legundo and scott's (improper) guide to dealing with emotions (coldiron duo oneshot)
“Feeling better?" Scott asked from nearby. They had had to stop just before they entered town due to Legs feeling dizzy from the fast movement of the scoop and ice path. It had hit him so suddenly that it was almost worse than usual.
"Yeah. Sorry, I should've warned you."
" I should've warned you . It makes sense some people would get sick with such fast movement." Scott waved his hand and a sky blue ice cream appeared in his hand. "Here. This might help."
OR:
Legundo and Scott go out into the town to hang out after all of the recent, crazy events and definitely do not kill someone.
When Doctor Legundo arrived at the pearly gates there was a man still waiting, but Legs was still in pain and even after death pain makes everything secondary. He clutched his chest and clung to the warmth left on his skin from the sun's rays and the warmth left in his dead heart from Cleo's arms around him in a simple hug. One moment he was standing and in the next his knees hit what ever the floor was made of in this strange place.
He did it. They would make it out. After weeks of war and building tension and too many of their few lives lost, they did it.
He did it. He did his best to undo his damage and then he left. Legs laughed. This place was a surprise. It was most likely a figment of his dying mind, but after all of Oakhurst he couldn't help but wonder if this place was something more. He looked up to take in the sights, only to see a man sitting on the front steps before beautiful golden gates.
The man sat watching a place in the open air in front of him. His eyes never wavered from that spot. He wasn't even breathing, but after Oakhurst and death itself that didn't bother Legs. He was barely breathing himself. Each inhale and exhale was merely out of habit. The man glanced over and Legs shuddered with an awful sense of déjà-vu. The man had long white hair, soft face, and too familair clothing.
"Hello?" Legs called, voice rough. The man startled. He hesitated to speak the name he wanted to call out, like it would break what semblance of peace was left in him.
"Hello," the man's voice was quiet and full of grief. "Apologies. I'm usually much better company."
"So I've heard," Legs had to admit he was curious about the man he had heard so little about.
"I didn't realize rumors had spread to the land of the living," the man finally looked away from the spot on the ground.
"I got used to the impossible about two months ago," he joked.
"Well. I might not be waiting here much longer anyway, so let the rumors spread."
"Oh?" A chill ran down his back at the thought that Owen might show up in this place, for this man's vigil to be over.
"I won't bore you with my life story" the man's voice cracked. "It looks like you had an eventful crossing."
"It was peaceful, in the end," Legs admitted. He had allowed himself that one selfish luxary.
"Good. That's good. But the rest wasn't?"
"I have enough blood on my hands. I'll leave it at that."
"And yet you're still here," the man commented. Legs stilled. He had hoped the gates were different from the stories of his youth. "Don't be so surprised. In life we rarely see the whole view."
"If this is what I think it is, I have a feeling I won't be here much longer."
The man smiled and stared at that spot on the floor again. "No. I don't think you will."
Legs almost sighed in relief.
"If you were going down with him you would have already."
"Louis," Legs greeted the man.
"There is someone kind in charge. You only stay here if you ask. They understand that we are not creatures that like waiting in uncertainty."
"And you waited. For him," he added needlessly.
"Am I wrong to love him still?" Louis whispered. Legs shifted uncomfortably.
"I don't think I'm the one you should ask."
"He used to be able to tell the birds apart from their songs along. There was one robin that would only ever eat if Owen was there, watching for foxes."
Owen slammed an axe into his skull. Blood ran down his neck as Owen pinned him to the ground and the stars went dim.
Legundo always did have a temper.
"He killed my town," Louis said, staring at that spot in the distance. "Not a single one was spared from his wrath."
Legs stayed quiet.
"There were children that had never met him, or me, in the town hall as he burned it. Children he would have seen grow up and raise children of their own."
Owen trapping him on the top of the watchtower. The pain of flesh tearing as he ripped his arm from Owen's teeth.
"And he did it for me." Louis's voice was flat, dead. "Try as might I can't hate him for it. I don't love him for it, but I can't bring myself to hate him."
"He talked about you," Legs fought to keep his voice civil.
"And I can't bring myself to hate him for what he did to you."
Trust. It was everything Legs could have asked for, an opportunity to help and bond. All it took was some blood and some pain, small things to offer. In the end it cost him everything.
