetic! Like, it’s just so adorable to see these big, intimidating dudes be so, so sweet! Love them all!” She turned the card for them to see. “And then they added a heart at the end.”

“It’s impossible to be around those kids and not be happy,” James said. “They’re just too cute and wonderful.”

“Yeah, I love kids.” Finn nodded. “Especially the Dumais and Jules. They’re a hoot.”

“Jules would die if he heard you say that,” Remus laughed. “The hero worship is still going strong with most of you.”

“This one made me laugh when I first read it, but it’s really sweet,” Dorcas informed them. “Anyone else feel like we were deceived these past five years into thinking Cap was this hard-ass man, when in reality he's a cuddle bug who definitely captures and releases spiders instead of squishing them?”

“You weren’t deceived, I was just closeted,” Sirius said. “Also, I absolutely squish spiders.”

Remus gave him a look. “No, you do not. That’s my job. I’m the catch and release person if I can get away with it.”

James shook his head. “The third week of practices you saw a spider and threw me at it.”

“You did what?” Finn asked.

“There was a spider in my stall,” Sirius sighed, looking as if he would rather be anywhere else. “And Pots and I were talking so I didn’t see it until I almost sat on it, and my brain decided the only logical thing to do would be to grab him and shove him toward the spider.”

“That was after you shrieked,” Talker added. “Like, literally shrieked. I’ve never heard anyone make a noise like that.”

“Alright, alright,” Sirius grumbled. “We get it, I don’t like spiders.”

Remus shrugged. “But you are a cuddle bug. They got that part right.”

“We’re in the final two!” Dorcas announced. “This one has some pictures to go with it, so it’s on my phone. Fuck Romeo and Juliet, I want what these bitches have.”

“It’s us!” Leo cooed as the phone made its way down the line. In the upper corner of the screen, the photo appeared—it had been taken in New York, and Logan’s whole face was alight with happiness as Leo and Finn each pressed a kiss to his cheek. The camera caught him mid-laugh, so his eyes were closed and his chin was tucked slightly into Finn’s Strand hoodie.

“That’s my screensaver,” Finn said with a grin, pulling his phone out and turning it toward the camera without moving away from Leo. “One of my favorites.”

“I forgot you took that one,” Logan murmured. He hooked his chin over Leo’s shoulder and kissed his cheek; the four others at the table gave soft are you seeing this? looks to the camera and Dorcas smiled.

“Pots, I think yours is next. I hate to break it to you, Talkie, but they didn’t get any of you and Noelle.”

“We don’t take a ton of pictures together,” Talker said as James took the phone. “I mean, we take a bunch of selfies, but we don’t live close enough to each other to actually post that often. What picture is it, J?”

James was staring down at the picture with an unbearably sweet expression. “It’s our wedding. That’s my favorite one, actually.”

Like Logan, they had been captured while laughing—Lily was bent slightly at the waist as James clapped, his glasses just as askew as the flower crown on her head. It was impossible to tell who had told the joke originally, but they were both radiant in the sunset.

“That’s a really good one,” Sirius said with an unreadable look on his face.

“Well, well, well, fancypants, you two got a video.” James wiggled his eyebrows and Remus leaned in to see.

“What kind of video? One of our tikt—oh. Oh, this is so cute.” He shifted his chair over as the short edit began to play. “D, who made this?”

“A fan.”

“It’s really impressive,” Sirius said without taking his eyes off the screen. The edit was a series of photos, both on and off the ice; Sirius knocking their helmets together, then Remus looking back over his shoulder, then both of them in the water playing chicken in the sun. It was a slideshow of their life and their love.

“Can you send that to me?” Remus asked when it was over. “Cause that’s super cool.”

“Sure thing. Are you guys ready for the last one?” When they all nodded, she drummed her fingers on the posterboard and cleared her throat. “Arthur appreciation hours. He deserves it after managing to control the team.”

A cheer went up—all seven stood and applauded, half-laughing and half-whooping. “Miracle worker!” Sirius called.

“Best coach in the league!” Finn added.

“Most tolerant man to ever walk the earth!” Remus raised his water in a toast and they tapped the plastic edges together, nearly spilling all over the table.

Dorcas’ eyes crinkled in a smile as she turned to the camera. “That’s it for today, Lions! Tune in next time for more content of our boys, and thank you for such wonderful comments!”

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skzsauce01 · 3 years

Text

The Student Council President Reads Shoujo Manga?!

Synopsis: You discover that the student council president, who claims to hate romance, reads shoujo manga. Slight influence from Kaguya-Sama: Love Is War.

Warning: none

Word Count: 4.2k

Pairing: fem student council vice president!reader x student council president!Hyunjin

After forgetting your textbook in the classroom, you expect to be the last person to arrive to the student council room, but it appears that you’re actually the second.

“Vice President, you left your manga here last night,” Secretary Kim greets. He glances at you momentarily before returning to his paperwork.

You shut the door behind you. “My manga? I don’t remember— Oh.”

Sitting on the mahogany desk is a tote bag that you recognize is the president’s. You loaned President Hwang the first five volumes of The Life of A Dragon and Its Rider two weeks ago. When you peer inside the bag, you find that he forgot to take off his manga protectors. You keep telling him that he doesn’t need to take such a precaution since you trust him, but he always does so anyway. Even your old battered copies are wrapped in plastic.

You take the topmost one and hold it to the light streaming through the window. Not even the outline of the title can be seen. You voiced your confusion at his choice of using opaque protectors before; how would he be able to differentiate between different volumes or different mangas? His answer made you laugh: it was how he got away with reading during class. The image of the student council president doing such an illicit thing seemed ridiculous, and he pushed his hair back in embarrassment as he recounted the time the teacher almost caught him. Then you stopped laughing and wondered what the symptoms of a heart attack were. Your rib cage felt like it was going to smash open.

Now as you peel off the protector, the same feeling returns. The corner of Dragon Rider is blue and purple, not dark red. Did he spill something? No, none of the pages are wrinkled with water damage, and he would never be so careless so what exactly—

“Oh my goodness!”

Secretary Kim, pen twirling in his hand, looks at you curiously. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes!” you squeak out, hiding out the manga behind your back. “I just… I just… it’s nothing! Everything is okay!”

“Alright then.”

While he goes back to his papers, you hurriedly turn around and check the book. It’s the same as it was a few seconds ago. Instead of a fearsome dragon and its hardworking rider on the cover, there is a teenage girl flanked by two boys with wolf ears. The title reads Tsukiko of the Wolves. You flip through, discovering with both amusement and disbelief that it’s a shoujo manga. There is nothing wrong with reading shoujo — you’ve read a fair share yourself when you were younger — but President Hwang is the least likely person you would expect to have a secret love for them. You regularly loan him your shounens to read, and he eagerly discusses each volume with you. He frequently complains about the romance, saying he’s reading it for the adventure, not for the love triangles.

This has to be a mistake. He has a younger sister who you’ve seen at the bookstore occasionally. It’s possible that they share a bookshelf and that he accidentally grabbed hers on accident. You put the protector back on, set it aside, and reach for the next book on the stack.

You have no real idea if it’s another shoujo or not, but NecRomancer sounds like one. The summary on the back describes a girl panicking about her newfound powers of resurrection and the attractive man she just brought back to life. You open to the middle of the manga and let out a squeak when you see the naked corpse on the page. It’s just another accident, it has to be. President Hwang is close with his sister, so it’s only natural that his manga would be close to hers. You try the next book in the stack, hoping that it’s one of yours.

The corner reveals a dark red cover, and you hold your breath, keeping an eye on Secretary Kim. He is still preoccupied with his work, muttering sentences and scribbling things down. You fully peel back the protector, and Why Do I Not Remember You? is written across the cover in glitter. Could this be his sister’s bag? No, she doesn’t use protectors.

You mindlessly thumb through the pages, seeing but not really seeing the crying woman being comforted by a stranger. Then at the flashbacks of broken beer bottles and a ring. The chances of this being a mistake are lessening. Once is a coincidence, twice is a coincidence, and three times is a pattern. Does this mean that…

The student council president reads shoujo manga?

You quickly replace the protector. Your heart pounds, and possibilities swim in front of you. At the very best, he will be mortified if he knows that you found out. At the very worst, the entire school will find out. President Hwang’s reputation will be tainted, and with the upcoming reelections, his reputation is of the utmost importance. If he’s not president, you might still be vice president, but what’s the point then? It’ll be no fun without him.

No one can find out about this.

Suddenly the double doors to the student council room burst open, and you drop Why Do I Not Remember You? onto the desk. President Hwang slouches in the doorframe, resting his hands on the handles, completely out of breath. A Blueprint Books bag hangs in his grasp. That must be the one containing your manga.

He looks up from the floor, and you realize you are directly in his line of sight. Your hands fly to the ribbon around your neck, and you begin to untie and retie it.

“President, are you alright?” you distantly hear Secretary Kim ask. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened. I’m alright.” President Hwang’s voice comes out strained as he notices you standing behind his desk, three books out in the open. “Vice President, I see you discovered the manga as expected.”

“I was just counting to make sure I got all five back,” you reply with a fake smile. He can’t know that you know because he will never speak to you again out of embarrassment. “You left the protectors on, by the way.”

He walks toward you. You are the perfect picture of innocence. He will not know. “Did you… check them?”

“No, I was in the middle of counting them. Why?”

“It’s nothing,” he says, but you can hear the relief. “I left the wrong bag for you last night. Working late must be getting to me, haha. Here you go. The Life of A Dragon and Its Rider.”

You peek inside, and sure enough, the volumes are there with no opaque protector to obscure the title on the spine. You clutch the bag in front of you like you can use it to hide the truth you have just uncovered. President Hwang stacks his shoujo manga back into his bag and tucks it underneath the desk. His face has gone pink, and he fans himself with the latest edition of the school newspaper.

“What did you think of it?” you ask to distract him. “Isn’t the artwork amazing?”

Mission successful. President Hwang’s eyes go glassy as he recalls the story in his head, and he stops his fanning. “It is. And the worldbuilding too! The academy is so different from the usual school settings, and the dragon breeds are so cool. Also, Hirajima is such a tsundere. He’s going to end up falling in love with Kimi, isn’t he? Ugh.”

“I won’t spoil it for you,” you cryptically reply. The president is holding tightly onto his facade, which you need him to do. “I’ll lend you the next five volumes tomorrow. Just wait until you get to the tournament arc. You’re going to love it.”

He groans and leans back into his chair. “Was that sarcasm?”

“No! Tournament arc is always the best arc! That’s why Feast of the Gods is so popular. Every arc is pretty much a tournament arc.”

President Hwang lights up even more at the mention of the fantasy cooking-themed manga. He borrowed it from you last month and loved it so much that he bought matching keychains for the entire council. “Secretary Kim is the bird's milk, Treasurer Lee is the silkworm flour, you’re the delphinium rose syrup, and I’m the volcanic pepper,” he explained.

“Why are you the pepper?” Treasurer Lee complained. “You can’t even handle spice.”

“Because I’m hot.”

While both the secretary and treasurer cackled and while the president grew increasingly embarrassed by his own claims, you did your best to focus on your new keychain and not him. He looked too attractive loosening his tie and running his fingers through his hair. He looked like a manga character come to life.

President Hwang’s comment snaps you out of your daydream. “The ending is good! I can’t believe that Ryuzaki actually—”

“Shouldn’t you two be working?” interrupts Secretary Kim’s flat voice. He peers at the two of you over his glasses and flicks his eyes towards the suggestion box he must have brought in earlier. “Especially with reelections coming up soon.”

“We’ll talk later,” President Hwang whispers to you. “I want to discuss my theory about Kimi and Bando with you.”

“Yeah, of course. Let’s go through the suggestions now before Secretary Kim gets mad.”

You walk over to the door and grab the suggestion box. It’s heavier than expected, and you hold it flush against your chest to keep it from slipping out of your grasp. President Hwang notices your struggling and meets you halfway. He nearly makes you drop it as his fingers brush yours while he takes it from you.

“Thanks,” you stammer out. Your hands are empty, so you toy with your ribbon again as you follow him back to the desk.

“No problem,” he says. He lifts open the lid and takes out the first paper on top. “Shin Ryujin is asking for more funding for the Tennis Club again. Speaking of tennis, have you seen the animations for Bleeding Heart? It’s so good.”

Though Bleeding Heart starts off like a shoujo, it devolves into a mystery. If it weren’t for the knowledge you have now, you would have teased President Hwang for watching it. Instead, you enthusiastically nod. “They play croquet, not tennis, but yes! They’re so smooth!”

“President, Vice President.”

You and President Hwang exchange sheepish smiles. He softly sighs and scans through the paper, playing with a lock of hair. You imagine him doing the same as he reads. Why is the image of him secretly reading shoujo manga so charming? You shouldn’t find it so when he has this much at stake. He needs to be reelected.

“What do you think?” he asks, pointing at a proposal that you should have been reading with him, interrupting your thoughts. He edges closer to you, and breathing is suddenly difficult. He smells like laundry detergent. “Are new uniforms justifiable?”

“Yes, I think so,” you choke out. “Excuse me for a minute.”

You practically run out of the student council room, stopping only when you reach a small alcove in the hall. It’s dim and quiet, and you can hear your heart trying to break out. You press your hand over it, trying to push it back inside. Heart attacks don’t feel like this, or so says the medical website you consulted. Your heart thunders against your wrist, and its beat perfectly matches your pulse.

Steady.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

It eventually slows, and you return back to the room with more composure than you had earlier. Treasurer Lee has finally shown up, and you decide to help him with calculations instead of reviewing proposals with President Hwang. It’s better this way.

During the weekend, you head to Blueprint Books and wander down the aisles, trying to find the manga President Hwang reads. You know what he likes for shounens, so what is it for shoujos? You mindlessly swing your tote bag back and forth as you scan the shelves. He Doesn’t Know My Secret, Steampunked!, Squirrel Princess. It’s been some time since you visited this section of the store. As you look to the next shelf, you notice a familiar keychain hanging from someone’s pocket. When you do a double-take, to your surprise and horror, President Hwang is standing at the end of the aisle. He looks different when out of uniform. Good different.

Maybe you made a noise of some sort because before you can turn around and leave, he glances up from the book he holds. His eyes meet yours.

Disbelief. Confusion. Panic.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” he shakily asks as he slides the manga back into place. He’s mostly calm, that’s good. If he can lie to you about it, surely the entire school will be a simple feat. “Is there a new release?”

You shake your head. “Just browsing. Are you buying something for your sister? I know you don’t like romance that much.”

The relief in his voice is palpable when he says, “Yeah. Do you have any recommendations?”

“What does she like?”

“What do you like? You read a lot of manga.”

The question makes you pause, and you recount all the conversations you’ve overheard during lunch. Shounens are more of your thing now, but you're not above shoujos. “I’ve heard good things about Best Friend Boyfriend and I Wouldn’t Change A Thing.”

“Have you read them?”

“Not yet, but I always hear people talking about them.” You shift from foot to foot. A change of subject is much needed. “How’s the campaign going?”

“It’s going well, I think. Yeji and her friends are asking everyone in their year to vote for me, so that’s cool. The Japanese Culture Club is apparently doing the same,” he answers. He thumbs his pepper keychain, and you instinctively reach for your complementing one. The tiny syrup bottle is cool on your skin. “What about you? You’re still going to be my vice president, right?”

‘My’ makes you warm. “Of course! Just worry about yourself. Han Jisung really wants your spot.”

“I’m not letting that happen. Trust me, on Friday, the principal’s going to announce me as president again. And you’re going to be vice president. Secretary Kim and Treasurer Lee are going to be there as well. We’re going to be the student council until graduation.”

He says it with so much determination, you can’t help but laugh. “I really hope so. Hey, I’ll bring you the next five volumes of Dragon Rider on Monday. Just give me six through ten whenever you’re done.”

“Thanks. Do you want to borrow one of—”

“There you are!” President Hwang’s younger sister bounds into the aisle with a shopping basket filled with stationery. She furrows her eyebrows when she notices exactly which aisle her brother is in. “Don’t you have enough al—”

“I’m going to be late for dinner!” you interject. You step backwards, nearly bumping into the cardboard cutout of a manga character. “See you in class, President. Have a nice day. Bye.”

As you speed walk in the opposite direction, you hear his sister quietly ask him, “Wait, was that the vice president?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, I'm so sorry.”

You don’t hear if President Hwang replies anything because once you’ve turned the corner, you sprint out of the bookstore. It’s not until you’re home that you realize that you never found out what kind of shoujos he enjoys.

The days leading up to Friday are fraught with worry. Han Jisung is campaigning hard for the position this year. His small band of dedicated followers pass out flyers at the school gate every morning and trade lollipops for votes. Despite that, the president is unbothered.

“Did you watch the new episode of 00 Daniel?” he asks you on Wednesday.

You place your shoes inside your locker and shut the door. “Today’s the last day of voting, and you’re concerned about that?”

“I think the mission’s going to go badly this time. It’s been like five missions since his last screw up,” he continues like you said nothing. “There’s no way the season is ending without setting up for the next one.”

“President.”

“He’s not going to win, I promise. Treasurer Lee took a survey a few days ago, and I’m in the lead. The Mathematics Club’s survey confirmed the same thing.”

You start heading to your class with a resigned sigh, and President Hwang follows you even though he’s in a different room. He tugs on the sleeve of your blazer.

“You have nothing to worry about, Vice President,” he reassures. He lowers his head down to meet you at eye level. “It’s you and me until graduation, okay?”

You quickly nod and try not to burst into flames right on the spot. He’s too close yet not close enough.

“I think you’re right about 00 Daniel,” you stutter. “They’re taking too long to find the target too. I’ll see you after school then. Class is going to start soon.”

He retracts himself, a bit disappointed that you don’t want to speculate now. “Okay, we can talk later. See you.”

“See you.”

You two head to your respective classrooms. As you slide into your chair, you notice the boy next to you has a red candy wrapper on his desk. The girl in front of him has a purple one.

You really hope the Mathematics Club is right.

When Friday arrives, your stomach is in knots, and you feel ready to pass out at a moment’s notice. The traffic lights are slow today, making your usual stroll to school longer than usual. Students your age all the way down to elementary, pass you by, laughing and chatting with their friends. How can they be so relaxed when the results of the election come out this morning? You bet the paper announcement is already tacked to the bulletin board at the front of the school.

“Good morning,” comes a familiar voice.

“Good morning,” you reply back. President Hwang easily falls into step with you and holds out a tote bag to you. “Oh, you finished all of them?”

“Yeah. That last battle was crazy! I can’t believe it ended like that. And the epilogue! I knew it would happen! I feel so bad for Bando and… You okay? You look a little sick.”

“It’s nothing.” You take the bag from him and hold the books to your chest. You peek inside to make sure the protectors are off and to check that he gave you the right bag. No shoujo manga this time. “Are you nervous?”

He’s surprisingly apprehensive when he asks, “About what?”

“The election?”

“Oh. No, not really. Are you?”

“A little bit,” you lie as the two of you walk through the gate. The bulletin board is surrounded by a crowd, and you’re ready to march through to see what the paper says. Please let President Hwang be on there. “Let’s go.”

But the president is soon stopped by Han Jisung and his followers. Han Jisung holds his hand out, and you hold your breath as he opens his mouth.

