bluecloudsandpinksnow

20 | she/her | bugcat enjoyer

[solaris-lux]

when we run out of forever

SUMMARY. He’s smiling, more for your sake than anything else, once more taking on the burden of the Deliverer who will forge the dawn, but when he looks at you, his eyes are the terrible gold of an Aeon, and you cannot pretend you are anywhere else but at an altar waiting for its sacrifice.

(or, at the cusp of the new world — or maybe at the eve of the death of the universe, who's to say — Phainon makes a request.)

—

RATING. mature WORD COUNT. 2.3k RELATIONSHIPS. Phainon/Reader WARNINGS. major character death, spoilers for the main storyline up until version 3.4 TAGS. No use of Y/N | Reader is The Trailblazer | POV Second Person | Present Tense | Hurt No Comfort | Kissing | Love Confessions | might be OOC but idc at this point | bargaining always was my favorite stage of grief… | i listened to Coronal Radiance on repeat while writing this which is a sign that i am Well and Sane and Normal | in my heart the setting of this is wherever the ‘Hark! There's Revelry Atop the Divine Mountain’ sequence happened | only sorta canon compliant until the end of Version 3.4 maaaaaaybe Version 3.6???

—

AUTHOR’S NOTE. listen. listen. as of writing this, i have not done Amphoreus Chapter 7 coz the longer i don’t proceed with the quest, the longer i can lie to myself and say i’m still with my beloved chrysos heirs. we’re playing fast and loose with canon here, folks.

anyways, version 3.8 came out today (‘today’ meaning ‘when i wrote this’ meaning ‘December 18, 2025’), and i got phainon’s very first daily message (iykyk 🥲) so i am So Full of Grief right now, you have no idea :D

lastly, BIG THANKS TO MY BETA (@bluecloudsandpinksnow) FOR HOLDING MY HAND THROUGHOUT THIS ORDEAL!! special mention to how they helped me with workshopping the last line, it was such a bitch to iron out ughhhhh

(title is from a quote by Iain Thomas & divider is by @enchanthings)

This is the reality of heroes:

He — Flame Reaver, Khaslana, Phainon — guides Dawnmaker into your hold, and when his hands close over your own, they are ichor-slick, smoldering with wretched divinity. The millions of coreflames stored within him are working fast. Already, his shattered body is mending itself, erasing the traces of battle and burning away the remaining golden blood staining his skin, though the jagged fissures across his chest stay, exposing amber viscera. He’s smiling, more for your sake than anything else, once more taking on the burden of the Deliverer who will forge the dawn, but when he looks at you, his eyes are the terrible gold of an Aeon, and you cannot pretend you are anywhere else but at an altar waiting for its sacrifice.

“I can’t do it, Phainon. I won’t.” Despite your conviction, the tightness in your throat makes your voice waver. You try to speak again, searching for the right words to get him to reconsider, but you’ve barely opened your mouth when Phainon lets go of your hands to instead grip you by the shoulders.

“You have to, partner.” Then, as though it makes things any better, he adds: "You’re the only one who can. You’re the hero of my heart—”

“Stop saying that!” You take a step back, leaving Phainon’s hands to uselessly hover in the air, and when his face falls — something like agony breaking through his peaceful mask as the Deliverer — a sickening thrill of satisfaction runs through you. You wouldn't let him settle this matter as a distant, unflappable Heir. If he means to convince you, then he will do it as your friend. As your Phainon. “You keep telling me that as if… as if it means something. As if I mean something. But if that’s true, then… then how could you ask this of me?” Your vision blurs as you speak. You try to hold it in, to push through it, but the tears come anyway, your desperation made tangible.

“Please.” You rasp, tucking your chin to your chest, unintentionally gripping Dawnmaker tighter despite your shaking hands. “Please don’t make me do this.”

Try as you might, you can't help but cry, the hot swell of tears rendering Phainon a smudge of white-gold and iridescent black. For a moment, you’re struck by the depth of your desire to see him as you’d known him, sturdy and touchable and devastatingly mortal. Because, as awe-inspiring as this form can be, he belongs to the tawny waves of grain, to the endless blue of a clear sky.

Phainon was meant to live in color, in sunlight.

Phainon was meant to live.

With your head bent down as it is, you hear rather than see him shuffle closer, a careful approach he makes noisier than it should be just to give you the option to refuse him, and when you don’t pull away, Phainon takes it as the permission you mean it to be. He stops before you, so close that you’re within the glow of his halo, Dawnmaker a horrible reminder between you both. And, with a tenderness that makes you ache, he takes your face into his hands, swiping the pad of a thumb beneath your eye. Phainon runs so warm that, had the smoothness not given it away, you could have mistaken his gauntlet for bare skin. But his body is stone and obsidian and metal, so in the covenant of touch, your flesh carries the burden of giving way.

“Partner,” he begins, but when that elicits nothing but more sniffles and a resolute avoidance to meet his gaze, Phainon says your name, gentle and beseeching. His thumb continues moving in deliberate circles across your cheekbone. “Look at me. Could you at least look at me, please?”

You want to curse at him. You want to dig your heels in and refuse him — keep refusing him — but he’s already bending down, trying to meet your eyes, expression of such open heartbreak that you nearly crumble at the idea of ever causing him pain. How dare he be like this, making the request he did then going so far as to pout at the very idea of not living a moment in your gaze? Jerking your head up to glare at him, you go to tell him as such, but whatever words you had are lost at the quiver of his bottom lip, the tremble in his shoulders.

“Phainon…” It is your turn now to cup his face, tamping down the delighted hiccuping of your heart when his cheek bends beneath your palm. Here, at least, you could still feel the man and not the emanator.

Covering your hand with his gilded obsidian one, Phainon leans down and presses his forehead to yours. His eyes flit across your face, drinking you in, committing every detail — every freckle and every mole and maybe even every damned tear — to memory, and still his expression is crumpled in quiet devastation. “I’m so sorry,” he says, the barest sensation of his lips brushing against the inside of your wrist. Just enough to linger. Just enough for the suggestion of softness to sear itself onto your flesh. “I know I’ve asked so much from you already, and that this is all so unfair. Even if I live through the cycles all over again, I still won't come close to being able to make it up to you, but…”

You brace yourself for Phainon’s speech, a string of indisputable reasons for why you were wasting time neither of you had. Using his sharpened wit, the skill that won him ten consecutive debate championships and the faith of a nation, he would tell you that the geniuses could only do so much to delay the birth of a Lord Ravager. That your friends beyond the sky couldn’t fight against an Aeon and THEIR pathstriders forever. That his and his people’s tens of millions of deaths couldn’t be for nothing. Maybe he would ask you for final kindnesses, like fondly remembering him at the sight of an antique or following his instruction to find a letter he wrote specifically for you. Then, with his gentle persuasion effective, you would plunge his own blade into his heart, and the dawn he fought and clawed and burned for would rise over his corpse.

Irontomb’s perfection had always so foolishly relied on NeiKos496’s survival.

Instead, Phainon closes his eyes and turns the slightest bit to nuzzle into your palm, laughing wet and broken as he does. When he says your name, it comes out as a trembling exhale that brings spots of flustered color to your cheeks. His other hand slides down to your neck, goosebumps erupting where he touched, and when he carefully pushes his thumb into the underside of your jaw, tilting your face even more towards his, you bend to his ministrations, soft and malleable under his touch.

“Kephale above, I thought we had more time.” Phainon chokes out, your breaths mingling in the warm, damp space between your mouths. Tears squeeze past his closed lids, some gathering under the press of your hand. “There’s so much I still want to tell you. To show you. The months we got weren’t enough.”

“Then stop this!” You insist, but he just opens his eyes, the slow and languid movement bellying the intense look he levels you with. You swear that the cosmos breathes with him, whole star systems shaping and forming and settling to the rise and fall of his shoulders. How could one person make the universe feel so much bigger by simply existing?

When he remains silent, you fight the urge to butt your head against his — a newborn impulse only Phainon could have possibly inspired — and rip your hand out from under his to clasp him by the nape. Stubbornly, you ignore how the embellishments of his gorget dig into your skin. While you get a surprised jolt out of him, he doesn't react in any other way, still in that resigned daze you can’t permeate. It's as though he’s given up, content to eke out whatever time he has left with you, so through grit teeth, through furious tears, through the aching rawness of your throat, you say: “Damn it all, Phainon, I’m not letting you do this.”

This shocks a sliver of alertness back into him, but you don’t get to revel in the victory. Golden stare searing into you, Phainon’s freed hand alights on your hip, the heat of his touch felt even through layers of cloth. He closes the already small gap between you, pressing a kiss into the corner of your mouth, and when he speaks, his lips hover over your own.

“And I can’t just stand by and let you die.”

There is a sense of finality to his tone, a door slamming shut over the conversation, and you realize with a striking clarity that nothing you say, nothing you do, would change fate. Phainon, who had endured over thirty-three million cycles and stood determined despite his odds, would not be swayed. Your breath hitches, and you’re sure he feels you shaking, but he doesn’t say anything. Just supports you, palms burning like brands against the curve of your hip, the crook of your neck.

After taking in a desperate gulp of air, you cast a watery glare his way. “I’ll never forgive you. I’m going to hate you for all my life.”

Phainon hums, distracted, humoring you. “I can imagine no greater honor,” he says, voice dripping with adoring sincerity. “Than of you thinking of me for the rest of your life.”

“You—!” You beat down the fluster that wells up within you. There is no time for bashfulness or cowardice. The seconds of conversation you’ve already stolen are a miracle in itself. So you just scoff and shake your head, unintentionally nuzzling your nose against Phainon’s. “You’re impossible.”

You don’t even have to go far to meet him. As in battle, as in life, Phainon is right where you need him to be.

The brush of his lips are tentative at first, so reverent and careful that your chest twinges something painful, like he is terrified of asking for more than what you’re willing to give. But when you tip your head back to give Phainon better access to your mouth, threading your fingers into his hair and gripping tight, he makes a noise that could only be a groan — sending a jolt of delight to trickle up your spine — before deepening the kiss. Gone is the slow, patient rhythm; he moves with an urgent hunger that leaves your lungs fluttering, overwhelming your senses so that there is only the wet, hot press of his mouth. He kisses you like longing, like relief, like promise.

You wish you could pry his ribs apart and crawl into the hollow beneath his beating heart.

When he finally pulls back, the action can barely be called that. He is still close enough that his exhale ghosts across your lips. Phainon’s eyes are glazed over, pupils so dark and wide that they could give black holes a run for their money. You half expect his tears stains to be long gone by now, dissolving into nothing the same way the blood stains did earlier, but there is still the faintest glimmer of tracks streaking down to his jaw. You think of wiping them away before thinking better of it. Let them be proof of his humanity, of his soul.

While you pull in great, heaving breaths, you let Phainon trace the curve of your bottom lip with his thumb, dutifully ignoring the heat creeping up the back of your neck. Then, when you think you can’t bear bathing in the naked devotion of his gaze any longer, he says: “I love you.” And he repeats it, for the sake of saying it aloud. “I love you.”

Simple and truthful and outright. Like it is a fact of his existence.

He is a farmer’s son, he bleeds gold, and he loves you.

You move to reply, to say it back, because if anyone deserves to hear these words, it is Phainon of Aedes Elysiae, but he puts his thumb over your lips and shakes his head. “I know.” Phainon’s tone allows no argument, that resigned acceptance once again marring his face. “I know. But you can’t.”

A complaint is born and dies on the tip of your tongue because Phanon dips his head down for another kiss, something soft and sweet, a warmth you barely get to appreciate before it’s gone. You’re still blinking the stars from your eyes when he takes a full step back, taking his warmth, his grounding presence with him, and reality washes over you like the black tide, corrupting and infernal and world-ending.

“We’ve put it off long enough, partner.” Phainon — no, the Deliverer — says and guides your unoccupied hand to close over your lax grip on Dawnmaker. You try to be strong, try to give in, try to make this easier for him in any way possible, but you can’t help it. All you want to do is make Phainon stay. Instead, you can do nothing but watch as, with the same aching tenderness he uses with you, he lowers himself onto his knees and points the blade of his claymore towards him. When he rests the tip above the largest fissure on his chest, right over where his heart should be, you feel something within you crack. A web of cracks spreading and splintering throughout your very being, nearly leaving you to crumble.

Once he’s settled, Phainon smiles up at you, a swords’ length away, eyes crinkling with a softness that doesn’t belong in this wasteland between worlds. You begin to weep, but Phainon calls out your name. He nods once, wets his lips before speaking. “It’s going to be okay.” And, because he hasn’t said it enough already, he adds: “I love you.”

Here is the lamb laying at the altar, steadying the butcher’s hand at its neck.

And when you push the blade into his chest, the repulsive squelch of pierced flesh ringing in your ears, your name is the last thing on Phainon’s lips.

AUTHOR’S NOTE. i hope you cried coz i sure did

Also, if anyone says i used AI to make this just because of my gratuitous use of em dashes, fuck off. i dare you to even try prying the em dash and oxford comma from my cold dead hands :3

can be read on AO3 here~

[bluecloudsandpinksnow]

Author, when you have time, could you please write some cute headcanons about Karma x Fem!Reader?

(And yes, they are dating)

Hi! So sorry it took a while, but here it is!! I hope it's okay, please let me know what you think?

[bluecloudsandpinksnow]

of shared straws and broken umbrellas (Akabane Karma Headcanons)

summary: a series of miscellaneous headcanons and drabbles about dating Karma :3

fandom: Assassination Classroom by Yûsei Matsui pairing: akabane karma x fem! reader warnings: none  word-count: 1.5k notes: - requested by @bigbouquetfestival - first headcanon format attempt!! hope you like it 🥺🥺🥺 - feel free to comment if you have any suggestions or reactions :DDD would appreciate it very much so~ ---START---

What he’s like at the beginning

Karma would still be a little awkward at the start of your relationship, not really having ever experienced something like this before.