"He could have been so much more," Louis mourned. "He was so much more than what he was to you. He- he buried himself, his true self when I fell."
"He could have been," Legs reluctantly agreed.
"But he wasn't," Louis finished. "And yet I love him."
Legs' hands began to shake and he closed his eyes. At one point he could have loved Owen. His wit, his strong convictions, his grounded nature. Owen's teeth dug into his neck and tore out the ligaments and muscles so that even that first scar would be gone forever. Suddenly Legundo couldn't take this any longer. His curiousity of who this story of a man was, was overtaken by disgust and horror and grief. It wasn't directed towards the man beside him. These were familiar feelings, how he felt about himself.
"He wasn't always like that."
"But he chose to be, in the end," Legs stood, he felt shaky. Unbalanced.
"And that matters just as much as who we choose to be in the middle," Louis said. Legs blinked, and Louis offered through tears: "He was dragged down in fire and brimstone."
Legundo couldn't tell if it was relief, grief, or grim acceptance that washed over him. He didn't deserve to feel relief when he deserved to be down there with him. Owen did not deserve his grief. Grim acceptance felt too small of an emotion to circle the rage and pain and betrayal that refused to leave his chest.
However, Legundo could leave. Perhaps the wrongness of him walking through those gates would be better than this company.
"I'm sorry," Louis offered.
"It was never your fault," Legs offered. Even the rage in his heart wasn't Louis's fault. Legundo was aware enough to know that.
"Neither was it yours," Louis said.
Legs nodded and turned away, letting Louis believe that for his own sake. The gates didn't swing open magesticly for him. There were no trumpets sounding his entry. There was a simple latch that he lifted as he pushed the gates open himself, like walking out into a fenced garden. The field across from him was wider than he could possibly imagine. Perhaps it was big enough for him to find a piece of lesser paradise, far from anyone it would bother.
Maybe one day Legs would be fine with Owen having his own patch of paradise here, far from him and together with the kind man who would wait for eternity. For now, Legs took a step forward and hoped he never had to relive fangs in his neck ever again.
He left Louis alone to wait by the gate for the next wandering soul to greet him.
I saw your post on the Dispatch community page and just wanted to throw out an idea that you can or cannot run with.
Malevola and female medic who has holy powers like an Angel 👀
Do with it as you will
✨️Your wish is my command!✨️ @4ckatron
A/N: sorry if it seems rushed or short, but I hope anon enjoys this! I kept it on the non-smut side.
TW: idk. Like 1 use of sexy? Is that bad?
A demon and an angel. Sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? No- this isn't some 2017 cheesy gacha life video. This is about Malevola and her huge crush on the angelic medic. No literally, the new medic is an angel. A bright halo that shines like the sun. Fluffy, long white wings, as pure as can be. She's beautiful. Malevola finds herself up late at night, thinking about her. Her stupid smile. Her weird giggles. Ugh.
Malevola clearly is attracted to her. One cannot blame her. Your gorgeous. Very gorgeous. She's obsessed with you! Every little scratch, bump, bruise, she comes STRAIGHT to you.
Like now.
"Again, Malevola? You were here like 20 minutes ago." You say with your soft angelic voice as you hold her hand and stare at the tiny papercut on her fingertip. She is thanking literally anyone that her skin is red so you can't see how much she's blushing.
"Well, clumsy me, I suppose." She says sarcastically, her bright yellow eyes locking on your soft ones. She watches as your grip on her hand tightens. Her breath hitches as she feels a little tingly sensation, followed by a bright yellow aura surround her hand.
Within seconds, her little scratch is gone. Poof. "Alllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll done, Malevola! Try to avoid hanging around paper so I don't see you for a forth time today." You tell her, smiling as you release her hand. She snaps out of her romantic trance, remembering WHY she came here.
"Hey, thanks. Uhm...there's this new Italian place in town. Wanted to go with Sonar but he canceled last minute. Wanna come? My treat."
You feel your cheeks heat up. "Really?" You ask, eyes wide. You chuckle nervously, and suddenly, all you can focus on is her. "I'd...love to go, actually."