“Congratulations on winning, President,” he says with a good-natured smile. He shifts his gaze to you. “And you as well, Vice President.”

You let out an audible sigh and quickly cover it with a cough when everyone looks at you. “Thank you.”

President Hwang shoots you a knowing grin, making you blush, before exchanging pleasantries with his defeated opponent. In the meantime, you push through the crowd to double-check the results. There it is in black ink: Hwang Hyunjin as President. Relief floods through your body, and you happily accept the other students’ congratulations and swap theories about the upcoming season of 00 Daniel with your fellow manga and anime fans.

“Told you,” President Hwang later says after he manages to get away from Han Jisung. He shuts your locker door with one finger. “There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Hey, are you going home now?” President Hwang asks. With no changes in the student council, everything is business as usual, including Secretary Kim and Treasurer Lee leaving as soon as they can on Fridays.

“Yeah. Are you staying late again?”

“Not today. Want to walk home together?”

“S-sure.”

While he reorganizes the papers on his desk, you fiddle with the strap of the tote bag. It’s not the first time you’ve walked home with the president, but it sends you into a panic every time. The golden sun and orange sky makes everyone look beautiful but him especially so. It’s difficult not to be tongue tied around him when he looks exactly like the lead of a shoujo manga.

Manga. The thing that accelerated your feelings for him in the first place. His good looks and his sweet talking charm were enough for you to notice him, so learning he shared the same hobby as you? Discovering that he adored coming up with theories?

You were smitten.

“You ready?” he interrupts.

“Yeah.”

The two of you make it to the front entrance before he stops and turns to you. “Actually, before we go, can I show you something first? It shouldn’t take too long.”

“Sure. What is it?” You follow him through the school, taking note that he seems to be headed to the courtyard.

“Have you read Limitless?”

As you step over a pile of fallen cherry blossoms, you rack your brain. You read it a long time ago, mostly because it was on every recommendation list online. “The shoujo about the math tutors? It’s been some time, but yes. What about it?”

President Hwang stops in the middle of the courtyard and faces you again. The sun is behind him, the rays of light forming a crown on his head. “Well, there’s a scene near the end that I thought you might like.”

The end of Limitless…

… features a confession scene in the school courtyard.

He gently takes your hands. “Do you remember the first day we were elected? I was the first person in the room, and I was so nervous to meet you because I didn’t know that much about you. Secretary Kim and Treasurer Lee said you were really kind, but I was still nervous. Then you ran into the room with a bunch of manga and almost tripped over the rug. You laughed it off and held out a book for me to shake since your hands were full.”

“It was the first volume of Feast of the Gods,” you whisper. That day is burned in your mind. “Lee Chaeryeong just finished the first ten volumes and gave them back to me.”

“And then I asked you if I could borrow them because I wanted to read them but Blueprint was out of stock. You said yes immediately, and that’s when I knew that you and I would be a great team. When you wanted to listen to me talk about the chapters I read, that’s when I knew I liked you. And when you continued to offer me other series to borrow, that’s when I knew I had to tell you. So,” he breathes, “here it is. I like you, and I want to be with you.”

“I… I like you too.”

He breaks out into a grin and wraps you in a hug. He still smells like laundry detergent, and you bury your nose in the collar of his shirt.

“What do we do now?” he softly laughs as he pulls away. “The shoujo mangas usually stop here and cut to a new scene.”

The words fly out of your mouth without thinking. “So is that why you’ve been reading shoujos? For the confession?”

His smile falters but recovers soon after. “Yeji gave it away last weekend, huh? Ah, I was hoping you hadn’t heard her.”

“Actually… I found out when you gave me back Dragon Rider the first time,” you admit. You twirl the ends of the ribbon around your neck. “I took off the protectors and saw some of them. But there’s nothing wrong with liking shoujo! I was just surprised since you always say you hate romance.”

“I mean, I did. I started reading them for confession tips, but then it turns out some of them are really good. Like Limitless? And then I started reading my sister’s, and I kind of like them now. Is that weird?”

“No. Honestly, it’s kind of cute.”

“Really? You’re not weirded out by that?”

“Not even a little bit. I don’t care what you read as long as you’ll talk to me about it after.”

“Well, I finished Winter Fireworks recently. Have you read it before?” When you shake your head, he takes a step closer and leans down. “It ends like this.”

As it turns out, the story ends with a kiss.

~ ad.gray

None of the mangas/animes mentioned actually exist. They’re just riffs of other fics we’ve written. Was this just a giant ad for them? Yeah, kind of lol. In order of appearance:

The Life of A Dragon and Its Rider ➞ Normal (Hyunjin)

Tsukiko of the Wolves ➞ 42nd Moon (Hyunjin)

NecRomancer ➞ Magic Words (Hyunjin)

Why Do I Not Remember You? ➞ Eternally Yours (Hyunjin)

Feast of the Gods ➞ God’s Menu (Felix)

Bleeding Heart ➞ King of Hearts (Bang Chan)

He Doesn’t Know My Secret ➞ Harmony, Melody (Seungmin)

Steampunked! ➞ Matters of the Head and Heart (Felix)

Squirrel Princess ➞ Squirrel and Wife (Han)

Best Friend Boyfriend ➞ Ruin My Life (Lee Know)

I Wouldn’t Change A Thing ➞ Even if Things Were Different (Han)

00 Daniel ➞ Apologies in Advance (Lee Know)

Limitless ➞ love you to limx (Han)

Winter Fireworks ➞ Ringing in the New Year (Bang Chan)

bonus after credits scene

It’s only when the two of you are crossing the bridge do you realize what he has done. “You just spoiled the ending for me!”

“Sorry, I forgot.” After a few seconds, he asks, “Can I give you more spoilers?”

You reach for the front of his blazer. “Yes.”

#stray kids #skz #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz fanfic #skz imagines #hyunjin scenarios #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #hyunjin fluff #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #hyunjin fanfic #hyunjin imagines #stray kids au #skz au #20210701

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sunnysviolin · 3 years

Text

Omotober Day Two- Faraway

You can also read it here on ao3

In a small town like Faraway, gossip is a ritual. The intricate ways of being nosey and knowing everything about your neighbors must be carefully taught to all new inhabitants.

“No matter what you do, someone always knew you would.” ― Ami McKay

“Country folk talked, that was all. Whether in the borderlands or the baronies, gossip was ever the chief sport.” ― Stephen King

Faraway is a town with only two thousand seven hundred and fourteen people. It just barely crosses the threshold of rural to suburban, and despite what the mayor promised with all of the new construction plans, the people of the town didn’t expect that there would be many more people coming anytime soon.

Faraway was perpetually sleepy, and when you combined that with how much it lived up to its name in being far from any city, most newcomers either left quickly or never stayed in the first place. Everything closed at nightfall, and the worst crime was high school ruffians who occasionally spraypainted a wall or smashed in a mailbox or two. The town was little, but the residents liked it that way. They liked not having to worry about locking their doors or watching their backs as they walked around. They liked being able to poke their heads into each others backyards and always being invited to every party and outing.

But Faraway did have one detraction. As with pretty much every small town, most of the residents were terrible gossips. Such was the fate of a place without much to do, neighbors found their entertainment in one another.

“Did you hear Perdita’s husband finally got sick of her and left? It was only a matter of time, she’s a complete alchie”

“Greg finally found out that Emily was cheating on him and now they’re getting divorced. It is going to be meeeeessy. They’re fighting over the house and the kids!”

But the biggest piece of gossip was what happened to Sharon.

Anyone who moved into the town learned the story quickly. Once the new neighbors had a chance to settle in, a group would come over with a plate of cookies or a casserole after church, and wait until they were offered a cup of coffee and a chat. It was the neighborly thing to do after all, and it was important that anyone coming into their world know what they were getting into. Once the coffee was poured and the trivial compliments about the layout of the house were given, then it would start.

First with some simple things- who was going behind whos back, which couple was doomed to get a divorce before too long. It was important to gauge here if this new neighbor would be one of them or not. If the new arrival seemed put off or uncomfortable, a few feelers would be put out. They might just be new to small town life and not aware of the importance of knowing all of this. If all attempts to chat were rebuffed, then the rest of the town knew that this person wouldn’t last long among them.

But sometimes a new neighbor showed potential, promise in their willingness to listen and participate. If that happened, then it was time to move onto the main story that plagued the town even four years after it had happened. No one ever meant to talk about it, but it was inevitable that it would be brought up. It wasn’t every day that one of the darlings of the town ended up dead after all.

“A tragedy, such a shame.”

“Hung herself! Poor thing,”

“The girl had been only fourteen- oh wait fifteen. Yes Mari had been fifteen.”

“No, she hadn’t left a note, but everyone could guess. Her parents were always such strange people, so strict and demanding of their children. It was inevitable that one of them would snap, but no one expected it to be Mari. She seemed so happy, so above it all.”

“She was in a relationship with Teresa’s boy. Not the one still here, of course, but the one who’s in college now, studying to be a doctor. All the way on the other side of the country if you can believe it!”

“It only got worse from there though. Sharon’s husband had left her afterwards, and she never told anyone why...He probably blamed her for it. Men can be that way, can’t they?”

“Now she goes around acting like nothing happened at all. It’s bizarre. If I lost my daughter you wouldn’t catch me acting like she never existed.”

“I hear she’s moving. Yes I’m sure, the manager over at Fix-Its told me that she asked him for a moving company reference,”

“I saw a For Sale sign in the front yard. It make sense though, I have no idea how she could have possibly lived in that house for the last four years, knowing what her child did there,”

“‘How could she live in that house’? What I want to know is how could she let her son stay in there day in day out! After what happened to him,”

“Oh, sorry honey, let us explain. So Sharon has, well had, two children. Mari, her daughter and Sunny, her son. I can’t for the life of me remember how old he is. High school age now I suppose...but no one has seen him in years,”

“ Years . We’re completely serious. Sharon does errands and goes to work in an office nearby as a secretary, and she shows up sometimes for a cup of coffee or the occasional church meeting, but no one has seen Sunny since his sister died. He’s the one that found her, and he completely lost his mind. He’s psychotic now,”

“Now that isn’t fair. That child went through something no person should ever have to, and at such a young age. It’s no wonder the boy has issues, but Sharon should have done something. At least forced him to keep going to school,”

“You can’t deny that the child is strange, Margaret. He was strange before he found his sister hanging from a tree. My Ethan was in classes with him, and he said he used to see Sunny staring out the window for the entire class period without blinking. Like he was possessed,”

“He was friends with Perdita’s girl, and we all know how that child turned out. She’s going to end up making license plates and eating gruel before she turns twenty, mark my words,”

“And what about what happened to the cat? You can’t deny that’s strange,”

“Oh that’s just a rumor. I don’t believe it,”

“Rumors, but no ones seen it since she died. Lacey swears that she saw a dead cat in their trash bin only a week after Mari’s funeral. Don’t look at me that way, I’m just saying. I certainly don’t have any plans to let my children near that house,”

“Even if you did, they wouldn’t let you in! Teresa’s boy goes there every afternoon, and no one ever answers the door. He’s such a sweetheart, you should introduce your kids to him. Kel’s always been a rather lonely boy for some reason, even though he’s such a nice child. He’s been practically distraught since his brother left for school, the one we told you is going to be a doctor?”

“Oh by the way, make sure you don’t say any of this to Teresa or her husband. She’s still very close with Sharon and views Sunny like one of her own. If only Kel had rubbed off a little more on him,”

“I’m just glad that Kel got out of that group of kids before it completely devolved. Teresa’s boys are far to good to be around children like Sunny and Aubrey,”

#omori #omotober #omori sunnys mom #omori sunnys dad #omori mari #omori sunny #omori aubrey #omori kel #omori hero #omori fic #omori faraway #faraway town #bitchy smalll town life is intricate

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enbyprentiss · 3 years

Text

Little brat

Genre: Smut, pure filth, zero plot

Pairing: Hotch x Reid

Warnings: Sub!Spencer, Dom!Hotch, Spencer in panties and makeup, bratty Spence, spanking, penetrative sex, degradation, daddy kink, some praise, slight aftercare, oral (male receiving obviously), face fucking, and I think that’s it but lmk if I missed anything!

(and no @sparklinspence, if you’re reading this, i REFUSE to incorporate Hotch’s supposed foot fetish)

Also, Hayley does not exist in this story because that woman deserved so much better. And instead, she got murdered. Yes, I am still salty about it and no, I will never forgive the writers for that.

Spencer liked being a good boy. He lived to please. However, he loved being a brat even more. He always looked forward to things that were supposed to be punishments. He liked Hotch to yell at him. Tell him what a dirty boy he is. He liked being fucked like a bitch. So, he planned on being the biggest brat today.

It started when Aaron called him in for a case. And instead of telling him that he’d be there within 20 minutes like he usually did, “What if I don’t?”

“Spencer...”, he warned.

“What? What are you going to do?”, he always knew just how to push Aaron’s buttons.

“If you don’t, I’ll have no choice but to terminate you.”

“You would never.”, and even though he couldn’t see Spencer, he still had a smug look on his face.

“I better see you in the next 30 minutes.”

Reid huffed, crossing his arms and hanging up the phone. He reluctantly pulled himself out of bed, putting on the pair of panties he knew drove Aaron crazy and quite possibly the tightest pants he owns so that Hotch would be the only one who would recognize the outline.

When he arrived at the office, his eyes flicked straight up to Hotch’s office. And god, just looking at him made his pants become just a little tighter. He had to strategically pull his satchel closer to his body, quickly seating himself and tucking his legs completely under the round table. Spencer purposely made sure that the seat next to him would be empty. And, of course, Aaron took the opportunity to sit next to his young lover. At first, it was just a sweet gesture that wouldn’t expose their relationship to the rest of the team. The problem only arose when Reid placed his hand on the older mans thigh while JJ presented the local case. As his hand traveled farther up slowly, Hotch could simply not wrap his head around how Spencer was possibly this turned on at 10:00 AM. Regardless, he knew Spencer’s little game and grabbed his wrist, wrapping his much larger hand around it as a subtle warning. He watched as his face turned a light shade of pink, and he obeyed for now. But not for long.

The team spilt up, half of them in the field and half of them staying back to work from the bullpen, which left Aaron and Spencer alone in an SUV. Spencer took this opportunity to act up further, he leaned over the console, kissing Aaron’s neck gently before moving to open mouthed kisses. He would’ve left it at that if it wasn’t for the apparent bulge in Aaron’s pants. He rubbed him over his slacks the best he could before Hotch broke his trance.

“What has gotten into you today, Spencer?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”, he shrugged and smiled in faux innocence.

“Oh, so you want to be a filthy little brat today? We’ll have to fix that later.”

Spencer didn’t respond, just squirmed in his seat, fantasizing about all the possibilities of what awaited him. And luckily for him, the case was solved pretty quickly. The unsub stabbed random people repeatedly on the street, the only thing is he did every 27 minutes on the dot and was extremely sloppy, making his fairly easy to catch. Though, Spencer still managed to slip in some more trouble-making behavior. When they weren’t actively trying to put the profile together, he spent time flirting with both the male and female officers but only when he knew when Aaron was watching. Of course, Aaron noticed and it only made his blood boil more.

When they got back to the BAU, he pulled Reid into his office, demanding that he follow him to his apartment. And he obviously wasn’t going to deny, this was what he wanted all day.

As soon as they burst through to the door to Aaron’s apartment, their lips met in a heated kiss. Spencer licked against Aaron’s bottom lip, but he quickly gained dominance over the kiss. He moved to kiss down the younger mans jaw and the exposed parts of his neck, making Reid whimper.

“Such a desperate little slut. Go to the bedroom and strip. And you better not be touching yourself when I get in there.”

Spencer nodded, now ready to obey every word that was said to him. He stripped of all of his clothing, leaving them in a crumpled pile as he rushed to sit on the bed. Aaron waltzed around his apartment for roughly 10 minutes just to tease his lover, and he only entered the bedroom when he could hear him audibly whining. He pulled the frail figured man over his lap silently, palming over his ass gently.

“Do you know why you’re being punished, baby?”

“No, daddy.”, Spencer shook his head the best he could with a small pout on his face.

Aaron landed a harsh smack across Spencer’s ass, “Really? Because I think this is exactly what you wanted. Teasing me all day, wearing this pretty pink little panties. You’re just so desperate for my cock, aren’t you?”, he landed another hard smack.

“Mmhf! Yes, daddy!”

“Count for me. And that’s the only thing I want to hear from you, since you were such a bad boy today.”

Spencer whined anyway, which only earned him more spankings, each harder than the last. Eventually, he had counted all the way up to 25 with tears in his eyes and a few slipping down his cheeks. Aaron helped him sit back up, wiping some of the mascara stained tears away.

“T-thank you, daddy.”, he sniffled.

“Oh, sweetheart, you really think I’m done with you. Get on your knees.”

Spencer scrambled to get in position in eagerness. He rubbed up the older mans thighs, and he expected to be pushed away since he didn’t ask for permission, but instead Aaron was focused on ridding of his pants.

“Since you want my cock so bad, you’re gonna let daddy fuck your face, ok?”

He muttered a small ‘Mhm’ while nodding his head with an excited smile. Aaron lifted his hips into Spencer’s awaiting mouth, immediately hitting the back of his throat and making him gag. But Spencer relished in every action Hotch made, pushing his head down by his light brown curls and then pulling him back up so he could focus on just the tip, swirling his tongue around and over his slit.

“You love this don’t you, brat?”, Hotch groaned as Spencer’s throat tightened around him and he moaned around the cock in his mouth, confirming Aaron’s suspicions wordlessly. He continued pushing the younger mans head down roughly, watching more tears fall down his cheeks and watching how perfectly his plush pink lips wrapped around his tip. As Spencer licked down the prominent vein on the underside of Aaron’s cock, he felt the warm white liquid shoot down his throat, gladly swallowing all of it.

“Let me see.”, Hotch demanded. Spencer opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue slightly, revealing that he truly did swallow all of his lovers cum, “Good boy.”

Spencer’s eyes lit up at the praise as he bounced on his knees slightly, “Fuck me now, daddy?”

The dark haired man sat in front of him, acting as if he was pondering the idea, “Fine, get on the bed. Hands and knees.”

He moved frantically to get in position as Aaron retrieved the lube from his not-so-hidden drawer. He kissed down Spencer’s spine while applying a generous amount of the substance to his fingers. He continued planting soft kisses wherever he could reach, slowly pushing one finger into Spencer, making him yelp.

“Oh, daddy!”, Aaron took that as a good sign, pushing another finger into him, scissoring them to stretch his boy further.

“W-want your cock instead, daddy.”, he whined.

“I don’t know. Can you take it?”

“Yes! Let me show you, daddy, please!”

“Ok, baby, give daddy one second.”, he answered, applying a fair amount of lube to his cock.

Aaron put both his hands around Spencer’s petite waist, pushing into him slowly, making his sub moan out shamelessly. He hadn’t even pushed fully in as Spencer began to squirm and arch his back.

“Mm, so big, daddy!”

“Oh, come on, baby. I know you can take it.”

Spencer’s hands balled up in the sheets, scrunching up his face while simultaneously begging Hotch for more. Eventually, he had pushed all the way into Spencer, setting a ruthless pace knowing he liked it rougher.

Spencer’s moans quickly devolved into little ‘Thank you, daddy’, and mindless babbling.