After confessing, he’ll still mostly treat you as a friend for a few weeks, occasionally pushing your boundaries to see where he's at and what you can handle from him without becoming too uncomfortable or genuinely angry.

Would absolutely still ragebait and tease you relentlessly, all because he just can’t help your adorable reactions to his provocations, but there’s a softer edge to it, and he doesn’t go as far as he used to when you were still friends; making sure to stop the moment he feels your mood sour.

He’d sneak romance and dating tips from the 3-E girls who ask Irina-sensei for advice after classes. Obviously, he’d try really hard to not let anyone see or figure out what he’s doing; he’d rather die than be caught like this, especially by either you or Koro-sensei.

People will eventually figure it out, not because either of you revealed the relationship, but because Karma is surprisingly unsubtle when he does his best to force proximity with you.

In PE Classes, “Hey, Karasuma-sensei. I think something’s wrong with Terasaka, might have punched him a little too hard. D’ya think I could get a new sparring partner?”

He immediately motions to you, “Hey, her partner isn’t around either.” Having paid off Nakamura to fake sickness so he could be guaranteed to partner up with you.

“Karma, you-” “Kay, thanks Teach. I’ll make my way over to her now.”  

Will make Nagisa third-wheel constantly at the start of the relationship because he’s worried about leaving awkward silence between the both of you, often not knowing what to say after long conversations and worrying he’ll tire you out because of it.

Has a bad habit of hyper-focusing on you even when you’re with the friend group, to the point where everyone else feels awkward in observing the two of you interact. (Especially when Karma tries to initiate PDA to irritate jealous onlookers.)

He’s definitely a little rough around the edges, and he gets a lot of things wrong at the start, but he’s a fast learner, and once he knows what you like and what makes you smile, then he jumps on those opportunities whenever they arrive.

Karma is also a serial blusher, and for as much as he likes to fluster you with his over-the-top flirting and excessive proximity, if you take the initiative and make a move first, he’ll turn as red as a tomato and start mumbling and trying to hide his face and feelings.

He won’t admit it just yet at this point in time, but you make him feel really happy and giddy, in a way that’s unexplainable to him. He’s at the very least glad that he took the chance to confess so that you can be together now, experiencing new things as a couple.

His favorite thing to do with you is walk together in the rain under your umbrella, because he either “broke his” or left it at home (He won’t be upright about what happened to it, but you’re sure it’s broken because he beat someone up with it.)

Karma also loves to tease you about indirect kisses before you two actually kiss for the first time, buying lots of his strawberry milk cartons and sharing with you, immediately grinning and pinching your cheeks when you drink from his straw.

“Aw, sweetheart, if you wanna kiss me that badly, we don’t have to go through a straw to do it.”

When you’re a little more established

You’re literally 90% of his motivation for studying, because he gets to see your cute, focused face when you work on assignments, and admire you when you fall asleep at your desk, using your arms to cushion your head.

“Karma, what are you looking at? Do I have a pen mark on my face again?” You ask him, still sleepy from your impromptu nap.

“Nothing cutie, ‘was just looking at you.” He blurts out before he can think about it too much.

He laughs relentlessly at you when you hide back into your arms, glad that his flirting still flusters you after all this time together.

Karma is also really soft when receiving physical affection from you, and his favorite form of that is in cuddling and hugs, especially during naps.

He naps a lot, and he’s so comfy and warm that you usually end up falling asleep for hours instead of that 5-minute power nap that he promised

Will definitely help you with your work if you wake up upset or worried about it— that is, if you don’t already wake up to work that’s completed and somehow forged perfectly in your handwriting, because he’s crazy like that

For poetry assignments, he would wax horrible poetry to you as a joke and you’d laugh about it together, trying to use tentacles and all those weird assassination-related words for rhyming.

“Your love is like a shattered bottle that has stabbed through my chest." Karma announces dramatically, putting an arm over his forehead and splaying out on your couch; he smiles brightly when he sees you giggle non-stop at his theatrics.

“That’s so lame, you expect me to believe you’re some English prodigy?” You tease him back, and he reaches out to poke your side and tickle you.

Only for him to submit something for class that’s exceptionally wholesome and well written. Korosensei would probably read it out loud in class, much to Karma’s chagrin, blushing like the tomato that he is; so unused to praise.

He’d try to recover by saying it’s because he has such a good muse, and now you’re blushing in the middle of class too…

Would still commute home with you, making sure to walk you to your door everyday you’re together. Mostly because he wants to spend more time with you after school, and because of his over-protective nature that causes him to worry about you relentlessly when you aren’t together.

You haven’t ridden the train alone in years, at least not without Karma accompanying you. The two of you ride on the mixed-gender trains so he can keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t get lost, and also so he can press up next to you when the car gets crowded.

He’d make sure to stand in a place where you can’t grab onto any railings or handles for balance, all so you can grab onto him instead. 😈😈😈

Karma posts a picture on his socials of you holding his hand on the train handle, just like this video from Puuung 퍼엉 .

Karma also really appreciates cooked meals from you, especially since he just used to cook his own food before.

Even if it’s microwaved or a low-effort packed sandwich with candies, the very act of being prepared food makes him feel incomprehensibly happy.

He’d cook for you too, whatever you wanted at any point that he’s available. Even if it’s the middle of the night and you want some fancy fillet mignon, or even if it’s just some trendy food you saw while doom scrolling that you off-handedly mentioned to him as being tasty looking.

He also loves spoon-feeding you teasingly, with a lot of pictures of you just him capturing your reaction to him bringing a spoonful of food forward.

He’s actually a boyfriend that knows how to take good, Instagram-worthy pictures, but he still keeps the ones of yourself that you hate because any picture of you is precious to him.

Keeps mementos of your dates, like receipts and movie tickets, and especially arcade tokens that he stole…

Karma would amp up his PDA game even more than before if he’s jealous, straight up kissing you in the middle of the mall if he sees anyone look at you for too long.

“Karma, we’re in the middle of the mall! Have some shame.”

“But I haven’t kissed you in years~”

“You literally kissed me just a few minutes ago in the department store???”

Lastly, no matter how long it’s been for you two, he will still always want to share an umbrella with you.

It’s gotten so bad to the point where you could never have more than one umbrella between the two of you, and if you were stuck outside in the rain without one, you’d have to wait for him to pick you up before being able to go back home.

The one point you both brought umbrellas, he immediately pauses.

“Uh…” Karma trails off, thinking about how to turn the situation in his favor. He immediately sees Terasaka and you swear you could see a lightbulb turn on over his head.

He immediately tosses the umbrella at Terasaka, the latter not being able to react fast enough to dodge, so the umbrella snaps in half upon contact with his skull.

“KARMA YOU SON OF A-” “Welp, too bad my umbrella’s broken. Can we share?”

You look at him incredulously, feeling a little bad for Terasaka, but overall amused at just how smitten Karma has to be with you to have done that.

“Let’s go home, you dummy.” You smile softly at him as he offers you his arm.

Karma grins back, a look of adoration ever-present in his mercury eyes, “Whatever you say, sweetheart.” ---END---

[bluecloudsandpinksnow]

I just read your thorns x reader and it's sooooo good. Hope you're doing fine and good since you just came back. Can i still add in my request of arknights lee x reader or courier x reader in the piles of request?

Hi, hi!! Thank you so much for the compliment and concern 🥺👉👈, I'm doing alright :DD

Of course!! I'll be finishing the two karma requests from bigbouquetfestival first, but feel free to share your request for lee or courier :>>> any specific scenarios or prompts? :D

[bluecloudsandpinksnow]

FREEDOM

OKAY I KNOW I JUST POSTED BUT now that the holiday break has rolled in and i can be free to con crunch and write

MWAHAHAHHAHA its time for an even more erratic schedule

gonna finish the karma hcs requests and then finish my long neglected WIPS for karushuu poly and ak phantom and hsr dan heng and rottmnt raph

here's the wheel decide which went to karma misc hcs THRICE IN A ROW WTH

[bluecloudsandpinksnow]

for i shall learn from flower and leaf (thorns x reader)

summary:

“Aww, and I spent so much time Thorns-proofing it with Shaw!”

He utters a noise of confusion, “Thorns-proofing? ¿Qué?" You raise an eyebrow at him questioningly, putting your hands on your hips to emphasize the sass of your reaction. Surely he was jesting? His sheer audacity otherwise would astound you.

“Why use such a demeaning term?” Thorns asks, followed by an amused huff of air.

“Not demeaning!” You exclaim. “Just, predictive. We both know how you are. Remember how the Doctor always reacts whenever they see you walk around all unkempt and messy, with the evidence of some explosion on you?”

He laughs, soft and light, “Mm. I see. Point proven.”

---

There are far more valuable things to an alchemist than the transmutation of lead into gold.

"Eu te amo porque todo o universo conspirou para que eu chegasse até você."

---

fandom: Arknights by HYPERGRYPH pairing: thorns x gn-operator! reader warnings: none word-count: 9.1k notes: - cross posted on ao3 under the same name, with smoother translation functionality using the hover-text option of HTML and CSS. I recommend you read it there for an easier experience! - due to the limited HTML for text posts on tumblr, the translations will be in the footnotes - some Spanish terms of endearment are gendered, and since I can’t apply a hover text for the alternative, I’ll just default to the feminine, but reader is still gender-neutral otherwise -  please enjoy! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

--- START ---

The Rhodes Island’s medical research department isn’t usually the first place normal people think about when choosing an appropriate place to hang around in.

Other than you, only a few other non-department members from Rhodes Island dare enter due to the wild and often hazardous experimentation that occurs there on a near-daily basis. There are deadly and unseen toxins which stain the deceivingly pristine-looking surfaces of the lab, as well as a few plates of inconspicuous food lying around — highly probable those are laced with an experimental venom — that are still irresponsibly unlabeled.

Your favorite morbid fact of the place was the constant, non-zero possibility of some poisonous gas floating around unchecked, ready to knock out any unfortunate guests or passersby; a fact that you were all too aware of due to an excess of personal experience.

Truly, such a place was only made lovely to you because of its eccentrically endearing residents. Regardless of the very unwise decision in becoming a regular at the ironically life-threatening medical labs, you aren’t so picky when it comes to where you stay — be it a raging battlefield or an insufferably quiet historical abbey — because as long as your dear companions are nearby, you’d happily accompany them wherever you may be.

At least, that’s what you tell the acquaintances and strangers who ask you why you continue to go there despite the clear hazards.

Unfortunately for you, your dearest and closest friends Weedy and Glaucus — and Blue Poison too, on her more confident days when she wills herself to approach first — can see right through you, and more often than not, you have to beg the former to not make it obvious to the brazen and loudmouthed Elysium why you frequent the toxicology section of the labs especially so; and especially despite your R.I. designations requiring you to be elsewhere at most times.

“Operator Thorns!” In front of the metal door to his personal lab, you announce his name dramatically, as one would an unfamiliar colleague although you two are anything but; giddy in your excitement to see him again after your latest long mission away from the landship. You even put your arms behind your back and straighten your posture for the extra theatrical flair once he slides open the door.

For as much as you cherished the rest of the members of the medical department, Thorns is different to you in some unexplainable way. You aren’t that much closer with him than you are with the others, but his companionship always gives you a sense of quiet comfort and the distinct lack of needing to perform socially. Around him, you can always be your authentic and bizarre self, and the same could be applied vice versa, where he’ll mindlessly listen to you prattle on and on about some new Arts-related theory of yours, before then offering you some weird concoction that you’ll probably consume in a heartbeat — with full trust and a lack of unnecessary questions such as ‘Am I going to die?’ or ‘Is this going to explode me?’

Thorns is… nice to be around, for a lack of better words.

So nice in fact that now, saying you ‘miss him’ is a severe understatement, and if Aak is anywhere nearby to have mentioned that to at this very moment, he would probably just outright stab you with his durian-flavored stimpack and crudely tell you to ‘steel your balls and stop lying to yourself, now go full speed into his face already—’

You try not to continue that thought right before talking to Thorns after a long while. If you keep that thought up when he finally opens his door, and when he looks at you with that constant fondness that disparities against his wry and sardonic greetings? Well, you might actually blurt out something stupid like how you think his golden eyes are pretty or that you daydream about holding his hand while you’re mid-dispatching a target during a mission?

No doubt about it, you’d rather give Ifrit full permission to blast away at you with no Shaw or fire protection in sight. The shame would kill you faster than the aforementioned pyromaniac’s flames could even try.

Shaking the thoughts out of your head, you call out to him once again, “Thooooorns!”

You bounce expectantly in place, now a little upset at the lack of his usual immediate answering to your presence — especially considering you’ve been gone for quite a while — and your previous excitement paves its way into anxiety, as you find yourself more and more worried as minutes pass by. Was he even inside? Did Glaucus feed you false information and get your hopes up?

“Thorns!” You shout, with concern strengthening its grip even further around your conscience. You press the call button next to the door, hoping the buzzing noise would pull him from what was actually just his absurd focus and that would be the end to your anxieties.

Well, in retrospect, Glaucus did offer to show you the daily log-in cards, and she isn’t the type of person to play pranks either.

Surely she would have known if Thorns had exploded himself in your absence, right?

Before you can catastrophize further in place, you notice that the door’s locking mechanism has not fully closed, meaning you can simply slide it to the side and enter. With that new knowledge, you decide to completely disregard proper laboratory safety rules, and any consideration for your own wellbeing, to briskly move aside the door and set foot into the room.

