#(can't be bothered to remember the english word right now)

[the-evil-pizza]

one of those days you will not hear from me anymore and that’s because I will be in prison for murder

[countcvnt]

Experiment

Chapter One: Scrambled

[Poly!TF141/Fem!Reader]

Summary: Your memory is hazy, almost nonexistent, after being plucked out of a safe house and experimented on for months. When you're finally rescued you don't remember the people closest to you. Warnings: Canon Typical Violence (not much else this chapter), me using an english to scottish translator, not beta read Word Count: 3.3k A/N: Had this silly idea and turned it into a serious/angsty fic. I hope you all will like it as much as I do! Also, Reader has a call sign! It's Ace. If you prefer, you can read it here on AO3

Your eyes are heavy, your body burns, and you can't stop shaking. You aren't even sure of where you are. Your eyes are trained ahead of you, looking at what you assume is a two way mirror. A scientist is standing to the side of you messing with some needles and medicines. Your half lidded eyes cut towards him and you see a thick blue substance in a syringe.

“What's that?” You croak, voice hoarse.

“Hm?” The scientist doesn't even look at you, “curious now, are we?” He asks, pulling the syringe up and turning to you. He doesn't answer your question though, not in a way you would like. “We are about to figure out what this is.”

‘We’. Your stomach flips. He didn't even seem to know what it was. You accept your fate. You have from the very beginning. You don't know how long you've been part of this ‘program’, and to you, it didn't matter anymore. The only thing that matters is trying to get out alive. No one seemed to be coming for you. No one has in all of the days you've been hidden away. You didn't expect anyone to save you now. So, you had decided to save yourself. Figuring out how to do that was becoming difficult though.

You know that behind that two way mirror are a bunch of guards. You know they're heavily armed. You know, no matter what they have juiced you up with, you aren't beating a bunch of armed men. So, you sit idly. Letting them poke and prod and decide you are going to wait until the perfect opportunity shows itself. You just have to hold on until it does.

A loud alarm suddenly rings throughout the building and you cover your ears, flinching. The scientist seems more agitated than anything. He doesn't seem as bothered as you are, by any means.

“Guards!” He calls out, looking towards the large mirror. “Guards?” He questions.

He puts a finger up at you, asking for you to wait a minute. As if you have any other choice. A loud bang comes from outside the room and chills run up your spine. The guard walks towards the door and he peeks out. He quickly shuts and locks the door before returning back to you. He scurries over towards the metal stand beside your seat. He grabs the syringe and picks it up.

Something clicks in you. The alarms are still blaring and the guards seem to be gone to check it out. You watch as the syringe comes towards you, headed right for your neck. You move faster than you're used to, and grab the man’s hand and push him back. A lot harder than you had meant to. He slides back and hits the wall. The syringe does not leave his hand.

You rush towards the door. You wiggle the door knob and try to rip the door open. It doesn't budge. You turn your head back and see the scientist steadying himself. Fear kicks in.

“Help!” You scream, slamming your fists into the door. “Please, help me!”

“That was really stupid,” the man behind you says. “No one can hear you, no one is coming to save you. They haven't yet, have they?”

Tears prick your eyes. You turn back around and your back hits the door.

“Y'know, I'm going to be honest.” He stalks towards you. “I know they picked you because you're so… compliant. But really? I think that big guy with the mask would have been a better choice.”

That stings. “Who?”

“Which one?”

“Both.”

“You know I can't give out classified information. But if this works, I promise, you'll know everything. As for the other guy? I'm surprised you don't know who I'm talking about. But honestly, after all the brain scrambling you've had done to you, I understand how you don't remember him…”

You lose it. Something in you snaps. You lunge forward and grab the man. The both of you tussle briefly. Until you get him pinned. Your body slams into his and you hold him down. You raise your fist and bring it down, slamming it into his jaw. Screams, pleas fall from his lips. He's begging for you to quit. But you don't. You, at that moment, decide you are going to do that to every single person who has harmed you, who caused this.

The door behind you blows open, but you don't falter. Your fists continue to slam into the scientist’s face. Until you hear someone with a Scottish accent say your name. You freeze. You turn to find a man in the doorway, his eyes wide. You furrow your brows when he whispers your name again. You move to get up, without thinking about the man below you. You don't realize he's moving. His hand comes up and the needle is pressed into your neck. Whatever the liquid was is quickly administered into your bloodstream.

You hear your name again, louder this time, but you fall to the side, eyes too heavy to hold open. Your head slams into the now bloodied white tile and you're out.

So much for escaping. _____________________________________ You wake up to beeping. A sound you had grown accustomed to recently. You feel monitors hooked up to you, and an IV in your arm. You twitch ever so slightly, every muscle in your body contracting. And then it hits.

Anger.

Your eyes snap open. Your legs swing over the side of the bed. You rip every single monitor off of you, the IV flying across the room. The monitor begins to beep loudly and as you rush towards the door, exiting the isolated room, an alarm blares. You flinch momentarily, but do not let the sound stop you. You are looking for someone, anyone to give you a hint of what's going on. Nothing around you looks familiar. But from all the ‘brain scrambling’, that's normal. You're used to not knowing as much as you figure you used to.

A man in a bucket hat turns the corner, rushing towards what can only assume is you. You let out a low growl and begin to sprint. Your body slams into his and the both of you are sent sliding across the floor. You grab his vest and lower yourself to him, all of your weight holding him down. “Where the fuck am I?”

He's looking at you with confused eyes. He doesn't make any sudden movements. He immediately presents himself as a friend, not a threat. You squint and then see someone else coming around the corner.

“Price! Oh my-” the young man freezes. He says your name and your world is instantly rocked.

You haven't heard your name in god knows how long. The Scottish man had called out for you earlier, but before that? You really can't think of a time when someone had called you something other than some experiment number. “Who are you?” You hiss.

You feel the man under you tense up. He swallows hard and he says your name this time, slow and soft. He isn't showing any signs of wanting to throw you across the room or knock the shit out of you. You take it he isn't a threat and shift.

“You don't remember me?” The man in the ball cap asks, brows furrowed. “You don't remember us?”

Your heart jumps into your throat. You push yourself off of the man below you and you stand up. You brush yourself off and watch as he stands up. He radios someone to cut off the alarm and it's promptly stopped. You are thankful for that. You stand in the hall awkwardly and watch him and the other, younger man talk to each other with facial expressions.

“You're probably hungry,” the man in the bucket hat turns towards you, “how about we go get you some food?”

You aren't stupid, you know that also entails speaking with them about everything you just went through. Despite not wanting to talk, you nod. You are hungry and haven't had an actual meal in possibly months. The man reaches out to touch your lower back, to lead you to wherever he wants to go. You flinch away from him, everything in you tensing. You can tell it's a reflex. A habit. He's used to doing that. Your eyes scan him and you're searching your brain for everything, anything about him. But there's nothing.

“Sorry.” Is all he says. He leaves it at that. “Gaz,” he looks away from you and towards the other man. “Please go grab some food and meet us back at room 2B.”

“Yes, sir.”

The tension is palpable. You want to run. Fast. You can. You know you can. But something is keeping you tethered there. You follow a couple feet behind the man who had yet to introduce himself and keep thinking about ‘Gaz’. Your mind is reeling. You keep thinking about his name, his face, everything. You close your eyes tight and inhale sharply.

“Kyle.” It's all you say. It stops you dead in your tracks. Your eyes open and your breathing is heavy. “His name is Kyle.” Your breathing is suddenly ragged. You can't catch your breath and feel like everything is crumbling in on you. You fall to your knees and try to keep yourself from wailing. “I don't even know your name!” You whisper to keep yourself from sobbing. Your voice cracks.

“Price. John Price.” He drops in front of you. He reaches for your bicep. You don't flinch away this time. “Hey,” his voice is low, “look at me.” Your eyes cut up to him. “We're gonna help you through this. I promise.” You nod. You want to trust him. You need to. You feel like you can. You inhale slowly and Price helps you up. “We're going to go to room 2B, you're going to eat some breakfast, and we're going to ask you some questions.”

You nod and start following Price again. You make it to the room in silence and Price opens the door for you. You walk in and find four beige walls, a table, and four chairs. Nothing else. Until you look in the corner of the room and find a little camera. You lock onto it and squint.

“Why?” You point at it.

“Oh,” Price walks in and closes the door behind him, “it’s protocol. Security and all.”

“Fair enough.” You sit down at the table and look at the Price. “You gonna sit?”

Price holds onto his vest and leans against the table. “Not yet.”

You shrug. “Suit yourself.” Your stomach growls. You touch it through the thin white shirt you're wearing. “You think Gaz will be here soon?”

With that, a knock comes from the other side of the door. Two knocks, a pause, and another knock. Price opens the door and Gaz walks in. He has a tray filled with food and you are growing antsy. He sits across from you and slides the tray towards you. You try to not immediately dig in, but you can't help it. You grab a glazed donut first and begin to devour it.

“Oh,” you pause your munching, “thank you, Kyle.”

Gaz freezes. His eyes widen and he turns towards Price. It's your turn to freeze. You look up at him mid bite and blink. Gaz motions towards you and asks, “Did you tell her my name.”

“No.” Price shakes his head.

“You remembered?” Gaz seems ecstatic. “What else do you-”

“Nothing.” You snap. “I don't remember a damn thing.” You huff as you move onto the muffin on the tray. You unwrap it and begin to devour the sweet. “All I know,” You speak through bites, “is that I was locked up for God knows how long and they were experimenting on me-”

“Four months.” Gaz speaks quietly.

“Huh?” You question him. “How do you know?”

“We looked for you when you disappeared. It was four months ago when they got you. You really don’t remember anything?”

“Like I said,” You huff, “I just know they were juicing me up.” Before they can question you further, a light bulb goes off in your head. “Wait.” You squint at them, “The Scottish one. Where is he?”

They tense up. Gaz talks first, “You remember Soap?”

“Huh?” You cock your head. “Is that his name? He’s the one that found me. I assume he’s here. Or did he not…” You trail off.

“No, he’s here…” Price begins, “…We don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Oh.” You shrug. “I guess that makes sense. How am I supposed to, uh, assimilate without being overwhelmed. I mean, why don’t we just rip that band aid off?”

“Trust me,” Price locks eyes with you, “we do not need to rip that band aid off right now.”

“Okay, okay,” You put your hands up. “Do you wanna ask your questions now?” _____________________________________ “This cannae be healthy,” Soap looks at Simon.

Simon shrugs, “Don’t care.” He’s watching the cameras closely.

“Thay aren't even in th' room yit! Ye'r peepin' an empty room!” Soap’s eyes move from the screen and back to Simon.

Simon’s eyes cut from the screen and to Soap, “Shut it. Price wants us to stay away from her for now. He didn’t say we couldn’t do this.”

As he says that, the door of the room opens. Price is visible first. And then, another figure walks in. You. Simon and Soap both tense. You look directly at the camera and point, asking why it’s there. You’re so clear. Soap’s heart jumps. Simon shifts.

“She remembers Gaz’s name.” Simon speaks through gritted teeth.

“A'm sure that's a targeted attack against ye, Ghost.” Soap is trying to find humor in this situation. He’s grasping for straws.

Simon is not enjoying it. “Shut the fuck up, Johnny.” Simon growls.

Soap focuses back on the screen and notices you aren’t even sure how long you’ve been gone. As Gaz gently tells you four months, Simon grumbles the amount of time at the same time.

“If Price doesn’t wanna overwhelm her, why the fuck is Gaz in there.” Simon is seething. “Why can’t we all be in there.”

Simon shuts his mouth as you say they had been juicing you up. He tenses. Soap does the same. They both need to know what it means. Simon feels like he’s going to combust. His eyes narrow once you mention Soap. Soap looks like he’s about to jump with joy, until he realizes you don’t actually remember him. Not past him saving you.

“Fuck this,” Simon pushes past Soap. “I'm going in there.”

“Hey! Price said-” Soap starts. He doesn't finish. “Fine-” he rushes out behind Simon. He guesses they're just going to bust into the room and Simon is going to make you remember. He isn't quite sure what Simon has planned really. But he decides he can't sit in the security room and just watch. He needs to see you.

So does Simon. _____________________________________ You reach for a fork for your eggs and lean back in your seat, plate in hand. You relax (as much as possible) and you look at Gaz and Price. You are studying them. Really digging into their features. You want to remember so badly. You have no reason to trust that they used to know you, a part of you is ready to attack in case they are lying. But most of you trusts them. How else would you remember Kyle’s name?

“Listen,” Price inhales sharply, “we want to help you, without overwhelming you. We need to know what you know.”

“Listen,” You mimic his tone, “I don’t know what you aren’t getting. I remember nothing, nada, zilch.”

“Okay,” Gaz interjects, “What’s your last memory?”

You're sent into deep thought. You place your hand on your chin and look off. “Well-” You begin, “I remember-”

The door of the room busts open. You tense, ready to pounce. Your palms hit the table and you stand up straight. The fork clangs against the ground. Two men walk into the room. The one who saved you and-

Words play in your head over and over again. ‘I think the big guy with the mask would have been a better choice.’ For a moment, your world is completely rocked. ‘I’m surprised you don’t know who I'm talking about.’ Your eyes lock with the large beast of a man. His eyes soften. Briefly. You swallow hard.

The entire room is silent. Until you open your mouth. “He wanted you…”

“What?” Soap is the first to question you.

“The scientist, the one doing the experiments on me-” You are tense again “-he didn’t want me.” Your head hurts. You place your hand on your forehead and groan. You are thinking too hard. Remembering too much.

“Hey,” Price motions for you to sit down, “it’s alright.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Ghost,” Price looks over his shoulder, “not right now.”

Ghost stiffens. He doesn’t say anything else. You sit down and inhale slowly. Your eyes move from the floor, past Price, and they hit Ghost. You feel something stir inside you. Like your emotions know more than your brain does. You want to scream. Every single man in that room seems to think so highly of you, and you don’t even remember them.

“I think I need to sleep.” Your voice is a whisper.

You don’t know the last time you got a good rest. You figure sleeping will help you. Price begins to grab for you, before freezing. You lean into him, letting him help you up. Price moves past the men and you tag along beside him.

“I’m going to show you where your room is. If you need anything, please let one of us know. But for now, we’ll leave you alone.” You are led down the hall and towards the barracks. It’s silent between the two of you, until you reach your room. “You have this room to yourself. I had some things rearranged, if it needs to be changed, and you aren’t comfortable alone, let me know.”

You nod at him. “Thank you. For everything. I’ll see you in the morning?”

“0600 sharp.” Price begins to leave.

“Wait,” You stop him. “You don’t happen to have my phone, do you?”

Price turns back to you. “No, that was not recovered. But, we can get you a new one. I’ll work on that while you rest.”

You nod. You head into your room and close the door behind you. You look around. There are two beds. You groan at the fact you can’t remember who used to be your bunk mate. You’re scraping through your brain, really searching for just an inkling of a memory. But… Nothing. Nothing at all comes to your mind.

Nothing about the four men convinced that you know them, anyway.

You lay down in bed and cover up. It’s not the most comfortable bed you’ve ever been in, but it is the most comfortable bed you’ve laid on in the last four months. Your head hits the pillows and you close your eyes. It takes longer than you’d like to go to sleep, but not as long as you expect it to take. You only hope you don’t dream of anything at all. You can’t be that lucky. _________________________________ “Price!” Simon shouts at the captain. His face contorted with anger and pain, and he is more glad than ever that they can’t see him through his balaclava. “What the fuck was that? We need to know-”

“No,” Price stops him immediately. “We do not need to stress her out further. We will figure this out eventually, on her time.” Price reassures his team. “You did not see the look in her eyes, the way she tackled me to the floor-”

“She what…?” Soap tenses.

Simon bristles instantly. He’s seething again. “What do you mean?”

“Ghost,” Gaz starts, “I know you want to know what happened. We all do.” He’s trying to get through to him. “But something is not right. The way she easily took Captain Price down- That wasn’t the Ace we know.”

“Of course!” Simon growls, “She was gone for four months, being poked and prodded-”

“Ghost,” Price interrupts, inhaling sharply, “she pinned me down and I could not get up. They did more than poke and prod at her. They-”

It clicks. “They were making soldiers… Enhanced soldiers.” Simon whispers. His face contorts again, this time with confusion, “Why did they pick her?” He remembers what you said. ‘He wanted you.’ Simon momentarily feels a pit in his stomach. “Ace couldn’t have been the only one… There’s no way they did this experiment on one person.”

“She was the only one at the underground compound.” Soap shifts. “Maybe she was the only success?”

Simon is stuck on why they picked you. It’s not like you weren’t capable. But you were never on the field fighting for your life. You were always on the sidelines, helping them get into the places, helping them get information. How had they spotted you and decided you were the best candidate? He knows that question is going to keep him up at night.

“Come on,” Price brings Simon back to reality. “We got a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

[sweetnans]

Stuck in the moment || Bakugo, K. (pt.6)

Pairing: fuckboy Bakugo/hopelessly romantic fem. reader

summary: You made a mistake, a huge mistake. You fucked the most cocky, annoying, bastard, fuckboy you knew. Bakugo Katsuki. And that fact was against all your beliefs. Now, after the rumor (truth) spread like a pandemic virus in college you'll have to live with the stormy consequences of your acts and whatever trash was brought with it.

a/c: Hey, it's me again. Here we are in a new series I plan to continue. I really hope you enjoy it. I put my favorite man in action (bakugo) being a selfish bastard that you would love eventually and I couldn't help to put another "trope" I'm a sucker for (guardian/father figure Aizawa) I'm so sorry if that bothers you. Once again, I'm sorry if I misspelled something, English is not my first language. (Not proofread yet)

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 -> Pt.7 ♡

m.list

Bakugo was kinda fun to be around with. He actually made you laugh and not because of his faces every time you blurted the most unhinged question for him. He made you laugh verbally, with his own words, and the sentence wasn't one full of hate and despise. He was, without wanting it, fun.

For you, it fell like a truce, and the thought of being friends with him didn't scare you anymore. The second thoughts and plans of getting rid of him just by ignoring him disappeared along with the security that he was going to try something with you. He didn't.

You felt lightweight. Like a feather being carried with the breeze. Or that was Denki told you when you tried to verbalize what you felt. There was no weight on your shoulders anymore trying to dodge every bullet Bakugo threw at you just by being himself. You were walking on eggshells, and now it felt amazing that you weren't feeling distraught by just thinking of bumping into him in the hallways.

Somehow, that relieved your anxiety of having an upcoming date with Todoroki. You were planning on what to wear very calmly with Jirou's help and fantasizing how it would be.

You've made your peace.

Back in your real life, outside the mess of your head, you had to complete your homework and study for midterms. So you were genuinely happy that you could accomplish that without feeling so rachet about yourself.

"Is college more difficult than school?" Eri asked while you two were both doing your school/college chores in Aizawa's apartment.

"I don't know. I think you have to find a steady pace and find a good method to study, and everything should be fine. " You hummed your response, and she squinted at you. "What?"

"But you're like a genius, that doesn't count"

Eri had entered the age where she hated school. The rebellious phase for every teenager. She was still a cute girl who didn't give Aizawa any problem, but that didn't mean that it was easy trying to get her to do her homework.

"Well, you have brains too," you shrugged. "I know you don't like to do this stuff but at least we can spend some time together, like old times"

You loved her with your entire soul, and she welcomed you with open arms when Aizawa introduced you two. You both treated each other like sisters.