“Aw, look at you, baby. I fucked my little genius dumb.”, he groaned. He reached around to stroke Spencer’s cock, knowing that he wouldn’t last much longer.

“Fills me so good, daddy!”

“I know, baby. So tight and warm for daddy. Such a good boy.”

“Oh, oh, oh! Can I cum please, daddy?!”

“Go ahead, sweet boy, cum all over my hand.”, as soon as he was given permission, he came all over Hotch’s hand and his own tummy.

Aaron continued slamming his hips into Spencer’s, making him whine from the overstimulation. He pushed his hips so much harder than before, releasing as Spencer tightened around him, “Oh! You make daddy cum so hard, baby.”

“T-thank you, daddy.”

“Of course, baby.”, he pulled out slowly and began to walk away.

“W-wait! Will you um--”

“Will I what, baby?”

“W-will you plug me up. Want to keep the mess in.”

“I don’t know if you’ve earned that much of a reward.”, he said, cracking a rare smile.

“Please! I promise I’ll be good, daddy!”

Of course, Aaron knew this was a lie, he was bound to act up again but he simply couldn’t deny when Spencer looked at him with those signature puppy dog eyes. He pulled one of Spencer’s favorite plugs out of the drawer and slipped it slowly into him as Reid’s hips bucked up involuntarily, placing a soft kiss to his lips.

“I’m going to get some clean pajamas for us, ok? I’ll be right here, baby.”

Spencer nodded with a small pout. Aaron handed him his favorite pair of pajama pants as he went to get him a glass of water. He reluctantly took a few sips before placing it against the night stand. Aaron got into the bed next to him, pulling Spencer close, knowing that he needs skin to skin contact after scenes like that.

Reid fell into the spell of sleep first and Aaron watched how his chest rose and fell slowly while brushing through his soft locks before burying his head closer to Spencer and falling asleep himself.

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its-kall-the-clown · 3 years

Note

14 Fluff for Red Son realizing he's nursing a crush on MK

As some context this is post redemption for the demon bull family. So Mei, MK, and Red hang out a lot together now. Red Son is also an idiot. XD

Also this isn’t my most polished work so sorry if it feels rushed.

prompt list

Stop that!! (Don't stop)

Rating: PG-13 for implied sexual interactions

"I think I'm sick"

Red Son admits to the ceiling of Mei's room. They were hanging out like they normally did on days MK was training with monkey king. She was playing some sort of retro video game and he was watching till he got bored and lay on her bed thinking.

"You got a tummy ache?" Mei teased, pausing her game and he huffs rolling his eyes, and sits up.

"Don't be ridiculous" he huffs out and crosses his arms over his chest.

"Okayyyy so what're the symptoms." Mei crawls from her spot on the floor and joins him in bed, sitting crisscrossed with her hand in her lap, and leaning forward eagerly.

"It's hard to explain… sometimes when MK is gone my chest hurts " he places a hand over his heart that was beating normally at the moment.

"And sometimes, when he's around, my hands get sweaty and it feels like I'm gonna throw up and…." He watches a wide unlearning Cheshire grin grow across his friend's face. He continues on, albeit, a bit more hesitantly.

"And….sometimes I can't talk right, and sometimes when he IS around my chest hurts also?" Mei was grinning so wide she was more teeth than she was girl.

"Why are you smiling…."

"OMFG!!?? You have a crush on Mk?!!!" She squeaks excitedly and rolls around in her back as she descends into what Red can only describe as absolute madness.

"What are you talking about??!" He sputters, Mei giggles a bit longer before finally pulling together and greeting him with a wide grin.

"Dude. Your like SO gay for him. 'My HeARt hUrTs WhEn hE’s not arOuNdddd~ " she mocks him in a fake tone and he growls hitting her with a pillow..

"Stop that!" He growls.

"SToP ThAt~" she mocks back and they devolve into a pillow fight on her bed. He girns when he hits her smug face squarely with a dragon stuffie.

Soon they lay panting on her bed and the dragon girl rolls onto her stomach poking him in the face.

"So. Crushing in MK huh?"

He grows beat red again and pulls a pillow into his face and groans.

"You should tell him."

Red son sits up with a smile.

"I should!"

"Yes!!"

"So I can tell him to stop making me sick!"

"Say what now?"

He turns to Mei with a feral smile. This 'crush' or whatever she called it could be fixed. If MK was the one giving it to him. He just needed MK to stop doing...whatever he was doing to make him feel like this.

"Hold on I think you are conf-"

"Thanks Mei!" He gets up and is off to confront the noodle boy as he hears Mei shout at him from her room.

"You're a fucking idiot!!!"

-----------

He storms forward like a typhoon. Red son is a force of nature that can not be stopped, nothing could yield him in his goal or hinder him in his path. Wild horses pulling chariots could not stop him, celestials in heaven would not dare stand in his way, and even his parents (by far the scariest force of all) could not persuade him to rethink what he was doing.

He pushes past the doors to Pigsy's noodles, shoves past patrons and ignores the warning shouts from the pigman.

he had one goal on mind

"Nyyyooodle boy!!!!!!" He bellows grabbing the attention to his problem. Those perfect expression color eyes meet him and the disease in his chest grows. He's in his training clothes, clearly on his way up to his apartment over the shop so he can shower.

Why did the idea of MK showering make his heartbeat erratically? Soft shoulders and cascading water off them…

She shakes his head back and forth now back on track.

"Stop. That." He growls out grinding his teeth together as steam leaves his ears. MK tilts his head slightly. The disease grows more in his chest and he hates it.

"Stop that!!!!" He points directly at MK feeling his hair sputter and spark as his temperature rises. He thinks his face is growing red.

"I'm….not doing anything?" MK gives him a sheepish smile, the kind that quirks up on one side and absolutely obliterates Red Son on the spot.

Like a crunchy fall leaf under the heel of a boot he's crushed.

Whatever motivation he had before it evaporates quicker than a drop of water in the Sahara desert.

"Y-your haven't heard the last of me!!" He makes a quick retreat, stumbling over his own feet and taking out one of Pigsy's tables in the process.

He exits the shop faster than he entered. He needed to regroup and strategize.

-----------

"SoooOOOOOo How'd it go?" Mei asked her eyes not leaving the screen, she's playing a different video game now, and she didn't even spare him a glance when he came back as if she predicted he would fail.

"Horrible!!! All it did was make this sickness worse." He throws his arms up and paces back and forth biting his lip. Mei doesn't pause her game this time, only continuing to mash buttons as he grumbles under his breath.

She lets out A long-suffering sigh and finally pauses her game.

"Dude. I know you're behind on the lingo and stuff but a 'crush' isn't a sickness. It means you like MK. As in you want to kiss him and stuff." she explains with a shrug unpausing her game and the sound of power-ups and pixelated men punching each other continues.

Red Son halts in his tracks

He pictures kissing MK. pressing his lips to the boy's soft adorable lips. He can practically feel the warmth it would produce. He pictures MK smiling into the kiss as they awkwardly bump noses. He pictures holding MK’s hand, squeezing it gently as they walk hand and hand. He imagines the feeling of MK’s hair between his fingers as he runs his hands through it.

He sucks in a gasp, his heart beating out of time.

Of fuck.

“I’m so screwed…..”

He feels Mei patting his shoulder, she paused her game again when he was fantasizing

“Yeah, you are. But at least now you can DO something about it.” she nudges his side and he blushes a bright red and he can hear her chuckling at him

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

“Can we talk?”

MK blinks back at him looking back and forth for a moment as if he was confused by his precence. Which to be fair he DID just enter through MK’s window while he was showering and was now waiting for him on his bed.

“Uhhhhh sure?” they rub the last remaining moisture from his hair with a towel before tossing it to the floor to be added to piles of laundry they had yet to do. Red Son didn't even curl his lip up at the slob-like behavior because HOLY SHIT MK IS SHIRTLESS!!!

Of course, MK didn't even seem to care that he was only wearing grey sweatpants in his presence. Red Son guilty looked MK’s chest up and down while they searched for a sleep shirt. Working out with Monkey King has been paying off because MK was sporting some muscle. He also had a few scars from battles that only added to how attractive he was, and of course, there were the two faint top surgery scars under his pecks.

“Is this about your weird episode in the shop today?” they asked pulling him from his guilt ogling and MK pulled a shirt over his body. Damn what a shame.

“Mei says I have something called a ‘crush’ and I should ‘tell them how I feel’ in order to make the pain in my chest go away,” he explained using quotation marks with his fingers to punctuate himself. MK’s eyes widen slightly and then it's schooled quickly. They join Red Son on the bed.

“O-oh? Have you told them?” MK squirms in place and keeps his gaze cast down. He looks uncomfortable, no. he looks upset? Why would MK be upset? Was it because he broke into his room again without permission?

No not that. Although he will have to apologize later

“I’m working on that part,” he explains scooting closer to MK and he grabs one of their hands gently. This felt stupid, and he thinks his sickness will kill him with how quickly his heart is beating. He was terrified and all his symptoms were amplified by ten.

He looks into MK’s espresso-colored eyes looking for something. He loved those eyes. They showed so much in them and he SWORE they could change the whole lighting of a room.

He opens and closes his mouth like a fish out of water with his false starts. Eventually, he clears his throat and releases his confession.

“Umm well...MK. I h-have a crush on you.”

he shuts his eyes and waits for the rejection, waits to hear MK laugh with their head back and shove him away.

None of that comes.

He peaks an eye open to find MK’s face a bright scarlet red. Was that a good sign? Or was MK so angry at him that he was just building up anger inside of him like a volcano ready to blow.

“ I w-will leave now.” he pulls away ready to retreat with at least his dignity still in tack. He's pulled back violently and soft lips are smashed to his. He lets out a surprised whimper and absolutely melts into the feeling. His brain is electrified and static all at once.

He kisses back hungrily grabbing MK by the waist and pulls him closer. When they are running out of air only does MK pull away with a little breathless gasp.

“Stay the night?” They requested, placing a soft kiss to the juncture of his neck and he can’t find a single cell in his body that would possibly say no. He nods numbly and MK kisses him again a smile on his lips that he could taste.

----------

“MK GET UP! YOU ARE LATE AGAIN!!”

Pigsy burst down the door jolting the demon awake from his peaceful slumber, his arms that were previously wrapped around MK pull away quickly in the process. He thinks he could stick to the ceiling with his claws like a cat in a cartoon if he jolted just a little higher.

The covers are yanked off them both before Red Son even has time to protest. Thank gods they both put underwear back on when they finished satisfying each other. Red Son is completely and thoroughly exposed to MK’s boss, bitemarks, and hickes across his chest snitching on him.

Red Son and Pigsy meet eyes and he feels a sweat break out across his neck. Pigsy sighs and pinches his snout. He sucks in a deep breath and lets it out through his nose.

“I don't know what happened here... And I don't WANT to know. Tell MK he’s got ten minutes to get downstairs.” Pigsy turns on his heel and leaves slamming the door behind him. Red Son looks over to his now-boyfriend who’s mouth hangs open with drool dripping down his face.

MK slept through all of it.

He can’t help but chuckle and kiss their forehead gently.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #MK #Red Son #spicynoodleshipping #Red Son may not be the sharpest cookie in the box #thats it. thats the sentance #wrtting prompts #prompt ask

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heyiwrotesomethings · 3 years

Text

Apologies

ShinoMitsu Week 2021 Day One: (Music, Seasons, Apologies) Honestly kind of seasons too a little bit.

A/N: WARNING: MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD. Writings without spoilers will begin on day four, come back then! This is probably the saddest thing I’ve ever written. Of course being me though, there is some comfort along with the hurt and a hopeful ending that will be pursued throughout the week. Hope you guys like it! Word Count: 4,280

Seriously, some major manga spoilers. Stop reading if you care! I’d hate to ruin someone’s day.

Shinobu rubbed her eyes against the harsh flash of light, blinking as the light faded into a much more manageable brightness reminiscent to that of a fair weathered day. She put a hand to her chest and took a deep breath, appreciating how easily the air rushed into her lungs without obstruction.

It was over, she had done it. With the help of Kanao and Inosuke, that demon would never eat another woman again. Shinobu was fine with being the bastard’s last meal since he had ended up choking on her in the end. Months of preparation had let up to this moment and she was grateful it hadn’t all been for nothing.

She had taken her time, ignoring the pull on her very soul. She wanted to make sure that the Demon Moon’s demise was certain. Now that he was gone, Shinobu found herself in a field of tall, green grass and wildflowers. Sakura trees were scattered around her in full bloom. Her demon slayer uniform had been replaced by an autumnal kimono that fit snugly over her body. The pattern was certainly a stark contrast to her surroundings, but she hardly minded.

The most prominent thoughts in Shinobu’s mind at the moment were related to why she was here, what was here? She felt like she was waiting for someone in this field. Her heart was heavy and her lungs felt tight. Rather than linger, she assumed it was some phantom pain left over from her final battle. She decided that she would walk to keep her mind off of it.

Each step seemed to make the very ground vibrate with energy that Shinobu could feel crawl up her skin in warm waves. She kept going and as she traveled, the scenery shifted around her.

She watched with parted lips as memories manifested around her, fading back behind her as she walked past, creating new ones beside her. If she stepped back, the older memories would rejuvenate and replay for her but she didn’t dwell long. She didn’t need any reminders of the life she left behind, she had squared away all of her business weeks ago while her body grew steadily more toxic. She had done what any person who knew they were going to die would do and took care to make sure she could pass on with no regrets.

Shinobu paused in front of one memory as muffled laughter caught her attention. It was a mundane memory of cooking with her pupils, joined by the Kamados and company. Something that they had done together several times. The smile that tugged at Shinobu’s lips was bittersweet. Yes, she had no regrets, but there was certainly a feeling of longing that she would have to learn to accept as a part of herself for however long she’d linger here.

Shinobu carried on as memories bad, pleasant and mundane came and went with no rhyme or reason to the order of their appearance. At some point she had allowed her mind to wander and the already muffled sounds devolved into white noise.

She wasn’t sure what she had expected from the afterlife, but it certainly wasn’t this. How long had she been here? Was she really expected to watch eighteen years worth of snippets from her own life? She had already lived it, it was short and painful but admittedly there was light in it too.

“Shinobu!”

She froze.

“Shinobu, doesn’t it look good? I can’t wait to try it, we did such a good job!”

“It does smell nice, doesn’t it?” Shinobu heard herself say.

She slowly turned towards the memory, she couldn’t stop herself even if she wanted to. Gods, she could never give up an opportunity to see that girl again, even if it was all in her mind.

There was Mitsuri in all her glory. The memory was of one of their baking adventures with some western recipe Mitsuri had learned.

Shinobu smiled wistfully, watching herself wipe flour from Mitsuri’s flushed cheeks before walking on, allowing the memory to dissipate.

Not long after the crack of a wooden sword snapped up her attention.

“Why are you making yourself weaker?”

Ah, Shinobu remembered that day all too well. Mitsuri had been neglecting herself and Obanai had asked Shinobu to check up on her. It was hard to see someone gifted with such strength try to throw it all away. She was glad she had been able to help Mitsuri grow to be more comfortable in her own skin and in a way, she helped Shinobu do the same.

Another step, another memory. This one stung a bit actually. She and Mitsuri had been walking through the estate gardens together while the taller girl shared her woes about not finding a man stronger than her to sweep her off her feet and marry her.

“You’re so pretty and mature, Shinobu. I bet you could get a husband—” Mitsuri snapped her fingers, “—like that! Have you ever thought about it, Shinobu?”

“Marriage is something I’ve never given much thought to.” Shinobu had said, focusing her attention on a small, white butterfly floating through the breeze.

“Really? No man has ever made your heart race before? Usually when I meet someone I like, I can’t help but picture what the wedding would be like.” Mitsuri gushed.

“Oh? Have you ever pictured one for us? You like me best, don’t you?” Shinobu teased.

Mitsuri froze for a beat before her skin lit up and her arms started flailing. Her words were tumbling over each other making them unintelligible. Shinobu managed a laugh, allowing the conversation to be pushed elsewhere. The far off look in her eyes seemingly going unnoticed by her companion.

Yes, Shinobu hadn’t put much thought into marriage. She had never really seen the appeal of the men her sister, and then Mitsuri, had occasionally gushed over, but the idea of finding someone you would want to spend the rest of your life with did sound nice.

“That was never an option,” Shinobu sighed to herself, “not for me. I hope you find someone who will treat you right when the fight is won, Mitsuri.”

She continued on, walking a bit faster. She hoped the end would come soon because the novelty of this little trip down memory lane had run dry long ago.

More memories manifested and dissolved only fast enough for Shinobu to see snippets. Kanae and herself moving Himejima-san’s boulder, taking in Kanao and the other girls, feeding her fish with Nezuko, training Tanjirou, Zenitsu and Inosuke, teasing Tomioka, cultivating poison with Tamayo, a moment with her mother and father, telling Kanao about her plan that would ultimately take her life.

It was exhausting. Shinobu just wanted to be done. She did not see reason to dwell on her life. She had no regrets. She had no unfinished business. She just wanted to move on already.

“Ah!”

Shinobu stumbled backwards as a fog grew before her, blocking her path. Before now, the visions had only ran parallel to her. The cloud swirled with light painted edges, glowing faintly until the memory surfaced. It couldn’t have been more than a week before and Shinobu’s throat felt dry as she watched herself choke back another dose of powdered wisteria seeds.

The petals would have been a relatively harmless alternative, but the toxic seeds promised a stronger reaction and she could gain more potency from one seed than hundreds of petals worth of tea. Shinobu had been careful with her dosing, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t feel it’s affects on her body.

The image of Shinobu coughed, swallowing water in an attempt to soothe her burning mouth. She groaned softly, sitting back in her chair and gingerly cupping a hand over her stomach. She closed her eyes only for them to snap open at the sound of knocking at her office door.

“Shinobu, are you working hard in there? Can I come in?” Mitsuri had called from the other side.

Shinobu winced as she sat up, wiping sweat from her forehead. She took a deep breath and it scratched her throat unpleasantly but nonetheless, she fixed a smile on her face and called Mitsuri in.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything, but I saw, uh, Tamayo-san, was it? I was her and her assistant retiring for the day and I thought I’d get the chance to see you then.” Mitsuri said.

“You aren’t interrupting anything, I’m glad to see you,” Shinobu motioned for Mitsuri to make herself at home and she did so with a happy hum, sitting on top of the lab table Shinobu was sitting at. “Can I do something for you?”

“Well, there was one thing,” Mitsuri began sheepishly, lightly swinging her legs as she presented her hand to Shinobu knuckles up, “I grazed my hand during a round of Hashira training and I know I could patch it up myself, but you always do it better.”

Shinobu gingerly brought Mitsuri’s hand to her face to examine the superficial damage and nodded, “I can take care of this. One moment please.”

“Take all the time you need.”

Shinobu stood, hiding her pained expression by turning her head towards the medicine cabinet she kept in her office. She walked over to it, taking an antibacterial spray and some thin bandages before turning back towards Mitsuri, watching her with those bright pastel green eyes that reminded Shinobu of spring.

She stood before Mitsuri scooping up the damaged hand once more.

“This may sting a bit.” Shinobu warned quietly before spraying Mitsuri’s knuckles.