Malevola smirks confidently. Composed on the outside, but screaming and celebrating on the inside. "Cool, cool. I'll see you tonight then. 8pm. I'll pick you up. You have my number already." And with that, she stands up, heading to the door.
been thinking real hard abt the term “wrestling soulmates” lately. what a beautiful and romantic term to come out of something as seemingly primitive as professional wrestling. the idea of two people meeting while doing what they love, and suddenly they’re intertwined in a way that not everyone gets to feel. like their very molecules have been attuned to each other all along, they just needed to find each other to feel it. and then they spend their years fighting and forgiving each other, over and over, because everyone watching can see how much they shine together no matter their current relationship. it’s chemistry and history, blending together to make something unreplaceable. it must be such a beautiful feeling. i’m almost sorry i’ll never get to experience it.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Lance: "You're so clingy it's giving me a stroke."
Keith: "I'm not clingy??"
Lance: "I was literally trying to take a waz the other day, and you followed me into the bathroom to tell me about a dream you had!"
Keith: "That was love and affection, you nitwit."
Lance: "That was sabotage. You took the damn toilet paper with you when you left,"
---
In which Keith is a lot (a LOT) more clingier than Lance ever expected, and in ways no ever ever would expect Keith to be.
mini bkdk fic inspired by this art! pls go show the artist some love!!
After school
also on ao3 here :)
Katsuki finds him after patrol in his old spot. His very old spot, from decades ago.
Izuku is curled up in a plastic tunnel, hand on his chin and muttering to himself as he scribbles, completely tuned out to the happy sounds of children running around their old playground.
It’s a painfully familiar sight, and Katsuki closes his eyes briefly at the pang in his chest as he sees, for one vivid moment, a four year old Deku sitting in the same red circle, with so much more space for his limbs, yet still equally curled into himself and his notebook. Izuku had always been like that, before OFA, most comfortable in a space much smaller than what he actually occupied, and forever curling into it. It was cute, then concerning, then a thing of the past as Izuku settled into his own skin. Now a nostalgic comfort, evidently.
(He’d been chubbier, freckled limbs in shorts and baby cotton, a mess of curls because Izuku loved to stick his hand in his hair while he thought. And he thought a lot, child of wonder, precious to the stars, the son of fate. Future hero of their time.)
Katsuki set one hand above the opening and leaned in.
“Whatcha doin’, nerd?”
Izuku, to his credit, only startled a little. He flashed wide eyes up at Katsuki, and Katsuki got the pleasure of watching his face light up shamelessly.
“Hi, Kacchan,” Izuku said cheerfully, and maybe this was how it should’ve gone back then, too, when four-year-old Katsuki stomped up to this same alcove and asked what Izuku was doing, maybe it did despite little Katsuki’s biting tone, because Izuku was always, had always been happy to see him,n maybe the scene had only been ruined by the taunts that came after. Katsuki didn’t quite remember, but it didn’t matter anymore. All the Katsuki of Now cared about was the poorly hidden affection in the glint of this Izuku’s eyes, adoration made solid and safe and secure.
The playset is a familiar feeling under Katsuki’s now rough palms, soft and intermittently scratched in thin lines. Izuku shuffles over in the tunnel and Katsuki folds his body to fit in next to him, and— the smell rocks him back in time, too, rubber and the tang of dirt so unusually close to his head, dyed plastic and oft-rubbed metal. Izuku’s shoulder pressing against his is a rare sensation, but it feels just as nostalgic, especially in here, backs and limbs curved along the inner surface of the tunnel. Katsuki kicks his legs up and almost knees himself in the face. Izuku giggles, and Katsuki shoulder-shoves him, delighting in how Izuku half heartedly shoves back. Izuku’s legs stay down, protectively, like he’s still that little kid so at home in his own tiny cocoon. Katsuki stares at his boots along the tunnel wall, giant in here, especially with their reach.
He shuffles his shoulders down to match Izuku’s, and leans into his space further to peer at his notebook. Izuku lets him, pointing at the page.
“I’m just lesson planning,” he says, tapping his pen at random notes Katsuki can only barely decipher, “They’ll have a pop quiz a month from now, I thought I’d let them do something fun afterwards as a treat.”
“You’re too soft on them,” Katsuki informs him for the umpteenth time. Izuku laughs at him as always.