"Yeah, I think you're right." She smiled and directed her eyes to her assigment. "You've been kinda missing lately"

"It's been messy, not going to lie about it," you continued your writing while she was fidgeting with her pen.

"A boy, right?" She raised her eyebrow and smirked.

"What?" You dropped your pencil and looked at her nervously. You knew that Eri was very prone to hearing things without meaning it, and that was because Aizawa and Hizashi usually forgot that she's around when they speak things about college.

"I heard Aizawa talking to...I can't remember actually who, but he said something about a guy named Bakugo. I think I remember him, a loudly blonde guy with a grumpy face"

The thing about you two is that you always shared secrets. She constantly overheard things and never stuttered on telling or asking you whatever the topic was.

You constantly forgot how she was there before you. Like you were the older and you acted like an older sister for her but it was really weird that she, when she was little, used to be around them most of the time. You knew the war provoked that the grown-ups had to take their time to fix the world, so they asked students to babysit her. Mirio, one of the oldest, always stayed around. Even now, he made sure to have time to take her out. They went to amusement parks together, to the movies, to the arcade. Mirio had a busy life as a hero but never forgot his roots.

"Uhm, I don't know exactly what you heard, but it's just a friendship, nothing romantic, I swear." You were afraid that she had heard something about the one night stand you had with him, but you knew that even if Aizawa was oblivious about Eri eavesdropping, he would never share that piece of information with anyone.

"I don't mind. Your last boyfriend was a jackass so the set bar is pretty low." She said, waving her hand mindlessly.

With the teen years and rebellious age, as you can tell, she became savage.

"Accurately rude," you stated. "Anyways, just so you know and because I love you, I'm having a date this friday with the son of Endeavor"

The way she looked at you like you were joking made you cackle. You nodded, reaffirming your sentence, and she denied not believing you.

"The guy with the mismatched eyes?" You moved your head up and down, and she put both of her hands in her mouth. "He is cute"

"I know!" You giggled while she quickly closed her books.

"I need to know everything"

Aizawa scolded both of you for not finishing your chores before dinner but it was totally worth it.

...

On the other hand, Bakugo was still reminiscing the moment you appeared in his room the day before. His bento, clean and empty, was forgotten in his desk while he could still pictured you spinning in his chair.

The moment he watched you disappear, running after Todoroki was a decisive point in his mind. He only knew two emotions when it came to you, utterly giddy feelings that he didn't know he had, and that made him feel in constant denial and the second one, rage. Those feelings evolved in things more complicated. Rage evolved in stubbornness, prideful and insecurity. Why wasn't he good enough?

But then, you turned the things in your favor again, and he felt, aside from happy, vulnerable. Was that the only thing it took to have him back? A few 'I'm sorry' and a bag of cookies? If it was anyone, he would close the door at their nose, but it was you, and he couldn't help feeling the sincerity in your actions.

"What do you think about her?" Bakugo asked Denki, who was very busy trying to win a race in Mario Kart against Sero.

They were hanging in his room. After all, it was the only place available for stuff them all without annoying anyone. Sero and Denki were challenging themselves on Mario Kart, Kirishima was reading a sports magazine, and Mina was painting her nails.

"She is my best friend. I mean, aside from Jirou, " he answered, calculating a drift and avoiding a banana peel.

"Isn't she your girlfriend?" Sero chimed in, stumbling in the banana peel that Denki avoided before. "Oh man," he whined, seeing how toad twirled many times.

Mina started talking about you, how you seemed very nice but a little shy and how she was pretending to invite you for a drink or five. Bakugo's friend knew how he was, so he didn't mind asking about you with all of them there.

"Yep, but she's also my best friend. Anyway, forget about Jirou. " he turned the conversation about you again. "She's a very good friend, loyal. She's very attached to her past, but I don't blame her. She stays in between Jirou and me, like she's goofy funny and likes to throw silly jokes, but unlike me, she can ground herself very quickly, she doesn't need a Jirou to stay put. She's always supportive, and I'm really happy to have her"

Denki meant every word he said. He was very fond of you because you were so easy to be with. You didn't judge him for his lack of intellectual (academically) it was actually the opposite. Every time he felt down, you were the first one cheering him up and highlighting some other qualities he had.

"That's very manly bro" Kirishima threw both of his thumbs up with a big smile plastered on his face, completely forgetting he had a magazine on his hands.

"I really hope that you talk about me like that too, bunch of assholes!" Mina mumbled.

"Nah, we mostly talk about your lack of reasoning when you decide to wear animal print. That's so last decade!" Sero joked.

"You son of a bitch!" Mina yelled throwing him a pillow who ended up being one of the many reasons he lost in the race. "Haha, you deserved that loser." She stuck her tongue out, and Sero mimicked her.

"Please don't tear up my fucking room" Bakugo scolded them and they returned to their activities.

"Also, about Mina saying she's shy, she's not... she's chaotic in a way that no one expects her to be. You always see her so composed, but she's an entire other person once she's in his comfort zone. " Denki laughed at a memory that came back to his mind from one of the nights you two went out.

The last sentence of Denki had him motivated. He didn't need an excuse when it came to you, but he was eager and stubborn, and he needed to see with his own eyes that hidden part of you.

He knew exactly what he had to do.

...

You made your way back to your room when the sun was far from down. Eri and you turned the study session into a pancake dinner day. Save to say that Aizawa's white roof would never be white again unless he put all his soul to clean the stains of the batter away.

Rubbing your eyes because of the lack of sleep, you entered your building and walking like a zombie to your floor. You were happy to be alone. Jirou sent you a message that she would be staying at Denki's room for the night and you could never be happier. You were tired in a way that was draining your soul. Midterms were coming like a wave ready to crash adding the past event in your life that wreck the normality of it. But now, you had studied all the afternoon, you sure would have a good night of sleep and the Bakugo topic was more than solved.

Everything was making sense again. Oh and don't forget your upcoming date.

You let yourself breathe again and expand the capacity of your lungs like you were inhaling oxygen for the first time. It felt actually nice, it was like rebooting yourself just by doing so mundane like breathing.

"About time"

Nevermind.

Bakugo stood beside your room door looking hot as ever. He was wearing a black hoodie with his cap on, a matching jogger in his lower part.

"What are you doing here?" you whispered. It was late and there wasn't a soul around.

"I was running and decided to check on you" he shrugged when you stood in front of him squinting your eyes in disbelief. "Fine, there's one lie and one truth in that sentence"

You crossed your arms on top of your chest and he couldn't help eyeing your neckline.

"The truth is that I was running" he smirked and you rolled your eyes trying to hide your smile. Damn bastard. "Are we going to talk here? on the hallway?"

Taking the keys out of your pocket you reached to put them inside the lock, turning the knob after. Switching the lights, you dropped your bag in your desk and sat in your bed exhaling and laying yourself on top of the duvet.

"Did you bring food?" you asked to say something. Your stomach was full of pancakes but the thought of his cooking had you almost drooling.

"Nah, I have a proposal for you and if you say yes maybe and just maybe I'll reward you with a dish"

A proposal? You pushed your body up ready to read him. Was he joking? Maybe it was just like when he asked you to be friends or maybe it was something worse, like breaking his promise. You knew that accepting his friendship would have its perks, like the possibility of him trying to get under your pants. You were making mental jumps because of it. You knew very well the men like him, cocky, unreachable with superiority complex.

"It's not what you think" he huffed annoyed. "I'm not going to start an argument because of your lack of trust"

If you thought that you could read him, you were wrong and the worst part is that he could do that to you instead. Were you that transparent?

"I'm listening" you said trying to maintain your face neutral.

The vibe in the room changed, there wasn't that fun and easy-going atmosphere anymore. You were expecting the most mischievous proposal but instead, you were surprised when he opened his mouth.

"My mom is hosting a party and she's making me go with a plus one. I invited everyone but they all have plans. If I show up by myself she's going to be the death of me for the entire night" he murmured loud enough for you to hear. It seemed that just by saying that he was losing at least half of his pride.

"So you want me to go with you..." you stated the obvious.

"You're my last resource, don't let the invitation get over your head" he said breaking eye contact with you and rumaging through your stuff.

"Oh you do know how to make a girl feel special" you said sarcastically.

Laying down, you went back to your positions now, instead of just resting, thinking. The truth was that after imagining the worst case scenario you couldn't come with an excuse good enough to said no to him.

"What's the dress code?" you asked watching at your roof. You heard how he was picking every stuff from your desk as well as you did with his stuff on his room.

"Don't worry about it, I have something for you to wear" he answered nonchalantly

Of course he has. You said under your breath in exasperation. Now you were actually caged. There was no opportunity of saying no.

"Fine" you hummed in response.

Bakugo felt like his heart was about to explode. When he asked Denki about you and came with that idea he was expecting that you would be hard to crack. He had at least three different forms of convincing you to go to the party with him. He didn't use one.

"I'm going to pick you up tomorrow at six, be ready by that. I'll send the dress first thing in the morning"

He was finding hard to keep his neutral facade with you, like he wasn't excited about it.

"Tomorrow!?" you exclaimed standing in a quick movement. "Are you fucking with me?"

The look on your face was between a bottle of water in the middle of the dessert and a loudly clown in a silent room. He didn't know that he needed to see you in distress until now and he was quite amused at your panicked state.

"Yeah it's nothing just a stupid party with a lot of people" he rolled his eyes acting bored.

It didn't sound like nothing to you. You knew Bakugo's parents were important in the fashion industry and now he was dropping a bomb like it wasn't going about to explode in your face.

He grabbed the knob of your door and twisted it until the door was open in front of him.

"Don't you worry, it's not like there will be the most important people of Japan" he paused and then a wicked smile appeared on his face. "Oh shit, yeah there will"

He left you dumbfounded and alone with the train of thoughts that appeared right after he closed the door. And you thought you will be having a nice night of sleep? The world was messing with you again.

In his room, hanging in the doors of his closet, Bakugo had the stunning dress he had picked that afternoon after he kicked out all of his friend out of his room. A red satin long dress with an opening in the right leg. He didn't know if you had matching shoes but he make sure of that when the assitant of the shop handed him the dress. Lacy high heels he knew you would love.

Everyone knew that Bakugo was a smart man, and being in the industry for years without wanting it made him learn things unconsciously like what size people were only by looking at them. He was sure that the dress and the shoes would fit you and, of course, make you way more gorgeous than you already were.

Your night was summed up in pacing all night. You walked through your room, you rearranged your desk three times, you even changed your bed sheets a week earlier trying to succumb the anxiety rising up from the pit of your stomach.

Well, what's done is done. You already said yes and there was no enough amount of excuse that would prevent you from going.

You've never attended a nice party before. You looked up Bakugo's parents on the internet and the sight of them smiling in a picture wearing haute couture made you shrink in your position in bed. You thought about biting your nails but then a reasonable thought appeared on your mind, there was no way that you would go to that party and meet those people with your nails all bitten.

Finally, the sun was up in the sky and you made it through the night sleeping the vast amount of four hours. You felt fresh like a rotten veggie rusting in the back of the fridge.

Just as he said, a few little knocks on your door startled you right after you opened your eyes.

"Why is Bakugo sending you this?" Denki raised his left brow while raising the dress covered in a gray bag.

No hello, no how are you's, straight to the damn point.

"Uhm, where's Jirou?" If you were going to explain yourself you'll rather doing it just once.

"She went to the bathroom, she's coming tho, what's going on?" He took a step inside of the room and left the dress on top of your dresser removing the wrinkles with his hands.

"Here I am! I took a piss almost standing with a feet inside the stall and the other outside the bathroom, what the hell is going on!?"

Curious Jirou was your absolute favorite when you weren't involved in the thing she wanted to know because you were almost sure that she was just a few seconds away of grabbing your bedside table's lamp to hold it above your eyes to interrogate you.

"Bakugo invited me to this thing of his parents because no one was able to go with him, not a big deal" you waved your hand at them like it was actually nothing when you were boiling on the inside.

"Not big deal??" She exclaimed. "I took a peak of that dress and girl, that didn't seem like not a big deal" she quoted you in the air and you walked to the dress to pry inside.

The way both of your hands rose to clap your mouth shut proved Jirou right.

A red satin dress whose fabric and lacy straps screamed money and luxury to you laid flat and still in your hand-me-down duvet.

"It also came with these" Denki appeared above your shoulder with a pair of strappy heels.

You shook your head several times in disapproval. No. When Bakugo said that he had a dress, you never expected for him to casually lend you a, you could guess, a few pairs of zero dress. And heels that would match its glamor and price.

"What are you doing?" Jirou asked Denki in a hum.

"Looking at the price of this thing" He scanned the dress with his phone and shook his head and then he scanned the heels. "The dress is nowhere to be found but the heels, oh my god, don't even touch that"

"Don't be ridiculous, I don't think is that exp-" Jirou's eyes widen, and you could swear that they were about to pop out of their sockets. "Don't touch them? More like, don't breathe near them!"

"Dial his number Denki. I need to talk to him now. " You rushed to your friend while he was taking his phone out of his jacket.

"Put him on speaker," Jirou commented side eyeing you.

After a few rings, the sound of static and him clearing his throat startled the three of you.

"If something happened to that dress I swear to god-" Bakugo gruff voice echoed in your room.

"It's not that! When you said a party, I thought you meant like a casual party, almost as a jeans and top party, not a champagne toast, chandeliers and limousines party" you freaked out.

"Oh, so you liked the dress," he said, and you could practically see the smirk plastered on his face.

"There's no way I'm going to use that. The shoes cost more than my whole tuition!"

"I don't see the problem. Besides, you're not that clumsy to tear them up in just one night. I assure you nothing is going to happen, I'm going to pick you up, help you walk, and stay by your side, taking care that no one put a damn finger on it, if that is your concern"

In his own room, he was trying to keep it cool while the mere possibility of you bailing it out made his leg tremble under his desk. This was his shot. He had accepted the weird feelings he had toward you, and now he needed to taste the waters to see if there was any chance for him.

"I'm picking you up at six. Don't be late, " he hung up.

He wouldn't give you the opportunity to leave him hanging.

Classes were slower than usual. Fortunately, you had most of them with Jirou, so if you thought that she would drop the incident of the morning, you thought wrong.

"I don't know what's on his mind, but the bright side is that you have the chance to wear a nice dress for once without having to sell your soul to the devil" she said while scribbling some notes. You raised your brow at her, and she gasped. "He's not the devil"

"Since when are you a Bakugo defender?" You asked, leaning on your head on your open hand.

"I'm not his defender is just he's just behaving like a normal human being, acting like a friend, and don't forget he ate that crap the other day, for me that's like the ultimate act of love" she exaggerated.

"I wouldn't go that far," you rolled your eyes at her. "I'm with you on that, except for the latter, but I still think that he has hidden intentions." Jirou titled her head in confusion. "He's used to getting everything he wants, and normally he does, and when I appeared and opened my mouth, everything went downhill for him"

"So you think that he's only using you? For revenge? I don't think he's that wicked. " Jirou bit the tip of his pen giving it a profound thought.

"I don't know"

And for once in your life, you didn't want to know.

The same afternoon, you were at your room with your makeup and hair done. Jirou helped you to look like a decent person, and she also helped you put on your dress without leaving any stains.

"I swear to god, this is gorgeous," she exclaimed.

You admired yourself in the mirror. The fabrics traced the shape of your body in a way that almost made you faint. Growing up in an orphanage, you never had the opportunity of dressing nice. This was the first time that you actually felt like a princess.

Three knocks on the door echoed in the room. You looked at the clock, and you still had a whole fifteen minutes before Bakugo's arrival. Maybe something happened, you wouldn't have the chance to know because you didn't have his number.

You hurried to pick up some jewelry, a pair of golden earrings with a matching necklace that lay on your desk.

"Sensei?" Jirou asked and gave a step back to let Aizawa enter the room. Aizawa looked for you, and when he caught the glimpse of you dressed to the ninens, he was utterly confused.

"What's going on?" He asked slowly.

"I'm going to a party," you said, clicking the earrings to your lobes. You had a few more piercings, so you decided to look for new ones to combine.

"With Bakugo," Jirou chimed in giggling at your death stare.

"What?" Aizawa turned from Jirou to you.

"He asked me to be his plus one to one of his parent's events, no biggie," you said, clasping the back of your necklace while the two of them were talking with glances. "It's not what you are thinking"

"What am I thinking?" He pretended not having understood.

"It's not meet the parents, I swear, I'll just go, eat some boujee shit and look pretty" you shrugged.

Aizawa nodded in acknowledgment and then smiled a bit.

"You do look pretty," he said like a proud dad. "You should send a picture to Eri"

"Why don't I take the picture of the two of you?" Jirou said, excited. "You didn't have any proms, right? This could be the replacement of family photos"

You wouldn't lie. The mere idea of it made you excited, too. You had your best friend and your father figure with you in a moment you never thought you would ever have.

"Fine, but I want you out before Bakugo arrives, I don't want the: bring her in one piece show"

"Oh, don't worry, I'm going to have a serious talk with that boy," he joked.

Or that's what you thought.

Bakugo was ready to pick you thirty minutes before the time he set, so now, he had thirty minutes to pace in his room with his tux on and a lot of thoughts running through his mind.

The palms of his hands were sweating, and he restricted himself to apply more perfume on his collar. He didn't want to provoke you a headache, but he didn't want to smell like caramel either.

He went straight to his car, and although your building was almost in front of his building, he waited in the car, blasting loud music to keep his nerves on the line.

When the clock marked six pm, he made sure to lock his car and, with big steps, made his way to your building, playing with the keys on his fingers he stepped into the elevator and clicked the third floor.

The door of your room opened at the second knock, and Denki's girlfriend was the one on the other side of the wood.

"Are you ready?" She smiled widely, and Bakugo felt the emotions running in his stomach.

"Don't make a fuzz over it"

You appeared in slow motion. Well, that's how he recalls it. He was absolutely right about the dress and the heels. He felt his mouth drying just at the sight of you in front of him. Your makeup was subtle but remarked the main factions of your face. Your eyes were stunning and sparkling, and your mouth highlighted with a subtle shadow of light brown lipstick and gloss on top.

"You -" he stuttered. He cursed himself on his mind for acting like a teenager. "You look beautiful"

You smiled at him, and your cheeks went red in an instant but this time it wasn't for shame, it was purely because of his compliment.

"Let's go," he offered his arm, and you happily clung to it. You needed the balance.

"Have fun!" Jirou screamed from the door when you two walked away from her.

The ride in the car was nice. The spring breeze made you shiver a few times, but he was quick enough to pull the windows up. You thanked him in your mind.

On the other hand, Bakugo was sweating like a pig. He knew he needed to look at the road, but he was so mesmerized by your beauty that he couldn't help staring at you, giving you subtle glances.

He didn't want the ride to be silent, but he didn't know what to say without giving away too much or making a shame of himself.

He was a nervous wreck.

The two of you arrived at the venue with the sun setting on your backs. You had your arm locked on Bakugo's to maintain stability in your heels. With the heels on, he was only half of a head taller than you, so know you could actually see his eyes without killing your neck in the process.

The thematic of the party was classic and luxurious. You weren't wrong about the chandeliers and the champagne because the first thing you saw above your head was an enormous chandelier hanging from the roof, which was very far from the ground and about the champagne, after your mouth almost fell from his junction at the sight of the warm light, a waiter dressed in black waved his tray with multiples flute cups urging you to take one.