Immediately, the first thing you register is that it’s darker than usual inside, which either meant Thorns wasn’t actually in here, or that he was experimenting with a light sensitive compound and kept the lights off. Knowing him and his unbelievable work ethic, you assume the latter, and you also assume he might have accidentally knocked himself out with either the said compound or just straight up sleep deprivation.

You can at least hope for the second hypothesis as you stumble across his lab in the near darkness. Closure will probably execute you for missing out on the field robot debriefing that is supposed to happen right now, but she’ll throttle you once she finds out you skipped despite not even having met up with Thorns — who she owes tremendously right now for his equipping Lancet-2 with new anti-venoms that helped greatly on the field, and who she only allowed you to meet with in the first place because of said reason.

“Hey Thorns, are you alright?” You yell, hoping for an immediate response now that the metal, sound-muffling door was no longer in your way.

He doesn’t respond, so once again you ask into the darkness of the room, “Are you even there? Wh-” However, before you can finish your calling, you feel a sharp prick on the side of your leg, and immediately, your lower appendages go numb, leaving you helpless to tumble to the ground with a loud crash from the offending object following suit.

You cry out in pain as your forearms slam harshly onto the floor, “Ow! Ow- What the hell?” You’re glad that your arms are still in working condition, enough to have let you catch yourself when you fell just now. However, you notice the complete lack of feeling in your legs — sheer utter numbness that refuses to subside even as you try to move them around — and you become extremely disoriented; fear quickly builds up in your gut at your now helpless situation.

"¿Quién está ahí?"

Luckily for you, a familiar voice calls out in response to your ruckus, and the lights turn on, blinding you for a moment before your eyes adjust. You recognize the voice, and immediately, all your previous fear was abandoned immediately for your mind to return to the sheer excitement that you had prior to entering the lab.

Now extremely ecstatic, and somehow also forgetting your current situation, you yell back at the voice, “Hey!” You even try to run forward, but the signals of your brain can’t travel to the nerves in your legs, so you end up flopping miserably onto the floor once again, your chin nearly smacking against the tiles.

“Owww.”

Thorns turns the corner, with a look of surprise forming as soon as he sees you sprawled on the floor — sees your delighted yet pained smile towards his presence — and his eyes narrow slightly when he spots your legs unmoving below you in an awkward position. “¿Que paso-”

He then sees his toxin-coated sword on the floor next to you and immediately clocks what just took place as soon as he spots the patches of yellow substance present on your pant legs.

“¡Ay!” Thorns exclaims, immediately making his way towards you and kneeling down by your side to help you sit up. He mutters your name worriedly as he looks you over, trying to see if you had been affected elsewhere, if you’d been injured grave enough for him to make a mad dash to Warfarin for an immediate blood transfusion. He puts a hand on your shoulder to help prop you up, before then adjusting his arm to wrap around your back for support.

“Hi…” You say, sheepish and utterly humiliated as you have to lean back against Thorn’s forearm to stay upright, feeling absolutely no strength in the muscles below your hips.

Thorns adjusts your legs to a more comfortable, stretched out position, before questioning you, “What happened?” He smooths out the fabric of the pant leg, and wipes away the excess toxin with a new-looking clean cloth he pulled from his coat. You notice some of the substance wind up on his arm, but he doesn’t seem to be affected by it.

Figures. He’s immune to his own poison, because if he had — in the past — somehow ended up stabbing himself with his sword mid-battle while using Destreza, then he probably wouldn’t be here with you today, fussing over you and worrying about the long-term consequences this might have on your permanent leg health.

“I just went in here looking for you ‘cause you weren’t answering the door, and then I… bumped into your sword in the dark.” You try to explain.

Thorns stares at you with what you interpret to be stern eyes, and you can barely handle the shame, so you avert your gaze and try to balance yourself better on your own arms. However, your legs still don’t have any semblance of feeling in them, so you end up just falling back on his forearm, to which he reprimands you, “Oy, don’t try to stand yet.”

In a panic, you turn to look at him, apologizing profusely, “Sorry! I’m sorry. I didn’t… I was just worried, I was—”

Before you can sputter any more incomplete explanations, he interrupts you in your nervous rambling, “No, no.” Thorns utters hastily, his eyes softening in attempted reassurance while he rubs a small circle on your back with his thumb. “Es mi culpa, lo siento."

You get a little confused when you hear him apologizing to you, when it was your recklessness that led to you bumping into his sword. To urge him to continue speaking, you tilt your head to the side as he goes back to wiping the toxin from your pants with muttered curses under his breath at the stubbornness of the stains.

“I hope you can forgive me for my carelessness. I don’t have an antidote for this one just yet, so we’ll have to wait it out.” He says earnestly, wiping away the last remnants of the toxin from your pants with one arm while he supports you with the other. You stare back at him, trying to compute, wondering why he wasn’t displeased with you for irresponsibly endangering yourself with his weapon, although accidental.

“I wasn’t expecting anyone- No, regardless. This could have happened to me as well if I didn’t develop an immunity quickly, I should keep a tidier workspace.” Thorns expresses, accepting his fault in the matter before any excuses could come out.

You pause for a bit, registering his response before replying. “Well, maybe. I’m glad it didn’t happen to you then, but what were you doing in the dark, anyway?”

He puts the cleaning cloth down to the side and puts a hand on the back of his neck, and Thorns mumbles abashedly, “I— fell asleep. I left my sword here because I was waiting for the toxin to settle, and I haven't woken since… Well, I’m not so sure, but it was the first I’ve slept in a few days.”

It takes a while for you to process his words, as you get a bit distracted by what seems like a flush of color decorating the tips of his ears, but once you finally do, you realize your ongoing situation was an indirect result of him falling short on his promise to you to have better lab etiquette by keeping healthy work hours.

“Ehh! Have you been overworking yourself again? Can’t your experiments wait—” you trail off into reprimands and accusations, slightly irked that he had been disregarding his health and wellbeing in your absence when he swore he’d try to be better. You jab a finger into his chest as you admonish him, and Thorns finds himself a bit lucky to have his long bangs to hide behind at the moment.

After a few more statements from you of the importance of taking care of oneself, and your constant worrying for him, you notice that he seems to be deep in thought now, not really paying attention to your words anymore; looking exceptionally distressed as he stares at the puncture wounds on your pant legs and the yellowish stains that he can’t seem to wipe away with cloth alone.

“Thorns?” you ask, uneasy at the thought of unnecessarily troubling him.

He gazes back up at you, “I’m sorry… I’ve gotten you hurt because of my disregard for safety. What if I hadn’t been here?”

Thorns looks awfully guilty, like a subtler version of a sad wet cat begging for shelter in the rain, or a disgruntled sea urchin who just lost his favorite plastic cone hat to the tides. Yet, there’s an aspect to his evident distress at your injury — which he clearly feels at great fault for — that endears you, and you can’t help yourself in wanting to comfort him instead.

You let out a small, good-humored laugh, “Silly. You’re so silly.”

“Hm? ¿Por qué?” Thorns asks, confused at both your switch-up and statement, flustering a bit when you reach up a little behind yourself to ruffle his already unruly hair.

You turn your waist a bit more to look at Thorns directly and reassure him, “Hey, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” His expression betrays a little frown at your words, still irrationally worried about what his new toxin could possibly do to you, even if he’s already gone through several rounds of testing and should objectively know that the poison shouldn’t have any long-term or adverse effects.

Unfortunately for him, all objectivity seems to fly out the window when it comes to you.

“Nothing hurts, and if anything happens, you’ll be right here with me to help.” You attempt further to put his mind at rest, patting the top of his head softly. Thorns sighs in response, putting his hand on top of yours to lift it off his hair and hold it in place on your lap, and he concedes to you, “Perhaps.”

Delighted that he’s loosening up again, you emit a hum followed by a short giggle, “Now you know to clean up your lab better, and not put your sword where people could walk, right?”

A slight grin forms on the edges of his mouth at your words, “That’s right.”

You verbalize a subdued ‘yipee,’ and an intrusive thought enters your mind, travelling out quickly as words through your lips before you can think too much about them.

“Well, as compensation for now, you’re just going to have to carry me until my legs work again.”

His eyes widen at your request, and you immediately start regretting saying such a teasing statement that will definitely make you internally combust if he’ll actually follow through with your suggestion. Despite your own supposed dismay at his possible approval, Thorns is suave enough to save face and agree to your ostentatious proposition. “Sí, pues claro."

"If that is what you so desire, muñeca.” He replies, the once-subtle smile now fully forming at your behest. Your face burns up at the Iberian endearment, although you don't exactly know what it means to him contextually, outside of its base translation.

Thorns moves to a crouch, putting one arm under your legs and the other moving to the space on your back by your shoulder blades. The sensation of his arm between the underneath of your lower thighs and inner knees would have probably made you jolt, especially if your local nerves in that area weren’t currently asleep.

“¿Está esto bien? Good?” Thorns asks, and you give him a bashful nod as a reply. He hums in acknowledgement, running his hand down and across the small of your back, before returning to the previous position a little below your shoulders; deciding that would be much more stable. You try not to think too much about it.

“Make sure to hold onto me, then.” He takes a brief pause, before smirking, “Just in case, of course?”

In comparison to the other Rhodes Island melee combatants, Thorns may not outwardly look as strong, lacking the intimidating and bulky build of other operators such as Matterhorn or Hung. However, his five plus years of combat experience speak for themselves, and he wouldn’t be a master of Destreza if he had no strength to show for it.

With a low humph, he stands and easily lifts you up with him into a bridal carry, holding you close to his chest to ensure your slack legs don’t end up colliding with any of his lab equipment. You wrap your arms around his neck to help the both of you with balance.

Thorns stares at you with a silent query of whether he can start moving or not, and you chirp a quick “Mhm!”

While you can’t deny just how much more attractive he became in your eyes because of your current predicament — bridal carry and all — you hope he starts moving as soon as possible so he can put you down somewhere even quicker, because you’re sure you might actually erupt into flames with how hot your face is getting; you don’t think you can handle any more of this new proximity and touchiness without just straight-up declaring your inappropriate feelings.

As he walks, carrying you to the office area of his lab with barely any effort, you feel your face flush even more as you continue perceiving the intimacy of the situation. To hide the tinting of your cheeks, you shy away, turning your face to his chest and hoping he wouldn’t be able to see the red from his angle.

Also, you relish the feeling of being against him, but you’d rather straight up die right now than admit that to him outright.

Thorns, meanwhile, glances down at you trying to burrow into his chest and feels a weird spike of his heart rate that he has to try and calm lest you hear the speed of it from where you’re pressed against. He looks up and around the interior office of his personal lab, and his lips purse slightly in thought. He considers a more rational option on what to do with you for a brief moment, but then his own intrusive thoughts win and again, his objectivity flies out the landship.

He briskly walks over to his chair and sits down with you still in his arms.

Startled by the movement, you glance around, confused, as you assumed he would have put you down first elsewhere. “Uh, you only have— one chair?” You then realize it may be because of the distinct lack of available chairs, or even open surfaces that lack any space unoccupied by flasks and beakers.

“It’s to prevent Elysium from hanging around too long while I work.” Thorns replies nonchalantly, adjusting you to sit upright on his lap and then looking at you in the eyes as he normally would when waiting for you to start up a new conversation — as if he hadn’t just put the both of you in one of the most amorous positions two friends can be in.

“Oh, okay…” You mutter distractedly, clearly not knowing what to say to that, nor to this scenario you find yourself in.

Your discomfort seems to catch onto him, and he tries to adjust you further to give you more space away from his chest but still using one arm to support your waist so you don’t fall off of him. Thorns questions you, “Is this fine? ¿Cómodo?”

“Yeah. This is… It’s fine. Um, what about you?” you ask, wondering what he planned to do while having to take care of you — while he had you on his lap.

“I’m fine.” He states, brushing stray strands of hair away from his face with his free arm. “If you want, I can massage the pressure points in your legs to allow the toxin to circulate out of your system faster. Would that be alright?”

Wow. How straightforward of him, and totally to business. What on Terra were you thinking was gonna happen? Of course he wants to treat you first and foremost, especially considering his current occupation and interests. You briefly consider facepalming at your own racing thoughts, only if it wouldn’t alert him, that is.

Who the hell massages their friend’s legs while said friend is sitting on their lap, while still somehow remaining apathetic to the suggestiveness of the situation?

I guess that’s Thorns for you.

Peering to the side in thought, you decide that this might as well be happening, just so you can start walking again. Preferably towards your room, so you can start screeching into your pillows after this whole ordeal happens.

“Yes, that’s fine.” you say, like a liar — like you’re not going to be freaking out about this with Weedy later today, and like she won’t just spread that information to the rest of Rhodes Island and completely doom you and Thorns both to the interminable rumours.

Thorns starts by massaging the area around your injuries, working in silence except for the occasional hums, asking for permission to continue without saying the words. You agree every time, mostly because you can’t actually feel any pain — you can’t feel anything in your legs after all — but seeing him go through the motions while remaining cautious and respectful of your boundaries, flusters you unimaginably so.

You try to scan the room around to distract yourself, to find some weird colored mixture to inwardly wax poetic about as a diversion to your frenzied thoughts, but to look away from Thorns right now would be a crime to you both.

Hence, you resolve to distract yourself instead by fiddling with the tufts of his dark brown hair. He has most of it tied back as usual, but because of its tendency to frizz and dry up, many strands end up askew and move all over the place. It’s a good compromise for you to still pay attention to him without just sitting there awkwardly, and it isn’t as if you hadn’t previously fussed with his hair before this day.

On that note, a small smile graces your face when you notice the loose and messy braid adorning the right side of his hair. The one you tied for him before you left on your mission, when you noticed he kept having to brush his unruly hair out of his face during a random lab session where he humoured Elysium, who had asked Thorns to analyze the possible regenerative properties of a fallen strand from his beloved red patch of hair.