The older girl closed her eyes, the burning, prickly feeling causing her to whine. Shinobu chuckled good-naturedly bringing the hand closer to her face almost close enough to touch her lips. She blew a gentle, cooling breath of air over the knuckles.

“Does that feel better?” She asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Mitsuri blushed, looking down, “I’m sorry, that was childish of me.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Shinobu said seriously.

She finished wrapping Mitsuri’s hand and held it between her own. Shinobu looked up, a tired smile on her face.

“All done.”

“Shinobu, you look so tired. Are you well?” Mitsuri asked, looking concerned.

“I’m fine. The research I’m doing with Tamayo-san is just very involved and intricate.”

“I wish there was something I could do to help,” Mitsuri frowned.

“It refreshes me just to see you.” Shinobu had said without thinking. “Your vibrance warms me like the sun.”

“Really?” Mitsuri squeaked, her hands cupping her own cheeks as they bloomed pink.

Shinobu felt her own skin prickle as blood buzzed through her ears. She held firm though, even if she hadn’t planned to say something so... poetic, she did mean it. In fact, she had more she’d like to say. Ever since she had began her doses, she had become more and more aware of her mortality. The final fight was fast approaching.

“Really.” She replied simply.

“Aw, Shinobu!” Mitsuri launched herself into Shinobu’s arms, making Shinobu have to take several quick steps backwards to keep them both upright. “You’re making my heart go, ‘bwahh woo!’”

“Is that a good thing?” Shinobu giggled.

“Very!” Mitsuri nodded vigorously.

Mitsuri held Shinobu for a few minutes, humming and swaying. She really was like the sun. Shinobu could fall asleep standing up if it was in Mitsuri’s warm embrace.

Unexpectedly, Shinobu was lifted over Mitsuri’s shoulder causing her to release a surprised gasp. The position was uncomfortable for her stomach but it hardly registered in comparison to being carried by the taller girl.

“Mitsuri, what are you doing?”

“Taking you to bed. You’re so tired you almost fell asleep just then.”Mitsuri cooed.

“I can walk...”

“Let me be your legs for a little bit. It’s me paying you back for always helping me.”

Whatever methods Shinobu tried to use to coax Mitsuri to put her down proved futile. She simply strode through the halls humming and waving at any passerby she happened to see. Shinobu was embarrassed, but couldn’t bring herself to be angry. Not when Mitsuri was so genuinely happy.

Before long, they made it to Shinobu’s room. Mitsuri put her down and helped her get ready for bed. There was a part of Shinobu that disliked the treatment. It made her feel small and weak. There was another part of her however, that was desperate to keep Mitsuri close and if the older Hashira wanted to help her pick her sleep ware and brush her hair she would take it.

Before Mitsuri left, she even went as far as to tuck Shinobu in, stopping with her face close enough to Shinobu’s that she feared the Love Pillar could find every insecurity she ever held in her eyes. Mitsuri tucked back a swatch of Shinobu’s hair.

“Shinobu... sleep well, okay?” Mitsuri said after a moment.

“I will, thank you for bringing me here.” Shinobu nodded, her eyelids already drooping.

“Whenever you need.” Mitsuri smiled.

Before Mitsuri could leave Shinobu felt compelled to speak, to share that part of herself that she had been keeping from her friend.

“Mitsuri...” Shinobu paused, her throat clenched and sweat recollected on her brow. She was suddenly frightened.

“Yes?”

“... be safe.” Shinobu said instead, her heart ached at the sweet smile Mitsuri flashed her.

“I will. See you soon Shinobu.”

Then she left and the room was bathed in darkness.

Shinobu clutched at her kimono and fell to the otherworldly grass beneath her. Shinobu didn’t have any regrets. She refused to. What was the point of looking back on things she had no power to change? She didn’t want to be here anymore and the white noise of the memories around her only seemed to grow louder and louder until she couldn’t bottle it anymore and clutched her head tightly between her hands and screamed,

“Shut up!”

The sound dissipated.

“Enough!” Shinobu breathed raggedly.

Whatever sounds remained were carried off like whispers on the wind as if spooked by the Hashira’s sharp tone. Shinobu stayed glued to the ground, her hands migrating from her ears to cover her eyes instead as she tried to reign in her emotions. Why, she wasn’t sure. There wasn’t much reason to keep her feelings under wraps anymore, but one simply doesn’t swallow down their boiling blood for years and then stop, even in death apparently.

She fell onto her back, stretching out as best she could in the kimono she was wearing. She noticed for the first time that the sky was blank, just empty, uniform white that looked cold despite its brightness. It hardly matched rich greens of the tall grasses or the colorful wildflowers, the vibrant pink blossoms that fell from the trees.

After laying back for so long, Shinobu was beginning to think that this was it. She was destined to be stuck here forever. She sighed, there could be worse places. She felt a shiver roll through her body as the air changed suddenly, but she simply rolled to her side.

“...?”

Shinobu blinked, sitting up on her elbows to peer through the tall brush curiously. She thought she had heard something, but it sounded far off whatever it was. She shook her head and laid back down. It was probably just some remnants of her memories.

“...!”

Still indistinguishable, but louder. Shinobu’s brows creased and she forced herself to stand, looking for the source in earnest now.

A ways off, she thought she could see a figure in the sakura tree grove. She rubbed at her eyes. Her mind had to be playing tricks on her. No one else could possibly be here. Why would there be? Whatever it was, it seemed to turn in Shinobu’s direction and noticed her as well. Much like Shinobu, the entity didn’t seem to know what to think of her but appeared to be cautiously making its way towards her.

Shinobu decided to move forward as well to meet them halfway. She was already dead, what was the worst that could happen? As she got closer it became glaringly obvious who the figure was supposed to be. Even though she was still a ways off, Shinobu would recognize that watermelon toned hair anywhere.

Shinobu stopped moving. Trying to process what this meant. Some other way to torment her perhaps? When she had first arrived, she felt like she was waiting for someone and that feeling was slowly dwindling down the closer they got. It was a feeling that chilled Shinobu’s blood.

The figure must have noticed she had stopped moving because now they appeared to be running, running as best as they could in the flowery kimono they were sporting.

Shinobu felt an urge to run in the opposite direction but her feet stood frozen to the ground as the person got closer and closer until Shinobu could hear her yell,

“Shinobu! Oh my gods, Shinobu!”

Shinobu stared wide-eyed watching Mitsuri run up to her with tears glistening in her eyes, her cheeks wet and flushed from the excursion. Mitsuri was a beautiful vision Shinobu couldn’t take her eyes away from and then, Mitsuri tripped and fell to the ground with an audible, ‘oomph!’, disappearing into the tall grass.

Slowly, Shinobu’s brain started working again and her feet moved on their own accord until she was kneeling beside the other girl. Her hands hovered just above her, afraid to touch.

Mitsuri had no qualms about it however, and made quick work sitting up on her knees to embrace Shinobu tightly while tears continued to smear down her cheeks.

Slowly, Shinobu hugged back. She couldn’t help herself. Even if this was just some hallucination, she felt compelled to comfort her.

“Shinobu, I was so sad! I heard a crow report your death while I was fighting. I thought I’d never see you again and I felt really terrible.” Mitsuri cried, clutching tightly to Shinobu’s kimono. Afraid that if she let go, the younger girl would disappear.

What happened? What was this? Shinobu couldn’t understand. She shook her head, Mitsuri couldn’t truly be here. She was going to live on because she was strong. She was going to find love and get married like she always wanted. She wasn’t supposed to be here with her.

“You weren’t supposed to die.” Shinobu said aloud, her voice wavered slightly.

“And you were?” Mitsuri sniffled, another tear rolling over her cheek. “What happened Shinobu?”

“I... I faced the demon who killed my sister. He devoured me, but at a price. Kanao and Inosuke finished him off.”

“At a price, what do you mean Shinobu?”

Shinobu turned her head away, “I had been dosing my body with poison for months before the battle. It was the best way to assure my victory in the end.”

“You were planning that all this time. I knew something wasn’t right but I didn’t even try find out what was wrong,” Mitsuri wiped her nose with her sleeve.

“I hope you aren’t blaming yourself, I wouldn’t have told you even if you asked what I was up to. You had your own demons to fight.”

“But I wanted to be there for you! I remember how tired you looked the last time I got to see you. I thought we had more time, but then... Oyakata-sama and the explosion. I thought we had more time.” Mitsuri repeated through shaky breaths.

“Mitsuri...” Shinobu frowned. She had convinced herself years ago that she was on borrowed time, but Mitsuri had never seen it like that. Had it been cruel of her not to share her intentions?

“There was so much I wanted to do with you, so much I wanted to say that I didn’t even realize until I knew you were gone,” Mitsuri loudly sniffled again and Shinobu frowned into her shoulder, “I didn’t have time to mourn you properly, I had to keep fighting for everyone. I had to help fight Kibutsuji with everything I had so no one we lost died in vain.”

“You fought against Kibutsuji?” Shinobu asked, feeling a mixture of awe with a sting of, what, envy for making it that far? Sympathy for having to forge forward as comrades fell around her?

“I, uh, ripped his arms off actually.” Mitsuri exhaled a weak laugh at Shinobu’s expression. “It wasn’t enough, obviously, but after that it was... pretty much over for me.” Mitsuri sat back a bit, one hand over her chest while the other cupped her head. The wounds she sustained were gone, but their effects were still faintly felt.

Shinobu gently took hold of the hand Mitsuri held to her head, placing it on her lap with a comforting squeeze.

“You gave your all. You should be proud of yourself, I know I am.”

“Thank you,” Mitsuri wiped her eyes with her free hand. “We did it Shinobu, I was kind of already out of it by then, but Iguro-san told me we won, that Kibutsuji was defeated.”

“That’s... that’s really wonderful to hear. That’s honesty incredible news.” Shinobu smiled warmly whilst tears stung the corners of her eyes.

“I wish we could have seen it together, Shinobu. The world without demons.” Mitsuri kept a brave smile, but it was a watery one. She pulled her hand tentatively back up to her tear stained face, still holding Shinobu’s hand so it was cupped between her own hand and cheek, “I wish we could have done a lot of things together.” She confessed in a cracked whisper.

“Mitsuri?” Shinobu searched her face, trying to understand, but if the tightness in her chest was anything to go by, she already did.

“Shinobu, I love you! I love you a lot and I’m so upset that I didn’t tell you before. I’m so sorry!”

Shinobu simpered and brushed her captive thumb across Mitsuri’s cheek.

“You actually told me quite often how fond you were of me. You needn’t apologize, I always knew you looked upon me favorably.” Shinobu comforted. Mitsuri shook her head.

“I’m in love with you!” Mitsuri spoke with conviction, her pastel green eyes sprung fresh tears like a spring shower.

Shinobu’s lips parted in surprise.

“I wanted to tell you, really tell you, but I was so scared you wouldn’t like me at all anymore if I told you. I thought, the more time we spent together, maybe I’d find the courage to tell you... Oh, Shinobu,” Mitsuri reached her sleeve out to the other girl and gently wiped her face. Shinobu hadn’t realized she was crying.

Once she fully registered it, it was like a damn had burst.

As Shinobu’s breathing become more labored, erratic, Mitsuri pulled her to her chest and Shinobu clung tightly to her kimono. Years worth of anger and pain came in the form of hot tears. She couldn’t help but think of Kanae in her final moments, telling her to find love, to grow old and have a happy life. Even if she had tried to do what her sister had asked of her, it was always meant to end in tragedy.

“I love you too, so much. I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to tell you.”

“If I don’t need to apologize, then you shouldn’t either. It’s alright, it probably would have hurt more, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know, it still hurts pretty damn bad.” Shinobu replied with a shuddering laugh and Mitsuri gave a weak giggle of her own.

They sat quietly for awhile in each other’s embrace, letting the rustling of the grass fill the silence between them. They could feel it, something was pulling at them, exhausting them as they tried to hold onto each other as long as possible. Whatever this supernatural intervention was, it seemed to be coming to an end. Mitsuri spoke up again, sounding quite fatigued as she ran her hand through Shinobu’s hair.

“Shinobu, if we were reborn again in the world without demons, could we try being together the way we only dreamed to be?”

“Of course, I’d love nothing more.” Shinobu whispered, reaching up to cradle Mitsuri’s face once more. Her arms felt heavy like lead.

Mitsuri hadn’t the strength to keep herself upright and slowly sunk in the direction of Shinobu’s body until their foreheads met. Shinobu, unable to keep them both up, fell to her back with Mitsuri flat on top of her.

“I’m really tired,” Mitsuri’s eyes drooped. She snuggled her nose into Shinobu’s neck.

“Yes, it won’t be long now.” Shinobu wasn’t really sure what it was, but it felt familiar.

“Shinobu, could I give you a kiss before I go to sleep?”

“Yes, please.”

With a grunt of effort, Mitsuri rose herself up slightly on wobbly elbows and bumped noses with Shinobu who was fighting to keep her eyes open. With perhaps a bit more force than intended, Mitsuri’s lips met Shinobu’s.

The kiss was ever so soft and a tad salty. It was rather short, but filled with loving intent. Mitsuri’s arms gave out and she came back down over Shinobu with a light grunt, her forehead bumped against Shinobu’s cheek. With a bit of effort, Shinobu turned her head, resting another kiss over Mitsuri’s hair, the other girl could hardly make a sound but Shinobu could tell she was pleased with the small affection.

It could have been a trick of her blurred vision, but Shinobu swore the once blank sky was now bathed in blue, a large, bright sun shining over them.

Shinobu smiled and allowed her eyes to finally fall completely shut, confident that she and Mitsuri would find each other again and enjoy the product of their hard work and sacrifice in another life.

#shinomitsuweek2021 #shinomitsu #demon slayer #kny #shinobu kocho #shinobu kochou #mitsuri kanroji #manga spoilers #kny manga spoilers #demon slayer manga spoilers

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

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No, It's Definitely Funny

Prompt: Can I request a second part to "Let's Call It Funny" where Bucky, Sam, Steve, and Peter unite forces to confuse and concern all the other avengers (with at least one instance where two or all of them respond to something by pretending to jump off a building?) Love you! -Auggie

Does it count as being back on my bullshit if I never left?

Read on Ao3 Part 1

Warnings: none, unless you need a warning for gen z humor

Pairings: it's still found family hours

Word Count: 2259

Peter’s gonna be honest, he may or may not have some competition for the funniest person in the Tower right now.

Because let’s look at the list here:

Traumatized? Everybody and their private jet’s worth of vintage and designer baggage needs therapy.

Queer? If you think Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, or Sam Wilson is straight, you need to tell them everything they’ve ever done to make you think they’re straight so they can stop doing it immediately.

Superhero? Yeah, okay, shush, now you’re being stupid.

Neurodivergent? Have you seen the way these men behave? Definitely the model of Perfectly Normal Person™, what on earth are you talking about, absolutely 100% Normal™.

The only things he’s still got going for him that the others don’t are high-schooler and trans. That’s not a lot when it comes to the fact that hey, two of them are from the Great Depression—let’s be honest, they’re the OGs when it comes to fatalistic humor—and they’ve all got years of practice.

Sure, Peter’s got some trauma-given raw talent, but it’s not refined by years and years of throwing yourself off of buildings and out of planes to avoid having conversations about your emotions.

The day Aunt Nat dropped all of SHIELD’s files on the Internet and Peter found out that Steve yeeted himself out of a plane—without a parachute!—to avoid Nat’s prodding about getting a date was the best day of his fucking life.

“Don’t you go stealing my moves there, kid,” Steve had scolded playfully, winking over the rim of his mug.

“Try and stop me, I dare you.”

“And this is why,” Tony had sighed, looking every bit his 79 years—“Hey!”—as he watches this interaction go down, “you have a parachute built into your suit.”

“I’ll just wear my old one, don’t worry about it.”

“That heinous thing that’s just a cut-up old hoodie and goggles? Peter, no, that thing is being held together with safety pins and hope!”

“I mean, me too, so it’s fine.”

“Peter!”

“Also, like, it’s the one I almost got crushed to death in, so it’s got the emotional trauma seasoning already.”

“Wait—“ Bucky had sat up— “you almost got crushed to death by a building? Sheesh, kid, you’re really flirting with the reaper, huh.”

“It wasn’t so bad, I had training from the years and years of carrying the weight of my sins crawling on my back.”

“At least ask Death for his number next time, he’s not returning my calls.”

“Sergeant, I swear to God—“

“Actually, Death uses they/them pronouns, I asked when I met them last weekend.”

“What the fuck did you do last weekend?”

“Really? Oh cool, well, can you get their number for me? We had a date back in ’45 that they missed.”

“Yeah, sure, no problem.”

“Tony, why are you screaming? Not keeping dates is a very serious matter.”

“Trust me, I speak from experience, Tony, it’s not a good habit to get into.”

“You should respect your elders and not scream while we’re talking to you, mister.”

“All of you shut the fuck up.”

See? On one hand, it’s great to have more partners in this venture of making Tony’s hair turn grey—he’s that age, it’s bound to happen any time soon now— “One more crack about my age, kid, I swear.” — but on the other hand, Peter is seriously losing his massive lead on funniest person in the Tower.

The other thing he’s worried about is Sam’s ability to make it so the others can’t actually worry about him.

Because—listen, Sam Wilson is a fucking national treasure and all you fuckers better acknowledge that. It’s no secret that the Captains take turns going out with the shield, all of them answer to ‘Captain America’ because that’s what they are, but no one—and Peter will never say this under threat of death because he does not need any more of the Steve Rogers’ Puppy Dog Eyes™, thank you very much—no one does it better than Sam.

And that means that Sam fucking Wilson can turn a fatalistic, self-deprecating joke into a motivational speech that doesn’t feel disingenuous or cliché at all and everyone is too busy processing the philosophical revelations they’re having to scold him for his, frankly, outstanding sense of humor.

It’s not fair and Peter can’t do it.

He tried. Once.

Didn’t go very well.

No, he’s not gonna talk about it, let’s just move on.

Sam has offered to catch him a couple of times when he gets himself a little too deep into the Mamma Spider™ or Iron Dad™ trap of feeeelings, and he gratefully scoots out of the way when Sam sits down next to him and just makes another joke.

Sam is also a fantastic role model for the brand of ‘I’m going to the store and only have twenty bucks, stop asking for your will to live back’ jokes.

“Hey, Pete!”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go, bodega run.”

“Can we pick up some hopes and dreams, too, all of those got scribbled out in fat red Sharpie yesterday.”

“I said bodega run, not Court of Miracles run.”

“But Sam~”

“Listen, kid, if you manage to find your hopes and dreams in this bodega, keep an eye out for your childhood innocence, that might be on the next shelf over.”

“Deal.”

“Do you two need some more therapy appointments?”

“Only got fifteen bucks, man.”

“I’m literally a billionaire!”

Peter eagerly studies under this pinnacle of humor and keeps his worries to himself.

Because if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, and Peter’s sense of humor is wonderful, but he is a tad intimidated by the amount of variety the others have got going for them.

“You’re a fucking terror, Spider-ling, that’s what you are.”

“Not true! I was ‘a pleasure to have in class.’”

“Oh, is that why you’re taking ‘Little Shit’ lessons from Barnes and Rogers?”

“And Sam! Don’t forget Captain Wilson, he is an invaluable part of this team. I’m surprised at your ignorance.”