Bakugo was kind enough to take two of them and nodded at the waiter, who continued to offer them to the other guests.

Man, you needed at least three of them to just adjust yourself to the atmosphere.

"D'you like it?" He asked, offering the beverage.

"I mean, yeah, it's amazing, and I can't even begin to think the work your parents had to put on this, but I feel like an ant in a shark tank"

He smirked at your comparison.

"You look good," he assured you.

Before you could say anything a tug in your shoulder made you both turn around.

"Who's this?"

The femenine image of Bakugo was in front of you, looking at you with awe and sparkling eyes.

"I thought I'll have enough time to sneak out before bumping into you, mom." he rolled his eyes, and his mom didn't waste time smacking his shoulder with her hand.

"Don't talk to me like that, Katsuki. I'm your goddamn mother, " she flicked his son's forehead and then, like nothing happened, returned to you. "Who are you, darling?"

"She's my friend," Bakugo said before you could open your mouth. He looked constipated like he was trying so hard that you didn't talk.

"Hi, Mrs Bakugo, I'm very pleased to meet you," you said after giving her your name.

"Katsuki, I thought you'll bring your friends, this is a nice surprise." she was genuinely excited. "Are you his girlfriend or his girl-friend?" she waved her arms, stating the comparison with a playful wink that made you blush.

"She's just my friend," Bakugo answered, annoyed. "Where's dad?"

"Oh, he's over there sweeping away the candy table, I swear that man loves too much those little macaroons," she smiled at the sight of her husband. "Anyway, enjoy the party, I hope to see you again, darling," she squeezed your shoulder in her way out.

"She's cool," you said once she was out of sight.

Bakugo snorted and shook his head.

"That's because she doesn't scream at you, c'mon, let me introduce you to my dad" he grabbed your hand this time pulling you through the crowd and you didn't know how to feel about the sudden interaction.

Bakugo's dad was visibly the opposite of his mom. He was quiet, very calm and nice. He asked you about college and about your quirk. The three of you talked about random topics for almost half an hour, and you could tell that Bakugo was more relaxed around his dad than with his mom.

The party began after a speech from both of Bakugo's parents talking about the fashion industry and his own company. The start of it, the challenges they went through in the way of what was today and everything. They thanked their employees, which you found very modest of them, in the best sense of the word.

Then everyone was in their world talking to each other and laughing at the memories they shared. You and Bakugo were leaning in the bar table, asking for something else than champagne. Your tongue wasn't used to refined alcohol.

"Is it always like this?" You asked watching everyone from afar.

"Yeah, the best part is that they only do this twice a year, I need to use the bathroom. Can you stay here and wait for the drinks?" You nodded and gave him a small smile that he gave back.

In his absence, you took the time to look at your phone and replied to Jirou's text since it was just one text you needed to reply to. You started scrolling through the apps and watching stories from your friends. Mina's story appeared just after you accepted on being her friend.

The image of her and Bakugo's friend appeared in an instant. They were hanging together and playing cards in a bar while drinking beer. You felt the champagne in your stomach twirl and made you nauseous.

Why did they tell Bakugo that they were busy?

You were thinking about telling him or not when he appeared and looked above your shoulder.

"What are you doing?" He asked, raising his brow at you.

He didn't give you the time to hide the evidence, so he was very stunned when he watched his friend's story.

"I'm so sorry they lied to you," you said sadly.

His reaction took you by surprise. He wasn't sad or angry. Instead, he was stoic, he standed there thinking and looking at the abyss shuffling the options in his mind.

"It's okay, I didn't invite them," he shrugged and sat on the bar stool, taking the glass of something in his hand.

The look on your face was epic.

"What? But you told me-" you were dumbfounded.

"I know what I told you," he interrupted. "I just didn't want you to say no and I really wanted you to come"

The last time someone was so eager to spend time with you was when you were in charge of the twins, and the couple who adopted them wanted to be by their side all the time.

"Why?" You said confused by his actions.

"I wanted to know you better, like friends do." he wasn't even looking at you, focused completely on sipping from his glass. Yours was in front of you when you realized that it was a Cosmopolitan that you haven't ordered. He remembered.

"Well, I don't know what to say"

"It's okay if you're mad" he mumbled under his breath. He didn't want you to be mad.

"Mad? I'm flattered. I mean, yesterday I was the last option, and now I'm the only option you had in mind since the beginning, " you said toying with your fingers.

You didn't like any sort of lies, but you could understand why he did that. You weren't very open with anyone but your friends so it was very difficult to reach you sometimes. At least he was trying.

"So, do you like to dance, or am I just going to use this dress like a mannequin?" You said batting your long lashes at him.

"Your wishes are my commands, ma'am," he offered his hand, and you took it without hesitating.

"Oh my god, you're so damn cocky"

Your cheeky tone made butterflies erupt in Bakugo's body. That shithead of Kaminari was right. You were absolutely fun to have around.

After a few dances and a lot of drinking, at least for your part, because Bakugo had to drive you back, you were a giant mess. You felt the heat in your body and your feet staring to swell because of the dances. Bakugo was a great dancer, he knew how to sway and how twirl you without leaving you on the ground. You made fun of him multiple times and he took advantage of your state giving you the false sensation that after a spin he would actually drop you.

"I'm a mess right now," you stated the obvious. The drink was way over your head, and it made your legs feel lightweight.

"Yeah, you've stomped in my feet three times," he grinned grabbing you firmly by your waist.

"I'm sorry," you pouted. "I needed to make sure you weren't feeling so confident about your dancing skills. What a bummer! Do you really have to be good at everything? It's exhausting, Bakugo"

The way he laughed at you made you feel whole. He was genuinely laughing, heading back and relaxed shoulder. The whole starting pack of finding you funny.

"Katsuki," he returned to his normal state.

"What?" you asked. Your mind was working slowler than usual.

"You can call me Katsuki after you crushed my feet and almost teared off my arm when you thought you were falling, I think we are okay with first name basis"

Your emotions were in a state of haze. You could blame the alcohol in your veins, but you could also blame the stunning man in front of you, glancing your figure and never letting go of your skin.

He looked as hypnotized as you, but he was more in his right mind to make a subtle move.

Leaning and entering in your space, he took a loose lock of your hair with his fingers and carefully placed it behind your ear, taking the moment to hang in there for a while.

You gulped at the feeling of having him so close.

"I think we should dance one last time before we go," he whispered in your ear.

The slow music played through the speakers. Katsuki grabbed your hand, who was tiny against his big one. He placed the other hand in your waist while yours stayed in his shoulder. The intense look you were sharing gave you enough time to look at his eyes and memorize them. In the warm and fainty light, they looked brighter than other occasions, or maybe it was just because you now were taking your time to really look at them.

Katsuki felt the same way, he sweep your entire face with his eyes while guiding your dance. Your big eyes looked at him like he was the only thing in the world, the tip of your nose little red just as well as your cheeks and your lips, slightly apart and puffy, he wanted to kiss you so bad.

Would you let him? Kiss you?

He wanted to ask, but he was afraid. Bakugo Katsuki was afraid of asking a girl to please let him kiss her?

At that point, he didn't mind begging you to let him taste the sweet of your lips. He was dealing with his own devils inside of his brain. He promised you that his only intention was to be your friend, and now, after a splendid day, his own instincts were about fuck everything up or make it better.

Without even noticing, he started to lean towards you, and you were leaning as well to meet him in the middle. When he realized you were halfway to stamp your lips on his. Your eyes fluttered in between staying open and closed and he sucked his air because it was about to happen.

Ride or die, he thought.

You were inches away from each other when abruptly you shrinked in your position and your eyes snapped open in pain.

Your ankle sabotaged you.

After a little fuzz about it, where the two of you decided to forget the previous situation, you were situated in Katsuki's front seat with the help of his dad and a waiter. Your ankle was getting bigger and bigger and Katsuki couldn't stop looking at it.

"We have to go to emergencies," he stated.

You waved him off, rolling your eyes and internally screaming because of the pain. Damn high heels, you would never use them again.

"It's okay, I'll go to recovery girl tomorrow morning, and she'll do something about it"

That was the main plan. Katsuki felt stupid because with the preoccupation of you in any sort of pain, he forgot that you had all the possibilities with Aizawa being your guardian.

Once you reached your building, he made sure of leaving you safely and tucked in your bed. He even wanted to carry you bridal style to your room, but you adamantly opposed the possibility of being the main gossip of the week.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go with you tomorrow?" He asked for what it seemed the tenth time. Jirou, who was at his back, had a finger lifted for every time he asked that.

"It's okay, Jirou can take me, right?" You said calmly.

"Sure," she faked innocence, hiding his hands behind his back.

"Here, my number." he took your phone from his jacket and put his number on your contacts. "Text me tomorrow, or you'll have me here all day"

God forbid.

"Fine," you smirked. "I had a good time, thank you"

He tucked his hands on his pant's pockets and nodded in agreement.

When the door closed, Jirou watched you with her eyes wide open in amusement.

"I know, don't say anything," you curled up to touch your ankle and see it closely. "This look nasty"

"Girl," she stated, not believing a thing she had just seen.

...

You didn't sleep a wink from the pain. Jirou stayed all night with you icing your entire feet to deflate it, but it didn't work.

The sun was getting up in the sky, and the both of you were tired and sitting in your bed with your backs against the wall.

"Thank god the only class I have today is skippable," she said, yawning.

"Mine is not skippable but I'll make it skippable" you said changing the ice pack to your other hand. "I'll talk to Aizawa"

"Did you asked why he was here yesterday?"

You've forgotten about that.

"No" you shook your head. "I didn't even give it a thought"

She hummed in response and the two of you fell in a comfort silence where you took the chance to close your eyes a little.

"Don't you think you are playing two teams?" Jirou asked while taking the ice pack from your hand and icing your ankle herself.

Her voice startled you less than his ask.

"No," you hissed when she hit a sensitive spot. "I mean, Bakugo invited me to that thing, I said yes, we danced...very close and intimate I'm not going to lie about it and then I sprinted my ankle and now I'm here, what's that of two teams"

"You are practically panicking because of your ankle, I know you have a date with Todoroki, but maybe this is a sign." She said reading your mind.

Todoroki had crossed your mind just once and it was when you started to think in your classes and how you'll go to them in one foot.

"I can't leave him hanging." You said. "Besides, Bakugo invited me as his friend. He asked me to be his friend not a week ago, there no reason to not go to my date tomorrow"

"Fair point," she nodded. "Aren't you betraying yourself with this? Like in that blubbering mess you were last night, you explicitly told me that you felt your stomach doing a flip every time he pressed his hand on your waist"

You blamed the pain and the alcohol.

"If I don't remember, that means it didn't happen." You grinned at her, and she bumped her shoulder at you playfully

Oh, but you did remember, and it brought you mixed feelings that you didn't know how to deal with. With the sun rays of the morning stepping in your room through your curtains you couldn't help but think how fucked you were.

(Not proofread yet)

End note: I know I made you wait, but the waiting had its purpose. My winter break is over :( and since I've been updating on Wednesdays, I needed to re-schedule this to Fridays. For the wait, this chapter is longer and involves more scenarios and the "date" that I know you didn't see it coming. Bakugo surpassed Todoroki without knowing it! Devil works hard but Bakugo wanting reader works harder.

A penny for your thoughts about this (not really but express yourself)

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[l13]

bitter

dunno what brought this on but reader has good taste;P also let's pretend that lyla is team reader x miguel for plot reasons

word count: 2.3k

WARNINGS: NSFW 18+, MDNI, f!reader, ex!miguel, aged up bf!hobie<3, miguel has some v descriptive sexual thoughts about you (p in v sex, f!receiving oral), swearing, jealousy, ANGSTTT

English is not my first language so I apologize in advance for any misspells, errors or grammatically incorrect sentences.

Miguel often thinks about how he ended up giving in to his desires and starting a situationship with you, how he regrets it when he can tell how you've fallen for him. How your eyes crinkle when you smile at him, looking at him like he hung the moon. He regrets it because that's how he looks at you as well.

Why’d you have to ask him on that stupid date?

“That’d be unprofessional.” is what Miguel had said in reply. Because it was the truth. You were only fucking, nothing more.

You’d scoffed, “Oh come on, Miguel, we’re not office workers. Surely we can go out together?”

“What, fucking me ain’t enough for you?”

You'd huffed, your expression dull, shaking your head in disbelief, “No, actually, it isn’t. I genuinely like you, is that so bad?”

Miguel had ignored the flip his stomach did at your confession “You know why we can’t, now drop it.”

“No, I want you to tell me why.”

“It’s not in the canon” He cringes every time he remembers what he’d said, but it doesn’t change the fact that he was right. He was, but fuck, how he wanted to be wrong. He so desperately wanted it to be him that you were meant to fall in love with, him you were meant to build a life together.

“Fuck the canon.” had been your reply, before you turned to walk away and he'd made no move to follow you.

He'd failed to ignore Lyla when she'd whistled, “That was painful even for me,”

“Jesus- can you not?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, can't interrupt your brooding time. I'm just saying. You prevented the woman of your dreams from falling in love with you, because she's meant to fall for someone else? But that's stupid- Your heart literally jumps when you see her-”

“Lyla I swear to God, if you don't stop talking-”

And now, as he stands in front of your house months later, waiting for you to answer the door, Miguel found himself to be annoyed. Annoyed that he hadn't gotten your mission report on time, and had to come and fetch it for himself.

Some sick, twisted part of his brain wanted you to have forgotten it on purpose, and ignored his calls in order for him to come over, maybe reconcile- fuck your brains out till you're begging him to take you back, even if it meant putting your feelings aside.

“She better be home,” Miguel hisses to himself, his hand massaging his temples, and he doesn't even flinch when Lyla shows up out of nowhere “Oh, she is. The thermal scan picks her up, see? Wait who’s-”

Miguel was thankful for the interruption, but what he saw when you opened the door was not at all what he expected, or was even prepared for.

You were practically naked, an oversized t-shirt covering your body, stopping just under your ass and- Jesus Christ were those thigh highs? Yes they were, pretty ones, too. They were sheer white tights, that ended just in the middle of your plush thighs, the material hugging your legs beautifully, the very top of them decorated with a lace material, giving them a sexy twist.

God, he'd get on his knees right here and now if you just asked-Miguel licked his lips and cleared his throat, quickly averting his gaze, praying that he doesn't appear flustered.

“Miguel! Are you okay? Is something wrong? Hey Lyla-” you seem out of breath as you talk, clearly not bothered by your lack of clothing in front of him. Lyla offers you a bright hello and wave, one you softly smile at.

No, he's not fucking okay.

“I'm great.” he hisses, but really he was trying to convince himself of it. You study him for a bit longer before humming, not believing him for a moment.

“I need the report from the mission that you were sent to do yesterday. The one you forgot to send me.” Miguel inhales sharply and stands taller, trying to hide the fact that your presence damages his brain functionality severely, by trying to look more intimidating.

Memories of last night flash in your mind suddenly, being pressed against your bookshelf, the furniture rattling loudly, books almost toppling to the floor, but you didn’t have the heart in you to care. Not when he was grinding up at you, hand under your thigh to keep you upright as you moaned against his mouth crossing your legs around his waist and bringing him closer, the sound of your watch beeping pulling you out of your trance, “Fuck, wait. T-the reports-”

He undid your watch expertly with one hand, and you gasped trying to snatch it from his grasp, but he held it up above your head, placing it on top of your bookshelf carelessly, before grabbing the top shelf to brace himself and grind himself harder against you, moaning under his breath, “Fuck ‘em.”

Your eyes widen comically, and you sputter, “Right! Shit- fuck. I'm sorry, umm, wait here.” and you slam the door right in his face. Miguel's eyebrow twitches.

There's shuffling from inside before Miguel realizes that you're talking to someone-

“Can you go in five minutes? Please?”

“Nah, ‘m afraid I need to go right now, love. Got things to do, places to be.”

“Can't you open up a portal here?”

“When there’s a perfectly usable front door? I don’ think so,” “C’mon pretty.. what are y’so afraid of?”

“He’s our boss.”

“He’s your ex. Now, if you’re ashamed to be seen with me, I get it-”

“No! Baby, no. I just don’t want to rub it in his face, don't want him to think that I am either,”

“But that’s so boring. Let’s make ‘im suffer, you’ll thank me later-”

“Hob-”

The door opens suddenly and Miguel could act surprised, could act like he’s been waiting for quite a while not knowing what’s going on inside, but he doesn’t. Not when he’s face to face with Hobie. Not when he obviously knows how good Miguel’s hearing is, how he could definitely hear every word that was spoken, not when you’d tried to be nice- tried to whisper and be subtle, not when Hobie blatantly did the opposite out of spite.

So he just stares ahead with a blank face, as Hobie leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest lazily. There’s a hickey on his neck and Miguel feels like he might throw up.

And somehow, Miguel still thinks that this is all some sick joke, a prank, a dream. Anything to explain what he's seeing. Because there’s no way you're dating Hobie. There’s no way you fucked Hobie fucking Brown- the single most annoying person in Miguel’s life (after peter, of course). And after what, only eight months after you stopped seeing him? That's how long it took for you to get over him? He can almost hear Lyla laughing in his head, 'You're just bitter that you're not over her yet'

Hobie smirks at him “Hello mate, long time no see.” Miguel at least has the human decency to offer him a curt nod, which Hobie apparently finds hilarious as he huffs out a laugh, “'S alright if I send my report later, right? I'm kind of exhausted right now, did a lot of runnin' yesterday, y'know,”

Lyla visibly winces and disappears a second later.

Running. Miguel needed breathing exercises and he needed them now-

Miguel's eyes snapped to yours. Were you just gonna let Hobie talk all that shit, without saying anything? (Knowing Hobie's life was in imminent danger?) Apparently so, because you just scoffed and rolled your eyes with a smile on your face. What a great couple you two made.

He refused to believe that this is who you chose, refused to acknowledge that his anger was pointed at himself and not you. He’d never, ever, admit it, not even at gunpoint, but Hobie was a good kid, he’d treat you right and that's what pissed him off the most.

“Fuck the canon.” Hobie would have laughed and nodded in agreement at your words, not Miguel though. Miguel had said nothing and it had cost him his future with you.

Sensing that Miguel wouldn’t reply anytime soon, Hobie just shrugged nonchalantly, “Thanks for understanding, boss.”

Miguel felt like he could hear his own veins pulsing. Boss, he'd called him boss. That little-

Turning to you, Hobie throws a hand around your waist and squeezes you against him, pressing a kiss on your cheek “I'll see you later love, don' forget to put some ice on that, yeah?” he lays a slap on your ass that makes you almost tumble forward, and Hobie's smirk widens when he sees Miguel ball his fists at his sides, nostrils flaring. Hobie throws a wink at Miguel before squeezing through him to walk out, seeing as Miguel didn't make any attempt to get out of the way.

Miguel doesn't turn to see him open up a portal to leave, he's too busy looking at the way the multi-colored lights illuminate your face, how you grin and wave shyly at your boyfriend.

“So sorry about him.. d'you wanna come in?” you ask, shifting from one leg to another once the portal disappears. Miguel just stares at you, eyes hooded, mouth pressed in a tight line.