You air a pleasant croon at the sight, and Thorns halts marginally at the sound before returning to his ministrations, pretending as if he didn’t hear nor enjoy your delighted noise.

After all these weeks, he tried his best to keep it braided like how you did it.

That’s… sweet of him to do. You expected him to unbraid it as soon as you left, but it seems he’s taken a liking to it even now. He never struck you before as the sentimental type, but then again, he has always been someone to defy expectations and initial impressions.

You take the bunch of hair between your fingers, running them down gently along the braid and trying your best not to undo it. The smile on your face grows with you being unaware of your expression, and you don’t see the tender look that appears on Thorns’ face as he observes you interacting delicately with his braided hair; nor do you notice him completely stopping his work on your legs.

The tuft between your fingertips feels coarse and dry, and you swear you should gift him some oils or conditioners to help him manage this unruly beast on his head. You think about giving him your own favorites, but swiftly disregard that thought due to the romantic implications a gift like that would relay, and you don't want to risk anything at the moment.

Not when this is the closest you’ve ever been with him, even if he may not see it the way you do. Even if you’re just deluding yourself into this little corner of temporary heaven.

When you pull your hand away from the braid, you notice a dark gray powder — probably ash, you think — discoloring the pads of your fingers.

“Mm, hey! What happened to the inflammable hair net I got you?” You ask, remembering you had given him that self-made invention in order to prevent the many singes and near-full chars of his hair due to his wild experiments that often ended up exploding in his face.

Thorns pauses to think for a brief moment, before clearing his throat to sheepishly reply, “Perdóname, cariño. I… did not anticipate the magnitude of the splash… of a particularly acidic mixture.”

You look at him with a shocked and horrified face, before your expression morphs into a sad pout, “Aww, and I spent so much time Thorns-proofing it with Shaw!”

He utters a noise of confusion, “Thorns-proofing? ¿Qué?” You raise an eyebrow at him questioningly, putting your hands on your hips to emphasize the sass of your reaction. Surely he was jesting? His sheer audacity otherwise would astound you.

“Why use such a demeaning term?” Thorns asks, followed by an amused huff of air.

“Not demeaning!” You exclaim. “Just, predictive. We both know how you are. Remember how the Doctor always reacts whenever they see you walk around all unkempt and messy, with the evidence of some explosion on you?”

He laughs, soft and light, “Mm. I see. Point proven.”

You let out a haughty noise of victory and flash him a big, smug grin, with your nose scrunched and your eyebrows furrowed.

It’s moments like these with you that he cherishes. The back and forth bantering, the witty remarks, the sarcasm and the quips. Thorns could be as dry with you as he wanted to be, and you’d never take it personally. No matter how eccentric he’d be, you’d still stick by him through all his fixations and failed experimentations; even his disorderliness and often tousled hair wouldn’t turn you away from him.

He doesn’t know how long he stares at you after that. He just knows he likes the image of the sheer delight that reaches your eyes, the stifled giggling that you try to quell from laughing at your own silly theatrics, and the warmth of your body pressed up against him.

Thorns barely even notices the first few times you call his attention after a while.

“-ou listening? Everything okay?” You ask, the presence of a smile still faint on your lips, but a hint of concern showing in your eyes.

He takes a deep breath, “Sí, everything’s alright. I just-” Thorns takes a moment, thinking carefully about his next words, thinking about whether or not this is even an appropriate time to bring up a conversation like that.

“There has been something that I’ve been wanting to discuss with you for a while.” He decides to try.

You tilt your head to the side, acknowledging the request with a bit of surprise — with a small prick of worry — and you ask, “Okay, what is it?” You’re seemingly completely unaware of his intentions, and he can feel his resolve waver the longer he makes eye contact with you.

Is it really worth it to lose someone like you over his silly feelings that he couldn’t even make clear prior? What can he say — what can he do — to ensure the successful result that he so desires to have with you? He’s no Elysium when it comes to heartfelt, passionate speeches, and he’s nowhere near his friend’s level when it comes to flirtatious advances either. What little experience he has with romance is purely theoretical, researched from data banks during late nights in his lab when his thoughts wandered to you.

Most of all, how could he subject you to such a vulnerable and possibly uncomfortable heart-to-heart, when you can’t even remove yourself from his presence without assistance from him?

“Actually, olvídalo. I would prefer to have this conversation when you can walk away from it at any moment. But—” He gestures to your legs, still unfeeling — completely opposite to him currently.

“Hmm? Wait, why? Just say it!” You exclaim, confused as to why the conversation had to be stalled for when you could walk again. Thorns looks away from you, somewhere off to the side where he can focus on something that wasn’t you; something mundane and inconsequential that could help him gather his thoughts better.

“No, no importa. I can’t— I’d rather not say it right now.” He mumbles.

Your exasperation at his obstinate behavior grows, but whatever it is, he wants to say, it’s clearly important to him, so you do your best to encourage him to just spit it out already. “Isidro.” You assert his name, causing the hairs on the back of Thorn’s neck to stand.

“You can say whatever it is you have to say. I’ll see it through to the end. I promise.”

Thorns glances back at you, seeing the anticipation on your face as you eagerly await his words. He sighs, conceding to you, “Ay, pues… If that is what you desire, then I’ll oblige. Tell me at any moment if you wish for me to put a stop to it.”

Before you can say anything, he shifts his posture on the seat, adjusting your position as well in order to have you face him better. He gathers up every ounce of courage and sense that he can scrounge around for and utters your name like a prayer, with the reverence of a heretic begging for another chance from the divine.

“I’ve known you for quite a while now, and you’ve always been a very dear friend to me… However, I’ve been finding it more and more difficult to be without you, and I fear I do not see you in the same way I see our other companions.” Thorns states, trying to get the words out — quick and clear — before his anxiety causes him to freeze and before the realization can fully set in for you.

“I surmised that failure is definitely on the table as an outcome, and that I might lose your companionship as a result of these untoward feelings, and yet—”

He hesitates, finding it immensely difficult to meet your eyes. But, he knows he has to look, knows he has to see you figure it out for yourself. Thorns needs to relay to you as much sincerity as he can muster to assure you of his resolve, to ensure the best possible conclusions to the most terrifying experiment of his life.

“And yet, I can’t seem to help myself. Perhaps if you know, then I would not feel so strange at every waking moment that I am by your side.” He pauses, steeling himself once more. “When you are not even here, I still feel your presence in every aspect of my life, and I cannot rid my mind of the thoughts of you.”

His uncertain expression changes to a tender smile, with an adoration that reaches his golden eyes, gazing upon you as if you are the dearest thing in the world. It’s entirely possible that, to him, you are that and more.

“At any miscellaneous moment, I could just be transferring some liquids from a graduated cylinder to one of my flasks, then… I would imagine you there at the opposite end of the table, looking intently at the chemicals merging forms and properties, and anticipating a reaction with that blinding excitement on your face.”

Thorns brushes a strand of hair out of his eyes, ensuring — hoping — that he’ll see you look at him with that expression once again. Sheer, infectious positivity at the infinite probabilities you both can discover together. Wishing that you’ll grant him the blessing of the light you so endlessly shine.

“I think of you at every possible moment, and every time my pulse races so quickly, so unnaturally. Not even the adrenaline of using Destreza in battle — of those uncertain moments on the field where even the Doctor struggles to lead us to victory — or the total exhilaration of a sudden and successful breakthrough-” He stops for a second, taking a breath at the sheer sight of you, flustered yet in awe, having fully realized long before his next words what he already means to say.

“None of them could make me experience even a fraction of what I feel when it comes to you.” He says, causing a breath to hitch in your throat at his absolute earnesty.

Without thinking, Thorns reaches up to cup your face with his hand but stops himself before he can do so. “You inspire me to a terrifying degree, and you only fuel my motivations to learn, and grow, and excel. These past months, that’s what I’ve been tirelessly trying to understand.”

You make his heart skip a beat when, after a slow blink, you subtly lean into his palm, silently encouraging him to continue his passionate spiel and looking up at him with a small, growing grin, and ever-gentle eyes.

He continues to speak before the erratic beating of the pulse in his head can distract him. “Whatever this feeling is, I thought there must have been a scientific explanation for it. Perhaps I could have recreated the symptoms somehow, with some medicine or concoction, with the right mix of hormones or synthesized chemicals — with my alchemy.”

Thorns breathes in deeply, and you feel his hands shake as a shiver runs through him. “Something — mierda, anything — to explain how you affect me so vulnerably, to the incalculable degree that you do. I could never find the answer. I can’t even now, with you here, listening to me pour my heart out.”

You put your hand on his own as he continues to cup your face, faintly brushing his thumb across your cheek as if he couldn’t believe you were holding each other at that moment. His heart is terra figulina in your hands; yours to shape to your desires as you so pleased, and he can only yearn for your continued touch.

Thorns continues, “It is so daunting a task, to understand you, to understand what you mean to me. Sometimes I feel as if I’d be able to alchemize the secret to life itself before I could even come close to even fathoming the depths of my affection for you.” He lets out a light huff of air at his own expense.

“You are to me, the living gold that alchemists search for, the Philosopher’s Stone that creates the very beauty of life itself. My Fatima, mi tesoro.” Thorns feels his teeth chatter with the weight of the words that finally reveal to you his long hidden intentions; feels himself struggling to keep his composure at the sheer fervor in your eyes.

“And I often find myself questioning whether your presence in my life is a gift from the gods of Iberia that I have long since abandoned, because no science of mine can ever hold a candle to the divine you.”

His grand words strike the chords in your heart, feeling the beating pound loudly in your ears, as your face struggles to contort appropriately to the myriad of emotions his confession is invoking within you. Thorns uses such beautiful language to declare his affections, and you can barely process every striking line in your own disbelief at the profundity of his devotion.

“I would give you my heart, all that I am, if I could.” He begs. “If you’d let me.”

Thorns raises his other hand and places it under your chin, gently tracing against your neck and jaw with his fingers, holding and cherishing you as if it might be the last you’ll see of each other from this moment forward. Once again, he speaks, “In the simplest of words that I can express, in the language of that distant place I wish I could have called my home,

Me he enamorado de ti. Por favor, déjame amarte como te mereces."

And now, with his words exhausted and every aspect and part of his heart laid out bare for you to analyze, all Thorns can do is pray in quiet thoughts; a non-believer begging the gods for this one miracle, for this one last chance at heaven, when all rationale and logic can do nothing more to carry him forth so he must try to rely on faith.

You stare at him, seeing the desperation in his eyes, mixing with the boundless adoration and reverence he clearly holds for you, the one you always doubted to have ever had a chance of existing.

Thorns is right now, just as he usually is.

Straightforward.

Honest.

Intensely passionate.

He looks at your quivering lip, and you shake from the shame of not knowing how to respond to such a profound declaration of love. How can you hold a candle to a performance like that? What can you tell the man in front of you that would be on the same magnitude and level as his own wholehearted confession?

What would someone like Elysium say? ‘Bro, I like you too.’ You think, and immediately purge the thought of using him as an influence for serious romantic conversations.

You let out a nervous laugh, “I— Forgive me, I don’t have the words right now…”

It feels extremely awful, all the stumbling phrases mustering from your lips, stark in contrast to the extraordinary poetry that Thorns had waxed for you with all his heartfelt words and diction.

But this is Thorns, and you’ve never had to perform anything for him when you didn’t want to, and he wouldn’t do a thing to change that now. “That’s alright, I did say quite a lot. Know that I am not rushing you for a response, mi querida. It’s alright if you don’t reciprocate-”

He removes his hands from your face and you see shame and disappointment paint his features, but before he can continue his words, you immediately cut him off to make sure he doesn’t back out now.

“No! It’s not that, I do — I like — love.. You too, yeah?” You mumble, words suddenly so foreign in your mouth, but you grab his previously retreating hands and hold them in your own.

Thorns’ breath hitches, and he can’t help the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. You try to save face and convince him, moving one of your hands from his, so you can caress his face and trace his now-flushing cheeks; doing your best to relay in actions what you can’t in words.

“Maybe there is something I can do instead, as a better answer for now. That is, if you’d let me?” You ask, feeling tense and on edge once you realize what you want to ask from him, looking up at him bashfully through slow fluttering eyelashes.

He murmurs a low, “Hmm?” Leaning subconsciously into you, his anticipation and curiosity start building, with Thorns doing everything in his power to keep his restlessness at bay; to not just combust right then and there at your attempts at reciprocation and his embarrassingly desperate hypotheses at the next course of actions to possibly be taken by you.

Exhaling deeply, you gather your own courage and confidence, hoping to do your best to pay homage to his devotion by showing him how much he means to you as well. “May I?” You finally ask, gesturing to his alarmingly soft-looking lips with your eyes, tracing the edges of them languidly with your thumb.

You feel Thorns freeze under your touch, breath once again caught in his throat as he registers what you are asking of him. You prod a little more to assure him, leaning forward into his face, close enough for your noses to nearly bump against each other. You feel your face burn more and more at the proximity, but you can’t deny the sheer rage you’ll feel if either of you backs out now.

“Please, Isidro?” You beseech him, feeling his labored breathing against your lips, still hesitant, still unsure if he can close that distance which he narrowed so greatly with his words. Are you certain?

Though, Thorns can barely help himself anymore, not at this point, not when you’re looking at him with those expectant, anticipatory eyes. With your fingers tracing the lines of his lips, intent and impatient, yet still trying your best to wait for his response in this back-and-forth of yours.

Finally, you see the bump of his throat bob up as he breathes in deep once more. He gives you a slow nod of approval, tilting his head sideways to lean into you, shutting his eyes in preparation. Unwilling to wait any longer, you follow Thorns’ actions, pulling him in with your hand on his jaw and gently closing the gap between the two of you.