“Pete—no, that’s not—“

“I’m ashamed for you, Mr. Stark.”

“Listen here you little shit—“

Anyway…

Steve and Bucky have a habit of telling these like, really awful jokes that have Peter in stitches for half an hour. It’s not fair and he doesn’t get why they’re so funny because they aren’t, and yet here he is, laughing anyway.

It’s probably some combination of Steve’s perfected innocent face that he wears when he has to do interviews and Bucky’s habit of not giving a single solitary fuck. But they’re able to make the worst jokes with completely serious expressions and it’s not fair.

“Hey, can you guys come help me with something?”

“Sure, Peter,” Steve says instantly, bounding over with his 95-year-old Golden Retriever energy as Bucky trails behind him like a cat that’s sitting in your lap because he wants to, not because he likes you or anything, “what’s up?”

“I have a history project on WWII due tomorrow and I haven’t started it yet.”

Bucky snorts, taking a swig of coffee and sitting down on the floor. Which, same. “You got your eulogy planned?”

“Drafted, sighed, notarized, but Aunt May said no so I gotta do this.”

“Well, if Aunt May says no then I guess that’s that.”

Tony, from far away in another part of the Tower, has a sickening feeling that May Parker has once again proven that she is the most powerful parent and there’s nothing he can do about it.

“I, um,” Peter mumbles, fidgeting with his pen, “I want to be respectful of your boundaries, and if you don’t want to talk about anything then—“

Because it’s one thing for someone to make jokes about their trauma and another for someone else to go poking and prodding at it.

“Hey,” Steve interrupts softly, nudging him with his knee, “first off, thank you for saying that and we appreciate your respect, but we got you. You worry about enough, sweetheart, let us take care of ourselves.”

Peter gives him a look.

“When it comes to this,” Steve amends, having the decency to look a little sheepish, “we’ll take care of ourselves.”

Bucky scoffs. “Uh-huh.”

“We will, Buck.”

“My therapist will be real happy to hear that.” He looks up at Peter and winks. “Besides, what good is our trauma if we don’t pin it up and display it for good grades?”

Peter huffs, the joke undercut a little by the way Bucky knocks his foot against Peter’s and Steve’s arm stretches over the couch behind him.

Peter has to resist the urge to lean his head onto Steve’s shoulder, because then Steve’s hand will come up and ruffle his hair and Peter’s eyes will droop slowly closed as he loses himself in the warmth and safety of Steve’s embrace and then Steve will lean down to press a kiss to his temple and—

Right. Homework.

“What’s it on specifically,” Bucky asks, clearly spotting the temptation on Peter’s end, “home front? Overseas? Time period?”

“Uh, it’s an analysis of total war.”

“Like, how much of the country was devoted to the war effort?”

“Yeah, basically. It’s talking about how the Nazi War Machine made their war total and how that extends to a lot of other countries, but also about the reasons why the war was fought—“

They delve into a conversation about total war, Peter pointing out how Italy’s motivation for territory keeps it from being a total war on their part, Bucky speaking to how the different dynamics worked in various countries and the fallout, Steve bringing up how much of the home front was devoted to bringing attention to the war being fought overseas. Then, of course, as is inevitable, they devolve into storytelling.

Peter’s notebook—with notes! He did his job!—is set aside as he gives in to the need to let Steve cuddle him on the couch. Come on, the man is warm and big and gives good hugs, how is he supposed to not? Bucky sprawls out on the floor, leaning back on his hands as he smiles fondly.

“You know,” he remarks casually, “I fought a Nazi in my pajamas once.”

Peter blinks sleepily. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah, though how he got in my pajamas, I have no idea.”

Peter snorts. Then he giggles. Then he’s collapsing into Steve’s side, positively sobbing with laughter.

It’s not funny.

It’s really not that funny.

But here he is, fucking dying, and he doesn’t even have the wherewithal to welcome the sweet embrace of oblivion.

“Okay, note to self,” Bucky murmurs when he’s calmed down a little, wiping away tears, “sleepy spider likes corny jokes.”

“Just don’t break our baby spider, Buck, Momma Spider would kill you in cold blood.”

“Listen, if Natasha Romanoff kills me, don’t prosecute. That’s on me.”

Peter can’t do corny jokes. He really can’t. He just sounds like he’s a recording so old it’s unintelligible and it’s bad. He has a reputation to maintain here!

However, there is one sense of humor that Peter is very eager to learn and adopt, and hey, it might actually be Iron Dad™ Approved!

It’s a rookie mistake, asking Bucky Barnes for a hand, but in his defense, Peter was left unsupervised and was distracted.

“Hey, Bucky, can you give me a hand?”

“Sure thing, Peter.”

Something nudges his arm and he looks down. It’s Bucky’s metal arm, bumping up against his elbow.

It’s a cheap joke. It’s bad. It does not deserve Peter’s laughter.

He snorts anyway.

“That’s on me,” he says after a second, “you know what, that’s my fault.”

“What, is this not what you meant?”

“No, no, you’re fine.” Peter scruffs a hand through his hair. He looks down at the prosthetic again. “Well, that’s disarming.”

Now it’s Bucky’s turn to snort. “You gotta hand it to me, though, it’s a good joke.”

Oh, it’s on.

“No, no, of course, I understand. You really can’t let an opportunity like that slip through your fingers.”

Steve chokes on his next sip of coffee. “Stop making the kid shoulder the burden of making puns with you.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Don’t palm this off on someone else, Steve, you’re as bad as he is.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad.” Peter shrugs. “You just gotta knuckle-down and find the right one.”

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve had to reach for puns?” Bucky hefts his arm.

“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say a lot.”

“Jeez, Pete, good one.”

“What, are you not finding them humerus?”

Sam’s gone, Steve shortly after. Bucky just grins proudly at him.

Then there’s a massive thunk from behind them. Peter turns around to see Tony slamming his forehead into the counter.

“You are all going to kill me,” he mutters, glaring up at them, “all three of you.”

“Oh, come on, Mr. Stark, Captain Barnes would never hurt you.”

Tony raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“After all,” Peter grins, gesturing to Bucky who is doing a very good innocent face—he must’ve been taking notes from Steve— “look at him, he’s completely armless.”

“Peter Benjamin Parker—“

Okay, so maybe it’s not Iron Dad™ Approved.

Oh, well.

#dragonbabbles #marvel #the longest running con in the mcu is people thinking steve isnt an extra hoe #mcu #marvel cinematic universe #peter parker #tony stark #steve rogers #sam wilson #bucky barnes #fic

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dangerouscommiesubversive · 3 years

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because i was a fool for loving her over you (and if i call i really hope you’ll call me ‘cause i’m not over you)

Fandom: Choujin Sentai Jetman

Characters: Tendou Ryuu, Yuki Gai, Rokumeikan Kaori, Hayasaka Ako

Song: “Empress,” Morningsiders (playlist here)

Note: Alternate title for this story is “The Jetman Trap (1992) starring Hayasaka Ako”

Directly following the defeat of the Vyram there are several days of frantic, exhausted reports and debriefings and meetings, some of which take place in hospital rooms where the various team members are receiving medical care, and then once those are done there is a month total, blissful peace. The Jetmen return to their homes to rest and recuperate. Raita is able to begin the spring planting, Ako to consider and then reject university entrance exams, Ryuu to mourn the second death of his first love, Gai to brush up on his saxophone in preparation for going back to his usual occupation, and Kaori to spend a day with her parents for the first time in ages. Perhaps they’ll be called upon to save the world again, but hopefully not.

At the end of that month, though, comes a strange moment of confluence as in a sumptuous mansion, in a mediocre bar, in a sparsely-decorated military apartment, three people find themselves staring into space and sighing heavily as they murmur, “Well, I screwed that up.”

---

Gai is there when Ryuu finally asks Kaori to dinner, and he’s mature enough by now to admit that it stings somewhat to hear, just as he’s still immature enough to find Ryuu’s gut-punched expression when she turns him down a little bit funny.

“Why?” Ryuu manages to stammer out after a moment, and then he visibly backpedals—“which is to say, of course if you don’t want to I respect that.”

She folds her arms across her chest. “Why now?”

“Well, I, I…I just realized that I’ve wasted so much time on obsessing over the past that I never actually gave…other options…any fair consideration. And because I like you, Kaori, you’re a dear friend, and I’d like to have dinner with you.”

“Well, I’m not interested in being your runner-up.” And that haughty little chin tilt, the one she doesn’t actually pull out too often, and Gai is trying not to eavesdrop, really he is, but she’s just so wonderful to watch when she decides to put the rich blood on. “Ask me again when you want me and aren’t just ‘giving me fair consideration,’” with a hand gesture that manages to indicate quotation marks while concealing how hurt she actually looks.

Then she leaves, and Ryuu stares after her until she’s out of sight before turning to Gai and saying, sounding bewildered, “I did something wrong there, didn’t I. You heard all that, right? Did I do something wrong there?”

Gai takes a sip of his drink—a soda water, he’s trying to drink less alcohol. “I think you might have messed up a little, yeah. Nobody likes to feel like they’re a fallback option.”

---

Ryuu is there when Kaori asks Gai to try meeting her parents again, and it’s a little painful to hear, but not as much as the hissing argument that it devolves into. Nothing that either of them says is untrue, but all of it is put unkindly, two injured people cutting further pieces out of each other in the hopes that it might make everything more even. He’s unexpectedly hurt by the realization that they slept together, probably more than once, even though they’re both mature adults and certainly didn’t need to consult him about it.

Of course, in the end, Gai is the one who stalks off, mouth tight and brow furrowed, and Ryuu almost chases after him—but that would mean leaving Kaori by herself. She stares after Gai for a moment, looking forlorn, and then turns and buries her face in Ryuu’s chest and bursts into tears. “I don’t know what I did wrong,” she sobs, and he pats her shoulder awkwardly and offers reassurances that he’s not sure he means.

“It’s all right,” he says, staring over her head in the direction Gai went and trying not to focus too much on the warmth of her body pressed up against his. “I’m sure you’ll get another chance to talk things out with him.”

---

Things are still very busy on the farm, so Raita’s not with them, but the other four meet up at a park as the weather starts to warm up. Ako and Kaori are sitting together sharing a thermos of tea and a basket of cookies while Ryuu and Gai play catch when Ako says, “So how are things with you guys?”

Kaori blinks down into her cup and says, carefully, “It’s a bit lonely without the team all together, but I’ve been doing well, thank you. How is school? You’re graduating soon, right?”

“I am, but you know that’s not what I was asking. How are things with you three. You and Ryuu and Gai.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, don’t give me that, you totally know what I mean.” Ako shoves an entire cookie into her mouth, chews, swallows, and continues with her mouth still partially full. “Honestly if I didn’t already like girls better I think watching you three would have made me prefer them, guys just seem like a hassle.”

Kaori does not choke on her tea, but only through main force. “You like girls?”

“Don’t you? I mean, have you seen girls?”

“I…I suppose I’ve never considered it.”

“Huh. Well, anyway, girls are amazing, not the point, I’m worried about you guys. Which one of them do you actually like?”

Kaori doesn’t answer, she just stares down at her hands.

Ako’s eyes go wide. “Ohhh. It’s like that.”

“What, what do you mean, it’s like what?”

“Have Ryuu and Gai figured out that they’re in love yet or are they still being dumb boys about it?”

“Have—Ryuu and Gai are what?”

“Come on, you have to have noticed.”

Kaori looks over at where Ryuu and Gai have abandoned their game and are sprawled on the ground side by side, catching their breath. Their hands just barely touch, there in the grass, and. She knows. She does know. She’s known for ages now. She’s just been pretending not to, because it hurts to be certain that in the end she won’t ever be the one. But all she says is, “Oh.”

Ako nods, looking unwholesomely knowing for someone who’s not even out of high school, and eats another cookie.

---

“Hey,” Ako says over the phone, “can I introduce you to a friend of mine?”

Kaori thinks about it for a long, long moment, and then says, “Yes, I would like that.”

---

Ryuu says, “I don’t really think I’m ready to try to meet someone new yet, but…sure.”

---

Gai says, “My number isn’t listed, how did you even get it? Don’t answer that, I don’t want to know what you get up to. Yeah, why not.”

---

None of them quite process what she’s done to them until they’re all seated at the restaurant and a waiter is approaching with a telephone to inform them that they’ve received a call. Ryuu is the one who answers, and he doesn’t even start with a greeting, he just says, “Ako, I hope you can understand that I’m a little upset with you right now.”

“You’ll get over it,” she says cheerfully, her voice tinny through the phone receiver. “I hear that restaurant’s really nice, anyway, I hope you three have a good dinner!”

“Don’t hang up, Gai wants to speak to you.”

Gai takes the phone and says, in the most affectionate, big-brotherly voice he can summon, “Ako, you’re a horrible brat and the next time I see you I’m going to spank you because clearly your parents never did it enough.”

“I love you too, and you’ll have to catch me first. Is it Kaori’s turn to be mad at me now?”

Kaori does take the phone, but all does is say, stiffly, “Goodbye, Ako,” and then hang up, turning as she does to smile at the waiter (who is doing his best to not look interested) and say, “If we could have ice water, please, we’ll need a few minutes before we’re ready to order.”

An uncomfortable beat after the waiter leaves, in which they all keep glancing at each other and then looking away, before Ryuu said, “So are we ordering? Or are we all just leaving? Because I want to say we leave, but honestly I’m hungry.”

Gai pinches the bridge of his nose. “Lady’s choice, I guess. I need a drink, but I can get that anywhere.”

They turn to her, and she looks between the two of them, how they incline ever so slightly towards each other even as they’re also inclining towards her, and how could she choose? Even if she did want to separate them when they were clearly so perfect for each other, how could she pick one and leave the other?

Ako’s knowing voice echoes in her head. “Ohhh. It’s like that.”

Oh, says her heart. It’s like that.

She covers her face with her hands, not crying, because everything makes sense in a way that she’s not entirely prepared for and if she starts crying now then she may never stop. “I think,” she says into her palms, breath not hitching, she is speaking so evenly that they certainly won’t be able to tell how overwhelmed she is, “I think, I think we should order dinner, and I think we all need to talk.”

Ryuu and Gai both speak at the same time, and what they both say is, “Whatever you say, Kaori.”

---

“So that sounds like it went well,” Kyoko says, not looking up from where she’s hunting through her box of nail polish. “Which one of them threatened to spank you? Was it the hot one with the motorcycle? He seems like he’d be into that.”

“Kyoko!” Ako throws a pillow at her. “Don’t be gross, he didn’t even mean it like that.”

“What? I’m not saying I want him to spank me, I’m just saying he seems like that kind of guy. There we go.” She lifts a bottle of deep blue polish out of the box. “You want your fingers and toes to match, or do I need to find another color too?”

---

The next morning the phone in Ako’s little apartment rings, and when she picks it up, Gai just starts in with, “Look, threat rescinded, but don’t do that to me ever again.”

She giggles. “So did you have a nice time? I hope you were safe.”

Sputtering on the other end of the line. “You’ve got a dirty mind for a kid. Nothing happened. We talked.”

“All night? I can hear Kaori’s voice. And Ryuu’s. Who was in the middle?”

“Threat unrescinded, you’re going to catch it the next time I see you.” And in the background, Kaori’s joyful laughter, Ryuu asking where the coffee is, something muffled from Gai as he definitely covers the receiver for a moment, and then, “Thank you. Stay out of my love life from now on, you’re a nightmare.”

Ako says, “Love you too, Gai. Tell the other two I say hi,” and then drops the phone back onto its cradle. A moment to just grin smugly at nothing, and then she whirls around to shout, gleefully, “Kyoko! I didn’t screw it up!”

#tendou ryuu #yuki gai #rokumeikan kaori #hayasaka ako #fanfiction #30 day shuffle challenge

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immaturityofthomasastruc · 3 years

Text

(Accidental 150 Follower Special) IOTA's Top 10 Worst Episodes of Miraculous Ladybug (Part 1)

If you saw one of my earlier posts, an anon asked what my favorite and least favorite episodes of Miraculous Ladybug were. So, I decided to make a little list explaining the best and worst this show has to offer.

A few quick ground rules here. I'm not going to list any episodes I had previously talked about in some of my other posts. This includes “Kung Food”, “Animaestro”, “Syren”, “Reflekdoll”, “Chameleon”, and most of the episodes relating to Chloe's “damnation arc” that Astruc planned since he first created the character (“Despair Bear”, “Queen Wasp”, “Malediktator” and “Battle of the Miraculous”). Also, I'm not counting the specials, mainly because aren't listed as episodes, and because I don't want to talk about them.

Other than that, anything goes, so let's get things started with the worst list.

These are the Top 10 Worst Episodes of Miraculous Ladybug (in my personal opinion because your opinion is also valid)

#10: Stormy Weather 2

“Stormy Weather” was the very first episode of the show, and it really made a good impression on new viewers. So naturally, when it was announced that Stormy Weather would return, fans were excited. Then when the episode aired, Hawkmoth gave her even more powers, including the power to create a volcano big enough to potentially knock the planet out of orbit when it erupts. So Ladybug and Cat Noir have no choice but to stop the villain once again.

What does this plot lead to?

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Yep, this episode is nothing more than a clip show. I understand that clip shows and bottle episodes are a necessary evil, but why would you set up something this awesome with a fan-favorite Akuma like Stormy Weather, and then not even bother to show it?

This episode is yet another attempt at showing that the show totally has character development. The whole reason Aurore is Akumatized into Stormy Weather again is because Chloe says that people can't change because Astruc (who was one of the four people writing this episode) is determined to make you hate this teenage girl more than the main villain of the show.

So of course, everyone spends most of the episode talking about how much they've changed, which is represented through clips of past episodes that do a horrible job at actually conveying any development.

According to Marinette, Adrien has “become a friend she can talk to about anything, except when it comes to her feelings for him”. Ah yes, you can tell they're friends by the fact that they barely hang out together, much less share a conversation because the writers are going to drag out the whole “Marinette stammering in front of Adrien” until they get tired of it. So basically, never.

All Alya and Nino talk about is how Ladybug helped them become a couple, and become superheroes, even though neither of those are actually related to character development. Though that is a fitting metaphor for the way both of their personalities have basically devolved to “the couple”.

Chloe talks about how nicer she's gotten, while footage of her doing awful things is played. I wonder who wrote that part in...

Even Ladybug and Cat Noir talk about how much they've grown and how stronger they've gotten, as opposed to focusing on STOPPING ANOTHER ICE AGE FROM HAPPENING. How can Hawkmoth even think this will get him the Miraculous? Yeah, sure I guess he can get them from the frozen corpses of our heroes, but what then? He still doomed humanity, and I don't think he can reverse the damage like Ladybug.

Towards the end, the clip show becomes slightly interesting, as Adrien mentions an unsigned card he got for Valentine's Day in “Dark Cupid”, and how similar the handwriting looks to Marinette's.

Does this lead to Adrien figuring out Marinette has feelings for him? Is the sky bright red? Both of these questions have the same answer.

Yeah, out of nowhere, Adrien just mentions Luka, who wasn't mentioned at all in this episode, and immediately thinks Marinette is in love with him. And that's how the episode ends.