“Ookay, I’ll just go get the- yeah” you trail off and turn to walk deeper into your apartment, and Miguel hates himself for craning his neck to catch a glimpse of your ass. And then hates himself even more when he thinks about how smug Hobie would be if he knew Miguel was checking out his girl. He'd say some dumb shit like "Wanting somethin' you can't have again, boss?"

Meanwhile, you're standing on your tippy-toes in front of your infamous bookshelf, arm outstretched, trying to grab your watch but to no use, cursing Hobie in your mind for putting it so high up. You had no idea that by trying to get your stupid watch, you were giving Miguel the perfect view of your backside, seeing as your shirt rode up each time you stretched out your arm.

No, fuck that. You knew exactly what you were doing, and Hobie was right. Let him suffer. He chose this, so now he can deal with the consequences.

Miguel wanted to give everything up right then and there. It's funny how quickly you could strip him of his morals, and he just wishes he could have done that before realizing he'd lost you forever. He could picture his future in his mind so clearly, if only he'd just said yes to your question.

“Will you go out with me?"

He’d resign, move out some place nice, next to a beach preferably. Spend his days laying on the sand and drinking piña coladas with no care in the world.

Except you’d be there. Straddling his lap to steal his drink, giggling and laughing when he tried to take it back from you. He’d grab your hips and with a swift motion you'd switch places, your back against the hot sand. The drink would spill from the movement, the liquid falling over your bikini covered tits, and you’d gasp oh-so prettily when he’d bend to lick it all up.

You’d moan even sweeter when he’d move lower, when he’d eat you out till you’re a crying, babbling mess, whining that you can’t take it anymore. Oh, but you could. You would take it, and he’d prove it when he’d later fuck you against the pool, and he’d make sure he fucked you good. Your mewls would be panted against his ear as he’d thrust into you relentlessly, your fingers digging into his wet back, and all he’d taste would be your pretty moans and the faint taste of rum against his tongue.

His cheeks would hurt from how hard he'd be grinning as he stared at you when you both would go for a walk by the beach later. He'd jog up to you, springing you in his arms, nuzzling his head against your hair- your distinctive smell fogging up his brain- your laughter mixing together, as you chased each other through the waves.

When you'd had enough, and stood panting, your -now wet- dress clinging to you like second skin, he'd drop to his knee, pulling out a ring from his pocket, one he was anxious not to drop when he was chasing you around, and you'd gape at him, tears already welling up in your eyes.

You would have said yes that night. In fact, the word would have been repeated against his shoulder as he fucked you later, rolling his hips into you slowly, kissing your pretty tears, holding you, loving you–

“Done! I just sent it–,” you could have sworn you and Miguel shivered at the same time when he blinked down at you, his mouth parted. His eyes were glistening all of a sudden, and it made your whole being fill with a sense of longing and dread.

“Lyla?” you swallowed harshly at Miguel's hoarse tone, gnawing at your lip as you avoided his gaze.

It was as if Lyla knew not to fuck with him either, because she didn't even make him beg for it, instead pulling up a hologram that showed the report, “Yup, got it!”

You cleared your throat, eager to get back into bed and forget the look on his face just now, suddenly feeling nostalgic for a memory you couldn't quite place- “I'm sorry that I forgot, it won’t happen again, promise.”

Yes it will.

“See you back at HQ?”

Miguel hums, not saying anything, not even caring to correct you, because he’d sooner see you in his dreams than at headquarters.

2023 © l13 | Do not steal, copy, edit, translate or re-post any of my works.

[shenanigans-and-imagines]

(astarion / acebard!tav)

Astarion never received any gifts before - and if he did, he forgot - but he would have loved for the first giver to be his lover, although they seemed pretty occupied with Gale and an object that suspiciously looked like a present.

(not native in english. so sorry if the wording is clusmy in some parts, i wan't sure how to write this xD)

A/N: I made a few adjustments, but I think I know what you're getting at. Hopefully it still works. Also, this turned out way more than five sentences because I have no self control.

Astarion x AsexualBard!Tav Masterlist

Word Count: 921

Astarion couldn't remember the last time he received a gift. The idea of being gifted anything was down right laughable. Nobody truly gave anything without expecting something in return. Some way, some how a price would be paid. He didn't need that hanging over his head, along with everything else. So why did seeing you hand Gale a wrapped parcel sting so much?

He watched as the wizard pulled apart the paper, his brows furrowed with curiosity clearing into a bright smile.

"Oh this is perfect!" he exclaimed. "How did you get it?"

"Do you really want to know?" you challenged, grinning yourself.

Gale opened his mouth as if to say something, but stopped himself with a guilty look. "Perhaps it's best I say thank you and leave it at that."

"What do you know, intelligent and wise," you teased. "Just make sure to pace yourself. Don't read it all in one night."

"I've made a point never to make promises I can't keep."

You laughed, giving Gale a light squeeze on the arm before turning in Astarion's direction.

He schooled his features into a casual expression, trying and failing to ignore the burning in his chest. Admittedly the fond look in your eyes did quell the fires, at least a little.

"Successful day?" he asked.

"More or less," you said, taking a seat beside him. "We've got a map. No way to read it just yet, but it's a start."

Astarion humphed, nodding in Gale's direction. "And that?"

"Just some petty thief," you explained. "Gale expressed an interest in it last time we were in town. Couldn't for the life of me explain why, but the bookseller refused to sell. Terrible way to run a business if you ask me."

This was normally when he would laugh or at least grant you an approving smile. Truly, he did love your casual relationship thievery, but it only made him more frustrated. He'd almost preferred you'd paid for it. If you had, he could dismiss the whole thing as a simple errand and not something more.

You frowned slightly, clearly taking notice of his mood.

"Alright, what's got you pouting?"

"I'm not pouting," he said, indignantly. "I'm brooding. There's a difference."

"My apologizes," you said, dryly. "What's got you brooding, oh mysterious one?"

He narrowed his eyes at you, his lips pressing into a hard line.

"I'm just surprised you would go so out of your way for a book. It's not as if you'd be able to understand it anyway."

A flash of hurt struck across your face, but you pushed it down in a way that made him sick to his stomach. What in the hells was wrong with him?

"Well, it's a good thing it wasn't for me then," you said, stiffly. "Now are you done being childish or are you actually going to tell me what's going on?"

Astarion tried to maintain eye contact in some vain attempt to hold onto his pride, but it was no use. He ducked his head down, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

"I...I don't see why you think Gale is worth the effort is all," he admitted. "It's just a stupid book. It's not as if it's useful to the rest of us. So...why bother?"

He chanced a glance in your direction. You just stared at him, your lips slightly parted as you took him in.

"Astarion, are you jealous?" you finally asked.

"No," he said, a little too quickly, even to his ears.

"So what else would you call being upset over the fact I stole something specifically for Gale and not you?"

"I'm not upset," Astarion objected. "I'm just..."

"Brooding?"

He very much wanted to say something devastating in that moment, that would shut you up and let him walk away from this with some kind of dignity; but, he couldn't think of a damned thing.

"Fine, I'm jealous," he spat. "Happy?"

"Not really."

He closed his eyes, letting out a short sigh. He deserved that.

"I'm sorry," he said, softly. "You're right, it's...petty and I shouldn't have said that to you. Gods know if it were anyone else I would have torn their throat out."

He looked to you then, hoping you would see the honest truth in his words.

"I wish I was better at this. I know you care about me and I don't need you to commit robbery to prove it. Although, I wouldn't be opposed to it."

To his relief, a small crack of a smile turned at the corner of your mouth.

"I'll keep that in mind," you said, some of the teasing coming back into your voice.

"Does that mean I'm forgiven?" he asked.

"Only if you mean it."

He didn't have an answer for that. At least, not right away.

With deliberate care, he slipped his hand into yours, raising it to his lips.

He watched as your eyes widened in surprise, only to soften as he pressed a gentle kiss to your fingers. His eyes never strayed from yours. He needed you to see him too.

"I mean it," he said.

A true smile came to your lips, as you nodded. "Then you are forgiven."

He returned your smile, feeling a lightness in his chest only you seemed to grant him.

Perhaps he was wrong in his assessment. He had been given many gifts since meeting you. You practically showered him with them every single day, and damn him for taking any of them for granted.

[dearmantis]

Golden Crown of Sorrow

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x fem!Princess!Reader

Summary: After sending dozens of letters begging your father to help you flee from your betrothed and his family, someone finally comes to save you

Warnings: domestic abuse, neglectful/abusive parents, sexism/violence against women, mentions of suicide, murder, mentions of child murder, mentions of getting attacked by an animal (if you get bitten by something, even a human, get checked by a medical professional), Fjerda slander, mention of pregnancy

Word Count: 4k words

Authors Note: This was originally part of A little loss of Innocence but it works way better as it's own one shot. Also, please pay attention to the warnings. English is not my native language and I didn't edit this

"Did my father send you?" You ask as you settle in the carriage, voice timid and quiet in a way that is so unlike the version of you that he knows that it throws him off for a second.

You haven't spoken at all during the ride here, contempt in burying your fingers in the mane of his horse or sleeping as he led it away from the house of the family you were promised to, and starring at the forest or the small fires he lit to cook food during the breaks.

His gaze wanders over you, taking in the way your shoulders are pulled together to make you appear smaller, the small, almost invisible cut on your left cheek, the way you keep wincing when the carriage shakes a bit, and how your eyes keep jumping around, gaze always flickering between the window and the position of his hands.

He can't lie to you, he realises. You're suspicious and filled to the brim with fear and paranoia. Whatever happened in Fjerda has shaken you to the core and thrown you right into survival mode. If he lies to you and you find out, you will never trust him with anything ever again.

Because even if you recover from this, you will always remember the fact that he lied to you when you were in your most vulnerable state. And Aleksander needs the trust of the royal family, as much as he might despise that fact.

"No"

You bite your lip harshly, teeth digging into the chapped, dry flesh before you nod, eyes finding his. The suspicion in them is stronger now, accompanied by a bit of confusion.

"Then why did you come? What's in it for you?"

Aleksander frowns. "Excuse me, your highness?"

"Why are you saving me? Why did you decide to come here instead of letting me die in Djerholm? My own family was ready to watch me perish there after all."

There is no anger in your voice, no sadness, nothing. Just this monotone, quiet, submissive voice that doesn't fit someone born into the status of royalty.

But your gaze is scrutinizing, clarifying that every question you ask is a test designed to make him trip in hopes of revealing his true motivations. You're expecting him to lie to you. In the back of your mind you're probably already planning how to weasel the truth out of him, so all he can really do to take control over the situation and reassure you into trusting him is to reveal the truth and in turn his playing cards for this specific game.

You want him to lie, and he has never enjoyed doing what the royal family wants.

"Glory"

Your surprise is like a shooting star: Visible for a singular heartbeat, then gone forever.

"Glory?" Your eyes look back down to your knees, your hands playing with the fabric of the skirt of your dress while the volume of your voice drops into a whisper. "You won't achieve glory like this. You will most likely be punished for saving me, and I'll be sent back."

Your behaviour is starting to bother him. It was a welcome change when he first got you out and traveled through Fjerda with you on the saddle in front of him, but now all he wants to do is shake you until the words start falling out of your mouth.

He thought you were just quiet because you were scared of being caught, but evidently, nothing has changed for you after he led you across the border to Ravka.

Maybe it would've been better to lie? To tell you that he was some kind of chivalrous knight in shining armour who had come to Fjerda out of the goodness of his own heart to save his struggling princess?

"I doubt that you'll be send back, your highness," he responds carefully. He never thought about the fact that your family might be upset about him saving you. They did give you away after all, and he simply acted on the assumption that they love you and want you to be safe, like all parents should. He should know by now that many parents don't love their children.

"I hope you're right," you mumble, averting your gaze to look at the scenery of Ravka rushing past the window, "For the sake of both of us."

You sink back into silence after that, and the letter still stuck in a pocket of his kefta is suddenly heavy as a bag of bricks. It's a short one, written on a scrap of paper that you must've somehow smuggled out of the house of your betrothed. It had ended up in his mail one day, either through an accident or through a servant who couldn't continue to watch the king ignore your cries for help.

Please father. I don't know how much longer I can survive this. I dream of taking a knife to my throat every day. I'm not strong enough for this.

The next time you speak, you're less than ten minutes away from the town where he planned to take a break, your quiet voice piercing through the air like an arrow.

"Do you have to bring me to my father?"

Aleksander looks up from the documents he had been reading, a deep frown on his face. "Where else would I bring you, your highness?"

You mirror his facial expression. "You could hide me at the Little Palace."

"No, I can't. What if someone catches you?"

"Nobody would catch me, I promise. I would be so quiet, I would never leave my rooms I would-"

"No. End of the discussion, or I'll tell the coachman to turn around and bring you back to your betrothed."

His voice is sharp and cold, the stress from the last few days finally boiling over, and you flinch back from him so harshly that your head hits the wood behind you. Fear burns like a small fire in your gaze, your frame curling in on itself even further.

You don't talk at all for two days straight after that. The only time he hears your voice is when you scream and cry at night, probably due to nightmares.

Looking back, he probably overreacted a bit.

The next time you talk, it's only because he asks you a question.

You're both sitting in a tavern, quietly eating together, and while your gaze keeps jumping from the three other people around you to the door and the windows, his is glued to you.

He has collected a thousand questions on his tongue in the last few days, and his mind works overtime trying to discern the differences between you now and you before all of this. Before the betrothal, before your travels to Fjerda.

"What exactly happened to you in Fjerda?"

Your attention shifts to him, brows furrowed.

"The same thing that always happens when a woman of Ravka gets betrothed to a man of Fjerda."

In the back of his mind, he remembers the death of Princess Fruzsina. How her brother, crown prince Konstantin, didn't let anyone see her or her newborn daughters corpse when they were transported back to Ravka, not even her own parents.

"Nobody needs to see this. It's better to remember her the way she was when she was still here."

He feels acid rising in his throat.

You talk again a few hours later, attention flickering from the window of the carriage to him and back a few times before you finally manage to find your voice again.

"Why did no one ever betroth you to someone?" You ask carefully.

Aleksander looks up from the book he has been reading, a small spark of annoyance visible in his eyes at the interruption.

He regrets it as soon as he sees you flinch again, his mind immediately travelling back to that young woman completely wrapped in shroud, her small babe right next to her. Just bundles of linen, not a milimetre of skin visible.

"Excuse me, your highness?"

"Why did no one ever betroth you to someone?" You repeat, "Or one of your ancestors at least. Wouldn't that make sense? Tie you and the Darkling line to the royal family through marriage and kids, force allegiance that way?"

Closing the book slowly, he lets your words roll over in his head.

"The Darklings have been loyal to the Royal Family since the Black Heretic died."

"Yes, but wouldn't it be better to tie the families together forever? It would also help to smooth over past animosities, I think. Suddenly, the king isn't just a stranger. He's the current Darklings father in law or uncle. And the Darkling is no longer a random stranger to the Princes and Princesses either. He's their cousin."

The idea is simple and logical, he has to give you that, but he has also spent the last two centuries making sure he wouldn't be betrothed to anyone. It kind of ruins his whole "faking his death and pretending to be his own son" ruse, after all. But he can't explain that to you, can he?

"No ravkan king would ever betroth their child to a Grisha, your Highness. Not when all over the country highborn children are still drowned in lakes and bathtubs as soon as they show their abilities." The words come out harsher than originally planned, but he doesn't correct himself. "Why are you thinking about this? You've never shown interest in Grisha, me, or the politics surrounding us."

He has to wait almost thirty minutes for an answer to that question. He's gone back to reading, carefully annotating his thoughts and questions, when your voice rings through the carriage once more, almost getting swallowed by the noise of the horses outside.

"At night, when I couldn't sleep, I often asked myself if I had other options. If I could've gotten betrothed to someone else. One of the only men I could think of that were still eligible is... you. And as soon as I realised that, I also noticed that the Darklings have never married someone highborn."

There's something else, he can tell by the way you speak, slow and careful like you're holding something back, but before he can even think to push you the carriage shakes and your face contorts into a pained grimace.

He doesn't have to see the skin hidden by your clothes to know that you're probably covered in bruises and cuts, maybe even some animal bite marks.

You should rest, and he can still interrogate you later, so he slowly nods and returns to his book, his eyes gliding over the paper without absorbing a single word. His mind stays with you.

You start having an easier time moving and walking a week after escaping your betrothed and his family, but you're still visibly keyed up and stressed. Everything scares you, everything wakes your suspicion, everything worries you.

He hears you mutter under your breath sometimes, especially during the late hours of the night and the hours before sunrise, convinced that he must be asleep. He can never quite understand what you're saying, only catching a few words at a time when it happens. You whisper about wolves following your scent, of someone sending you back into the north, of shoving a knife into your neck, deep enough that not even a well trained healer would be able to save you in time.

Your lack of sleep worries him as well. The only times he has seen you truly sleep well were at the beginning of your travels. You almost slept for two days straight, sitting in front of him on his horse, his arms keeping you stable in the saddle, only waking up after he made camp for the night and forced you to drink and eat. Now, the only sleep you get is through small involuntary naps in the carriage, when the exhaustion claims you like it did in those first two days.

The nightmares that wake you as soon as you fall asleep don't help either.

You're petting and brushing the horses while the other Grisha accompanying you fill the water bottles at a nearby river, your only guard being the General himself sitting a few metres away, eyes on the forest surrounding you.

"I was surprised how much I missed you," you say after a while, your attention still fully on the beautiful horses in front of you, carefully brushing the dust and dirt out of their fur in hopes of making them a bit more comfortable, "I missed my brothers, of course, and my friends and servants as well. I missed the gardens of the Grand Palace, the beauty of Os Alta, my own bed. I missed being home and not being scared for my life. But I also missed you a lot more than I thought I would."

You don't look at him, your voice light as if you were talking about the weather.

"I kept thinking about how much time I spend bothering you, how much my own parents brainwashed me into disliking you, and how much you must've suffered because of that. I was a brat before I was sent north, I know that now, and I want to apologize for my behaviour. I can't thank you enough for coming to save me despite everything."

Aleksander is speechless for longer than he would like to admit, starring at you with visible shock on his face. It takes him a while to shake it off, to find the right words to respond to you.

"You were a child for most of it, Your Highness. It would be stupid of me to hold a grudge because of that."

He has held grudges because of less, but you don't need to know that. You're the first member of the Royal Family to actually apologize to him. Sure, you're probably only doing it because he saved you from your betrothed, but he can tell that you genuinely feel bad.

"It wouldn't be. I was a terror as a child and grew up to be a brat."

The Darkling frowns weakly, watching you carefully as you move onto the second horse to brush it.

"I was a brat, and stupid too. I heard the story of Princess Fruzsina a thousand times. I even dug through the archive to read the reports from the Healers. I know everything they did to her. I'm probably the only person alive that actually still knows, since no one ever bothers to read through those documents... and I went north anyway. I betrayed her memory. She begged in her last letter before she was murdered that they could never send another ravkan girl north, and I went anyway."

He shakes his head, responding to your words before he even realises that he opened his mouth. "You did what your parents wanted from you. They were the ones suggesting the betrothal, and they encouraged you to go through with it. If anyone betrayed Fruzsinas' memory, it's them, just like they betrayed you when they suggested the betrothal without educating you on the sensitive political climate in Fjerda and their exact traditions and rules."