Your lips are soft against his, and Thorns feels all warm and tingly, heart thumping loudly, as the experience of your timid actions register in his senses. You squeeze the side of his jaw lightly as you try to deepen the kiss, and the innocuous action drives him up the wall, so much so that he cups your face in both of his hands to join in your efforts of intensifying the ardor.

The two of you test the waters for a while, pushing and moving against each other, no words or coordinated communication exchanged between the two of you outside of muffled vocalizations — grunts, hums, and the like.

Thorns kisses you as if he is actively learning from every small little detail of your movements and the noises you make, and to some extent, he’s a very fast and adaptable learner. Once he finds a better position to kiss you, or a more appropriate hand movement to augment the sensations you feel, then he’ll go for it immediately until his next shiny discovery; new things to apply for next time, when you make a new cute sound because of the right amount of his push and pull, or the added thrill when he runs his teeth on your bottom lip and you grip his shirt a little harder than necessary.

Completely breathless at this point and flushed red, you pull away slightly, just enough to breathe but with your upper lips still hovering on Thorn’s own; refusing to part from him for too long. He opens his golden eyes and you can feel the molten heat of his gaze, impatiently waiting for you to catch your breath so you can return to the kiss again.

When you finally press back gently against his lips, he feels you faltering, insecure in your movements and reluctant in trying to find new places to put your hands without making things awkward or painful for either of you.

Restless, and completely agitated that you haven’t gotten back to properly kissing yet, Thorns hoists you by your waist, shifting you upward on his lap so he can feel you pressed up against him more, practically having you straddle him for more proximity. You let out a surprised yelp against his mouth, to which Thorns just contently grunts in response. He guides your arms around his neck, and finally satisfied, presses his lips back to yours firmly with his eyes shut once again.

Now, instead of testing and learning, Thorns kisses you in a way you can only describe to be similar to his behavior in battle, precise and calculated, no miniscule movement wasted; every shift successful in driving you more and more restless and needy.

Holding the side of your face with one hand, and gripping your waist with another, you don’t know how long you two had kissed for this time, but by the end of it, Thorns is the one that has to pull away, out of breath and panting heavily from his own efforts.

You loosen your hold around his neck, choosing to take the moment to breathe as well, leaning against his forehead to appreciate him and this new dishevelled look of his. Lips parted, breathing heavily, face flushed a deep red, eyes unfocused for all aspects of sight except you.

“You’re so lovely like this.” You mumble against his lips, and you wonder if that’s all you’re getting for today. An intense, passionate kiss spelling the first of your new relationship with Thorns.

His eyes soften at your words, and during any other occasion, he would probably have some witty remark for you as a response. But right now? He’s still drunk on the experience of you. Thorns craves more, wanting to be closer, wanting this moment to never end. With all foresight and rational thought completely gone from him at the present, he hungers still.

“Again. Again— please, corazón.” Thorns begs, his eyes fervently gazing at your own. He leans into your forehead as well, your noses brushing against each other. You can feel his labored breathing on your lips as he waits — as he prays — to kiss you again.

“Okay.” You concede, because how could you deny him when he looks and sounds like that — when you’ve both waited for what seemed like centuries to finally share a moment like this with each other — when he beseeches you so ardently, as if you are his last lifeline, as if you were his aqua vitae.

With one hand still hooked around his neck, you take the other and run it across his face — with a brief caress up his cheek — and up into the strands of his unmanageable dark brown hair. He looks at you with growing interest for a fleeting second.

But what he doesn’t expect is for you to tug him downwards into you, by his hair, nonetheless. Thorns lets out a surprised but delighted grunt, before closing his eyes once more as you deepen the kiss. You feel him smile into your lips at some point, and while this experience is definitely less intense than the last one, it still makes you feel all tingly and warm; the butterflies fluttering around helplessly in your stomach as you continue kissing him.

Eventually, you both pull away, breathless once again, but without the remains of the hunger that overtook you both. You stare at each other for a little while longer in silence, both of you processing the intensely passionate events that just happened.

Breaking the silence, you can’t help but let out a few giggles, giddy and in absolute delight that — yes — that just happened, and you’re totally gonna keep doing that with Thorns in the future. You try your best to stifle your laughter, but you’re much too joyful and probably high off of the lack of oxygen right now to stop.

He lets out a soft and light chuckle alongside you, not devolving to incessant little snorts and guffaws like you, but laughing gleefully nonetheless — satisfying, like the sound of small, tinkling bells or the subdued pitter-patter of a gentle rain.

You chuff into the palm of your hand, unable to stop yourself from smiling as Thorns is just unabashedly admiring you, brushing strands of hair from your face and rubbing light circles on your lower cheek. You decide to gently bonk him with your forehead, your noses colliding with the action; to which he tenderly rubs his nose against yours, tickling you faintly and making you laugh further.

He huffs fondly, “Dios ayúdame-"

"Eres hermosa.” Thorns whispers, crinkles forming in the corners of his eyes as he can’t help his smile widening. You can barely formulate a proper response at all your giggly-ness, so all you can choose to do is blush and try to hide your face into his neck; to no avail, as his hand keeps your head in place for him to continue adoring you for as long as he so pleases.

He gives you soft pecks all over your face, starting from the tip of your nose and all around your cheeks, meanwhile trailing off affectionate mumbles of “Te amo, te amo…” in between kisses.

Eventually, the two of you calm down as you settle your head upon his shoulder, looking up at him with a loving twinkle in your eyes. He gazes back at you, content and ecstatic at how things turned out so well between you two. Thorns nuzzles the top of your head, and your interest turns back to the now-extremely loose braid in his now-extremely tousled hair.

“I’ll braid that again if it comes loose.” You mumble into his neck, beaming at the thought of it staying tied despite the intense kissing session you went through earlier.

He grins back at you, “I hope you do, preciosa. Perhaps you can re-do it right now?”

“Mmm, okay!”

You sit up again, straightening your posture on Thorns’ lap so you can get a better position to braid the front part of his hair properly. You untangle the tufts, removing the sea-urchin patterned hair tie that was previously used, wearing it around your wrists as you comb through his locks to smooth them out before re-braiding.

Humming a random tune and pretending you don’t see Thorns and his sickeningly sweet smile at your antics, you deem the strands of hair smooth enough to braid. However, right as you get to your second plait of his, “Hey! Don’t move, you’re gonna mess up my work.”

You scold him for moving his head downwards, nuzzling into your neck and shoulder, which was insanely cute — mind you — but which also ruined the neat first plait of the new braid.

“Pero estoy cómodo~” Thorns teases, to which you reply with a sigh, yielding instead to his unexpected cuddly nature. As soon as you finish, you tuck the braid behind his ear, admiring him for a moment, before giving him a quick peck on the cheek to sate your cuteness aggression. He simply chuckles in response.

Now having finished the braid, an air of awkwardness settles over you as you realize you have to talk about what to do next and how to proceed as — whatever you two are at this point.

“Well, what do we do now? Are we— Should we go on a date, or something?” You question, completely unaware of what to do next, of what to do when starting a new relationship with a guy like Thorns.

He replies to your query with a casual response and an immediate plan, as expected of him. “We could. I can take you dancing if you’d like. Ah— somewhere in Iberia, there’s a small town by the ocean that I used to find pleasant. I’m sure I could scam a chess bet out of Elysium and have him book us a villa by the beach. We can try their arroz à valenciana, or if you prefer something sweeter, perhaps the ensaïmada?” He rolls out suggestions so you don’t have to feel lost on what to do.

You put your hand on your chin in a thinking motion, leaning a little away from him to straighten your back. Thorns has to steady you by the waist because you nearly flop over from the lack of feeling that still afflicts your legs; when you let out an embarrassed giggle, he has to resist the urge to not just bite you right then and there.

“That sounds exciting! And I didn’t even know you could dance, could you teach me? What dances do you know, and— Gosh, my heart is beating so fast, this must be what Ceobe feels when it comes to food. Wait, aren’t your Iberian dances hard to learn? Uhhh, I’ve seen videos of the Flamenco-” You prattle on, giddy with delight at all the possibilities, especially one where you’d get to dance with Thorns, but your excitability left no room for him to reply with the speed of your words.

“¿Como?” He cuts you off, breaking his silence and looking at you with a mix of confusion and endearment. “¿Puedes repetirlo más despacio, por favor?”

You acknowledge his request, and start with the first and most important thing that you asked prior. “Could you teach me a dance? Something from your home?”

Thorns looks at you, feeling all tenderhearted and sentimental, and what else could he answer you with if not an agreement? How could he resist such an offer from his cariño?

“Of course.” He says.

You beam brightly at him, yet before you can go on another spiel or ramble on, a thought comes to your mind. ”But, now that I think about it— ” Thorns’ face falls a little at your apparent hesitation. “Aren’t you a bit mean to suggest dancing, when I literally can’t walk right now?”

Thorns lets out a loud, boisterous laugh. “Once again.” He rubs a circle on your knee as he emits another chuff of amusement, “Perdón, amor.”

He pulls you into a hug and nuzzles into your neck, whispering apologies mixed with flirtatious Iberian sentiments.

“What can I do right now to make you forgive me?” Thorns asks, looking back up at you with a faux expression of guilt terribly masking his amusement and mischief.

“Mmm, I can think of a few things~” You reply, tilting his face towards yours with a few fingers holding his jaw up, tracing lightly just a little below his lips.

A roguish smirk forms on his Thorns’ face at your oh-so-appealing suggestions. --- END ---

translations (in order of apperance): - ¿Quién está ahí? = Who's there? - ¿Que paso- = What happened- - Es mi culpa, lo siento. = It's my fault, I'm sorry. - ¿Por qué? = Why? - Sí, pues claro. = Yes, well of course. - muñeca/muñeco = doll - ¿Está esto bien? = Is this alright? - ¿Cómodo? = Comfortable? - Perdóname, cariño. = Forgive me, sweetheart. - ¿Qué? = What? - Sí. = Yes. - olvídalo = forget it - no importa = it doesn't matter - pues = well - mierda = shit - mi tesoro = my treasure - Me he enamorado de ti. = I've fallen in love with you. - Por favor, déjame amarte como te mereces. = Please, let me love you the way you deserve. - mi querida/querido = my dear - corazón = love - Dios ayúdame- = Lord help me- - Eres hermosa/hermoso. = You're beautiful. - Te amo, te amo... = I love you, I love you... - preciosa/precioso = precious - Pero estoy cómodo~ = But I'm comfy~ - ¿Como? = What? - ¿Puedes repetirlo más despacio, por favor? = Could you repeat that slower, please? - cariño = darling - Perdón, amor. = Sorry, love. credit: - Please visit Pixiv Artist Froth for the wonderful Thorns art that I used for the banner! Go check their page, THEY HAVE SO MUCH MORE ART FOR HIM AAAA-

end notes: - haysusmariosep... ang dami nun sa translations lololol - Nakaka-Juan Karlos Labajo, ERE, Chorus, Line 1. Ay Thorns, literally no one could make me hate you. Except maybe when you don't kill the freezing drones on time. But then again, that's largely my skill issue and not yours. Anw, Elysium can also get it and we can all hold hands together I guess? behind the scenes:

Ewan ko na LMAO, this is an impromptu holiday gift for my frend who convinced me to not skip pulling for Lodestar, and so I got him at the first 10 pulls with no pity. The conversation near-verbatim was:

Me: But he's not limited and I need to save… Frend: BUT HE'S HOT! YAN LANG KAILANGAN MO NA RASON, ANG POGI NIYA AND GWAPO BOSES, NOTHING ELSE MATTERS GURL, MALEKNIGHTS WOOOO!! Me: A. Oke, but only one 10 pull.

Meanwhile, Lodestar: appearing at the 6th pull

Also, my beta-reader, who shares the lovely experience of having been born and raised Catholic, experienced with me the tremendous amounts of Catholic guilt associated with the kiss scene. She's older, so she told me, while covering my eyes:

Bate: You shouldn't be reading this. Me: BUT I WROTE IT? ---

Hope you enjoyed! Comments and constructive criticism would be much appreciated, especially if you're a fluent Spanish speaker and have some corrections for me. Have a good rest of your day, whoever you may be! :DDD

And if you recognize certain references I made to other media, please do share in the replies! >:D

[bluecloudsandpinksnow]

Author, do you accept orders for fanfiction or only for Headcanons?

Hi! Sorry for the late reply, but I can do both! For fanfiction, I'll accept orders as long as it's only for a one-shot or just a short few-chapter series. (and I have to know the fandom lmao)

(Also, I've been working on the time-travel suggestion of yours, and can I ask if it would be okay to make it into a short fic instead? 🥺)

[bluecloudsandpinksnow]

Author, are you currently taking Headcanons?

ooh, i can definitely try!! i'm open to requests but maybe just for drabbles and headcanons for now~

so feel free to hmu!! >:DDDD

[bluecloudsandpinksnow]

we need more karma x asano x reader!!!

I AGREE WHOLEHEARTEDLY!!!!

I will do my best to toil away in the kitchens for these blorbos >:DDD

[secondlina]

What the flock?! such smart names!

Science should let more cartoonists name things. That how we got the thagomizer and the Rube Goldberg machines. Anyways! SHERLOCK CROWMES!!!!!

Check out my stuff!

✧Read Namesake✧ ✧Read Crow Time✧ ✧Store✧ ✧Patreon✧

[bluecloudsandpinksnow]

SO DELIGHTFUL!!! SO WONDROUS!!

I HOPE YOU WILL SEE ALL THE BEST BIRDS FOREVER AS A BOON FOR THIS MASTERPIECE.

[bluecloudsandpinksnow]

the triangle is the strongest shape (akabane karma x reader x asano gakushuu)

summary:

Studying together is a love language.