I put this at the bottom of the list because I don't think it's completely fair to judge clip shows, but even some clip shows at least try to put in some effort and justify the clips, like what The Legend of Korra and some seasons of Power Rangers did. And the fact that the whole point of the episode is a poor excuse to claim that there's character development in the show only makes it even more infuriating.

Oh my God, this is only Number 10...

#9: Oblivio

While I already talked about “Cat Blanc”, this episode shares a similar theme as that episode: Giving viewers what they've wanted for three seasons, Marinette and Adrien finally learning each other's identity and starting a romantic relationship... only for the reset button to be once again slammed, making the entire episode pointless.

The only difference is that unlike in “Cat Blanc”, where there was an actual love confession that made sense, here, Marinette and Adrien find out the other's identity when they get their memories wiped by the Akuma of the week, Oblivio.

From then on, it's just fanservice. Instead of actually developing the relationship between Marinette and Adrien, the writers just decide to cram an entire episode worth of Adrienette content into a single episode just to tide fans over. Marinette and Adrien seriously fall in love despite only knowing each other for like, an hour at most. And the fact that the writers undo all the romantic progress of the episode makes it come across as pointless.

But the ending is what really cements this episode's spot on the list. As soon as Oblivio is defeated, Alya takes a picture of Ladybug and Cat Noir kissing without their consent and then rubs it in Ladybug's face.

Even though Ladybug doesn't know the circumstances (she has no memory of the events of the episode), this was still an invasion of her privacy, and she looks horrified by the picture that Alya is obviously going to post on her blog.

And of course, Cat Noir is more than happy to see it, ignoring how Ladybug feels and claims that they'd make a great couple. Because everyone knows good couples are formed by someone gaslighting the other into going out with them.

But wait, it gets better! In the next scene, we learn that Alya and Nino were akumatized into Oblivio... because they were caught in an embarrassing situation by their peers.

Alya: Remember when we visited Montparnasse Tower? Well, we went and hid to play Super Penguino, but Ms. Bustier caught us, and...

Nino: And you guys made fun of us for playing that game, saying it wasn't our age and all.

Alya: We were totally embarrassed at getting caught.

This was my thought process when I first heard Alya and Nino's explanation.

youtube

How can Alya claim to take a compromising picture of Ladybug, ignore how she feels, and not realize the similarity from when she and Nino were akumatized? This is what completely killed Alya for me in canon. This was the point where I couldn't care less if Marinette was friends with her or not. Sure, there are still fanfics, but those actually portray her with some kind of conscious. So to summarize, Fanon Alya is awesome, but I hope Canon Alya's 4G plan runs out.

This episode is just forgettable, but the ending made things worse. Apart from, I guess the action scenes and some funny jokes, this episode has no redeeming qualities. Like, literally the best thing to come from this episode was @miraculouscontent‘s LadyBugOut AU, as it actually addressed the hypocrisy of Alya's character, among other problematic aspects of the show.

#8: Oni-Chan

Just a heads up, most of the episodes on this list are from Season 3. Just want to give you an idea of what to expect.

This episode is about Lila tricking Adrien into helping with her homework, when she is only doing it to get closer to Adrien. Marinette tries to spy on the two and stop Lila from hurting Adrien... even though she knows Adrien is aware that Lila is a liar, and is visibly uncomfortable around her.

And because the episode spends so much time on Marinette following Adrien and Lila, the buildup to Kagami getting akumatized is incredibly rushed. Seriously, she gets a single line of dialogue before she gets akumatized, and the motive is ridiculous too. Lila sends a picture of her forcing a kiss on Adrien, and Kagami immediately bursts into tears at the sight of it.

But wait, it gets better! When Kagami is akumatized into Oni-Chan (the writers know that's a term used for males in Japan, right?), she turns into a psycho hellbent on killing Lila because “Adrien doesn't deserve her”. Most of her dialogue is her saying how much she loves Adrien, making her come across as, for lack of a better word, a yandere.

This episode just destroys Kagami's character, making her as unlikable as Katie Killjoy in the process. If it wasn't for “Ikari Gozen” actually treating her like a human being (obviously Astruc's planned character development from the beginning), I'd completely hate her.

It also shows how much of an evil genius Lila is, as she has the brilliant idea to convince Oni-Chan to kill the only person capable of saving her from the Akuma's wrath. And this somehow gives Hawkmoth the idea to forge an alliance with Lila. It's also another reason why I believe in Darwinism.

This episode is low on the list because it does have a few redeeming qualities, like Lila facing consequences for lying, however brief they may be, and it has a great character moment with Adrien realizing on his own how terrible Lila really is, a far cry from what he was like in “Chameleon”.

Other than that, it's pretty bad, and still deserves a spot on this list.

#7: Antibug

HA! I said MOST of the episodes involving Chloe's “Damnation Arc” wouldn't be on this list, but not ALL OF THEM, so this one counts! Take that, convoluted rules I made up for some reason!

What was I talking about again? Oh right, “Antibug”. Oh crap, “Antibug”...

This is one of of several episodes in Miraculous Ladybug that really should have been a two-parter. It tries to be daring and includes two Akumas in one episode, but both of them are poorly executed.

An invisibly entity starts harassing Chloe, so Ladybug and Cat Noir start an investigation. It turns out to be Chloe's lackey Sabrina, who was akumatized after a falling out between the two. Well, I say “falling out” lightly, because what actually happened was that Chloe and Sabrina were cosplaying as Ladybug and Cat Noir, Chloe pretended to be the real deal while crashing an interview with Jagged Stone before Sabrina accidentally blew her cover, causing Chloe to be humiliated on TV and end her “friendship” with Sabrina.

Ladybug learns this from Chloe's butler, while Chloe never mentions the incident. So when Ladybug and Cat Noir engage the Akuma, Ladybug ignores Chloe's advice on where the corrupted object, naturally not trusting her judgment. And this is portrayed as a bad thing.

This episode is the start of a long-running trend in Miraculous Ladybug: Marinette needing to learn a lesson, while Adrien/Cat Noir is the one to help teach that lesson.

Chloe did nothing to help, only made things worse, and lied about why Sabrina got akumatized. It's kind of obvious why Ladybug wouldn't trust her word. The whole point of The Boy Who Cried Wolf wasn't to trust the liar after all.

But if that was all the episode did, it wouldn't be on the list, because now, the narrative wants to make the audience feel bad for Chloe before she gets akumatized into Antibug... who is just a lazy palette swap because new character models are expensive.

This part of the episode isn't nearly as bad as the first half, but like “Oni-Chan”, Chloe's akumatization is incredibly rushed, and we don't really get a chance to sympathize with her before she goes full Antibug.

Even Antibug herself isn't that interesting of a villain. The whole idea of an evil doppelganger is that they're a perfect match for the hero, but we only see Ladybug and Antibug fight for a few seconds, while Cat Noir does most of the fighting with her while Marinette's Kwami recharges. I like that Ladybug and Cat Noir show their teamwork to defeat Antibug, but I feel it would have been more interesting to see Ladybug and Antibug duke it out before Cat Noir helps turn the tide.

Again, this episode really needed to be a two-parter to better expand on the story presented here, because it had a really interesting premise. I'd personally read the version of “Antibug” in @justanotherpersonsuniverse‘s “The Adventures of Panthera Noire” (an AU fanfic where shy girl Juleka gets the Cat Miraculous instead of Adrien). Not only does it have two separate chapters for Vanisher and Antibug, it also does a good job of setting Chloe on an actual redemption arc, unlike Astruc's “damnation arc”.

#6: The Puppeteer 2

As much as I've ragged on Adrien/Cat Noir in some of my other posts (and will continue to do so in this list), that doesn't mean I think Marinette has problems too, and this episode is a prime example.

Marinette and Adrien go to a wax statue museum with their friends (and Manon), but because of a poor choice of words by Nino, Adrien thinks that Marinette hates him. So he does something that everyone loves, practical jokes.

Adrien seriously thinks that pranking Marinette will improve her opinion of him. Even the prank is ridiculous, pretending to be a wax statue to make her laugh. And it leads to... Oh God... This is easily the contender for one of the worst moments in the entire show. Marinette goes up to the statue and... gets close to it. Yes, we, the audience know that this isn't a statue, but putting that aside, just look at what Marinette does to the “statue” (AUTHOR’S NOTE: I made a gif from the episode, but it wouldn’t go through, so I recommend you check out the episode and watch the statue scene for yourself if you don’t value your sanity). Even Adrien, as dense as he can be, is a little unsettled by what Marinette does.

If the scene was about Marinette talking about her feelings for Adrien, I'd be more lenient on it, but this? This is just uncomfortable to watch.

Even the dialogue makes Marinette sound incredibly creepy.

Marinette: Wow... it looks so... real. The wax is nearly as hot as skin. It even smells exactly like him...! Oh, beautiful statue of Adrien, your wax is so soft! Your yak hair is silky. Your eyes are so green. Oh, shall I be a statue, too! Everything would be so much easier. Why haven't we been molded together in the plaster of destiny? Marble to marble, wax lips against wax lips, entwined for eternity...

I think Gilbert Gottfried said it best.

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This scene alone put this episode on the list, and the Akuma doesn't make it better. I really liked “The Puppeteer”, and I thought her ability to control past Akuma victims was incredibly fun to watch. And when she returns to take control of the wax statues of past Akumas they... don't use their powers (with the exception), and serve as cannon fodder for Ladybug and Cat Noir to plow through, making the return of the villain very underwhelming.

Even the end where Adrien tells Marinette that he is in love with someone and only sees her as a friend. This should devastate Marinette, but in the next scene, thanks to some fortune cookie nonsense from Tikki, she's still unsure about her relationship with Adrien, and that's how the episode ends. Seriously. Because just need to keep the status quo consistent, right? It's not like Marinette doubting her crush on Adrien and worrying that she's just wasted her time would have been interesting to see, right? Play that happy ending theme already!

Of all the episodes on this list, this is the one I was dreading talking about the most because of some of the moments here. And yet, there are still episodes that are worse than this one...

Here’s Part 2

122 notes · View notes

fruitcoops · 3 years

Note

After the wedding, coops plays the newly wed game and Marlene is just like 😍😍

The newlywed game is so cute and Neil Patrick Harris did one with his husband a few years ago that is just adorable. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

“Welcome back, Lions!” Marlene said with a broad smile. “After a brief summertime hiatus, we’re back with Captain Sirius Black and our brand-new winger, Remus Lupin. Do you guys want to tell the viewers why you’re here?”

“You threatened us,” Remus said.

“Also, we got married,” Sirius added, holding up his left hand.

“Oh, yeah, that too.”

Marlene rolled her eyes as they turned to her with matching grins. “You two are hopeless. You’re here today to play the newlywed game, which will test how well you know each other. I’ll be asking each of you eleven questions that the other person has already answered, and you get a point for each answer that matches. Does that make sense?”

Remus gave her a thumbs-up. “Crystal clear.”

“Loops, because you slandered my good name earlier, you’re going first. I hope your husband wins.”

“Oh, I will,” Sirius promised, kicking the leg of Remus’ chair lightly as he tapped his cue cards on his thighs. “Alright, first one: what did we do on our first date?”

“Pizza at Sid’s,” Remus answered.

Sirius held up a small posterboard with ‘pizza’ written on it. “Correct! What was the last thing we bickered about?”

Remus thought for a moment. “You answered these today, right?”

“Yeah, honey, we did this in adjacent rooms,” Sirius laughed.

“Right, sorry. In that case, it was parallel parking because there weren’t any spots outside the building.”

“Correct! If our love life was a candy bar, what would it be?”

Remus frowned. “What?”

“If our love life was a candy bar, what would it be?” Sirius repeated with a devilish smile. “What, you don’t know this one?”

“Shit, what would you say to this?” Remus muttered. “Um…hell, I don’t know, a Snickers?”

The smile slipped off Sirius’ face. “Are you kidding me?”

“Did I get it right?” Remus’ eyes widened when Sirius held up the posterboard with ‘Snickers’ scrawled across it, and pumped both fists in the air. “Ha! I don’t even care who wins now!”

“Good, because it’s going to be me. Next question: If I could describe you in one word, what would it be?”

“If you could describe me?” Remus exhaled slowly. “That’s tough. Uh, chatty?”

“What?” Sirius asked through his laughter. “Chatty?”

“It’s true!”

“I said ‘sweet’!” He showed the board to the camera and they both burst out laughing. “Jesus, who do you think I am? Just rolling up to Marlene like, ‘hey, did you know my husband talks a lot?’”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“You’ve only made it through four questions,” Marlene informed them, clearly amused.

“What is your weirdest quirk?” Sirius read off the board.

Remus paused. “Like, what do I think my weirdest quirk is?”

“I think so. It threw me off at first, too.”

“This is not grammar correction hour,” Marlene called.

“I think my weirdest quirk is that I can’t end stairs on my left foot,” Remus said after a moment. “I’ll skip a step if I have to.”

Sirius hummed. “I didn’t even think of that one.”

“What did you put?”

“Pre-game superstitions.”

“Hypocrite,” Remus said with a grin.

“Perhaps. Who is my celebrity crush?”

Remus raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure you want me to tell them?”

“It’s not that weird!”

“Freddie Mercury.”

“That is a little odd,” Marlene agreed when he showed the board.

Sirius looked between them in disbelief. “Why?”

Marlene snorted. “Because the person you married is basically the exact opposite.”

“There’s a difference between thinking someone’s hot and wanting to marry them.”

Remus pouted slightly. “You don’t think I’m hot?”

“Oh my god,” Sirius groaned. “Next question. What is my favorite book?”

“The Hobbit.”

“Nope.”

“Three Musketeers?”

“Nope.”

“Winnie the Pooh?”

“What the fuck?” Sirius laughed. “It’s To Kill A Mockingbird. Marlene, can I skip the next one?”

Remus leaned closer. “Well, now I’m curious.”

“Which of us would win at Trivial Pursuit?”

“Oh, baby, I would wipe the floor with you.”

He sighed heavily. “Yeah, I know. If I needed a lift at 3 am, who would I call?”

“James.”

“Yep. What is my silliest fear?” There was a brief pause. “Really? I thought this was one of the easier ones.”

“There are several to choose from,” Remus mused. “But I think you would say your silliest fear is dishsoap bubbles.”

Sirius held the final board up. “Unfortunately, you’re correct. They’re all slimy and gross. Last question: what is our favorite activity to do together?”

A smile twitched at Remus’ lips for half a second before he regained his poker face. “I would say hockey, but I think it’s actually road trips.”

“Incorrect,” Sirius said smugly.

“We literally had this conversation two days ago. What did you put down?”

He flipped the board around. “Movie night. You’re not entirely wrong about road trips, but bonus points helped you win last time, so I’m never doing that again.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Remus waved him off, as if he wasn’t having the time of his life. “Okay, number one: who is the better driver?”

“Me,” Sirius said without hesitation.

“Indeed. What did I wear on our first date?”

Sirius bit his lip in concentration. “You wore jeans and a sweater. Your green one, right?”

Remus glanced to the camera, clearly stunned, then held up his board. “Yeah, you nailed it.”

They high-fived and Sirius leaned back in his chair, grinning. “You thought you were so smart with that Snickers answer, huh? I know things, sweetheart!”

“Who is the tidiest?” Remus continued with a faint blush on his cheeks.

“Me, but you clean more often.”

“True. Who is the funniest?”

“You.” Remus shook his head and Sirius gave him an offended look. “You’re way funnier than I am!”

“We’re funny in different ways,” Remus conceded. “You make really good puns, but I’m just sarcastic and people think I’m kidding. Who does the most cooking?”

“You, for sure.”

“Marley, these questions are too easy. You’re rigging the game against me.” Remus shot her a teasing glare as he set the used boards on the ground. “What is my ideal date?”

“Going to the bookstore and staying there for at least four hours.”

“I don’t know about four hours—”

“Re, I love you, but that is exactly what we did last weekend.”

Remus hesitated, then nodded. “Fair. What is my favorite junk food?”

“You are an Oreo hound. We have, what, three boxes stashed in the house right now?”

“Five,” Remus muttered.

Sirius’ jaw went a little slack. “Where? I only saw three in the pantry.”

“I’m not telling you, you’ll steal them!”

He turned to Marlene with a disbelieving look and she shrugged. “Hey, I’m just here to moderate. This is reality tv for me.”

“If I was a Disney princess, who would I be?” Remus asked before things could devolve further.

“Belle, obviously.”

“Hell yeah. What do I think your best feature is?”

“Again with the wording,” Sirius sighed. “Hmm. You’re always messing with my hair.”

“It is very soft,” Remus agreed. “But that’s the wrong answer. I think you have the prettiest eyes.”

His cheeks went pink. “Really?”

“Babe, I’ve told you this a million times,” Remus laughed.

“Still.”

He shook his head and moved on to the next question. “Which of us has the worst handwriting?”

Sirius frowned. “Neither of us has bad handwriting.”

“Which one is worse than the other?” Marlene clarified.

“You, maybe?” he guessed. “I really like your handwriting, though.”

“Yeah, I put myself for that one. It’s kind of a weird half-cursive with a bunch of loops. Which is fitting, I suppose.” He shrugged. “Ready for the last one? You’re totally going to get this.”

“Don’t jinx me.”

“What was our last date, and when?”

“Last Thursday,” Sirius said. “We got takeout and watched The Princess and the Frog.”

“Did you sing along?” Marlene asked.

“Of course we did,” Remus said with a playful scoff. “Alright, who won?”

Behind the camera, Dorcas cleared her throat. “Remus, you got seven out of eleven correct, and Sirius, you scored a grand total of…nine.”

Sirius whipped back around to face him. “I told you I would win!”

“I’m crushed,” Remus said drily, though he couldn’t keep down his smile. “Oh, no, my husband knows me too well!”

“Did you guys have fun?” Marlene asked.

“We always do.” Sirius slid the boards across the floor to her before looking up to the camera. “Thanks for joining us today to see my victory at last, Lions! Be sure to like and subscribe to Lion Pride for more content like this.”

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cruelfeline · 4 years

Text

Agh, it got so long I had to read-more it; no one look at this; I just had to get it out of my mind, but don’t look at it just ignore this and go examine a pretty nature photo; honestly these just keep getting worse why does this keep happening? And I hate dialogue. And I hate characterization. Ugghhh... just insert a Mermista groan here.

also a more mature Catra helping Hordak on his journey provides me with happiness don’t judge me

Please consider, a concept:

A few months have passed since Prime’s demise. Reconstruction of Etheria’s damaged settlements is well underway, and all parties involved have gotten... if not entirely comfortable with one another, then at least able to interact with civility. Enough so that, when Entrapta and Bow end up delayed on one of their interplanetary trips, Hordak is only moderately uneasy about heading off to Bright Moon on his own. Oh, of course he’d rather wait for Entrapta, but certain planned meetings (dictated by Etheria’s terribly inconvenient seasons) simply cannot be delayed. So off he goes, determined to maintain decorum and dignity and uphold his end of all relevant treaties. He is received by Glimmer, Adora, and Catra. The other Princesses are all otherwise engaged (with what, he cares little, though he is admittedly amused to learn that Mermista and Perfuma are occupied with an apparently disastrous seaweed-related snafu). So it is the four of them against a whole mess of administrative work.

The girls, for their part, are equally uneasy but likewise determined to proceed as usual (Adora and Catra seeming particularly determined). They meet Hordak’s reserved politeness with a tentative poise of their own, and the group’s work commences.