"I'm a woman grown, General, and I did research on Fruzsinas murder on my own. I should've done the same with the treatment of women in Fjerda instead of blindly believing my mother when she assured me that the men in the north don't hit their wives anymore. That they wouldn't dare to hurt a girl from a royal family. I'm a stupid little girl, nothing more."

"You believed that your parents would keep you safe instead of selling your life away for a political alliance. You assumed that your family would do what they're supposed to do. That's not a sin, your highness."

"Oh, but it is!" You bite back, eyes finally meeting his. There's anger and hate flickering in your irises, but he knows it's not directed towards him. It's directed towards yourself. A weapon pointed at your own heart and soul instead of his head. "I'm old enough to think for myself, to make my own decisions. People expect it of me, but instead of using my head I follow my mother and father around and copy them in everything, playing the obedient little princess instead of developing a personality and beliefs of my own. It took a man beating me half to death in front of his men to change that, to free me of the shackles I put onto my own wrists and ankles."

Your voice is sharper than a knife, colder than the permafrost up north, and your breathing is getting harsher. Gone is the sumbissive, quiet thing he pulled out of that house in the middle of the night. "I did everything to apease my parents, to be the perfect princess in their eyes, in everyones eyes. I loved what they loved, hated what they hated, and did what they did. And for what? To be sold off like an animal to a slaughterhouse?"

A scoff escapes your lips, an unladylike sound that you would've never let yourself make before. He guesses you stopped caring. There are many unladylike noises that you've probably made while laying in your own blood, cowering from the man who was supposed to protect and cherish you.

"That's what I meant when I said that they will send me back. I had the help of two of the servant girls. They smuggled letters out for me and sent them off to my parents, but no answer ever came. The only reason why I got out is because you somehow knew that something was wrong and wrongfully assumed it was an opportunity for you to gain glory."

He doesn't mention that he knew of your predicament because one of your letters ended up with him on accident, nor does he disrupt you for any other reasons. This is the most you've spoken since he dragged you out of that forsaken house in Djelholm and smuggled you out of the city. It would be insane to cut you off now and risk never hearing of your thoughts and opinions ever again.

"It's ridiculous. Even if a miracle happens and I don't get sent back immediately, they will simply betroth me to someone else from Fjerda, like that's somehow going to fix the years of tension between our countries. I will never be safe again. I will never be allowed to stay here. I will never be free the way I was before all this. I didn't even realise how privileged I was."

There is a way to save you from that fate. Several, actually, but one of them would play right into his hands if he simply played his cards right.

Aleksander suggests it two days before they reach Os Alta while they sit in the carriage.

He doesn't do anything special, doesn't prepare anything or bothers to give a speech. It would be filled with lies and manipulation anyways, and you would probably be able to tell. He hasn't officially accepted your apology for your past behaviours, after all. He just says what he wants you to do, nothing more.

"Marry me."

Your head whips up, attention dragged away from the book you had been reading.

"What?"

He smiles. "Marry me."

The carriage is currently driving through a town, the noise of children playing and people talking filling the silence between you two.

"Why?" You finally ask, suspicion barely hidden in your body language.

He has many reasons to make a suggestion like this, of course. Tying himself to someone, an otkazat'sya no less, is incredibly risky for him, after all. It needs to be thought through carefully, which he has.

Aleksander feels like he has done nothing else other than think since your rescue.

You're popular with the people, ravkas beautiful rose, kind and sweet and obedient. If the commoners found out what happened to you, what your parents knowingly put you through with this betrothal, they would riot in the streets. It would only get worse if they found out that they sent you away from your lover.

The story basically writes itself. It would be easy to plant rumours amongst the merchants and peasants, make them believe that you were in love with him and planned to run off with him, knowing that the king and queen would never allow for your love to flourish. That your parents found out and sent you away for a betrothal to a harsh and violent man as a punishment. That he saved you because he loved you so deeply, marrying you on the road back to the Grand Palace in a small chapel, hoping that the marriage will tie your souls together forever even if he gets killed for disobeying the wishes of the king and queen.

If he does it right he can claim that your father attacked you and that he killed him and the rest of the royal family to defend you, or that Fjerdans assassinated the royal family in revenge for the failed betrothal and that Aleksander somehow managed to save you, placing you on the throne, him right next to you.

He would no longer be General, then, but king consort. Your reputation should be high enough with the otkazat'sya to balance the hatred they have for him out as well. The rose of ravka would never fall for an evil man, after all.

Of course, this plan could backfire horribly. What if you hate him after he slaughters your family? What if you don't want to be queen? What if one of your relatives manages to kill you before he can kill them? He would have to claim the throne through right of conquest, and the people would hate him for it, would turn your family into martyrs and put his Grisha at even more risk.

But the risks might be worth it. He just has to be smart.

And he'd be saving you from an awful marriage. He could be a god husband to you. He could make you happy.

Probably.

Of course, he can't confess these things to you. The best way to force you to participate in his plans is if you don't know that he's planning anything at all.

"They can't send you back if you're married. You'll be mine. I'd be able to hide you away in the Little Palace, just like you wanted."

You make a face, clearly not convinced.

"They'll just order a priest to annul it or kill you to make me a widow and renew the betrothal," you warn.

"Your highness, as much as I respect the swordsmanship of the guards, I sincerely doubt that they would be able to kill me. Besides, I don't think that they would be able to betroth you to a fjerdan man after we consummate the marriage."

The book you've been reading drops to the floor of the carriage with a quiet thump, but you don't even notice that it has left your grasp, your full, undivided attention on him.

You're probably trying to discern if he's serious, and if you should slap him for even suggesting something like this.

"There's a chapel in this town, and a small tavern right next to it," he murmurs after a while, offering his hand to you, "It wouldn't be like the royal wedding you probably dreamed of, but you would be safe. I swear it. I protect what is mine."

He watches you swallow, traces the movement with his gaze, gleeful at the visible effect his proposal has on you. He can see the temptation in your eyes, the battle you're fighting in your head.

Are you willing to go behind your parents' backs to marry him? Are you willing to become the Darklings wife, to carry his children?

You grab his hand slowly, the look in your eyes vulnerable.

His smile widens when his fingers wrap around yours, his hand moving to knock against the wood of the carriage to get it to stop.

[shinybearnerd]

"Healing Wings"

GOOD OMENS SEASON 2! SPOILER WARNING! IF YOU DID SEE IT YET, DO NOT INTERACT!

Hi!

So, I'm a mess since I finished the new season.

I tried to cope by writing something (since I'll be pretty busy for all of August). And this is the result.

Justice for my boy! He deserved his happy ending.

I wanted to thank everyone that send me requests. As I said before, I'm a bit busy but once I'll have some time, I'll write. Promise.

Enjoy!

Pair: Crowley x reader

(Hints of: Aziraphale x reader, Aziraphale x Crowley, Aziraphale x reader x Crowley)

Words: 2,8k

Genre: Smut +18, fluff and angst

Story: when Aziraphale goes away to become the archangel in heaven, Y/n and Crowley find themselves alone. They both with a feeling of abandonment. As they lean on each other for support, their relationship blossoms deeper.

English is not my first language. I'm sorry if there're any mistakes.

The ride to your house is quiet.

You don't remember much about what happened earlier. You only recall screaming at Aziraphale for deciding to go away and leaving you and Crowley alone. His eyes were covered in tears.

     << Y/n, I can- >>

     << Do not fucking bother! Go on. Go play with your little mates. Is what you wanted after all, right? >> You cut him off, returning to Crowley.

The demon looks at the scene inside the car. He doesn't hear what you are saying but can imagine by the looks of you and the angel. He even doesn't say anything about it once you step inside the car. He only starts the engine and begins to drive.

Once you arrive, you convince Crowley to come inside without effort. Once you lock the door behind you, you see him. Sitting on the sofa. He stares blankly in front of him. Or at least you think so. He didn't take off his glasses or have any intention to.

You walk towards him without saying a word. When you take your first step, it seems like he only notices your presence at that moment.

You walk to him. Crowley's gaze fixed on you, making you feel exposed.

You're now in front of him. You try to say something, but he makes the first move by hugging your legs and placing his head on your stomach. He's tired. You both are.

You remain like this for a few minutes. You caress his red hair and try not to cry, as he enjoys your touch.

He then looks up at you.

You're starting to feel a particular jolt invading your body. Something that grows deeper when the demon stands up and obscures you with his height.

He takes your chin, his thumb exploring your lips. He then kisses you. It's a needy one. A desperate one.

You start to undress one another, but when you try to take his glasses, he freezes.

     << I... I prefer to leave them on. >>

Once Nina and Maggie get out, you pop out from your hiding spot.

Crowley hears your movement but doesn't say a word. Too scared about your reaction to actually do something. 

He listens. Listen to the way your clothes sound when they rub against each other. Listen to your increased heartbeat and your hitching breath, wishing he could feel it against his skin while-

     << Is it true? >> You finally take some courage.

Crowley physically can't turn to look at you, like something is blocking him. But he manages to stand up and put on his glasses. And suddenly, he feels like he can at least try.

When he turns around, your heart sinks a little.

     << No, please... >>

     <&lt; What? >>

You try to reach, but he takes a step behind, trying to have some space between you two.

     << You know that you don't need those >> you point at the black lenses << when you are with me. We've already been through this. Remember? >>

     << I would like to keep them on. If you don't mind. >>

You sigh, knowing that he's too stubborn to listen. So you ask again, trying to look into his eyes. << Is it true? >>

The demon doesn't respond.

     << It's pretty easy, Crowley. It's a "yes" or "no" answer... >>

Your voice seemed calm and amused by all of this, trying to ease the mood. But every fibre of your body tried to remain calm and not rush things.

Something was still blocking him. His pride, maybe. Or even the fear of you rejecting him. He doesn't know which.

     << I'm sorry... I-I can't. >>

He tries to exit the bookshop, but you stop him.

     << Where are you going? Hold on! Why can't you say it? What's wrong? >>

     << Because-... Fuck! >>

He walks in the room, stomping his feet like a wild horse that's been caught and imprisoned. He's trying to focus on something that isn't you and elaborate a clever way out. He's a demon, after all. He's the master of lying.

He can do this.                                                                                                    But once he turns to look at you, he suddenly can't lie to you anymore.

     << Because it's true, Y/n! There. I said it! >>

Your heart is bursting, but you let him talk first. You feel like he needs to.

     << You don't understand how you made me feel in all these years we knew each other! I only thought that Aziraphale would be the lo... >> he sighs, trying to calm himself by rubbing his eyes. << But then you came along. So full of life and wonder, and it j-just... happened!- >>

In the beginning, he's doubtful. The poor devil thought that was an act of pity towards him, but once he comprehend that you're not going to leave soon, he deepens it. A rush of emotions adds to the kiss. Passion, desperation and relief. All put in Crowley's kiss, who is touching and hugging you like you'll disappear.

You don't even spend time saying something. You've already waited enough.

With big steps, you end your distance. You take the demon's sunglasses with one hand while the other takes the head, smashing your lips together.

You start to caress each other. Your hair, your back, your arms... All you two can reach has been touched and loved.

     << Please tell me this is not a dream and that I'm not gonna wake up in the Bentley with a boner... >> he whispered on your lips between a kiss and another.

You smirk against his mouth while pressing yourself towards him.

     << I don't know about the dream, but I hope this isn't something you have in your pocket. >> You replied, touching his clothed erection.

The demon growls, squishing the flesh of your hips under his fingers.

     << You're playing with fire, doll. >>

His pushes are erratic and hopeless. Like he can release all that pain he's feeling.

But suddenly his pushes stop. You feel his hold tightening as he's afraid to lose you too. Little and muffled sobs start to fill the air as the demon tries to hold you as close as possible.

     << Crowley? >>

You caress his head, trying to escape his grip to look at him.

     << I'm sorry... >> he muffles in tears.

His head is against your chest. Tears are starting to wet your skin.

     << Hey... No, no, no. Hey, look at me. Please, look at me, Crowley... >>

You take off his glasses. Once you look at his eyes, your stomach tightens. His eyes are full of sorrow, ache and distress. And it all makes you feel awful. It's like you can't do anything to make him feel better...

You manage to take his face in your hand. You voluntarily start to caress his cheeks with your thumbs while you look into each other's eyes. And what you see breaks your heart.

Crowley's lips are a little parted, quick breaths leaving and entering his mouth. His cheeks are starting to get wet too. The eyebrows narrowed in an expression of pain. 

The demon makes a face, like he has something to say about that, but you don't give him the chance.

     << I-I'm sorry. I should not... >>

He tries to avoid eye contact. 

     << No, hey... Hey. It's okay, darling. It's not your fault. >>

     << But it is! >> He finally looks at you. << If I wasn't the way I am, maybe Aziraphale- >>

     << Do not dare finish what you are about to say! >> You snap.

Your voice is trembling with anger and pain. How could he think that?

<< I don't know what that idiot was thinking. But he shouldn't have said that! And mostly, you mustn't even consider that! How could you even think that there's something wrong with you? That you're the messed up one?

<< Every time I look at you, I fall in love with you even more. I love everything about you! How you say that you're evil and not nice after saying or doing the sweetest and most beautiful things that even an angel can't do! You are infinitely better than a legion of angels. Aziraphale included. >>

     << Aziraphale does not define you, my love. I know that it fucking hurts. Him choosing heaven over us hurt me, and I can't imagine how heartbroken you must feel right now... But he had no right to tell you to change for him. Love is not like that. Love is not changing the other person. Love is feeling like you own the fucking world! Like you've been struck by lightning every time you see them... Love is supposed to make you feel like this. >>

You take his hand and place it against your chest. Your heartbeat is accelerated. The demon can feel it under his hand and thinks it's the most beautiful music he's ever listened to in centuries. 

Your eyes lock one last time. Every limb of your body is linked to the other, trying both be close.

You discover that you're crying once Crowley slowly slides his hand from your chest, then to your neck and to one of your cheeks, wiping the tears from your skin. He then cups your head with both hands, leaning closer to kiss the new tears forming. Your eyes are closed. You try to enjoy this moment that you indulge with the other. You put your hands on Crowley's wrists, rubbing them with your thumbs. Suddenly you feel something odd.

     << You have a heartbeat... >>

You open your eyes only to see that Crowley is already looking at you.

Under your fingers, you can feel his fast heartbeat.

     << I didn't know you had one. >>

     << In your defence, I didn't tell you... >> replied, starting to wander his hand along your hips. He felts like the luckiest entity in the entire universe.

     << Is it supposed to be this rapid? >>

You see him smile a little, then look at your eyes.

     << Didn't you say that love was supposed to feel like that? >>

Crowley leans closer, one hand on your hair. Once your lips meet, you feel fireworks spreading all over you. The demon's lips are so soft against yours. Kissing you with gentleness as if you were made out of porcelain.

You blush and smile.

He does the same. The first real smile after Aziraphale's departure, even if it's little.

His trusts are slow but deep.

Then, he slips the other hand around your hips, bringing you close as he thrusts deep inside you. A moan dies in your mouth.

Crowley smirks a little before he resumes kissing you. His hands are both on your hips as he's helping you move.

Your eyes are locked as your messy breaths get mixed. Sometimes you kiss, but you prefer to look at each other. You can't explain why. You just feel a deeper connection between you. Like you are making love with your souls too.

-.-.-.-.-.-

You continue moving without saying a word. Smiling, touching, squeezing and scratching (on your part) one another.

And when you come, it's like you feel complete and truly loved.

Your foreheads touch as you start panting and giggling. 

Moments before, after you got dressed, you asked your favourite demon if he could pick a movie while you were calling your favourite takeaway restaurant.

     << What are you doing? >>

Crowley quickly turns towards you. A pillow is still in his hands.

Once the call ended, you saw his figure walk the hallway one last time before disappearing. You came to understand that he went outside, in the garden. You decide to sneak out and follow him.

As you were talking with one of the staff, in the corner of your eye, you could see Crowley walking the hallway front and back multiple times. Different things in his hands every time he passed in front of you.

You were so curious and amused that you almost forgot you were ordering food.

Under the moon's soft light, you can see that the grass is covered with blankets and pillows. Over them, there's a bottle of wine and two glasses; while the outside was filled with battery candles.

You can't move or form a single sentence. Your mouth, on the other hand, is curved in the most beautiful smile the demon has ever seen.

Crowley's now looking at you. A nervous smile on his lips.

     << Surprise!>> He throws the pillow on the blankets with the others. << Do you like it? >>

     << I-I... don't know what to say.>>

He walked closer, putting his hands on your hips. << I thought we'd have a post-love-making/little night picnic date under the stars. I figured it'd be nice to talk about the constellations and all that celestial stuff you enjoy while we get drunk. >> he smugly smirks as he hears your chuckle.

-.-.-.-.-.-

With a snap, the two glasses get filled. Crowley passes you one. << What do you say? >>

     << I'm all yours.>>

He smiles at you and kisses you passionately.

     << You know... I've always wanted to ask something. >>

You two have just finished eating and are now on the blankets, cuddling and trying to get drunk.

     Crowley has spent all dinner talking about the stars. He also told you about his time as a nebula creator. You could see a sparkle in his eyes as he spoke. Some sadness behind it, too. Even if he tried to hide it.

Crowley was amused by all of this.

     << Shoot. >>

     << What's it like having someone making up stories about your work? You know, the constellations and so on... >>

     << Oh. Well... I don't mind. It's like reading- What is that you read... Ehm... -Yes! Fanfiction. It's like reading a fanfiction. I don't mind. >>

     You chuckle, a little flustered. << I don't read fanfiction! >>

     He brings the glass to his lips. << Oh yes, you do! Every time I see you with your phone and reading something, you always giggle and kick your feet- >>

     << How dare you! I do not! >>

     << Oh, yes, you do! >>

You laugh. Your face turn all red by now. << You liar! >>

You both chuckle and lean against the other. The demon's free hand is now running up and down your arm. His head is on yours as he leaves a kiss.

     << Thank you. >> you said, breaking the silence. << I loved all of this. >>

Crowley smiles, proud of himself. << Glad you like it. >>

He put his glass near yours and made them touch. A little high-pitched "tin" followed after. << To the perfect night. >>

     << But I have to admit... >> You continue, teasingly raising an eyebrow. << you seemed flustered when I found you setting all up.>>

     &lt;< Flustered? Me? Nonsense!>>

You chuckle, leaning in to peck him on the cheek. Your affectionate gaze never leaves his.

He couldn't help but smile, feeling a warmth in his heart that had nothing to do with the wine. 

     << Jokes aside, you know how to make a moment last forever.>>

Crowley looks at the wine in his glass. A soft and smug smile on his face.

     << Well, I must admit, this wasn't originally on my plan... >> he confesses.

     << What do you mean? >>

Crowley shifted slightly, trying to find the right words to explain himself.

     << I mean... I had planned to take you and... Azirapahle out on a proper date tonight. >> He admitted, his voice soft and hesitant. << I wanted it to be perfect, you know? Wine, dine, and all that... >>

A suffering smile is on his face as he gunks down his wine.

     << I wanted tonight to be special...>> he softly admitted, looking at his empty glass before grabbing the bottle. << You know... after a week of... well, hell. >> He pours the rubin liquor. << For you. For me... for him. For us. >> 

     You take his hand and kiss it. << Well, I must say, this night picnic under the stars was a perfect first day. >>

     He looks at you, uncertain. << Really? >>

     You kiss him and nod, smiling. << Today was hard... >>

     << Yep. >> he takes another sip of wine and clicks his tongue.