“Sure, Kacchan,” he says, and Katsuki will never, ever get over how his name sounds from Izuku’s mouth, melodious like Izuku cradles it on the way out, like he’s singing it. He’s so— enchanting, his boy. Katsuki tries to throw an arm around him but ends up smacking his knuckles on hard plastic, and it stings like a bitch. He does not make a noise, but Izuku coos at him anyway, taking his hand and rubbing it, and Katsuki’s perfectly fine with that. He’s still tracing his notes with his eyes, thinking, always thinking, even as he absentmindedly brushes his mouth over Katsuki’s knuckles in some of Auntie Inko’s Healing Kisses. Izuku rubs his soft lips back and forth over his fingers, fully distracted now, enjoying the sensory stimulation. Katsuki lets him, chest stupidly warm, for a full minute before dragging his knuckles up over Izuku’s cheek, up and down, the skin endearingly freckled and babysoft even in his twenties. Izuku leans into his hand, and finally closes his eyes.
The sun was beginning to tease at setting, and Katsuki watches Izuku turn his head to look out the far end of the tunnel. Sunlight kissed the tops of his cheeks, dragged down his eyelashes. Katsuki couldn’t see much besides the back of Izuku’s head, but even this was precious to him for some godforsaken reason, from his crown to the nape of his neck where green curled enticingly against bare skin.
He leans forward to press his cheek against Izuku’s and look out, too. Some tots stumble over each other in excited giggles, pick themselves up from rubber mulch like they’d already forgotten the fall.
Katsuki feels Izuku’s cheek pull with a smile against his own, and the feeling is so — Katsuki doesn’t have words for it, but he just has to kiss him, so he does, right there in the kiddie tunnel of their neighborhood playground. He kisses his sweet, soft cheek, and then his temple, close-mouthed and drawn-out. He loves him so much. Maybe they’d have their own kids to watch from here some day. Or to seat beside them, an addition to their spot.
Katsuki sat back against the tunnel wall and Izuku ducked his face into his neck, the skin suspiciously warm. The nerd was probably blushing, as if they didn’t kiss, often much more salaciously, all the time. Katsuki rubbed his head with his chin, lasting about ten seconds before digging it into Izuku’s scalp with his jaw a little just to be a dick. Izuku shook him off and pouted even as he leaned into Katsuki’s mouth with the ease of a soul-bound lover, even though they weren’t even engaged yet. Soon, though. Katsuki was just waiting for the right time to really knock his socks off. It was the least he could do, after everything Izuku offered him.
(Love and safety and forgiveness. Somewhere to keep his heart safe, outside of his own body. Atonement and adoration and victory and a home.)
They didn’t kiss for long, they were in public after all, and even if no one could really see much over Katsuki’s shoulders or with the angle from the other end of the tunnel, they were still on a kids playground, and Katsuki was a pro with a reputation to uphold. He was honestly fairly certain a sneaky photo of him gently kissing his lover in an old playset would do wonders for his ranking, but he was selfish anyway, and wanted to keep these moments with Izuku for himself. Wanted to keep this side of himself for Izuku.
“C’mon. I’ll make curry tonight,” Katsuki mumbled against Izuku’s lips, hoping that would be enough for Izuku to pull away, because gods know in this one situation Katsuki is never strong enough to do it himself. As predicted, Izuku slips away with a soft noise that digs into Katsuki’s soul, and starts mumbling about groceries they’ll need to get on the way home, then.
Katsuki knows all that already, that’s why he came here to get him after all, so they could go together, so he takes to watching the dusk sink into the green of Izuku’s eyes, paint a glow into his face and his lips. He shuffles out obediently when Izuku starts pushing him, drags him out with one hand just to see him blush and stutter. Katsuki brushes a hand over the box in his pocket and thinks, maybe here, maybe this time of day, maybe soon. Izuku takes his hand easily and they start the short walk to the grocery store.
hello my caramel princess my world my nonbinary curl, can you write Eden x Spider please I miss them…
Completely Oblivious
pairing: spencer white x oc!eden knox
CONTENT WARNING: mutual pining, oblivious oc, romantic tension, physical touch (hand on chest), party setting, alcohol mention (background)
word count: 1.3k
a/n: thanks to my friend for requesting my bbys!! i just wanted to write something soft and a little full of that quiet, "oh no, i'm falling for you" kind of feeling. spencer being completely affected by the smallest things while eden is totally unaware felt too cute not to write.
thank you for reading ♡
The music pulsed through the house in steady waves, the bass vibrating beneath the floorboards until it settled somewhere behind Spencer’s ribs. Every room was crowded with people talking over one another, laughing too loudly, disappearing beneath flashes of colored lights that painted strangers into silhouettes. The air smelled faintly of cheap alcohol, perfume, and something sweet someone had spilled hours ago. It was the kind of party that felt too full, too warm, too alive.