And for a number of days, it goes fairly well. Even Glimmer has to admit that, whatever anyone’s misgivings about how an Entrapta-less Hordak might behave, things are running smoothly. She maintains control of the meetings, guiding them through agenda after agenda, while Adora and Catra provide input based upon their recent scouting trips to Etheria’s various corners. Hordak rounds the discussions out with whatever technological information is relevant. Their sessions run long most nights (too long, if Catra were asked her opinion on the matter, which she pointedly is not), but they are productive. The four of them get an impressive amount of work done, and all without any tense moments or uncomfortable quarrels. One might even say that they are getting along quite well, all things considered.

In fact, Catra is nearly certain that, when Adora mentions appreciating the work of some Dryl-made construction bots in a seaside village, Hordak subtly quirks his lips in what a careful observer could term a smile.

So the three girls are legitimately stunned when, about three-quarters of the way through their intended time together, Hordak’s behavior abruptly changes. His calm demeanor turns sullen and tense. Previously comprehensive explanations gain a taciturn edge, eventually devolving into clipped, half-snarled responses and sneered refusals to provide clarification. More and more often, words are accompanied by the baring of red teeth and the angry glare of red eyes.

Glimmer is... less than pleased, but between her own determination to make this treaty work and Adora’s dogged, somewhat frantic optimism, she strives to maintain civility long enough to get through the last few days. But, well... limits are limits. And limits are surpassed when, one evening, Hordak furiously declares that he has lost patience with their “embarrassing incompetence” and, with nary another word, storms out of the conference room.

“That’s it! How dare he?!”

Glimmer promptly explodes, and Catra spends the next few minutes watching Adora try to quiet what is proving to be a very loud, very angry, moderately uncouth Queenly rant. It is in the midst of this rant that Adora catches her eye and, with a quiet groan and a nod and a mental wish of good luck, Catra slips away with Melog silently following at her heels.

“I guess this is better than dealing with Sparkles,” she mutters to herself as she stands at the door to Hordak’s temporary quarters. Beside her, Melog trills encouragement, and she sighs. They’re right, of course: between the two of them, Adora has more experience dealing with an upset Glimmer. And Catra... okay, so she doesn’t have “experience dealing with an upset Hordak.” Not... not good experience. But she worked with him for nearly a year. And, given what she’s seen, what she knows... she has a fair idea of what’s been happening. She’d been quietly hoping that it would work itself out, or that it wouldn’t become enough of a problem to cause trouble before they finished their work, but alas: it seems that that sort of luck just isn’t on their side.

Which, given the fact that Hordak seems to have the worst luck of anyone she knows, probably should have been something she’d seen coming.

Melog trills again, adding a gentle headbutt this time.

“Okay, okay... give me a second.”

She takes a breath, lifts a hand to knock, grimaces, and drops said hand. She clears her throat.

“Hordak?”

Nothing. She frowns and tries again.

“Hordak? Are you-”

“Leave.”

His snarl is all-too familiar, and even muffled through a door, it causes her hackles to rise, her ears to pin back, her tail to lash.

“Look, I just-”

“Go. Away.”

She grits her teeth, clenches her fists, and turns away, ready to return downstairs with nothing to show for her efforts but a bad mood. Next to her, Melog meows in protest. She rounds on them.

“What? If he wants to be a jerk about it, then that’s his problem! Besides, what am I supposed to do? Break down the door?”

And she resumes making her way back to the staircase, ignoring Melog’s continued protest (which, come to think of it, sounds fairly alarmed, but... well, what is she to do?) and... she freezes. The world around her is starting to shimmer. She knows that shimmer: teleportation via alien cat.

“Wait! I said-!”

And just like that, they’re in his room, and though Catra’s first instinct is to make her displeasure very loudly known, said instinct quickly fades at the sight of Hordak.

“Oh, damn it.”

From his place on the floor, crumpled in a sweating, trembling heap, Hordak looks up at the intrusion. His eyes widen, face twisting with fury as he prepares to shout what Catra predicts will be his trademark “get out,” only to choke up and curl in on himself as some sort of painful spasm races through him.

Once upon a time, this sight might have spurred Catra into a bout of cruel gloating, but circumstances are vastly different today.

Today, before either of them can really take stock of what is happening, she helps him up and half-leads, half-carries him to the corner sofa, depositing him with a strained grunt before taking a step back and giving him a moment to collect himself. Which he does while glaring at her.

For some time, the only sound between them is the ugly rasp of Hordak’s panting, then: “Get. Out.”

Ah. There it is. As expected. As anticipated. Catra’s ears flick at the command.

A part of her still bristles at his snarling, at his combative ire, at his accusatory glare... but a different part notices instead how that glare comes through dull eyes, how that snarling fades into exhausted panting, how he’s still trembling, even before his very unwanted audience. As the seconds pass, this part maintains its position at the forefront of her mind, until:

“You want some water?”

“...”

“...what?”

There’s a sudden lightness to her thoughts.

“I’m gonna get you some water. Just... stay there, okay?”

Melog punctuates her words with a happy chirp before providing the necessary teleport. A minute later, they’re back from the kitchens, glass of cool water in hand. Hordak remains where they left him, though he actually gives a bit of a start when they reappear. The momentary surprise disappears under a scowl as Catra holds the glass out to him.

He curls his lip. He doesn’t take it.

Catra remains steady. Next to her, Melog sits, tail waving a constant, slow path in the air.

Hordak bares his teeth.

“I do not require your pity, Catra.”

“Good, ‘cause all I’ve got is this glass of water.”

He gapes at her.

“Which, y’know, you should take. Because my arm is getting tired.”

His expression closes off again in another scowl (he never did see the humor in her sass, did he?), but after a few more moments, Hordak relents. Slowly, clearly trying to keep his hand from trembling too much, he takes the offered glass.

Catra sighs and, suddenly drained, sits down on the ground a few feet away from him, resting her back against the arm of the sofa. Melog stretches out beside her, and Catra turns her back to Hordak to focus on providing the desired belly rub. She swivels an ear towards him, listening for him to finish draining the glass. He does so.

She can hear that his breath has lost that ugly rasp, and a tightness in her chest that she hadn’t been aware of loosens.

“So,” she begins, trying to keep her tone casual, “do you... need to call Entrapta? Is it... is it your-”

“Entrapta is currently beyond the reach of our communication modules.” She’d steeled herself for another snarled response, but his voice is calm, almost quiet. “And no; it is not my armor.”

“...oh.”

A minute passes. Two. Catra starts to tentatively turn around, wishing to steal a glance, but Melog thrusts their head into her lap and refocuses her gaze downwards. Another minute passes, then:

“It... it has proven somewhat...” He starts, stops, starts again. Stops again. Something that is not pain chokes his words, and though she wants to somehow encourage him, a soft rumble from Melog compels her to wait.

“Even with the armor, there are times that I... have difficulties.” He is breathing quicker again, she can hear; not quite panting, but definitely breathing quicker. In her lap, Melog seems attentive but otherwise unconcerned.

“Particularly during periods of higher stress, or exertion. Though,” he suddenly hisses, and Catra hears claws scrape against fabric, “hardly anything about our current work should merit this... exacerbation.”

He falls quiet, and for what feels like a long while, neither of them say anything. Melog’s soft purring fills the silence.

“Sparkles is mad,” Catra finally says, “Adora’s calming her down.”

This time, when she tries to turn her gaze back to him, Melog remains quiet. She watches Hordak nod, sees his ears droop.

“My behavior has been... unacceptable. I shall go request an audience with Queen Glimmer and make an apology-”

“Uh-uh.”

He frowns at her.

“Oh, I mean, yeah! Definitely apologize. You were a jerk. But not now; you should rest first. I’ll go tell them that you’re not feeling great, and-”

His scowl returns.

“That is not necessary.”

She matches his frown with her own and scoffs. “Uh, according to what just happened, it is. What? You’re just gonna... pretend you’re fine and keep going?”

He looks like he wishes to say something less-than-polite, scowl deepening, but instead he turns away with a quiet huff. His ears droop even further.

“The terms of the treaty are fair, and it is my duty to adhere to them. This... lapse... aside, I am entirely capable of doing so.” He sighs and seems to will his ears into a more neutral position. “So yes: I shall ‘keep going.’”

Catra blinks at him.

“That’s... really stupid.”

He blinks at her.

“...what?”

She rolls her eyes. “It’s stupid. What’s the point of it... pushing yourself like that when you’ve obviously had enough? If you need a break, then-”

Suddenly he snarls, he rounds on her, teeth and eyes glowing too-brightly, and she nearly jerks back. Melog tenses beside her but remains still.

“Then what?! I should inform the Queen, and she will suspend proceedings and accept needless delays for my comfort? That is... that is-”

He stops abruptly because she’s laughing, a dry sort of chuckle that might have infuriated him save for the fact that, when she notices his attention and stops, it’s to smile at him. Catra smiles at him, and the expression holds an honest sincerity that he’s never seen her exhibit before. His indignation fades; his aggressive posture deflates.

“Yeah. That’s exactly what she’ll do.”

At first, he only stares at her, as if uncertain that he has heard what he believes he has heard, but eventually Hordak swallows, glances away, glances back, presses his lips together.

“That is... highly illogical, given the circumstances. I am not... I do not...” His voice fades, and his ears all but wilt.

For the second time that day, Catra does something without thinking, settling herself into the seat next to him and placing a hand over one of his. It’s tense and cold to the touch; her thumb begins to stroke his knuckles without her realizing it. Hordak remains silent, lips slightly parted, transfixed. He does not even react when, on his other side, Melog presses their body gently against his leg.

“It’s a treaty, Hordak,” she begins, and her voice nearly strains for a moment when her brain catches up with her actions, but she steels her resolve and continues, “not a sentence. Not a punishment. I thought it was, at first. I figured it had to be, because of all we’ve done... all I’ve done. But it’s not.”

Catra remembers how she first felt, all those months ago, and she makes the connection between her old fears and his current ones, unconsciously pausing to squeeze his hand; her ears have pinned back, and her chest is suddenly tight again.

“It’s not supposed to... to hurt. For either of us. Y’know? I mean... I was out with the flu for a week a couple of months ago, and the worst thing that happened was having to choke down Perfuma’s gross herbal junk.” She huffs out a laugh, but there’s no amusement in it. “This...”

Now her voice does strain, and she has to stop for a moment before continuing. Beside her, Hordak is breathing quickly again and trying very hard to stop.

“This isn’t the Horde. Either Horde. How we feel matters. How... how you feel matters. So if you need a break, you get a break. ...okay?”

It takes him some time to answer, and in that time Catra realizes what her hand has been doing; she snatches it back just as he finds his voice.

“If... if you believe that your suggestion is... appropriate, then I shall agree to it.”

Catra lets out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. The smile returns to her face, and she nods. Melog trills happily and rewards each of them with a gentle headbutt.

For what had seemed such a dramatic conversation, the aftermath is anything but. Catra and Melog return downstairs and tell Glimmer and Adora of what has transpired. Their reaction is as expected: the work is postponed, and Hordak is given leave to rest as long as is necessary, no questions asked.

He spends the remainder of that day and the next in bed, rising in the late afternoon to deliver a very formal, semi-awkward apology to Glimmer. She responds with a very formal, semi-awkward acceptance. Their working session resumes, though Hordak finds that he needs to excuse himself again after only a couple of hours. That evening, Glimmer has a basket of strawberry tarts delivered to his room. She also makes a point of ensuring that their sessions no longer extend into the late night hours.

Catra remains nearby, much to Hordak’s (admittedly only half-sincere) chagrin, and between her stubbornness and Melog’s perception, he is kept well-supplied with snacks, water, extra blankets and, though both refuse to admit it, friendly company. Adora spends her time trying to contact Darla; when she succeeds, Hordak happily accepts Entrapta’s enthusiastic check-in (and assures her that, yes, he is being provided an adequate amount of soup).

A few days later, he is able to rejoin the group in full capacity, and they finish their work with little harm done by their extended schedule.

Then it is time for him to return to Dryl (Entrapta arrives the next day), but before he boards his transport, he takes a moment to do something he’d once never imagined he’d do: thank Catra. Awkwardly, as seems is his communicative style this trip, but sincerely.

She grimaces slightly, refusing to meet his eyes, and scratches absently at the back of her head. Next to her, Melog utters a noise that sounds like a warbling coo, their mane glowing a faint pink.

“Yeah... well... better than you passing out and bringing the wrath of Entrapta down on us. Bright Moon’s still rebuilding, y’know.”

This elicits an actual laugh from Hordak, sudden and rather loud, and Catra fails to keep the surprise from her face as he regains control of himself and gives his final farewell with a small, genuine smile.

Despite Melog confirming for the world that she is blushing under her fur, Catra smiles back.

#all right we are keeping this despite it making me cringe #catra #hordak #pc:ac

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buckyskorpion · 4 years

Text

11 hours - part four

Pairing: Biker!Bucky x Reader

Summary: bucky is the mystery you can’t wait to solve. if you can get out of his bed long enough, that is. a biker au.

Warnings: gang-typical violence, sex scenes, alcohol mentions, probably more to come so stay tuned

A/N: super fun chapter, we got some more secret things revealed and some fluff and emosh AND some smut AAAANNNNDDD some drama so really, what more could ya want. thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoy. i wont be taking tags for this so please dont ask.

title taken from 11 hours by wet | playlist

part one | part two | part three

When Bucky invites you to another party, you don’t pretend you’re not apprehensive about it. The last one didn’t go badly, per se, but it certainly led to some less-than-favourable events which you’d rather not repeat. Bucky pouts, though, gives you big blue puppy eyes and kisses down your neck and chest and across your stomach until his head’s between your legs and you’re saying yes yes yes without any awareness to what you’re agreeing to.

It’s not at Natasha’s house this time, and it’s nothing like that last party. Bucky takes you to a basement bar in Brooklyn, holding your hand as you descend the stairs behind him into moody lighting and deafening levels of classic rock. Something’s different about this night - you can tell in the stiff lines of Bucky’s shoulders under his leather jacket, the tight grip he keeps as he tugs you into his side, the way everyone seems to falter for a beat and stare as Bucky enters the room. There are a lot of scary looking people in here, you realise, and all their eyes are on you.

It’s a relief to see Natasha’s red head weaving through muscles and leather towards you, and that really says something.

To your surprise, she loops her arm in yours just like at the last party and tugs you from Bucky’s side. You hesitate, gripping Bucky’s hand tighter and looking up at him for some kind of nonverbal explanation. He releases your fingers, grazing his hand from yours in a slow slide, and just stares back at you. Sorry, he mouths, and then you lose his head in the crowd of equally tall, muscular men as Natasha drags you further into the bar.

“Let’s get some drinks,” she says, pushing aside two men twice her size to stand at the bar and tap her violet nails on the countertop. You are, as per usual around this woman, lost for words.

“Is Bucky-?” You don’t even know what you want to ask. You’re quickly realising this isn’t a party just to have fun with friends. This is something outside your world, something you don’t understand, and the way Natasha looks at you all shadowed and shuttered confirms it.

“He’ll be back,” is all she says, and nudges a vodka shot towards you. She doesn’t pay, you notice, just taps the glass on the counter and clinks it with yours before throwing it back. You do the same, hissing at the burn, and watch as she orders two more. It’s very Russian, you think, and file that away for later. You down your second shot without a flinch this time.

“Why am I here?” you ask Natasha, scanning the bar before you as if the answer will arise from the crowd.

“You want to be in Bucky’s life?” Natasha raises her eyebrows at you, gestures to the bar with a flick of her wrist and says, “This is a part of it.”

You hum in way of answer, letting that sit with the burning vodka-warmth in your chest starting to slowly drip down, down, down to your toes. This is what you chose - shady rooms with shady men and more questions than answers. A tormenting nightmare for someone as paranoid and curious as you, is probably what your dad would say if he was here but he’s not, so you ignore that little voice and try to find Bucky in the crowd.

Before you can, Sam comes barrelling over to the two of you with his arms held wide. Natasha shies away from him but he sweeps her into a hug anyway, her unimpressed scowl peaking over the top of a muscular arm and making you giggle despite yourself. Sam ruffles her hair and Natasha genuinely looks like she’s about to murder him - you cover your mouth with your hand, far too amused at the interaction for your own safety.

“Welcome!” Sam yells to you, also pulling you into a crushing hug. He moves away, leaving a hand clapped on your shoulder, and asks, “Having fun?”

“We just arrived,” you say, “But the shots are doing wonders for me.”

“Good, have more!” Sam says, and to your absolute horror, reaches over the bar and grabs the bottle of vodka to sloppily pour in your empty shot glass. He tops Natasha up too, and you must look as scandalised as you feel because she starts laughing and nudges Sam, who throws you a charming grin. “Relax! I own the place.”

“Oh,” you say, more than relieved. That didn’t come up on your search, you think, and try to squash that thought down as quickly as it comes. You’re not investigating them anymore, there’s no need to file information away on them like it’s an open case. Smiling, you say, “Well, in that case,” and down the shot Sam and just poured you. You’re on a one-way ticket to tipsy town and you don’t plan on hopping off anytime soon.

Sam leads you to a booth where Steve and one of the regulars from your time watching his tattoo shop sit. He’s got dirty blonde hair and a plaster on his forehead, waving his hands around as he tells a story which makes Steve belly-laugh. You slide in the end after Natasha, the seat opposite you open for whenever Bucky comes back. You wish he’d hurry up, ignoring their conversation in favour of searching the crowd for his dumb head. Out of your depth didn’t even begin to cover what you felt sitting here with Bucky’s friends in Sam’s bar with a bunch of bikers milling around, watching you all like hawks.

“New girl,” the guy you don’t know says, pointing the straw he’d been fiddling with at you. Natasha smacks him upside the head and he barely flinches, like it happens all the time. He says, “Verse me in darts.”

The entire table groans, and the guy throws his hands in the air and scowls at everyone as he cries, “What? None of you lot will play with me anymore.”

“That’s because you’re a master archer, you dickhead,” Sam says, throwing a balled up napkin at the guy’s head. He doesn’t bother dodging it, letting it hit him square on the nose as he turns to you and waggles his eyebrows.

“Whaddya say? No better bonding activity, I reckon,” he says. You dart looks around the table, catching Steve giving you a cut-throat motion and Natasha shaking her head with an eyeroll.

“I’ll start with your name first,” you say, “Then we can move onto darts.”

He introduces himself as Clint, reaching across the table and knocking over Steve’s glass in the process to shake your hand. Everyone devolves into complaints and arguments about Clint ‘taking advantage’ of new people and feeding his ego with ‘easy wins.’ Nonetheless, your small group vacates the booth and moves to the dart board near the pool tables at the back of the bar. The group already there stop playing mid-game and move off as you approach, which is weird and keeps happening so you think it might be something you’ll have to find the guts to ask Bucky about later. Right now, though, Clint is pushing darts into your hand with a smirk and lining up to go first, despite Steve’s exasperated yell of ladies first!

Clint lands a bullseye with his first dart and does a little victory dance on the spot. His friends groan, clearly having seen this too many times. Three bullseye’s later, he’s moving off the mark and opening it up to you with a low, theatrical bow. You curtsy and take his spot, earning a laugh out of Sam and Steve.