     << But this has been the best date I have ever been to! >>

He smiles, looks again into your eyes and says only two words: << Thank you. >>

You know that he's not talking about the date.

You kiss him again and look at him, stroking his tattoed cheek.

     << Don't even mention it. >>

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

OH GOD YOUR REQS R OPEN, i would rlly like to request something, could you write an one shot of price with a little daugther reader? just like, him coming home and spending some time with his little girl, she tells him about her school, he tells her some funny stories that happened while he was at work, he cooks her favorite meal, just a big fluff, i love this man more than anything and i just need some paternal love LMAO, feel totally free to deny! do everything in your time and remember to take good care of urself!

Memories of Youth

Pairing: Father!John Price x F!Daughter!Reader

Synopsis: It was hard being away from his little girl, but warm mornings spent in each other's company were blessings - even if they were far and few in between. It didn't matter the form.

Word Count: 4.5k (short and sweet)

Warnings: Angst (just a little cuz I can't help myself), a lotta fluff, banter, just good platonic/paternal relationship in general, etc.

A/N: Didn't specify if the reader was adopted or blood-related, so that's really up to you! Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

He got the call at the halfway point of crossing the English Channel, Northern France behind him and Southern England just on the horizon line as the sun began to spread its orange glow over the waves. Sitting high above the water in a slick black Heli, John Price’s hand snaps to his side pocket, fingers deftly peeling back the layers as the overwhelming sound of helicopter blades shakes the hull. 

The rest of Task Force 141 watch with varying interest, only Gaz taking notice of the sudden frown that mars his Captain’s face; the furrowed brow, and the spark of concern in his eyes. A call was unusual. The Sargeant tries not to intrude, but can’t help the way his body lightly shifts so he can have a better view.

John doesn't bother to look at the contact when he takes the device out, rapidly pressing the answer button and slotting the phone at his ear, tilting his head so his opposite rests at the junction of his shoulder. It only stops a fraction of the noise, even so, it would have to do for now. But with how his ears were already straining to find a sound over the line, he may not need to force out the jarring racket after all. 

Inside his chest, John’s heart is racing – confusion laces his mind. This was abnormal. 

I told her only to call if it was an emergency. What could she have gotten herself into now? I said to stay out of trouble…

“Where are you?!” The Brit has to shout down the line, his familiar deep accent loud and guttural. 

His mind flies through every possibility. An intruder had broken into the house, you had broken your arm falling down the stairs again, or a fire had broken out in the kitchen. Fuck…he was too far away to help if anything bad had happened. John’s jaw clenches, eyes looking out over the water as the bucket hat on his head flops in the wind. It was only a product of his job that made him think like that; years of intuition and thinking on the fly leading to his mind making up the worst scenarios. 

Especially when you called on a secure line when he told you it was only appropriate for life-and-death situations. Especially when it was his little girl.

I told ‘er about the Pistol in my office, yeah? The Captain asks himself with a steel-like resolve. And gave her Laswell’s number?

John’s fingers tighten over the phone when he hears your breath over the line, a shuffling of clothes, and a deep exhale.

“Sunshine!” He tries again, sitting up straighter as his pulse gets faster. Why isn’t she answering me? “Where are you right–”

“We don’t have anything for breakfast.” Your voice is heavy with sleep; fatigue drowning the syllables and holding them under the very waves that rage under John only separated by thin sheets of metal. 

The Brit stops. His body freezes, and as the tense minutes go by his panic falls away and leaves a thick stain of annoyance resting behind his eyelids. Of course. John brings two fingers to his nose bridge, digging into the skin until tiny crescent moons are left behind; he has to take a deep breath before answering, but his tone leaves nothing to the imagination.

“...Breakfast…?”

“Yeah, Old Man, you need me to spell it for you? B-R-E-A-K-F-A–”

“Enough!” John barks stiffly and has to hold back his anger as you laugh from the other side. Ever the jokester – did you not realize how serious this was? How fast your father’s heart was racing with adrenaline? 

Fuck, he had just about been ready to radio the cockpit and force the pilots to fly faster.

Across the way, Ghost locks eyes with the man, and with a tilt of his head and a loud call he asks, “That the Mutt?”

The Captain’s eyes slip back into a firm blank slate.

“Affirm.” John tilts the phone away from his mouth, ignoring your sarcastic comments to catch his sanity for a moment and respond to his Lieutenant.

Simon blinks as Johnny perks up at his side, looking in from the view in favor of the Captain with newfound interest. A bright smile forms over his scruffy cheeks

“She all good?” The skeletal man asks, and Gaz smirks lazily tapping his fingers over his knee, immediately noticing your shenanigans and the way the Cap was so worked up. 

But anyone would be when they had a daughter thousands of miles away.

John simply nods once with an exasperated expression to Ghost. MacTavish snorts out a laugh, knowing the context of the situation without having to think hard.

“Is that Uncle Simon?” You ask, and with a scratch at his beard, your father hums in confirmation, letting the sound of your voice put him more at ease. She’s just fine. “Tell him I want him to come over and play Mario Cart with Gaz, Johnny, and me again! He wiped the floor with ‘em last time!” 

There’s a clinking of pots and pans as you move throughout the house. 

“Sweetheart,” Your father grumbles, sighing through the call. His voice takes on the authoritative tone that works for both soldiers and teenagers – but it rarely works on you, despite that fact. Took after your dad too much, is what John would say. Never listened until it was absolutely necessary. “What did I tell you about callin’ this phone when I’m away from the house?”

He hears your scoff and raises a warning eyebrow, though you can’t see it. You know your dad enough to know he’s doing it despite being separated. It was pretty common.  

“Not to, unless it’s an emergency…But I’d say food is a big enough reason, y’know? Unless you want me to eat the leftover cake for breakfast – which I haven’t thrown out as a possibility yet, honestly.”

“You’re not eatin’ bloody cake for breakfast. You’ll get sick.” Gaz snickers, turning his face away to hide the amusement at the comment. 

It hadn’t been a surprise that the Captain’s daughter was such a familiar creature – they saw traits reflected every time the two were together. Everyone had expected her to take after her old man in nearly everything, and when she had they had bumped fists and prayed for the brown-bearded man. But it was funny nonetheless, considering they got along better than most fathers and daughters; practically reading each other's minds when everyone was playing poker. Johnny was still pretty ticked off about that – he’s a good deal deep into the sweets debt he owes you because Price helps you win. But where they really shined was with the shared deadpan attitudes, bottom-of-the-barrel sarcasm, and knowing how to command a room without even trying. Safe to assume that the rest of the team would do anything for you.

“Will not.” You grumble in retaliation, and John’s lips threaten to tilt into a grumpy smile when he hears you put the cake plate back into the counter. 

Letting the tension fall from his shoulders, the brown-haired man takes a glance outside, watching the waves go bright orange as they lap and writhe like great sea serpents. 

“How long have you been up, eh? The sun’s barely risen. Thought Sunday was when you always slept in?” 

There’s a pause in what John believed were fingers digging through a cupboard, and he narrows his eyes in confusion as the silence grows long. He frowns when you speak again, words so quiet he has to place a hand over his other ear to hear properly. Having half a mind to go and tell the pilots to hurry up and go faster so he can just talk to his little girl in person, he refrains, knowing that’s not how this works. But something was wrong – it had been laced in your previous words, as tiny and unnoticeable as it may have been. Only a father would notice it.

“You said you were gonna be home last night. I stayed up.” It takes a moment of halted breathing before John’s eyes widen, blues full of realization.

Oh. 

…Damn it. He lets out the tense breath of air from his lips, shifting in his seat as the gear around his body weighs him down. His gun digs into his chest. 

He hadn't seen you for over a week – leaving you in the care of a close and trusted neighbor, Mrs. Lilly, just as he always had when he needed to leave for work on short notice. But seeing as you were older now, it became apparent that, with your learned independence, staying at the house by yourself was alright as long as you checked in with the neighbor every morning and night. You had been waiting for him to come home. All alone. In the dark. 

Fucken’ hell, John thinks in a deep layer of guilt as wrinkles overtake his forehead, I did tell her I’d be back yesterday. I forgot to call and tell ‘er. Shit! He didn’t want to imagine the stress that had been put on your shoulders. God, what’ve I done?

Not checking in was something he had never missed before – he always told you when he was about to come back. What had gone wrong this time? How had something that important just slipped his mind? Sure the Op had been tedious, but he was trained to handle it. It was no excuse. 

“Sweetheart,” John starts and then pauses the soft and gentle endearment, knowing that an apology didn’t fit into what you were looking for. You didn’t want an ‘I’m sorry’ right now, you wanted your father. Flattening his lips into a line, he continues, wishing he was with you more than ever so he can press a kiss to your forehead. “...I should be back before 1200. How about when I get back I’ll cook you up somethin’ myself, yeah? Or we can go to that Cafe you like down on Newman Street and I’ll get you whatever you want.”

“...When do you have to go back?” You don’t answer his question, and yours makes his heart hurt. 

John clears his throat.

“None of that, now. We’ll talk more when I get back, Darling, alright?” You don’t respond, but he hears you sigh and quietly scoff under your breath. “Alright?” He tries again, head tilting forward and eyebrows rising as if you could see him. Maybe you could.

“Fine. But you better make me pancakes. I don’t care if it’ll be noon.” 

“Pancakes it is.” The Captain looks up in time to see Johnny mouthing words to him, and with a blank face and stiff lip, your father mutters with a grunt, “Johnny says ‘hello.’” 

Your shocked snort makes him feel better, but a layer of guilt still stays. You were awake all night waiting for him, and he never showed up. Did you sleep on the couch? Damnit, he hoped you didn’t…but in his rattling chest knew you had. He found you like that every time he came back from a long stay away. Huddled under blankets, no pillow under your head. Sometimes you steal one of his shirts and hold it like a stuffed bear to your chest, shoving your face into it. 

How could I forget to fucken’ call her?

Your voice takes him out of his growing self-resentment. 

“Tell him to watch his back – I’m getting better at Rainbow Road. Soon enough I’ll be able to beat him in a 1V1!” John can’t help the slow chuckle that bounces in his throat, mind, for the moment, at ease as long as you continue to speak to him.

“I’ll be sure to pass it along. But, eh,” The Brit makes sure he speaks slowly, letting you hear every syllable of his next words. “Promise me you’ll stay at the house until I get there. No goin’ out with friends, yeah? You know how I worry.” John ignores the teasing look from Gaz and peeks out again to see how close they were to the mainland with narrowed lids. “‘Specially when I’m not there.”

Getting back to the Base wasn’t the problem, it was the damn reports coming in that would wring his neck before he could get out the door. But he’d push it off for however long he could; call in favors from Laswell to get him more time with his little girl so he can fix his mistake. As a dad, the only thing that counted was seeing his daughter after a seemingly unending Op that he didn’t want to relive. The hardest part wasn’t the blood or the guts – it was being away from you. Nothing would ever change that, even if he was the one on the ground gritting his teeth at the bite of a bullet.

“Scout’s honor, Old Man.” The happiness in your voice makes him smile to himself. 

“Stop calling me that, Muppet.” John grumbles affectionately, rolling his eyes, “I’ll give you a call when back I’m in town, Sunshine. Make sure the door’s locked–”

“--Locked, the windows too, plus, if someone knocks on the door I need to look through the peephole and if I don’t recognize them don’t open it…Am I missing anything?”

“Mind yourself, now you’re just being cheeky, you are.” John teases, scoffing, but proud that you remembered his rules. It made all of this just a bit more manageable.

“Who do you think I got it from?” You laugh, but it tapers off sullenly, “Just…get home safe, okay, Dad?”

John’s beard pulls back into a soft close-lipped grin, eyes crinkling as his heart warms. He so desperately wanted to ruffle your hair. 

“Of course, Hun. But, eh, take a nap. It’s still early, and I know you’ve got schoolwork to do later. You sound like you’re about to keel over where you stand.” You scoff before agreeing with a muttered grumble, most likely already stumbling to the living room couch, and then the line goes silent and is replaced once more by the whirring of the helicopter blades. 

The man peels back the phone and pockets it, hand unconsciously brushing his breast pouch where a picture of the two of you always sits. It was a baby picture, with your little form held in his grip delicately; looking down at you with soft eyes and an easy smile on his lips that always formed when he was with you. From under a soft blanket, your tiny hand reaches out to try and brush his stubbily cheek. 

It never failed to bring him ease when he realized the photo was there. A reminder that if everything else in his life went horribly wrong, you would still be looking up at him with those eyes of yours. At the very least, he had managed to do one thing right.

“She’ll be fine. She’s a good kid.” Gaz calls at him, and John spares him a glance out of the side of his eye with a raised brow.

“I know she is. I’m the one who raised her.”

—

You remember eating a piece of toast before you made your way over to the couch, throwing your phone to the coffee table haphazardly before tossing yourself onto the cushions. Still in your pajamas, you can’t find it in you to go and grab the homework in your backpack this early. The sun had only just risen, and the bags under your eyes reminded you how late you stayed up last night. 

But your father had never shown up.

Frantic was too light a word to describe the feeling you had when your eyelids had peeled back to the empty living room and the TV still playing. It had been second nature to snatch your phone and call the secure line – half of you had said it was better to call Laswell, just in case, but your adolescent brain had wanted nothing more than to hear your father’s voice.

He would make it better. But you needed to hear his voice. 

Dad, you remembered pleading to yourself as the sound of the dial tone echoed in your ear, please answer the phone. Please. Answer the fucking phone. 

Your heart was pounding; hands shaking. He never just didn’t show up when he said he was going to. Never. Your dad was punctual – always on time no matter what – and he had ingrained the same sentiment in you as well. 

When his deep voice finally bounced in your eardrums you nearly started to cry, missing the first hurried and concern-filled inquiry of where you were. Hearing his voice put you at ease, and after a week of missing your father’s strong presence and his warm hugs, it was hard not to take a shaky inhale when he seemed so close.

You just wanted him home; you wanted him to make you pancakes and help you with your schoolwork. You wanted him to read a book to you on this couch like you were a toddler again while his old record player was on in the background. 

It was childish, getting so worked up about it, but your dad meant the world to you. Not having him here felt wrong. 

Sighing, you rub at your eyes and revel in the darkness before letting out a strained yawn, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and pulling it over your body. It didn’t take long before your eyes were flickering shut, a calm quiet settling over the house as cars passed by outside in the street. You pull the blanket closer and breathe, inhaling pine needles and ash. 

You don’t know how long you were there, twitching in your sleep before the scent woke you up – it makes your nose scrunch, eyelids blinking away fuzz. There was a pillow under your head, the blanket wrapped tight around your neck to keep out the London chill, and a clanking of pans in the kitchen. Scraping spatula over cast iron, you knew, the sizzling of batter. 

The haze of that in-between state, sleep and consciousness fighting in the back of your skull and under your hairline, stays even as you try to force it away. It was like a wave – it constantly pulled you under when you thought you were getting to the surface. Your eyes would blink open and closed; comforted back into sleep by the deep humming, the waver of an old record player. Feet over hardwood and the smell of fresh pancakes. 

Dad’s home. 

A delirious smile slides over your sleep-hot face. That was why you were so content. This was what home sounded and smelled like. 

Dad’s home. You repeat it once more, nuzzling farther into your father's travel pillow he brings to and from Base. Pine needles. Ash. Cigar smoke.

Dad’s home! Your eyes snap open wildly, your body shooting up from the cushions as the blanket falls to the floor. Angling your head to the separated kitchen, you swipe the drool from your mouth with a heavy hand and listen. 

Your dreams had tricked you before, but no. Not this time. 

He was humming along to some old tune under his breath that mirrored the record player behind the couch; the antique turned low so it wouldn’t wake you. Blinking in shock, your mouth morphs into a rich smile instantaneously. 

Throwing yourself off the couch, your feet slam to the floor, rushing and almost tripping over the blanket on the floor as your body slants forward. Giggling, you push on, righting yourself with no second thought other than welcoming your dad home the same as you always did. Zipping around the corner, a shadow is already turning your way, a plate of pancakes ready to be put on the table and devoured. 

“Dad!” You yell loudly and launch yourself at him, hearing his chest let out a grunt and his hands splay around you so he won’t drop breakfast food all over the floor. 

A velvety chuckle is wrung from his body, and his free digits go to rest heavily on your head as you shove yourself into his hold. Gripping his shirt tight between your fingers, you try not to cry when that scent that had been fading from the house comes back tenfold. Your eyes burn, but you only let one tear out when your dad’s finger begins stroking your hair just like he did when you were little.

You had been so worried. 

“There’s my girl,” His voice whispers out, “I’m here, Sunshine. Easy now.” 

“I thought you died,” You can’t help the helpless gasp that rips from you. Your father’s hand freezes; body going rigid around your smaller, desperately grasping frame. The atmosphere of the room flips. Digging into the fabric of his shirt the full flood of tears finally comes forward. “W-when I woke up and you weren’t here I… I thought you were never coming back home, and that I would have to go and live with the neighbors and I’d have to bury you in the cemetery. I don’t-don’t wanna have to put you in the ground.” You’re rambling, but you can’t stop the words. “I don’t want you to leave me alone, Dad. Please don’t leave me alone.” 

At some point, the plate of pancakes had been tossed to the counter without care for if the porcelain cracked from the force, and both of your father's arms hand scooped you into his hold effortlessly. Your breath was hiccuping violently, tears making his shirt wet and sticking to his skin. 

But John didn’t care. 

He wrapped his arms around you and curled his body in, taking you into a hold so warm and tight you couldn’t leave it even if you tried.

What’ve I done? The man feels his lips tense, blinking down at your shaking body with guilt as you sob. Oh, my Little Girl, I’m so sorry. What’ve I done to you? 

Had he never noticed the toll that this job was taking on you? John asked himself this in disgust as he pressed his lips to the crown of your head, whispering words into your hair under his shaky breath. He hated when you cried because of him.

“I’m not going anywhere, Love, alright? Look at me.” You don’t move your bruising grip, face still held away from sight as you gasp down frantic breaths. John’s voice gets firmer, “Sweetheart, I need you to look at me, yeah?”

Your tight fingers stutter, and your head barely shifts to the side, one red eye peeking up as he looks down at you with all the love he can muster without looking incredibly broken. He never wanted to see you cry again but knew that would be an impossible feat to accomplish – but he’d do his damndest to try.

“There she is.” John’s hand goes to your cheek, brushing away the saltwater with a calloused thumb as you sniffle. “Just keep those eyes on me, Little One.”

“...M’ not little anymore.” You grumble out, your cheeks heating even as your pulse slows as you focus on your dad's eyes. So soft the edges were nearly liquid; water that held your attention as they lapped across your form. 

“To me, you’ll always be little. Can’t change that I’m afraid.” The man grunts out, tilting his head down at you and letting his eyes travel from concern to comfort. But that doesn’t change the present. 

“I’m so sorry, Love,” Your father mutters, eyes flickering away from yours in guilt so rarely shown to others. He always prided himself on being strong, you knew, bearing the brunt of the weight. Apologies weren’t often verbally said until it truly mattered. “I should have called you. That’s all on me, that is. Bloody stupid to forget about, knowin’ how you wait up for me.” 

Your lips thin to mimic your dad's, brows pulling close. But in your chest, your heart couldn’t be larger. You didn’t hold it against him, but you wished he could be here more often; not put himself in dangerous situations. Knowing as little as you did about your dad's actual job, you still knew it wasn’t entirely safe. 