---

While you turn to Karma with the look of utmost betrayal, Gakushu faces him with frustration, “It was three points, you cretin! Besides, I’d like to see you keep rank one with the amount of extracurriculars I have to balance.”

Karma laughs mischievously as he sticks his tongue out at both of your disgruntled expressions. “Come on now, Rank 2. Let’s help our dearest Rank 4 with their educational struggles.”

“You are appallingly infuriating.”

“Aww, I love you too, Pres~” fandom: Assassination Classroom by Yûsei Matsui pairing: akabane karma x gender-neutral! reader x asano gakushuu warnings: none notes: - cross posted on ao3 under the same name - inspired by that one head-canon post on Tumblr involving these two that kickstarted my downward spiral, pls give this person appreciation (https://www.tumblr.com/jupiter-esque/709152335950200832/hiii-can-i-request-asano-x-reader-x-karma-in-poly?source=share) - also aspects of trephacard (castlevania season 1 esp!!) AND iron widow's trio were quite helpful in building the dynamic. - please enjoy! ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

--- START ---

After the hustle and bustle of the previous midterm week had passed, the school’s atmosphere had relaxed far too quickly for your comfort. Going from days of seemingly never-ending examinations to back-to-back class projects had left you on edge and hopped up on a near-illegal amount of caffeine.

Yet, after all that stress-inducing work, you were still antsy to do more. I mean, seriously, how does someone relax back into a schedule of only lessons after that assassination attempt of a school week?

You wouldn’t consider yourself an overachiever or workaholic by any means, but by God-

Seeing Koyama’s expression of absolute despair after you had wiped the floor with him on the biology examination had you beaming with vainglorious pride.

A score of 98 out of 100 to his measly 95.

Serves Mr. Memorization Monster right, you had thought. Whenever Gakushu would bring him around for study sessions, you always argued vehemently with Koyama against his reliance on memorizing the material over understanding the concepts.

Call it petty and childish, but that taste of victory and being objectively correct? Now that’s a drug you could get addicted to.

With Koyama down for the count, you have three people remaining on your ‘Kunugigaoka High School Hit List,’ and Ren Sakikibara was next in line to be absolutely obliterated by your spite-fueled rank climbing.

Ren has been a notably difficult target, but Korosensei never taught you to be a quitter. You had spent a good chunk of the last few years fantasizing about the flowery prose you would use in your future victory speech against the Japanese Virtuoso himself.

Now, all you needed was the scores to prove your dominance.

Hence your current situation: sprawled on a couch in Gakushu’s room, offhandedly reading through the annotated notes of the current lesson in your Japanese Folk Literature class. The sounds of quick typing served as your background noise as you reviewed your initial literary analysis.

You had mostly skimmed the sections you highlighted, having gone over them with Kanzaki earlier in the week. However, a rather confusing passage stopped you in your tracks; you had spent the better part of the past hour re-reading it in an attempt to understand the excerpt.

To no avail, you can’t seem to wrap your head around it despite all your best efforts. Disappointedly, you knew that it was time for you to swallow your pride and ask your two other targets for assistance.

Luckily, the two in question are currently in the same room as you. Quite convenient.

You lower your readings onto your lap and look around at your surprisingly tranquil surroundings.

Sitting at your front was Karma, who was on the floor beside you, plotting out motion time graphs for his Physics elective. He was rather focused, drawing out the lines for the acceleration-time section, so you decided to leave him be.

If you caused Karma to draw a jagged line across his worksheet, he would need to reprint it and draw all the graphs again. Knowing him, he might just end up poking you with the uncapped permanent marker in his hand as revenge.

You decide to bother Gakushu, who is sitting on the couch next to your reclining form. He had his laptop on his lap and had somehow not stopped typing for the past two hours that you three have been studying.

“Gakushu? Are you busy?” you ask softly, craning your neck to look up at him.

He doesn’t give you a verbal response, but you know he heard you as soon as the sounds of typing stop abruptly.

“Can I ask you for the historical context of this author? It might help me understand what he wrote.” you requested, flipping to the front page of your readings and raising them towards Gakushu.

He briefly glances at your paper, and you perk up in joy when he seems to adhere to your request.

“Thank you-” you start, before realizing he had just gone back to revising his Chemistry lab calculations.

Never before had you experienced such blatant disrespect. The audacity of this boy, all because he was a few grade points up on you.

Putting on your best, Irina-sensei-approved, pouty face, you reach forward and tap Gakushu’s knee.

“Aww! Please, it won’t take that long. Just a quick Google search?”

You look up at him with as much unrelenting cuteness as you can muster, but Gakushu doesn’t even give you the benefit of a glare. Not even you bonking your head lightly against his thigh had broken his concentration.

“If you truly need the information immediately, I don’t understand why you won’t just get up and grab your laptop,” he states coldly.

Unbelievable. Not even Karasuma-sensei was this much of a square. What made the electrolyte count of Japanese sports drinks more interesting to him than helping you?

“But Mr. President, your couch is so comfy. Its gravitational force is too strong!” you stretch out your limbs, leaving your arms to fall lax on Gakushu’s forearms.

He stops typing once more, and gives you a sigh, shaking his head. You smile up at him, vocalizing a mischievous “hehe.”

“I can assure you it has nothing of the sort. Why don’t you go bother Akabane instead.” Gakushu responds in exasperation, simply pushing your arms off of his while you cry out in complaint.

Karma, upon hearing his name mentioned, perks up with a ‘hm?’ and puts down his marker. You turn to look at him with faux dejection, noticing that he has almost finished his worksheet. He tilts his head at you in response, a mixture of confusion and amusement on his face.

“Whatcha say to them, Pres? Why do they look so sad?” Karma asks as he gathers up his graphing papers.

“Karma, he was being mean to me~” you whine, only for Gakushu to huff out air in irritation. “See! So cruel, I was just asking for help.”

In response to your silly antics, Karma snorts out a laugh. “Gaku-kun, aren’t you supposed to help out your fellow students in their education? You should be a good example.”

Gakushu groans in annoyance, “Akabane, don’t enable their childish behavior. They are just too lazy to get up and walk three steps to get their device.”

Upon processing his words, you shoot up in offense, moving to a quick sitting position while crossing your arms. You couldn’t understand why he couldn’t give you this short act of service.

“Gakushu! You’re so mean, I just wanted your help with this.” You frown, pouting with a little more anger. Karma’s lips pursed into a thin line as he glanced at Gakushu who had not stopped typing, seemingly unbothered by your distress. However, Karma doesn’t seem to say anything and goes behind the couch to put his graphs into his bag. Figures, he’d leave the growing tension for you two to deal with.

You let out a sigh of disappointment, “You know what, nevermind. I’m sorry for bothering you when you’re clearly busy.”

Swinging your legs off the couch, you awkwardly move back into your earlier reclining position and mentally prepare yourself to re-analyze the difficult Japanese excerpt again. However, right as you lift your readings towards your face, someone grabs the papers from your hand.

You look up in surprise, seeing Gakushu put down his laptop on the coffee table with one hand while he reads your papers in the other. After a brief silence, he speaks your name.

“You’re intelligent enough to analyze this regardless of historical context. I’ve seen you tackle more difficult prose than this one.” Gakushu states, giving you back the papers.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you try to process your next action. Were you supposed to preen at the praise, or be insulted at his lack of understanding of your intentions?

“Gaku-kun, don’t be so dense. I’m pretty sure they just want us to study together.” Karma finally cuts in, leaning on the couch’s backrest behind you and Gakushu.

You look up at Karma with silent thanks before clearing your throat. “Yeah, that’s what I wanted. Look- I’m really glad that you think so highly of me, but this is genuinely stumping me and I just wanted your guys’ help.”

Gakushu and Karma gaze at you silently, both processing your words with deep thought. You decide to continue and get your piece out, hoping to smooth over the tension you’ve created.

“I value your guys’ opinion, okay? Talking about these things with two of the most intelligent people I know really helps me understand them faster. Besides, we’ve been having non-stop study sessions for the past two weeks. Yet, we’ve barely spent any time together that wasn’t just an individually focused study period.”

You cover your face with your papers, feeling sheepish about your sudden vulnerability. The room is silent, and you start wondering if it’s time to back-pedal and try to avert course.

Once you gather enough courage to look at the two boys, you first see Gakushu give you a troubled, guilty look.

“I apologize for being so indifferent. I- I didn’t mean to disregard your needs.” 

Upon meeting your keen, curious stare, Gakushu pauses for a moment and looks away, flustered. He takes a moment to recollect himself before continuing, “You’re usually so self-sufficient, and so I unfairly assumed you were simply just fooling around to get our attention.”

“Well, that last part is kinda true, but I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted your help,” you replied softly, cautiously reaching out for Gakushu’s hand in an attempt to give physical comfort. To your elation, he reaches out to take your hand, keeping yours in a gentle grip while moving to rest your intertwined hands on his lap.

Karma, who for the past few minutes chose to keep quiet while the two of you worked out your feelings, let out a big sigh of relief that he didn’t know he was even holding in.

“Geez, you guys sure know how to make things more dramatic than they need to be.” he voices, wiping away an imaginary sweatdrop in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“Hey!” you can’t help but smile as you reach up to playfully swat Karma’s shoulder with your note-holding hand.

The redhead dodges your papers with ease, laughing softly as he continues to tease, “Did you really need to put us through that soap opera just to ask for help? So theatrical of you~”

You let out an impish “hmph!” in response to Karma’s jests, choosing to ask Gakushu for support with a light hand squeeze and your best puppy-dog eyes.

To your chagrin, however, he simply shakes his head with a small grin. “Unfortunately, Akabane is right. That was a rather ostentatious way of asking for our assistance.”

Karma lets out a boisterous laugh as your face turns red. He even has the audacity to reach out and pinch your tomato-colored cheeks as you wallow in your shame.

“Ehh! Why are you two ganging up on me now? Just help me already! How else am I beating Ren and catching up to you two?” you whine light-heartedly, grabbing Karma’s wrist so he stops pinching your cheeks.

“Huh? Is that your motivation? Gee, I didn’t realize that was why you were on a ranking warpath.” he asks, finally moving his hand away from your face and straightening up.

“Ah- Yea, maybe? Ehe,” you utter, still reeling from the mortification of the previous topic.

Gakushu puts a hand to his chin, analyzing your statement. “Hmm, that does make sense. I thought you had just wanted to prove Koyama’s studying method wrong, but if we take into account your history, you’ve actually been slowly outranking the Virtuosos throughout the examinations.”

“You’ve already outranked Koyama? Hah! No wonder he’s been such a sourpuss lately.” Karma exclaims, moving around the couch and grabbing his practice problems from the coffee table.

“Yeah! Didn’t you guys see my name above his on the rankings board?” You question, amused at the thought of completely ruining Koyama’s week with your complete, and utter victory.

“I did,” Gakushu pats your head with his unoccupied hand, “Good work, please keep at it and go humble Ren.”

You preen at his praise, heart pumping and even more motivated to dethrone Ren Sakikibara.

“Ehh, sorry, I didn’t see. All I need to know is that I’m still above Gaku-kun over here.” Karma admits, seemingly completely guiltless about his offense to you both.

While you turn to Karma with the look of utmost betrayal, Gakushu faces him with frustration, “It was three points, you cretin! Besides, I’d like to see you keep rank one with the amount of extracurriculars I have to balance.”

Karma laughs mischievously as he sticks his tongue out at both of your disgruntled expressions. “Come on now, Rank 2. Let’s help our dearest Rank 4 with their educational struggles.”

“You are appallingly infuriating.”

“Aww, I love you too, Pres~”

Gakushu rolls his eyes as the redhead blows him a kiss, untangling your hands to reach out for his laptop.

“Scoot.” Karma taps your lower leg with his rolled-up problem set paper.

You lazily raise your head at him, “Mmm, nah. Maybe, if you were nicer, I’d let you sit with us.”

“Come on, move.” Karma starts incessantly whacking your knees with his Math worksheet. You kick back at his arm halfheartedly.

“Alright, don’t move. Fine by me.” he seemingly concedes, halting his paper-swatting assault on your legs—

Before plopping his butt on your outstretched legs.

“Hey!” You immediately struggle against his weight, “Hey! Move off, you're crushing my legs.”

Despite your best efforts, you can barely lift him off of you in your current position.

“Nope, these are the terms you agreed to, sweetheart~” Karma teases.

Still kicking and flailing, you call out to Gakushu for help, but he only goes back to work despite the disturbances. “You’re heavy! Gaku-kun, please get him off me.”

“Akabane, please refrain from causing bodily harm to our partner.” Gakushu requests with a hint of amusement present under his exasperation.

Karma groans but unenthusiastically complies nonetheless. You kick at him in playful revenge once the circulation returns to your legs, and he makes a mocking face at you before setting down his rolled-up Math worksheet on the coffee table.

“Come on, at least move up. I don’t have space.”

“Nooo, if I move up any further Gakushu might push me off the couch.” You protest despite Karma’s expectant looks.

Luckily, Gakushu cuts in, “I would do nothing of the sort.”

You look up at him in surprise. “Eh?” You breathe, waiting for him to continue. He responds by moving his laptop forward and patting his thigh, signaling for you to lie down on him.

Karma shares a surprised look with you before quickly encouraging you with wild hand movements to not pass up the rare opportunity where Gakushu initiates physical affection. You move up to rest your head on his lap despite your reddening face, and when you glance up at the strawberry blonde boy, you see a faint hint of red light up his cheeks as well before he clears his throat and continues typing.

After shaking off the brief shock, Karma finally gets to sit down on the couch. “You can stretch your legs over mine, I’m just gonna read your excerpt so we can finally help you with it.”

“Oh, uh- okay? Thanks,” you say, flustered at the close proximity to your partners. “Let me get them.”