“Archery, huh?” you question as you line up your shot, tongue poking out slightly as you concentrate.

“Natasha calls me her very own Robin Hood,” Clint says, and you’re not facing him but you know Natasha throws something at him if his yelp of pain is anything to go by. Wheezing slightly, Clint adds, “Don’t feel bad when you lose.”

“Hmm,” you say, smirking at the dart board. But before you can throw, you catch movement out of the corner of your eye - close cropped hair and a familiar leather jacket weaving it’s way towards you. You turn to Bucky, leaning into him as he slides a hand up your back, over your shoulders to rest on the nape of your neck and tangle in your hair. You hate the way you melt into his side, because everyone’s watching and Natasha is smirking and you should be embarrassed, but. But but but. You missed him, just a bit, and you feel him relax with you in his arms like maybe he missed you a bit, too.

“How did Barton con you into darts, huh?” Bucky asks, looking down to you and the darts still clutched in your hand. You shrug as much as you can under his arm and grin, maybe a bit looser with the shots, but that’s nobody’s business. Bucky is laughing slightly at you but you can’t bring yourself to care when he uses his grip on your neck to spin you around, hands moving to rest on your hips and position you on the mark.

“Not fair! Interference!” Clint calls out, and you feel Bucky’s chest rumble with a laugh from where he’s pressed up behind you. Bucky is supposed to be helping but all you feel is distracted, hazy focus and burning heat starting from your toes and working up to pool in your stomach.

“Oh now you care about fairness,” Sam says, and the group behind you devolves into a loud argument with plenty of name calling.

You’re not paying attention to them, though, as you bring your arm up to aim and Bucky grips your elbow, fixing your form. His breath is hot against your ear as he ducks down, smiling into your skin, and you feel yourself shiver against him. Bucky says low in your ear, “Don’t close your eyes.”

“Thanks for the advice,” you say flatly, and finally shrug him off. He steps back with a laugh, dragging his hands from your hips slowly so you can still feel his fingers long after they’re gone. You take a steady breath and narrow your eyes at the board. You throw, and in a blink your dart is buried in it’s red centre. The argument behind you comes to an abrupt stop.

“Fluke!” Clint sputters in to the silence, pointing wildly at the board as you turn to him. You raise your eyebrows and he flails his arm, nearly smacking Steve in the face. “Barnes helped you!”

“Hardly,” Bucky snorts. You grin at Clint, all teeth, and Clint’s expression drops almost comically as you wink at him.

“Don’t feel bad when you lose,” you tell him, and then proceed to fling your two remaining darts into a neat little cluster on the bullseye in quick succession. Clint shuts up properly this time.

While Steve and Sam descend on Clint to heckle him to an early grave, Natasha grins over at you and says, “You are full of surprises.”

“Not really,” you shrug, “Just learnt to throw knives with my dad instead of throwing balls with my non-existent friends. Nothing interesting.”

“Respectfully disagree,” Bucky murmurs, and suddenly you’re drawn into that ocean-deep stare of his where the rest of the bar ceases to exist. Bucky steps closer and you meet him halfway, the shouts of his friends and the rock music blaring through the speakers and the clink of glasses fades to a dull buzz. Maybe you had one too many shots, because you find yourself swaying into Bucky as he tugs you by the belt loops, or maybe that’s just Bucky you’re drunk on. Now that you’d allowed yourself to fall you were falling fast, a weightless come-up, not a single thought about the crash waiting for you at the end.

Bucky doesn’t leave your side for the rest of the night, always tethered to you somehow, and its alarming how quickly you’ve grown used to having him next to you. Attuned to him, turning when he does and shifting to his every movement so you fit together, his hand in yours or your back to his chest or tucking yourself under his arm. Bucky is just so warm, is all, and under the bulk of his touch you can almost forget where you are, who you’re with.

That is, until a broad man in a leather jacket much like Bucky’s comes up to your booth and leans down to talk in Bucky’s ear. You’re pressed to his side, head tucked against his shoulder while you lazily follow Sam and Steve’s conversation with your eyes half-closed - the vodka is catching up and you’re getting sleepy as the night wears on. The smell of cigarettes and an unfamiliar voice brings you back to the bar, however, and you’re close enough to be able to hear Bucky and the man’s hushed exchange.

“S’done, boss,” the man says, “twenty-three-forty hours, no witnesses.”

“Y’sure?” Bucky murmurs, and the man must nod or something because you feel Bucky clap the man on the shoulder and he walks off, the cloud of cigarette smoke leaving with him. Bucky twists to look down at you on his shoulder only to find you already looking up at him. He is impassive as you stare at him for a few, silent beats before he asks, “Ready to go?”

It takes an hour to extract yourselves from Bucky’s friends and all the people he has to say goodbye to on his way out, and then you’re on Bucky’s bike with your head tucked against his back as he roars through the few blocks back to his apartment. Bucky busies himself flicking lights on and rummaging in his pantry for food while you collapse on the couch, flinging an arm over your eyes. After a few beats you feel him start to unlace your boots, easing them off your feet and throwing them towards the front door. You peak out from under your arm to grin at him, wiggling your toes in his face when your feet are free, and he shoves at them with one big hand and a smile.

Retaliation comes in the form of him throwing his huge, muscled body on top of yours and squashing you into the couch, knocking the breath out of you. He nuzzles his head into the side of your neck and lies there, snaking his arms under your body in a bear hug that leaves you breathless in more ways than one. The moment stretches on, both of you slightly dozing in the early morning hours, until the niggling in your brain gets too insistent and you can’t hold it in any longer.

“When were you gonna tell me tonight was an alibi?” you ask, hating the way Bucky’s body stiffens on top of you. He slowly raises his head, resting his stumbling chin against your collarbone and scanning your face with those puppy eyes you see in your dreams, now.

“You’re too smart for me,” he sighs, rolling off you slightly so you can shift onto your side and face him, two half-brackets on the couch. Bucky says, “You know what I do. You were- I said you could leave.”

“It’s not what you do,” you say, shaking your head of the concept of leaving. “It’s being kept in the dark. I just wanna know, I hate not knowing.”

“Too dangerous,” Bucky says, mirroring you as he shakes his head, “The more you know the worse it is.”

“Don’t care,” you say, raising an eyebrow in challenge when Bucky opens his mouth to argue. You press your palm to his cheek, scratching into the short hairs above his ear and dragging your nail over the silvery-scar there where hair won’t grow. Bucky’s eyes flutter shut, eyelashes delicate against the papery skin under his eyes, and you marvel at how soft the looks up close. Only tough from far away, you think. Only soft for you.

“You don’t know what you’re asking,” Bucky says, keeping his eyes closed.

“I figure out secrets for a living, Bucky,” you sigh, “I don’t wanna do that with you as well.”

He looks at you then, the world narrowing to his eyes burning your skin and his breath against your lips. He kisses you, rough stubble and soft lips. Your lips part with a sigh and he rolls on top of you again, hands rucking up under your top to grip your bare waist and hold you there, pressing kiss after kiss on your mouth like he can brand you with just his lips alone.

“You’ll stay?” he murmurs against your mouth, “The night?”

You know what he’s asking. Will you stay, will you listen to the terrible things he’s done and the things he will do and stay anyway, will you let him into your bed and your heart and trust someone you should be afraid of? You kiss him, digging your nails into the side of his neck to hold him there.

“Yeah,” you say, pressing your face against his cheek to kiss the rough skin, murmur words against the corner of his mouth tugging into a smile, “I’ll stay.”

***

The first time you wake up next to Bucky he’s still asleep, lying on his stomach with his cheek smashed into the pillow. One big arm is flung out over your stomach, trapping you to the bed as you blink awake but the heavy weight is comforting. You twist under him to lie on your side, tucking your arms against your bare chest, and watch him sleep like a genuine pyscho. You don’t care. His face is relaxed when he sleeps, peaceful - he looks so beautiful. You want to remember this forever.

Sunlight streams through a gap in the curtains, illuminating the tips of his short hair golden. Pouty lips part, soft in sleep, and there’s a tiny bit of drool pooling on the pillowcase you find yourself smiling at, even though it’s gross. He’s all tan muscles and tattoos lying naked next to you, and you take to tracing the ink on his skin with yours in an attempt to memorise them. His left arm is flung over you, the arm with the sleeve, and the closer you look the more you realise the tattoos cover not just skin, but scars. Old and faded but still there under swirling lines of storm clouds and skulls and the red star in the centre of his deltoid.

How had you missed this? Maybe you hadn’t been looking before, but you’re looking now. From surprisingly thin wrist to meaty shoulder where muscles are bunched and gnarled under a flowery piece which extends down his chest and across his back. His sleeve is a beautiful piece covering not-so-beautiful, painful looking burns and lines and marks you can’t tear your eyes from.

“Stop staring, y’creep,” Bucky mumbles into the pillow, startling you. He grins, eyes closed, and you reach out to whack his side. With the arm across your waist he drags you into him, rolling onto his back and dragging you across his chest without ever opening his eyes. He hugs you close, legs tangling, and doesn’t appear to want to wake up - rather he just holds you and attempts to doze off again, lips pressed against your forehead in a sleepy, lazy kiss.

That won’t do. You’re awake and now effectively trapped - Bucky doesn’t get to go back to sleep like this. With your new vantage point on his chest, you start kissing slow and heady across his skin. Under his collarbone, his shoulder, beside one of the wolves tattooed on his skin making up half his chest piece. Goosebumps form a trail where your lips have been and you grin, victorious. Bucky shivers as you drag your teeth from his peck to his nipple, giving it a quick flick of your tongue. That seals the deal.

Bucky grips the back of your head, fisting your hair and pulling your head up to look at him. Eyes cracked open and bleary with sleep, he glares at you but with no heat. Well, there’s heat. He licks his lips and you track the motion, hungry. Bucky’s lips stretch in a smirk as he watches you watch him. His other hand travels down your back to grip your ass and pull you up in a straddle across his hips.

He pulls you into a kiss and you go willingly with a hand braced on his chest, licking lazy into his mouth. He tastes like sleep and so do you but you really couldn’t care less. His mouth is hot and his skin is sun warmed, strong and smooth under your body, seeping into you so it feels like you’re holding the sun inside you. He pushes the warmth into you; tongue in your mouth, squeezing your neck, kneading your ass under one giant palm. Morning sex, you think, is possibly the best thing in this world.

Bucky hums against your mouth and shifts, sliding his hand back down your ass to rub his middle finger against your cunt. You gasp, and he bits your lip as you open to him. The contrast of pain and pleasure as he slips a finger inside you is brain-melting. All that heat is concentrated now in the pit of your belly and you roll back against Bucky’s hand, nipping at his jaw when he huffs a laugh at you.

You slide a hand up his neck and into his hair, scratching your nails against his scalp and leaving hot, open mouthed kissed down his jaw, neck, chest - wherever you can reach. When Bucky doesn’t move, just leaves you to grind against his finger, you get frustrated and start using your teeth. He’ll be littered with little bruises soon and he clenches his fist in your hair, tugging in warning, but you keep going. So Bucky groans, slides his hand around to your neck and squeezes until you come to a shuddering stop, panting against his chest. He pulls you up to look at him, smirking at the glassy look in your eyes, and pushes another finger into your cunt without warning.

That makes you moan, which makes Bucky grin because he’s a smug bastard and can never let you win. You can’t remember why you were frustrated anymore, though - you’ve got pinpricks of pleasure bursting all over your skin, from your nail beds to your scalp to the back of your teeth. Bucky tugs you by the neck until he can catch you in a sloppy kiss, tongue too deep and too much teeth but you live for it. He removes his fingers from inside you and you whine into his mouth, clenching your fingers in his hair and your cunt on nothing but it doesn’t stay that way for long. Bucky’s there, he’s pushing into you and you forget how to kiss for a second as all your executive function concentrates on the feeling of Bucky’s dick in you.

It’s slow, sticky with sweat from the too-bright sun on your back, sweet in the way Bucky releases your neck and lies fully back on the pillow just to stare up at you. You sit up in his lap and grind your hips slow, letting your hands rest light on his chest as the urgency dissipates into simple, syrupy-soft want. He runs his hands up and down your thighs and your sensitive skin erupts like starbursts, urging you to slide up and down on his cock just to feel the drag inside you that makes your eyes roll back. You lean forward on him, the angle gets deeper, you stop feeling your toes as the ecstasy snaps up your spine in hot waves.

“Look at me,” Bucky says, voice low and rough with the first words of the day. You hadn’t realised your eyes were closed and they flutter open, barely focusing on the pink pout of his mouth and hazy lust in his eyes. “Look at me, honey.”

“Bucky,” you say in response, any other words lost to you. He slides a hand from your thigh up your stomach, muscles clenching against his touch as you ride him, to cup one of your tits and squeeze. He rolls his thumb over your nipple and you moan, head lolling back on a limp neck and hair tickling your bare back. But you remember what he asked and you come back, eyes finding his and they seem to darken, then, as you keep yourself locked on him.

It’s spilling over. That heat that’s been building since you first woke up is trying to go supernova. Bucky moves to rest one big palm on your back and pushes, rising up to meet you as he squashes your bodies together, seam for sweat-slicked seam. You’re limp against him as he takes over and starts a faster, steadier rhythm. He pounds into you, the only sound in the quiet morning being the slap of your ass against his thighs and it should be kind of embarrassing but you’re way too far gone for that. You unspool with his arm wrapped around you, shuddering against his chest but he doesn’t let you go anywhere. Bucky comes soon after with a groan you swallow as you kiss him, and kiss him, and kiss him until your lips feel numb and your muscles stop shaking.

“Good morning,” you murmur, licking into his smile as he laughs at you.

“Good morning,” he replies, and smacks your ass for emphasis. You yelp and jerk forward at the impact, still sensitive and he’s still inside you. He moans at the friction and you feel heat start trickling against your thighs. It should be gross but somehow it’s insanely hot and you feel yourself clenching just imagining what his come dripping out of you would look like - that’s when you know you need some divine intervention, because you are too far off the deep end.

Bucky holds you tighter to keep you still, leaning back into the pillows to glare at you and say, “Gotta stop that, honey,” because apparently he’s also too sensitive. You start to smile, a little evil and a lot still-turned-on.

“What, this?” You roll your hips slow, all you can manage since you’re a bit worn out yourself, and Bucky legitimately growls. With a very un-sexy screech you find yourself flipped and on your back, Bucky’s cock slipping out of you and his body pressing you firmly into the mattress. He rests on his elbows either side of your head, dipping down to kiss you, and you hum at the feeling of him sliding a thigh between your legs.

“You’re a menace,” he grumbles, eyes flickering open to mock-glare at you. He’s so close that you feel kind of cross-eyed as you stare back.

“I think you like it, tough guy,” you tease. Bucky rolls his eyes but he doesn’t deny it, and you count that as a win.

Bucky finger-fucks you like that, trapped against his mattress and his stupid-soft lips leaving kisses over every inch of your skin. He has to carry you to the shower when you come again, announcing your legs are jelly and it’s his fault so he has to help you or he’s a bad person. He swings you over his shoulder and slaps your ass, calls you a brat, and you bite his shoulder in retaliation.

The shower is more of a water fight than anything else, after that.

“I like waking up to you,” you say once you’re dressed and coffee-d and fed, leaning against his doorway with a squeak of leather from your jacket. Bucky leans against the doorframe over you, dressed in fresh sweats and really threatening your resolve to go get some work done today. You feel soft, undone after this morning, looking up at him and telling him things your self-preservation instincts yell at you to keep to yourself.

“I could get used to it,” Bucky grins, and you punch him on the arm but there’s no force to it. He tugs you in for a hug goodbye, arm slung over your shoulders and ruffling your hair with his stupidly big hand until you squirm away from him. He laughs and you push him, propelling yourself backwards into the hall - mostly so you don’t grab onto his t-shirt and never leave.

“See you later?” You mean it to come out as an offhand statement but your nerves shake through. Bucky’s kilowatt smile breaks through all that fear of rejection and he nods.

“‘Course,” he says, tilting his head, “You’re stuck with me now.”

“Shit,” you say, shaking your head and his laugh follows you all the way down the stairs to the ground floor.

You hesitate at the bottom the stairs. To your left is the laundry room and your familiar route out of Bucky’s apartment building, through the window and the gym parking lot to the block over. Knowing who Bucky is now, what he does, means you have even more reason than ever before to turn that way and keep being a paranoid freak. But it’s mid-morning, now. Someone walks past you up the stairs, the lobby is lit with sunlight, there’s traffic noise and people’s voices and life inside this building. Mid-morning feels very different to three AM.

You’ve just woken up next to Bucky because he likes you, like that, and that makes you brave. You turn right and push out the front door, jogging down the steps to the street with a stupid smile on your face. You shove your hands in your pockets because despite the sunlight it’s still kind of chilly, and you turn to walk towards your apartment for a fresh change of clothes before heading to the office. Your brain still feels like it’s lying in bed next to Bucky, but you try and focus yourself back to the present.

Theres a guy leaning against the building next to Bucky’s, and he stubs his cigarette out as you walk past. When you pass by a parked car a few more buildings down you see in their side mirror that he’s started walking your direction. Stop being crazy, you tell yourself, one time using the front door like a normal person and you freak out, but you keep tabs on him as you walk. Bucky and his room and his touch start to fade from your mind as the stranger does not fade - not into the crowd, not down another street or into a building. He keeps walking, because he’s following you, and that might be paranoia speaking but you’d rather be safe than sorry.

You reach into your pocket for your phone but find yourself hesitating before calling Bucky. You’d only just gotten to the point where you feel comfortable to stay with him, to push past your walls and Bucky’s and dive head-first into whatever this is going to be between you. Telling Bucky someone is tailing you from his apartment would probably build those walls right back up, from both sides. The dark, twisted part of your brain supplies - what if it’s Bucky who’s sent this guy to follow you?

The phone rings one, twice, and picks up on the third. There’s a shuffle, a muttered curse, and you smile before your dad says, “Kroshka, sorry, I dropped the remote. How are you?”

“Great, papa,” you say, a bit louder than necessary, turning your head slightly to look across the street and so your voice travels behind you. Out of the corner of your eye you see your tail slow down, linger back further, when he realises you’re talking to someone who would notice if you suddenly dropped off the line. “What’re you up to?”

“Nothing, it’s early,” he says, sounding a bit suspicious, “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, “Just wondering if you wanted to get lunch today.”

“Of course,” he replies, and you turn the corner to keep on your normal route to home. As you do, you notice your tail has disappeared. You don’t relax, per-say, but you do feel some relief. You barely catch your dad saying, “Wanna get sushi?”

“Sounds great,” you say, “I’ll call you.”

By the time you make it back to your apartment, the glow from this morning has faded. You find yourself in the bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror and trying to convince yourself this isn’t what you think it is. No one followed you, no one’s after you, and Bucky certainly isn’t having you tailed because that’s insane. But you’ve always been like this, chasing down threads that don’t need to be pulled and finding faces in shadows even when they’re not there.

You should tell Bucky. Your supposed tail is as much a threat to you as it is to him, since he knows where Bucky lives. But something is stopping you, and you don’t pick up your phone. You’re a private investigator, you tell yourself firmly. You can figure this out on your own.

Part 5

~~~

let me know what you think!! thank you all for reading xx oh and listen to the playlist i made pls its fire

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