Maybe the two of you protected each other from the things unseen. 

Your chest aches.

“...You’re funny lookin’ when you have to apologize. Like a kicked bear.” Pulling back your lips, a tiny smile lighting your face, and you look up at your dad with a sniffle in your nose. 

His visage snaps to yours, eyebrows going high on his head in surprise, and hooded blue eyes widening. It takes a moment, but a smirk pushes back his beard when he sees the tears have stopped falling. 

“Yeah?” John asks you, a grumble reverberating in his chest, “Now, y’know, that is just bloody rude, Sunshine. Thought I raised you better…And after I made you pancakes.” 

Laughing, you pull back, stomach rumbling and nose twitching at the prospect of the nearly forgotten food. Slithering past your father, you snatch the plate and fork before rushing into the living room. Jumping on the couch you begin to cut into the carbs, piling pieces into your mouth and smiling at the taste. No one else could make them as your dad could. 

The Brit comes not seconds later, a cup of tea held in his hand before he sits down next to you with a groan, stretching out and laying his socked feet on the coffee table next to your tossed phone from hours earlier. You giggle, suddenly leaning to his large frame and hearing him grunt in retaliation. 

“Tell me a funny story,” You demand, listening to him sip his drink in the mid-morning glow that spreads outside the house and leaks in through the opened curtains. Birds sing outside, heard from the street. 

Your dad hums, his beard tickling your scalp as he leans into you in turn, making you chuckle before he nuzzles against you kissing your head; leading to a larger exclamation of glee before you elbow his gut. 

He laughs and answers with a smile in his voice.

“Hm, did I tell you ‘bout the time Gaz fell out of the Heli?” 

You laugh, eating the rest of the pancake remnants; feeling incredibly happy and warm. There were many memories you loved of your dad and his recounting of stories fit many of them. He always kept out the gory bits – promising himself that he would never lead you down that path no matter what – and always opted for the many downright hilarious situations the rest of the 141 always seemed to get into.

“Yes, but tell me again. It’s funny, especially when you describe his face afterward! Like he–”

“Like he had shit his pants and didn’t want to tell me,” John chuckles, eyes squinted, looking down at you as you snuggle into his side. He wraps an arm over your shoulders, taking your empty plate with one hand and putting it on the side table before pulling you close and making sure his tea won’t spill. He feels your tiny, bird-like, heartbeat on his ribcage and knows that nothing could ever take you away from him. You would always be his little girl.  “Yeah, Love, I remember that one. Now, let me start from the beginning…”

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[iceclew]

Did I accidently write more than just a few lines of dialogue for this scene?... *shyly fumbling with fingers* 🥹👉👈 maybe...

Sorry, I suck at words and this isn't betaread nor properly proofread and I am not native english, I'm very sorry in advance...

full story down below

(Chappel Roan - Love me Anyway)

(Benson Boone - Slow it Down)

"VICE-CAPTAIN!!!!"

The tiny moving plush-like thing in his hand apparently started screaming as well now.

"WHY ALWAYS MEEE!?!?"

What looked like the chibi mini-version of the Defence Force's biggest trump card, struggled to hold on his thumb, kicking around those little feet of his.

"Well, now I'm quite curious abut THAT story..."

"I CAN'T TURN BACK AND I AM T I N Y !!! (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )"

"I see that... How'd you even get in here?"

Tiny #8 stopped fidgeting a bit. Instead two unproportionally big round dark eyes goggled at him. It was undeniably adorable to look at. "Well after THIS happened, I couldn't grab my phone on the table anymore, so I ran around to find someone, but I figured Narumi and Kikoru would very likely take advantage of my situation and do something stupid with me."

"Oh yeah, they definitely would and I get why, honestly."

"So I ran around to find you, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW BIG THE 1st DIVISION IS, WHEN YOU'RE LIKE THIS, OK?! And then I saw the slightly opened window and just crawled in... ༼☯﹏☯༽"

"Wait... you know where my temporary place in the 1st Division is located? Why?"

"....Coincidence? (*ﾟｰﾟ) "

He sighed. "Well just when you think you saw everything...Kafka Hibino enters the stage..."

"SIR, WHAT SHOULD I DO?? WHY ARE THESE THINGS ALWAYS HAPPENING TO ME??"

"you really want me to answer that, bud?", he barely tried to hide the undertone of his voice, which left the small creature on the palm of his hand baffled for a second.

"Wha-? HEY, MEAN!! What are you on about!?"（＞д＜）

"Yeah, maybe, I don't know STOP CHANGING in general, like I told you f.ex.. or maybe stick to your training routine without going OVERBOARD on a regular basis? How 'bout that?"

The big dark round eyes got even bigger with every word spoken.

"Yeah, don't look at me like that, I might coincidently got wind of stuff, you know?"

His unexpectedly open and emotional response threw Kafka off. For a second he forgot about his *tiny* main problem, his mind jumped between confused and worried and he couldn't comprehend with his reaction for now. After some awkward seconds in silence, Hoshina's tone grew significantly calmer, but still sort of off to his usual self-assured expression. "Well at least this time you're actually telling me about stuff that bothers you, huh?"

Silence again. While hanging from the palm of his Vice-Captain's hand Kafka realized something (besides his size) was different. His senses grew more aware of his surroundings to find answers.

"Are... are you drunk, sir?"

Besides the slight scent of alcohol in the air, and the - well quite obvious - bottle of sake on the table, the startled twitch on his face confirmed Kafka's guess was right. Other than the sake the only other thing on the table were some snacks. Another odd thing to Kafka, who was used to see Hoshina's surroundings stuffed with documents, loose papers, books and other work related things.

The silence lingered around them uncomfortably. To Kafka's suprise Hoshina was seemingly struggling with words. A look on his face Kafka couldn't remember seeing before. Now his mind definitely jumped to 'worried'.

Hoshina tried to mimic an insulted face and looked away. "A little tippsy at most... I'm off-duty for tonight.." Besides the slightly blushed nose and cheeks, Kafka now noticed some dark circles under red eyes. "..and despite my gut telling me better, I assumed I probably won't be needed anymore today, and that I could hang loose a little. It's not my Division after all, there's another Captain and Vice-Captain in charge here. So I might as well make use of that chance... Should have known, it would end up that way or another.. " He smiled a bit and Kafkas felt like his heart clenching from the sight. "Although I definitely should have placed my bet on YOU to be the reason for that." He chuckled lightly, while his expressions grew somewhat softer.

"I'm sorry, Sir."

"Nah, it's fine. As if I didn't get used to your-"

"I never put much thought to it, but ever since the Defence Force started preparing for the big counter attack on #9 your workload must've at least doubled in the 3rd and 1st Division.. and here I am still taking over the rest of your time as well..."

"Don't like where this is going, officer... You're not starting pitying me, are ya?"

"No I-...I just feel like.. I didn't realize, and there for not appreciated your work enough.." Silence. "And also.." The tiny kaiju had his look glued to the floor in front of him for a while now. "I know you told me to brush it off earlier but,... I truly regret ... not telling you about... #8 n'stuff.. I'm sorry... I'd change that if I could.."

A small plushy-sized Kaiju was gently put back on the ground again. Hoshina scratched his nose for a second, before bending far back to the other side of the room. He grabbed for his smartphone that was burried in piles of carelessly pushed aside documents.

"As I said. You're here now, aren't ya?" When he got his phone he chose to stay laid down on the floor and started typing something on the lightened screen.

A tiny transformed Kafka carefully made his way around and walked up on eye-level with Hoshina's face again. Once again overwhelmed by his current state of being, he let himself fall back on the floor and sat on the ground. "So... what should I do?"

"The first thing WE do is trying to make some calls. But since you seem to be in no life-threatening condition, we might have to wait 'till tomorrow for a first medical examination. If that's the case you'll stay, and I get you down to the lab first thing in the morning."

"Wait!" The tiny Kaiju made a suprisingly far jump right up to Hoshina's chest and pressed the (for him very big) red hang-up button on the screen with both paws. "You're right about that, I won't die this second from being tiny, so we might as well wait for tomorrow."

The questioning look on the opposite's face made a tiny Kafka look away and scratch his neck shyly. "Well, since you're ... I dunno,... I feel like, I can't have you be seen d-dru- .. like this by other officials of the 1st Division, b-because of me..."

A finger poked his forehead, which caused a tiny being like him to fall right back landing on warm soft fabric of Hoshina's shirt.

"Idiot. But you might be right about that."

[vermithorn]

* WANTED U

pairing: aegon ii targaryen x fem!stark!reader

summary: aegon misbehaving, you’re done with him... or are you?

contains: angst, name calling, drinking, aegon being shitty, toxic relationship, reader being mean too hehe, sub/dom undertones.

author’s note: hello! this is a mix between two requests i got, the first one was “reader first discovering the soft subby side of aegon” ,,, i took some liberties with this one,,, and the other one was “the reader giving aegon the silence treatment” so yknow what your aegon lover had to do…, ! pls enjoy and remember english isn't my first language ! &lt;; 3

aegon woke up with the worst hangover of his 20 years of life.

his name-day celebrations were last night, and he drank everything until he forgot everyone.

king viserys was very ill to attend the celebrations, so he made sure this one was the very best for his firstborn son.

aegon stirred in his bed, it was too big for him but the number of women he could keep there was high, so he was happy with it. it was probably past midday and no one bothered to wake up aegon, maybe his mother came to her senses and let him sleep more after his nameday.

he remembered a few things, finishing the day with queen alicent screaming at him for some reason he couldn’t remember correctly. meh, he brushed it off, his mother always reprimanded him for little things so he was used to it.

he called servant to get himself cleaned and dressed, the servant stuttered that it was not past midday and he was required to go and have lunch with his family as soon as possible.

on his way to eat, he tried to piece together his memories from last night. everything looked like a blur, he remembered clearly when he started drinking on the main table and then the memories faded away, they came back to his mother screaming and dragging him to his chambers with ser criston cole carrying him on his shoulder.

he stepped on the room and everyone who were chatting happily went quiet, damn, he sighed as he made his way to his seat next to his betrothed, you.

he tried to greet you but you gave him the cold shoulder causing him to frown, you continued eating your meal in silence occasionally chatting with helaena who was sitting next to you.

okay, that behavior from you wasn't that weird, but usually you were polite and even friendly with him. he couldn't recall why you were acting like that.

“nice for you to finally join us, brother.” aegon rolled his eyes as he smiled sarcastically at his younger brother.

“only my baby brother missed me, apparently my betrothed can't relate too much.” you turned around slowly to glare at him, you scoffed as you stood up.

“excuse me, i have some matters to attend right now, thank you for the meal.” you said and left without looking back, he groaned, it was too early for all of this.

queen alicent was staring angrily at him, “why can't you be a good man for once? don't you think it was enough of your words yesterday?”

“enlighten me, mother?”

as queen alicent listed things, one by one, aegon started slowly to remember last night, pin pointing exactly what happened with you.

it was probably his four cup of rum, his favorite. you were sitting by his side as you drank from your little cup, he tried to persuade you to get a cup as big as his but you shook your head, saying how your glass was perfectly fine.

he rolled his eyes as he ordered someone to get him more alcohol, he saw you make a face as his request and decided to confront you. “do you have a problem, love?”

“no, my prince,” you brushed it off sipping from your cup, he frowned and looked away.

a few moments later he decided he wanted to dance, so everyone had to indulge him and dance with him. he swayed around between maidens and ladies of the court who were totally obligated to yield to him as you watched from afar.

it was getting late, and aegon got drunker than ever, it was his nameday after all and he could do whatever the fuck he wanted. you watched everything unfold from your seat at the main table.

he started getting handsy with a girl, and she was getting handsy too in return, also as drunk as your betrothed. you stared at him, considering carefully your options, you decided that you had enough and walked towards him quickly.

you grabbed his shoulder, separating him from the girl, “my prince, it's time to leave.” he looked absolutely wasted, staring at you with anger in his eyes.

“leave me alone.” he stated, turning around to return to his endeavors.

you scowled at him defiantly, “no, you heard me, prince aegon.”

“who the fuck do you think you are?” he fully turned towards you, towering you bitterly hostile.

“your betrothed.”

“of course, you love to remind me that every fucking day,” the girl left scared, you stood there unamused. “you're nothing to me more than a cunt to eat when i'm bored and a thing to bear my heirs, please remember that when trying to get me to do something, now get the fuck out of my sight.”

the next thing he knew, he was being carried to his chambers by ser criston cole. his mother screaming things at him, about how he could never treat you like that again, to think about their relationship with the north depended on your marriage with him and how they could not afford that at all.

his head hit the pillows on the bed and he was dead sleep.

oh, oh. it all came back like a punch in the face.

“now you remember, brother?” aemond smirked at him, “i can't believe lady stark didn't hit you in the face right there, i admire her composure.”

he excused himself to his chambers, without touching his food at all. he locked himself there, without caring about the preoccupied knocks from his sister and mocks from his brother. he felt guilty, he didn't thought about you like that at all, you were kind and friendly with him, even when he was annoying and borderline disturbing.

he was in a weird state of mind, queen alicent berating him in any way she could, his grandfather the hand of the king, being the same or maybe worst than his mother. he wasn't good enough for anyone, everyone wanted more of him than he could give.

his name-day was for him, to get drunk and forget everything for a good solid minute, but apparently that wasn't possible.

you didn't deserve that treatment, you were only trying to take care of him and he treated you like trash. you deserved better than a drunk like him.

he waited a few hours to head down to your designated chambers, knocking on your door softly.

“wait!” you rushed to the door, expecting everyone except prince aegon, your face falling at the sight of him leaning on your doorframe. “prince aegon, what do you need?” you said politely, but with a stoic face.

“i wanted to talk with you,” shit, this was harder than he thought. “i actually wanted to apologize.” you sighed as you moved to the side to let him into your chambers, closing the door behind you.

he sat carefully into your bed, making himself comfortable under your rigid gaze. he looked at you with caution, afraid you'll run away from him like the others, like his family always did.

“first, i want to say that i am sorry for my behavior last night, you were only trying to take care of me and i was distasteful to say the least.” you nodded, encouraging him to continue. “second, i wanted you to now that i do not think that, i mean, about what i said last night.”

“about how i am nothing to you? or the cunt and womb part of your little pathetic speech?” he winced, looking away from your stoic face.

he expected to you to break, shed some tears, sob, anything. but you stood there, with your arms crossed and that unbreakable aura you always had, that typical northmen thing common-folk talked about sometimes.

“i do not care, prince aegon,” he looked back at you, your eyes hard on him, “we are to get married, this is not a love bond, this is a political alliance between our houses.”

“then why you were trying to get me to leave yesterday if you don't care?” he quickly counter asked, regretting it instantly by the way you stared down at him.

“maybe i don't want people in the court talking how my betrothed is fucking other girls in front of me.” you said exposing your possessive tone, he shivered.

“you do care, then.” you took a step towards him, towering him like he did the night before.

“what if i care, you made sure to let me know what you think of me yesterday,” you spat, “to me you're nothing more than a pathetic drunk whore.”

his eyes watered at how could you think so little of him, feeling hypocritical of his own thoughts. you grabbed his jaw to make him look at you, “so if you want this relationship to work, you need to start respecting me, or i'll go home and come back with the whole north behind my back.”

he nodded the best he could with your grip on his jaw, sobbing slightly. you tilted your head, cleaning a few tears that went down his face with your other hand.

“i am sorry, l-love,” he stuttered, “i know you don't care about my apology but i am sorry.” you nodded, your features softening at the sight of the prince sobbing on your hand, you loosened your grip on his jaw and placed your hand on the side of his face.

“why are you crying, my prince?” he exhaled, closing his eyes while leaning on your hand.

“i don't want to be like this anymore,” he opened his eyes slowly to see you looking down at him, eyes soft. “all my life my mother has put her life goals on me, i don't want to be what she wants me to be, she never lets me be my own person so i always do this, to get her attention sometimes, maybe even my father could-”

you interrupted him, “okay, i think i get it now.”

you looked at him, his face soft against your hand, he was slightly hiccuping and it was the first time he shared his personal thoughts with you. the pieces of his behavior were slowly connecting in your head, he just wanted to be reassured, he wanted to be good enough for his family.

you couldn't excuse his behavior, but you started to get it. he was soon to become your husband, so you decided you'll do your very best to get him in the right path.

“you could start talking to me, normally.” you stated, he nodded quickly.

“i like being choked and praised,” you raised your eyebrows. “that is not normal enough?”

it was okay, it was a start, you decided to indulge him, “what else, my prince?” you said caressing his face.

“i usually require to be told i am a good boy.” he nodded enthusiastically.

your grip on his jaw hardened, he gasped, “are you, though? i'll need you in your very best behavior for me.”

his eyes lit up, “i'll do my best for you, love.”

© all content belongs to @vermithorn. do not copy / plagiarize / repost or translate my work on any other platforms.

[f4nd0m-fun]

@puppetmaster13u

It was getting too long so...

Okay this was VERY long but I love it all. So much food, and very much alive when possible. And yeah they're very much venomous.

... oh gods you're making me hungry for food that isn't even safe even if it existed 😂

Also, I feel like Ivy's plants would, ah, sometimes move if they don't like where they're currently planted. If your neighbor is taking better care of your flowers then you might wake up and see them over there, you just learn to deal. 😅

Ooooo I love that. And I feel like, to Aquaman, it would be like speaking in Pig Latin + Esperanto mixed with the heaviest Scottish accent ever. He can tell it's words, but he can't really understand it.

Also, Bruce singing lullabies to the kids, just imagine. Jason or Dick or anyone shows up having a panic attack and Bruce starts calming them down. First in English, then aquatic, and slowly morphing into a lullaby.

Oh definitely, those other heroes will be struggling. Almost feel bad for them.

The medical professionals must be paid well, and Gotham University probably ends up with a very heavy metal degree that most people might assume is for vets not human doctors. 😂

Oh my gods Helena yes. Poor Supes, and I love the JL freaking out. Also, her bottle HAS to be a little pink, because of the blood that's probably in it. Also, I imagine they're born with weak venom, and drinking their parents' blood lets them process and produce stronger toxins.

I bet Dick and the other kids probably have the same weird food habits and their teammates aren't really sure what they're supposed to do. Sometimes Tim will fall asleep in the middle of lunch and whoever is in the same room will get to see his lunch run away. Probably a bit unnerving. 🤣

I like the idea they might do them for 'major holidays'. Not on the holiday, because Calendar Man (on the holidays is Gotham only, they fully expect him to show up, he's practically invited without saying anything outright), and that's the Outsider Galas. Not just one a year, but not like 20 of em either.

And yeah, aside from runaway food, Tim is pretty good with outsiders. He probably wouldn't eat 'normal' (normal for Gotham anyway) around his team if he didn't trust em or something either. This is probably another reason Bruce made him CEO. 😅

Yesss uncanny valley please. Everyone is freaking out internally, and yet at the same time they can tell they're safe... for now. Servers doing their job, and Gothamites not revealing anything, unless someone does something wrong.

Yesss the rogues. Honestly I just want an AU where the rogues are basically family.

||=====||=====||

"Oh yeah that's aunts Harley and Ivy, they can be fun but don't drink the wine."

Then (controversial I know but also heavily depends on the AU)

"That's Uncle J, we're on tense terms with him but he's got the best drinks if you don't mind letting a bit."