You recover the papers squished between you and the couch and hand them over to Karma. He proceeds to start reading them, and the three of you fall into an easy silence.

—

Well, as easy of a silence as you can maintain, laying there with absolutely no clue what to do while in between your two preoccupied partners.

Karma is still reading the passages on the paper, however, his idle hand had started tracing circles on your ankle at some point. Despite your burning face, you still feel too meek to move or say anything about it.

Gakushu on the other hand, has moved on to his student council work, reading through club constitutions with his left hand scrolling the documents with the trackpad, while his right is combing absentmindedly through your hair.

Despite being physically frozen, your mind is overclocked with the proximity and their casual ministrations. Gakushu and Karma are much too uncomfortable for any overt PDA outside of hand-holding, and you’ve been so busy with schoolwork that you three rarely even have the chance to be physically affectionate in private.

Well, you suppose there has to be a start for everything. Still, you wish you couldn't hear your heartbeat so loud in your ears. You want to be able to relax and enjoy the rare domestic moment with your partners.

They aren’t really making it easy for you, though.

“Hey, hey. No falling asleep now. You still have to defeat Ren to havee any chance at beating us, remember?” Karma gives your leg a double tap to catch your attention.

You jolt, “Wait, eh- Did you say something before that?”

“Yeah, I was asking for which passage you didn’t understand,” Karma states, looking at you in anticipation.

“I- Uh.”

You were trying to formulate a response, trying to remember what exactly you even wanted their help with. But Karma started tracing circles around your inner calf and Gakushu was lightly scratching your scalp with his fingertips, leaving you to do nothing but gape and stutter.

“Hey, sweetheart. You alright?” Karma asks curiously, as if it isn’t clearly obvious that you’re currently flustered.

Laughing awkwardly in response, you resort to covering your face before Gakushu notices that you are as red as Karma’s hair. “Haha, I’m fine,” you mutter into your palms, though the sound is muffled.

You peek out from in between your fingers just in time to see realization dawn on Karma’s face. He gives you a sly grin, now tracing the circles on your calf with more intent.

“Gaku-kun, it seems like we haven’t been the best boyfriends. Look how red they are, we aren’t even doing anything that scandalous yet.”

You let out a little squeal and cover your eyes one more.

“Eh! What do you mean yet? And no, you’re great boyfriends! The best! Just- I’m not- Not used to this.” you stutter out quickly, lowering your hands to uncover your eyes.

“If that’s the case, we’ll make sure you get used to it.” Gakushu gives you a casual head pat, as you look up at him. His heartfelt gaze combined with your comprehension of his statement causes you to shrink into his side to hide your face further.

“I- ugh! You two, you’re gonna kill me here,” you grumble.

Karma laughs loudly and you feel Gakushu vibrate with a chuckle, “Dying from too much love? Now that’s truly a modern-day problem, dearest~”

Comically peeved by his remark, you turn away from Gakushu’s side to glare at Karma, who simply waggles his eyebrows at you in response.

“Anyway—” you start, abruptly cutting yourself off when you feel a ticklish sensation at your feet.

You kick wildly, trying to get away from his hands. “Karma! Stop that- haha! Stop!”

Gakushu quickly lifts up his laptop to avoid your flailing limbs, and you end up falling off the couch from your frantic movements. You roll onto the coffee table with enough force to displace the items placed on it, forcing Karma to get up quickly and check on you.

The panic starts as soon as you raise your head and see Gakushu’s water tumbler topple over.

With the quickest reflexes you can muster, you dive for the bottle before it can hit the floor.

“Gotcha!” you exclaim, catching it just in time.

To your surprise, the tumbler is heavy, as if the water inside was barely depleted. Karma seems to pick up on your realization and raises his hand to his mouth in faux concern. “Uh-oh.” He side-eyes the strawberry-blonde boy on the couch.

Gakushu stiffens up, registering what you two have discovered. He tries to play it off, continuing to type despite knowing what’s coming next for him.

“Gaku-kun?” you smile sweetly at him.

“Mm.”

“When was the last time you drank water?” you question, setting the bottle on the table and standing up to walk over to the couch.

“... I’ll drink some as soon as I finish reviewing the Debate Club’s renewed bylaws proposal,” Gakushu replies curtly, not wishing to elaborate further.

“Gakushu. Go drink water, now.” You demand sternly, tapping your foot on the floor. Karma stands next to you and leans over the strawberry-blonde boy’s laptop.

“Yeah, Pres, it’s not like their constitution will run away while you aren’t looking.” he jokes, using a finger to push down the laptop screen.

Gakushu tugs the laptop away, “Just let me finish this, it won’t take long.”

Despite his attempt to ignore you two, the both of you continue to stare at him expectantly. You have half a mind to just start telling him off again for neglecting his health.

However, before you can speak, Karma shrugs and walks away. “Whatever.”

You almost get annoyed at the redhead’s disregard for your shared partner’s health, until Karma signals something to you as he’s walking behind the couch.

‘Play along.’ he mouths, getting into position.

Not wanting to foil his plan, you put on a stern expression and put your hands on your hips. “Gakushu, what did we tell you about taking care of yourself?”

“I know, I’ve been keeping it in mind. I just got carried away today,” he replied, still averting his gaze and typing incessantly like a man on death row.

You crouch down to put your hands on his laptop and push the screen down, “Please look at me.”

Upon being forced to look you in the eye, Gakushu falters and loosens his grip on his laptop. You take the moment of weakness as an opportunity to place it gently on the couch beside him.

“Gakushu?” you ask softly, leaning in closer.

“Yeah, I know.” he shuts his eyes and exhales, bowing his head to meet your gaze once more.

Gakushu doesn’t notice you glancing towards Karma who is now positioned right behind him.

You drop the act and smile wickedly, “Sorry for this.”

Karma quickly dives behind Gakushu to scoop him up by his armpits. Meanwhile, you turn away from him and take hold of his legs, propping them up on your shoulders. “Hah?” your victim yells out in surprise.

In perfect synchronization, you and Karma lift him and start hauling him downstairs to the kitchen.

“Release me, you ingrates!” Gakushu shouts.

“No can do, Pres!” Karma responds, howling with laughter as you run down the stairs.

You can’t help but giggle at the situation, “Not a very polite thing to call your partners, Gaku-kun!”

Right as you reach the bottom of the stairs, Gakushu manages to struggle enough to send the three of you tumbling down into a tangle of limbs, complaints, and giggles.

Gakushu tries his best to untangle himself from you and Karma, but the two of you are much too amused to let go of him and get off the floor.

Eventually, he stops struggling and lays back down with you two on both sides of him, pinning his limbs down. “Never do that again,” he demands tiredly.

“Only if you promise to never neglect your health again!” you tease, getting close to his face and staring giddily, unable to control your smile.

Karma follows in tow, leaning over Gakushu’s face, “Yeah, Pres, can’t make demands without giving something in return~”

Gakushu looks at both of your grinning faces, exasperated at the two imbeciles he chose as his romantic partners. After a brief moment, rolls his eyes in faux frustration, before letting out a chortle of amusement, “You two are unbelievable.”

The three of you devolve into a series of giggles, snorts, and chuckles.

After you three calm down, you lay your head on Gakushu’s chest and look up at him, “But you still love us right?” Karma reaches over to pull you into a closer hug and settles his chin into Gakushu’s neck.

Gakushu smiles softly, answering your question confidently as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Of course I do.”

---END---

end notes:

motivation has returned full force like koro-sensei flying to hawaii at mach 20 (idk if that allegory makes sense LMAO)

was thinking of a final scene where Gakuho walks in on these buffoons cuddling on the floor at the bottom of the stairs, but nah, wanted to end it on a soft note

have a gold comment from my beta reader, she puts up with so much: (Regarding Karma's circle tracing) - PUTANGINA MO GAGO, HINDI TO LARO, SERYOSOHIN MO TO, PUSO KO YUNG NAKA SALALAY DITO, TARANTADO

on a last note, i've been rereading Iron Widow by Xiran Jay Zhao cause i just got Heavenly Tyrant, and i am this close to writing an au with karma and gakushu in that universe THIS CLOSE-

anw, thanks for reading! let me know your thoughts if possible, and constructive criticism is much appreciated

pls stay safe and have a good day :DDD

[jupiter-esque]

Hiii, can I request asano x reader x karma in poly relationship scenario/headcanons? I want a lot of fluff pls

Note: omg I've been dying to this awee, Btw Fem pronouns are used <3

...How?

How did you three even happen??

Class E is flabbergasted.

Honestly, they didn't think Asano was ever going to be capable of removing that stick up his ass, much less for you and Karma of all people.

But your trio is the ultimate power couple of the school and koro-sensi is fangirling hard.

Since Asano is the son of the school principle when I say power couple I mean power. Couple.

Karma likes to joke around and use that as a threat to the rest of the students so -

Both the boys argue a lot so you're the glue that makes this relationship stick.

Doesn't mean you're ever less appreciated.

It also doesn't mean that the two don't love each other dearly.

They love spoiling you.

Definitely make it a competition to see who can one up the other to "win" your heart once more.

It's all in good fun and both know that they are just as much loved and cherished as the other to you.

But still, Karma is going to win that ungodly sized plushie for you at the carnival fair.

Yes. Still Asano will take you out to the most extravagant dinners he can muster.

It's their love language, besides being annoying of course.

Other than that they are so. cute. Together.

Your camera roll is filled with pictures of them cuddled up and asleep.

Who knew Asano could be a little spoon when you're not around.

Karma constantly teases him about it only to be kissed to shut up.

Study datesss.

Asano refused to have slackers as loving partners.

When your in public there'll be next to zero pda besides like hand holding.

Some people may even question you three are even in a relationship rather than just a very good friendship.

That is until they see Karma poking at you and Asano nagging at him like a married couple.

In private it's a whole other story.

Cutesy couple energy to the max.

They still argue tho.

"Put them doWN-"

"noo~" :3

Emotionally constipated + extremely touch starved = very clingy boyfriends

With one another and with you espically.

Both Like feeding u and each other but in private.

They don't look it but domesticity is the way to their hearts.

Easily jealous obviously but they have very peculiar ways to go about their jealousy.

I'm talking thinly veiled threats of murder kind of ways.

They aren't whiny, very confident and powerful personas. If anything they can be quite mean.

Evil even.

But they love youu~

(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

[bluecloudsandpinksnow]

this really inspired me to write smth, thank u for doing this!!!

[solarisarts]

i really liked this chibi from the citlali trailer so i tried my hand at drawing it~

[solaris-lux]

all the things that make it warm

TITLE. all the things that make it warm

SUMMARY. You thought Casey had taken to the room quite well, but then, every night, without fail, he would wake one of you, face scrunched up in distress as he asked if someone could keep him company until he fell asleep.

“It’s a new space,” Leo said after the third time it happened, nuzzling his snout against your temple in a soothing gesture. “The last base was all Case knew, it makes sense he’d be homesick. Give him some time, mi vida.”

And you try to. Really, you do.

-

In which you’re worried about Casey adjusting to the new resistance headquarters and Leo holds your hand through it all.

RATING. general (or teen, i guess, if only because an unmarried couple share a bed lmao)

WORD COUNT. 1.5k

RELATIONSHIPS. Leo/Reader, Casey Jones II & Reader

WARNINGS. none that apply

TAGS. No use of Y/N, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Reader, Established Relationship, Krang Invasion Timeline (TMNT 2018), Parental Reader, Parental Leonardo (TMNT), Leonardo Acting as Casey Jones's Parental Figure (TMNT), Future Leonardo (TMNT), i think this counts as family fluff??? but it's bittersweet due to the Circumstances, mostly Casey-and-Reader-centric at first but Leo's there i promise

AUTHOR’S NOTE. the very first leo/reader i ever read for rottmnt had them be parental to casey jr, and it left its mark on me if you couldnt tell

btw, Leo is 27 here (also, pre-arm loss), Casey is 4, and Reader’s age is mid- to late-20s

(title is from ‘things that make it warm’ by cavetown)

The new resistance headquarters is a downgrade for many reasons. There isn’t enough space to give each member a bed, much less a space for that bed, especially one in Raph’s size. Then the infirmary's ceiling collapsed two weeks into the ingress, forcing you and your med team to relocate to the war room as a temporary set-up. And now Donnie and his engineers report that heliplane production is stalled until they can rebuild the heavy machinery they had to abandon during the emergency evacuation.

Overall, it’s taking a while for everyone to settle in and stop missing a home you can’t return to, not without the promise of Krang zombification or worse.

The one having the hardest time adjusting, though, is Casey.

Because space and privacy are a privilege a resistance can’t afford, his new room is a storage closet attached to the room you and Leo took as your own. The decision makes sense, all things considered. You both agreed that keeping Casey’s quarters nearby was non-negotiable, and putting yourself between Casey and any possible threat that would try to hurt him while he slept calms the raging beast named ‘parental instincts’ in you. So, you and Leo furnished his room to the best of your abilities, and Casey gave you both a hug and cheek nuzzle for your troubles.

You thought he’d taken to the room quite well, but then, every night, without fail, he would wake one of you, face scrunched up in distress as he asked if someone could keep him company until he fell asleep.

“It’s a new space,” Leo said after the third time it happened, nuzzling his snout against your temple in a soothing gesture. He was at Casey’s bedside for barely five minutes before sliding back into your bed — which is a mattress on the floor — and telling you Casey was out like a light. “The last base was all Case knew, it makes sense he’d be homesick. Give him some time, mi vida.”

And you try to. Really, you do. But it’s been a month since it first happened, and Casey doesn’t even have to wake you anymore since you’ve learned to expect him. Tonight, when the door to his room creaks open like clockwork, you’re already sitting up in bed and turning on the lamp. You don’t have to worry about waking Leo with your movement since he hasn’t turned in for the night, still discussing tomorrow’s mission logistics with his brothers and Draxum.