Eden had escaped to the kitchen.
She rested her hip against the counter as she dug through a bucket of melting ice, fishing out a can of soda instead of reaching for anything stronger. She’d already decided she was taking it easy tonight. Someone brushed past her shoulder, another voice called her name from somewhere behind, but she barely acknowledged either before popping the tab open.
Across the room, Spencer noticed her almost immediately.
He should’ve looked away.
He knew that.
There was no reason to walk over there. No reason to willingly throw himself into another conversation that would inevitably leave him more frustrated than before. He’d spent the better part of the evening telling himself to keep his distance, convincing himself that maybe if he stopped paying so much attention to every little thing she did, whatever this was would eventually pass.
Instead, before he’d even realized he’d made the decision, he was already crossing the room.
Eden didn’t notice him at first.
The shifting neon lights caught the loose strands of her hair, turning the soft pink into something brighter every few seconds before fading back again. She stood there absentmindedly peeling the label from her soda can, completely unaware that he’d been watching her longer than he should have.
Then she looked up.
The moment her eyes landed on him, her expression changed without hesitation.
It wasn’t dramatic. Most people probably wouldn’t have caught it. Just the smallest lift at the corners of her mouth, her shoulders relaxing almost instinctively, her face brightening in quiet recognition.
Like she was genuinely happy he’d walked over.
It hit him harder than it had any right to.
His steps slowed until they stopped entirely.
Eden frowned almost immediately, tilting her head.
“What?”
Spencer blinked, forcing himself to look anywhere but her face.
“Nothing,” he answered, the word coming far too quickly.
It wasn’t nothing.
It was never nothing when she looked at him like that.
She hummed, clearly unconvinced, before reaching out to grab her drink. As she slipped past him, she bumped her shoulder lightly against his without a second thought.
“You’re acting weird.”
A dry laugh escaped him before he could stop it.
“You’re the one acting weird.”
She looked back over her shoulder with an amused smile.
“I’m literally just standing here.”
She wandered back toward the living room, weaving through clusters of people without much thought.
Spencer stayed rooted to the spot for all of three seconds.
Then he followed.
He told himself it was coincidence. That they were heading in the same direction. That he wasn’t subconsciously tracking wherever she went.
None of those excuses felt particularly convincing.
By the time he caught up, she’d turned too quickly, colliding with him before either of them had the chance to react.
“Oh—”
Her hand landed flat against his chest to steady herself.
Everything stopped.
The noise around them blurred into something distant. The music became nothing more than a dull rhythm somewhere outside the moment.
Her hand was warm.
Light.
Completely innocent.
She left it there without thinking.
Spencer forgot how to breathe.
“Eden.”
His voice came out quieter than he’d intended, rough around the edges.
“Hm?”
She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face with nothing but genuine curiosity.
No embarrassment.
No realization.
Just confusion.
He swallowed hard.
“Don’t do that.”
Her eyebrows knitted together.
“Do what?”
“That.”
She stared at him for another second before letting out the smallest laugh, more puzzled than amused.
“You’re not making any sense.”
He dragged a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply as frustration tangled itself with something far more dangerous.
“You keep…” He paused, searching for words that didn’t make him sound completely insane. “You keep looking at me like that.”
She blinked.
“What are you talking about?”
He stepped closer, just enough that he didn’t have to raise his voice over the music. Close enough that she had to lift her chin slightly to keep looking at him.
His eyes searched hers, almost hoping she’d finally understand what he meant.
“Don’t look at me with those eyes.”
Silence settled between them.
Eden’s expression only softened.
“What eyes?”
There wasn’t a hint of teasing in her voice.
No smug smile.
No hidden meaning.
She truly had no idea what he was talking about.
And somehow…
that was the worst part.
Because she didn’t know the effect she had on him.
She didn’t know that every absentminded smile, every gentle touch, every warm glance she gave him lodged itself somewhere beneath his skin and refused to leave.
She wasn’t doing any of it on purpose.
She was simply being herself.
And Spencer was the one who couldn’t stop falling apart every time she looked at him.
all dividers/borders from the lovelies @strangergraphics, @chrisssiren