It takes a while before Casey steps through the door, but when he does, you see he’s clutching Doctor Hugginstein to his chest (which isn’t new) and there are tear tracks trailing down his cheeks (which is).

“Oh, kiddo,” you coo, arms stretching out toward him. “C’mere, sweetie.”

Casey takes your words as the invitation they are and leaps into your hug, burying his face into your chest. You let out a small ‘oomph ’ as he knocks the breath out of you, but at four years old, Casey isn’t as heavy or tall as he’s supposed to be. When he crawls onto your lap, he’s too light, and you have to force the rage off of your face. You don’t want to scare Casey, don’t want him to think your fury is aimed at him and not the Krang.

His hitching breath knocks you out of your thoughts. “I-I tried—” Casey tries to say before a hiccup cuts him off. “It was too—”

Without thinking about it, you tuck his head under your chin and start rubbing his back. “Shh, take a breath first, Casey. I’m right here, it’s going to be okay.”

You spend ten minutes consoling him before Casey’s tears start to peter out, his breathing coming close to something even and normal, and it’s even later after he’s calmed down when you finally ask him, tone as gentle as can be, “You wanna talk about it?” 

When Casey only shakes his head and hugs you tighter, you decide not to press.

“You wanna go back to your room?” You barely even finish the question before he shakes his head again, this time more adamant. “Okay, that’s okay. How about this: you stay with me and Leo tonight, and tomorrow, if you’re up for it, you can tell me what’s wrong. That sound good?”

Casey pauses, considering, before he pulls away just a bit to look up at you and nod. “Yeah, th-that sounds good.”

”Good,” you say, gently wiping Casey’s dried tears away now that you can properly see his face. “C’mon, let’s get you settled in before your sensei comes and hogs the bed.”

That gets a giggle out of Casey, drowning you in overwhelming fondness at the sound. You press a kiss to his forehead to release some of that affection before sliding him off your lap and onto the middle of the bed, keeping him in your embrace all the while.

Pillowing his head on your arm, Casey turns to lie on his side to look at you. “Doc?”

You stifle a smile at the title. Despite the family’s best efforts for Casey to call each of you ‘uncle’ or ‘auntie’, he still can’t help but parrot the way the resistance members refer to you all. Clearing your throat to hide your chuckle, you softly ask, “What’s up, kiddo?”

“Can I have a song, please? Just ‘till I’m sleepy.” He asks, hugging Doctor Hugginstein tight. He looks hesitant as if you’d ever deny him anything.

Smiling, you say, “Always, kiddo.” And then, just to make him laugh again, you start to sing Jupiter Jim: The Musical’s opening number.

“Noooo, not that song!” Casey whines between giggles. “The cradle song, the one with the stars.”

”Ah, that song.” You exclaim in mock-realization. “Why didn’t you say so!”

Casey pouts, and for all that Leo isn’t his natural father, you can’t help but think they furrow their brow the same way. “Okay, okay, kiddo, settle down,” you say and you boop him on the nose just to hear him giggle again. When his face smoothes out, you start singing, but you don’t even make it to the second cycle of the chorus before Casey’s eyes have fluttered shut.

You’re finishing the lullaby, brushing back Casey’s bangs from his face as you do, when Leo opens the door without a sound. He jolts when you make eye contact, obviously not expecting you to still be awake, before he takes in the scene. Leo’s face softens when he sees Casey asleep in your arms, but you notice the worry and confusion in his expression as well, most likely wondering what could’ve been bad enough to have him unable to sleep alone.

On silent feet, Leo moves toward the bed, removing his knee pads and belt along the way. He props his sword against the wall near his bedside—keeps it within arm’s reach like he has every night since he was 16 years old—before sliding under the covers and curling an arm around your hip to pull you close. “Nightmare?” He whispers into the sliver of space between your faces.

“He wouldn’t tell, but yeah, I think so. Got him to agree to talk it out with me tomorrow though.”

Leo purses his lips, and you already know what he’s going to say. “I can stay with y—”

“No,” you insist, stern but not unkind. “Casey knows you have that recon mission. He wouldn’t want to take you from that.” At your words, Leo frowns, his love for his family and his duty to the resistance vying for supremacy. You press a thumb to the middle of his brow ridge and smoothen out the crease forming there. “Watch out, handsome, your Raph chasm’s showing.”

Just like with Casey, your words pull a laugh from Leo. “Oh god, do not remind me.” He chuckles, silent so as not to disturb the boy between you.

Joy is a wonderful look on Leo, his peals of laughter making you glitter in delight in turn. Then, as an added nudge to ease Leo’s nerves, you say, “Don’t worry about it, I’ve got this.”

“I know you do,” Leo says, eyes going soft and sweet as he looks at you. Gently, he pulls your hand—fingers still pressed against the middle of his brow ridge—to lay his cheek against your open palm. And when he kisses the pulse point on your wrist, he makes you feel like the answer to his prayers. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

“Of course, only the best for my champion.” You tease, charmed by Leo’s responding chirp.

“I missed you today.” Leo keeps nuzzling into your palm, twining his fingers with yours. “Wish I had meetings with you instead of Barry. We’re getting sick of each other, more so than usual.”

You giggle, and when Leo pulls you close to kiss you, you hope he can taste the laughter on your lips. But the mention of meetings has you sobering, and you sweep your thumb across his cheekbone to catch his attention. “Hey,” you say, tone serious. “Be careful out there tomorrow. Come home to us.”

“Always will.” He promises, and his dark eyes hold the steadfastness of a warrior. “You’re not getting rid of me for a long time, mi vida.”

His reply has you rolling your eyes good-naturedly. “As if I’ll even try.” You say before pressing your lips to his for one more kiss.

The both of you fall asleep soon after, Leo keeping your hand cupped between Leo’s own and his cheek.

AUTHOR’S NOTE. in my heart, the lullaby Casey was asking for is 'sa ugoy ng duyan' (which can translate to ‘to the rocking of the cradle’) coz I think it fits him. it's a song abt missing the bygone days with your mother because being in her arms meant safety n comfort n protection, and you think about how the song she used to sing to you is a song full of love uwu

also, don't ask me what the new resistance headquarters is coz I dont kno. is it a tunnel system they found? a bunker Donnie preemptively designed in case of a krang attack? some safehouse in the hidden city that Draxum used in the past? idk.

can be read on AO3 here

[bluecloudsandpinksnow]

strawberry milk (akabane karma x reader)

summary:

He likes it. It’s his favorite brand and you are so good at this ‘communicating’ thing. You’re pretty sure Karma said something after that, but currently, you are on cloud nine and you can barely process the words over your feelings of success.

You would have fist pumped and yelled ‘sublime’ too, had he not waved a hand in front of your face in concern.

“Hey, are you okay? You’re acting kinda- weird?”

Okay, you did not respond fast enough, what did he even say before that? You shake your head and prepare the fastest, most soundproof response you can muster.

“Sorry, I fell down the stairs this morning.” fandom: Assassination Classroom by Yûsei Matsui pairing: akabane karma x gender-neutral! reader warnings: none, unless you count second hand embarrassment notes: - cross posted on ao3 under the same name - first fic ever posted for me, i have more plans n drafts for this universe already but that depends on my motivation lmao - i hope you have as much fun reading as i had writing --- START ---

Mustering up the last bits of courage you can, you pull the two tetra packs from your bag and abruptly stand up.

Unfortunately for you, your chair screeches against the floorboard from the force, and all of your classmates look in your direction.

You could feel the heat creeping up your neck as you quietly mutter out an apology. Thankfully, no one makes a big issue of your disruption and they all return to their own activities.

Now to face the daunting task that’s been plaguing your mind ever since this morning at the train station, where your whimsical decision-making had you convinced that you should totally, definitely, get something for Karma.

You briskly walk across the room, over to where the aforementioned red-headed boy was conversing with Nagisa about some topic you couldn’t process at the moment.

All you want to do is to get to know him better, that’s it. No underlying motives, whatsoever.

“Hey, this is for you.”

You shoved the strawberry milk carton into his hand. A flash of innocent confusion crosses Karma’s face, and you almost let yourself think about how cute of a look it was for someone like him. Before you get to entertain that preposterous thought, he tilts his head in amusement, waiting for an explanation.

“So, uhm- The vending machine! I got lucky, cause it, uhm- it broke, so I got two instead of one- Not that it’s lucky that it broke of course! That’s bad, that has some very bad implications. Uh, you know?” you wave your hands around in an attempt to explain, gesturing to your milk carton as if it would suddenly start talking in your defense.

From the corner of your eye, you see Nagisa giving you a sympathetic smile before grabbing his notebook and gesturing to Karma of his intent to review for the next class.

You were thankful at first, until the realization sunk in that you now have to explain yourself to Karma.

Alone.

No verbal or social support from your peers.

This will be fine. You convince yourself this before the urge to backflip out of the classroom window can overtake you.

“Thanks, I guess? Why the sudden gift, you like me or something?” He teases, because of course he does, and now you have to come up with the reply or he will know that you lied about the vending machine and that there’s some dubious reason as to why you got two strawberry milk cartons that just so happen to be his favorite brand.

Karma cannot know. He absolutely cannot.

“Huh? Psh! Of course not, I just wanted to thank you for helping me last week, you know? Math isn’t my strongest subject and I- what you told me, that shortcut? It just- it’s cool! It really helped me and I felt like I had to thank you. Yeah?” you ramble, and a part of you wishes the ground would collapse beneath your feet just so you could escape this tragedy of a conversation.

You stare awkwardly at Karma, anticipating his response. You swear he looks like he wants to ask what on earth is wrong with you, but maybe it’s just the nerves.

He shrugs, “No biggie. You didn’t need to go through the effort of buying me something just for that one tip.”

He hates it. He thinks you’re weird and over the top. It’s time for you to exile yourself.

“Thanks, though. How’d you know I like this brand anyway?”

He likes it. It’s his favorite brand and you are so good at this ‘communicating’ thing. You’re pretty sure Karma said something after that, but currently, you are on cloud nine and you can barely process the words over your feelings of success.

You would have fist pumped and yelled ‘sublime’ too, had he not waved a hand in front of your face in concern.

“Hey, are you okay? You’re acting kinda- weird?”

Okay, you did not respond fast enough, what did he even say before that? You shake your head and prepare the fastest, most soundproof response you can muster.

“Sorry, I fell down the stairs this morning.”

‘WHO SAYS THAT? WHY DID I SAY THAT?’

You need to pass out right now. Maybe if he thinks you have a concussion you can still salvage your reputation in his eyes. Karma’s eyes widen in concern and you can’t help the butterflies ricocheting in your gut.

“Woah, maybe you should go have that checked with the nurse? I can take you there, I wanna skip class anyway.”

In normal circumstances, you would have reprimanded him for even suggesting that he skip classes and use you as a reason. However, now it is different. Now it is very different when you feel these very dreadful, un-platonic feelings for the redhead.

‘Calm down butterflies, he just suggested a friendly gesture of good, normal, regular, concern.’ You reassure yourself, because if you don’t, you might just blast off into the stratosphere like you were Koro-sensei being complimented by a pretty barista lady.

Karma puts his hand on your shoulder.

‘ÆÆÆÆÆÆÆÆÆÆÆÆÆÆÆ'

You imagine swatting away the butterflies to keep yourself sane, and you try your best to collect an actual, reasonable response this time.

“No, no, it’s fine. Thanks for the concern. A lot of things just happened today, and I’m just a bit overwhelmed. I’m sorry if I’m acting strange.” you speak slower than you did prior, and you find yourself more composed.

Well, as composed as you can be considering Karma still has his hand on your shoulder. You bow your head in shame, not being able to meet his eyes.

He scoffs in amusement, “Hey, don’t worry about it, and really, thanks for the strawberry milk.”

You look up at him and sigh in relief, thankful that he doesn’t think you’re completely insane. He gives your shoulder another pat before moving his hand off to pry the straw from the back of his tetra pack.

“No problem! Thanks again too, for helping me last week.”

A big part of you is relieved that he took his hand off of your shoulder so your heart rate could normalize itself, but a tinier, more delusional part of your brain feels disappointed that he had to pull his hand away at all.

You move to turn and walk away, but Karma speaks again.

“Hey, if you’re still feeling overwhelmed, you can always skip class with me. We can just tell Koro-sensei you weren’t feeling well.” he offers, and it takes every ounce of sense in you to not just accept it then and there. Especially not when you meet his eyes and see them light up with mischief.

You have to be reasonable. Doing so just to entertain your silly little infatuation would disappoint Koro-sensei and tarnish your good record. You can find more excuses to spend time with him without breaking the school rules.

“No thank you, it’s okay. I think I’ll just go to the bathroom and wash my face. I appreciate the concern though.” You nod your head and flash Karma a light smile, to which he shrugs and moves to sit at his desk, drinking the strawberry milk you gave him.

You move to make your way out of the classroom, and you see Nakamura smirk at you. She was probably watching you make a fool out of yourself in front of Karma, and you know for a fact she will tease you about that horrid display of human interaction later. You squint your eyes at her, daring her to laugh or say something, to which she just smiles at you wider and you swear you can see devil horns form on her head.

Nakamura held her phone up while you were walking past. You gape slightly in frustration as you realize what she had shown you.

She had recorded your god awful attempt at giving Karma the strawberry milk. There was physical evidence of it for others to witness.

The worst part? There was physical evidence of it for Koro-sensei to witness.

You quickly stomp into the bathroom and turn on the sink, shoving your face into your hands before you let out an exasperated groan.

There was no living this down for you.

You just hoped Karma wouldn’t take the news so harshly if he found out.

---END---

Thanks for reading! :DDD