Maybe

"There's not-dad Harv-"

"he's Uncle T right now-"

"-that's Uncle T, don't gamble with him or ask about his coin collection unless you want to stay a while."

Or

"Don't mind Uncle Cobbles, he's a little competitive with B about their family histories, but other than that and birds he's pretty calm."

Even

"Yeah don't mind Uncle John, he's probably more nervous than you are, doing spook him and you'll be fine."

||=====||=====||

Yesss so many photos.

Also, there's two wedding photos. One he shows to outsiders, the other is up at the major as a painting and is the same wedding photo but underwater.

... Ras don't bother your son-in-law's friends please, they have enough on their plate. Seriously, stop. 😂😅

Bruce probably confuses everyone even more by knowing the assassins.

Oooo yes. Sharks, aquariums, oh my. I love all the animals you mentioned too.

... so I randomly looked up 'Victorian modern punk' because why not and...

This was the top result.

[marcelllyn]

Just one bed.

This is kind of a continuation of the previous fanfic but it could also be a standalone story. (My obsession with him still hasn't passed.)

Dean and reader are traveling and they stop at a Motel and it only has one bed.

Warnings: Naked people, cute.

This was written very quickly and revised once and remembering English is not my first language.

Dean was a terrible driver when he was sleepy, but he refused to let me drive. After I agreed to go with him to Sam's college, for some reason, Dean had taken the long way around.

— Are you sure you don't want to let me drive?

—I have. — He yawned.

He looked at me heavily, it was clear that tiredness had taken over. My butt hurt from sitting so much, and my urge to pee only increased.

— I think we'd better stop at a hotel. — I stopped the loud music playing on the radio. — I can't stand spending so much time in this car anymore.

— Fresh. — He coughed.

I opened a smile.

—What did you say? — I raised my eyebrows.

—Nothing, I think you're so tired that you're hearing voices. — He squeezed my knee. — Search the map for the nearest hotel or motel, please.

I took the map from the glove compartment, the closest one is a good few miles away.

— I think we'd better stop and sleep in the car. — I showed him the map.

— It's not very safe. — He yawned.

— Dean, I think driving while drowsy isn't safe either.

—Two rooms? — He rolled his eyes. — We want a room, please.

I pinched her arm lightly when the little lady turned to pick up one of the only keys left.

— It's thirty-five dollars. — The lady's crow's voice made my body tremble.

I took the money from my jeans pocket and placed it on the table.

We went up the stairs, room two, I looked through a long hallway of doors with jumbled numbers.

— Why a room? — I whispered.

— There's no need to whisper here. — Dean stopped walking and the silence revealed the sounds of moaning, among other things. — Why spend money on two bedrooms? We might as well share a bed.

I remembered the last time we shared a bed, he snored like a pig.

—Do you snore. — I sighed with relief when I found the room. — He snores very loudly.

I turned the doorknob and entered the room, a heart-shaped bed, bathtub in the corner of the room and two lamps. A sudden change of scenery compared to the reception.

— This is like a five-star hotel. — Dean went ahead. — I'm going to take a shower first.

— Could you be a gentleman and let the ladies go first? — I closed the bedroom door and threw my backpack on the floor. — Don't be long, I need to use the bathroom.

He rolled his eyes and entered the bathroom, slamming the door. I looked at the hot tub. — A massage wouldn't go amiss now — I turned on the bathtub.

I took off my red tank top, which was very dirty, thanks to my little Coca-Cola incident earlier, and threw my jeans somewhere in the corner of the room.

I only put the tip of one foot in the water, the temperature was perfect. I turned on the hot tub. As soon as I got into that warm water, I swore I could feel my soul relaxing at that moment. Paradise must be like that.

It was a few minutes before the bathroom door opened, I slowly turned my face away out of pure instinct.

Dean had the towel wrapped around his waist. That man was divine.

—Is having fun? — He gave a smug smile.

— Relaxing is the right word, you should do the same.

—Sure, why not?

My eyes widen when he drops the towel and climbs into the bathtub naked.

— This is like paradise.

My cheeks burned, he opened his arms, stepping between the edges of the tub and throwing his head back.

— What silence, the cat got your tongue? — He complained, still with his eyes closed.

My brain was completely behind in processing my thoughts. It wasn't a big deal, well, it was a big deal.

— You're pale, you look like you've seen a ghost. If you see one, you better let me know. — His smug smile bothered me.

—Is nothing. — I snorted. Lies have never been my strong suit. — I'm going to go take a shower — I rested my hand on the edge.

Dean laughed rudely.

— You don't have to act like you've never seen me naked. — He mocked.

I rolled my eyes. He was always presumptuous to levels beyond heaven. Even if he was right, I never got used to seeing people naked in front of me.

I got out of the bathtub and headed towards the bathroom.

☆

The shower was terrible, the hot water didn't work, I had to take a lukewarm shower that was more like ice cream. The toilet, of course, was filthy. I put on sweatpants, after all, no one deserves to sleep in jeans.

When I came back, Dean was dressed, apparently he also minded sleeping in jeans. — Sleeping on the floor.

I thought about how stupid he was for not lying in bed.

I poked him with my foot.

—What it was? — He murmured.

—Are you a dog by any chance? You can lie down on the bed!

— I don't want to bother you with my snoring.

His concern was cute, but I wouldn't be able to sleep if he stayed on the floor.

— Your snoring is like music to my ears. — I poked his thigh three times with my foot, he grabbed it tightly and made a noise of dissatisfaction. — If you don't go to bed, I'll sleep on the floor too.

As soon as he let go of my foot and stood up, his gaze was like a dagger in my chest.

— How boring you are. — He threw himself onto the bed, lying face down. — Satisfied?

—Very. — I patted him lightly on the back.

I turned off the light and lay down, his snoring was really unbearable, but it was better to see him sleep on the floor.

He was so cute as he slept peacefully, even though he was snoring like some kind of monster.

Over time, my eyes felt heavy, my blinks were slow. Soon he falls asleep.

☆

Apparently, we forgot to close the curtains, the daylight did me the favor of waking me up, it was so good to sleep in a bed again.

I slowly opened my eyes, tried to get up, but Dean's heavy body was holding me back. He was hugging my body with one of his legs on top of me and his face between my neck.

His hot breath tickled, there was no snoring or drooling.

—Dean. — I whispered.

He mumbled something indecipherable.

— Dean!

—What it was? — He mumbled.

— We need to go, it's daytime and we don't want to hit traffic.

He walked away and sat down. I got up and picked up the pants thrown next to the t-shirt and put them in my backpack, grabbed the toothbrush and ran to the bathroom.

As soon as I got back, Dean was ready, sitting on the bed.

— Aren't you going to brush your teeth? Using the toilet?

— No. — He braved.

Any happiness left in my body drained away when I realized he was in a bad mood.

I guess I should say that I have a profile on Ao3, and on Wattpad, well on Ao3 I post basically the same things as here so...

I'm working on an arranged marriage fanfic, Sirius Black x Female Reader.

[greenerteacups]

Hey GT, glad to see you're back! I'm still halfway thru Lionheart (just read the world cup chapter, what a delight) and your notes got me wondering.

I'm sure you've probably answered this before but how do you manage to make the world feel so rich? I'm not that into the fandom so I don't know If there are some things fanon agreed upon or if it is your own musings about the magic world. Like Draco explaining to Hermione about portkeys or how many languages Krum speaks.

How do you decide what's important enough to get a mention? Where do you go when you need answers and Canon is not enough to provide it?

Thanks for the kind words, and for the question! It's a matter of personal taste, like anything. Some writers prefer an athletic, streamlined plot, with only as much worldbuilding as you absolutely need (how does Panem run a command economy of 4.5 million people primarily on fossil fuels when its coal district has a population of less than 10,000? fuck off! who cares! they're Y/A dystopias about a TV show where teens beat each other to death!). Some writers, on the other hand, won't bother to start the story until they know the pH of the soil in every region of the world they're writing about. I'm somewhere on the second half of the scale, in that I'll give details that aren't strictly necessary to the plot, just because I like to feel like I'm writing about a world where real, extraneous things can happen. Some details are foreshadowing; some details are Special Mouseketools that will Help Us Later; and sometimes, you just get to know a cool fact about portkeys.

I guess part of the fun of building out a world is getting to think about Everything, which is what my brain normally does. I have a pretty broad body of literature as a starting gate, so there's plenty of room to play. E.g., when I started writing Krum, I thought about how he's not super fluent in English in canon, and that naturally made me ask why, because he clearly has taken English, so either he only started lessons recently or it hasn't been a priority for him; and then I went "wait, what's his first language? Bulgarian, right? But Durmstrang isn't — hang on—" and then I pulled up an actual map of Europe, which led me to realize that he wouldn't likely be speaking his first language at Durmstrang, which means he already had to become bilingual just to start his wizarding education, and that explains part of why he doesn't have a ton of time/effort to spare for a third language, plus he'd probably have a translator available whenever he traveled with a team because he's a B.F.D. — etc., etc. And then you keep thinking about that until you remember that you're supposed to be writing a fic, and you scramble to get back to doing that. Only now, you have worldbuilding! Congrats.

To try for an even halfway useful answer to your question: worldbuilding becomes most important when it creates limitations, because limitations define your characters and give them chances to develop/reveal themselves. So the details of portkeys become important because they explain the limitations of magical travel, which is a big nebulous ??? in the original series, since the introduction of teleportation via Apparating means that all other forms of transportation become inefficient by comparison. It also means the limitations introduced by travel — that is, not all characters can be in all places at once — also go away, because anyone can be anywhere immediately. From a narrative perspective, this sucks massive horse ass. Hence: I dumped a shit ton of limitations on Apparation (i.e., (1) it requires a ton of energy, (2) it's really fucking hard, (3) it's really fucking dangerous, (4) it's more of both the farther away you're going, (5) it's more of both the more people you take with you, (6) you can't Apparate without a clear destination in mind which means (7) you need to have been there already, and so (8) some people prefer not to do it). Hence, I also put limitations on portkeys (i.e., they have to be set up well in advance, you need to identify out both destinations precisely beforehand, and the calculations are difficult to do). Those limitations, and the Watsonian explanations you create for them, are your worldbuilding. They're what make the world feel real, because they give it grit and character. They give you a more complete sense of what you can and cannot do.

The rest of it is taste and preference, really; it's what interests you, and what parts of the world you want to explore. That's going to be unique to every author, and that's the beauty of worldbuilding — it reflects the parts of the world that you like to think about.

[alexiabae]

TIRED; caroline graham hansen x fem!reader

Summary: in which caro rant to y/n about how she felt on her national team.

Warnings: short fic for this precious sunshine.

Note: English is not my first language.

not my gif.

She read the breaking news.

And she was devastated.

If it was true, how can you leave out two of your best players out?

Two players who came to win the champions league.

Y/N grabbed her phone and was meeting by a photo of her with her girlfriend, making her forget momentarily about what she was going to do. She searched for Caro's number and pressed the button once she found it.

A tone.

Two tones.

And at the three tones, Caro answered it.

"Hola min kjærlighet." Caro greeted her in a groggy voice, clearing her throat after.

"Shit. Are you sleeping? I don't watch the hour, sorry." Y/N curses, making the forward laugh.

"Don't worry. I needed to wake up soon." The blonde informed, letting out a yawn.

Y/N bit her bottom lip; "I read the news... It's true?" She asked unsure, not wanting Caro to get mad or upset.

Caro sighed.

"It's true. I don't tell you anything because I don't care anymore about this national team." Caro hissed the last part.

Y/N could hear how pissed she is about it.

"You don't have fault about anything, okay? Neither Ingrid." Y/N let her know, even if she didn't know the full story.

"I know it. It's the fault of Hege. She didn't listen to us, to her players... It's frustrating. Sorry, I don't want to bother you about it." The Norwegian rarely gets mad or angry or raises her voice.

Y/N shakes her head even if her girlfriend couldn't see her. "No, no. You know that you can count on me, and if you want, I will be grateful to hear it." She said with a soft voice, putting herself better on her seat on the sofa, watching by her window the dark sky.

"Hege punished us for telling the truth. She didn't care if we lost match after match. She only cares about herself. We aren't good enough because we don't work sufficiently on it. We need staff people who care about us, not participating in the world cup. It matters if you do ridiculous things in front of the world." Caro said in a rush, her voice getting raised as her angrier thoughts showed up. "And Ingrid? She didn't say anything bad. She admitted our mistakes, but of course if you want to play you need to shut up and nod." She finished.

Y/N was really surprised by Caro's statement. Not from the words, if not for her tone of voice. It was a mix between angry and sad, winning the temper.

"My advice is that you need to do it for your teammates, they don't have the fault for your coach being uncompetitive." Y/N muttered, not wanting to disturb Caro. "And for your country. The people who show you their support, no matter the countries they are from. Like me for example." She tried her best to cheer her up.

Caro let out an inevitable soft chuckle at her last comment. They are in silence for a few minutes, processing everything in their minds.

"You will see Ana today." Y/N remind her, playing with her laces from her pajama short.

"Yeah. Something good, at least." The blonde muttered, rolling on her bed, closing her eyes.

"How is Ingrid?" Y/N can't resist asking by her friend.

"Affected. But she received some calls before and she is better. And she has us too." Caro explained.

Y/N felt bad. She found an hour ago about Norway's news and probably Mapi or some familiar found it hours ago and called the brunette.

"Sorry about not calling before... I was working." Y/N apologises, regretful for having a shit of a job.

"I supposed that you're working. Don't worry, babe. I just want it to be over and fly to the warm city where I live." Y/N giggles, finding funny how her nordic girlfriend hates the cold.

"What about me?" Y/N teases.

Caro plays a lazy smile. "You are the most I miss right now... So, be prepared when I come back because I'm not going to let you go."

"I can't wait." Y/N whispered, smiling remembering the moments with her.

"I will let the national team after the world cup." Caro confessed after a moment of silence. "I can't anymore. I'm really tired of their behaviour. They know what they want and they don't want me. So..." She trailed off, sighing.

"I will support every decision you make." Y/N support her.

Caro smiled; "Thank you, min kjærlighet. I just want to focus on us, family, friends and my club. That's all I want."

"Well, I'll let you rest a little more." Y/N said watching the hour on her phone, setting an alarm to watch the game in a few hours.

"Sorry that you asked for the morning to watch me play..." Caro said sadly. "I'll make it to you, I promise."

"Don't be silly. You don't have the fault. And sadly that type of shit always happens. So focus on passing to the next level."

Caro laughed at how her girlfriend denominated it like a video game.

"I will try my best if they let me." The blonde said. "For you." She added in a whisper.

"Te quiero." Y/N whispered back.

"Jeg elsker deg mer."

[notfreetoday]

MPW Ep 2 Subtitle Corrections

Subtitle Corrections: Ep 1 here

Cultural/Language Tidbits: Ep 2 here

Same translation disclaimer applies. Thanks to everyone reading the first post and geeking out with me in the notes, I really appreciate it XD Ok, Ep 2, let's go! Sorry in advance for the length!

If you're wondering why Yoh's freaking out about the rainy season even though they've been together for 3 years, the manga artist posted a clarification on twitter:

By the way, “it’s been 3 years since then” – that phrase refers to it being 3 years since that conversation regarding the slave contract. As for living together, they’ve only just started (to do so) around Mar/April*, so (at this point) it’s only been a few months (for them). What if (I) got it wrong…. I remember making a note of it, but the file that I wrote it in and passed over (to the crew) couldn’t be found right, so… (was it) a dream?” *Japan's rainy season comes around June/July, so this means that this is the first rainy season these two have been experienced together.

[Y: まずっ] Y: Tastes bad In case the original "that sucks" sounds like Yoh might be talking about the news of the young forecaster - he's really just talking about the food here.

[S: 遅くなるからいらねぇっつっただろう] Original: I told you not to bother since I returned late Mine: I told you I wouldn't need it cause I'd be late right? This is actually a pretty harsh sounding line tbh. It's sort of inkeeping with Segasaki's curtness, but still pretty harsh - so this tells us he's tired after a long day, and explains the frown on his face that Yoh just wipes away with his cuteness

Nikujaga literally means meat and potatoes. It's a stewed dish and a very well-loved comfort food. Super easy to make too (link goes to an easy to follow recipe, and the site also explains a little about the dish).

[Y: 本当、顔だけはいいよな] Y: Really, it's only his face that looks good.

I've talked about this in my cultural/language tidbits for this episode (linked up top) but I'll add it here for completion's sake

[Y: あ、いや。なんでもない…です*] (Ah, iya, nandemonai…desu*) Y: Ah, no, it's….nothing* Yoh let's his sentence trail off before tacking on a "desu" at the end. "Desu" is an ending verb characteristic of "polite" speech, which Yoh doesn't use frequently with Segasaki (in fact, by this point, he has not used polite speech with Segasaki at all, except for maybe saying the full form of the word "welcome home", and even that's pushing it). Here he adds it at the end as an afterthought (the polite form of "iya" would be "iie", if he had wanted the whole sentence to be polite from the get go), which tells us that Yoh's feeling a little off-kilter here, and does introduce the slightest distance between him and Segasaki. We'll see this distance increase as the episode goes on.

[Y: いや、どう考えても食べ過ぎだろう] Y: No but, no matter which way you look at it, (he's) eaten way too much hasn't he? Btw, if your hair started standing at the spoon scraping the pot - in the manga artist's post about visiting the shooting venue (as well as during Ep 1 twitter space) it was mentioned that Mashiko, the actor, can actually cook, so during filming they had to tell him what someone who can't would likely do, and also asked him to do the housework poorly (because Yoh's not supposed to be good at cooking or housework hahaha)

この人*、明日も朝早いんだよな。たぶん。 Original: This guy, has an early morning again tomorrow. Probably. Mine: This person*, has (to leave) early tomorrow morning too. Probably. *The word here is "kono hito", literally "this person". There's actually nothing wrong with the translation "this guy" tbh because that's a fairly neutral term in English, but I'm highlighting it here because in his monologues, Yoh usually refers to Segasaki using much rougher language, such as "koitsu, aitsu", except when he addresses Segasaki directly in his head. I'll talk more about how Yoh addresses Segasaki in the analysis post, but for now - this sentence hints that Yoh has clocked Segasaki's tiredness (subconsciously or not) and is feeling a little bad for him. Then again he quickly hides that by adding on "probably". (Adding the word "probably" behind your sentence is a common way to express doubt/negate what you just said, and incidentally is commonly used by comedians to deliver a punchline).

[Y: あの*…あの…寝るなら部屋でとおもって。] Original: Um… Hey… You should go back to your room. Mine: Um*... Um... if you're going to sleep then, (it would be better to sleep) in your room - at least that's what I thought...

*"あの…" (ano…), translated as "um" here, is a common sound you use when you want to get someone's attention but don't want to sound too demanding - it actually isn't being polite per se, but it does show the hesitancy with which Yoh approaches him. Contrast this with the way Segasaki gets Yoh's attention (so far it's just been "Yoh" or "Oi" - the latter of which you would NOT use unless you were close to the person, or looking for a fight).

As a general rule of thumb, the level of politeness in Japanese is directly correlated with the length of the sentence and just how far you can beat around the bush. So, Yoh's suggestion that Segasaki goes to sleep in his room is literally just "if sleeping, then room..." and everything else in that translation is assumed. He may not being using polite speech forms here (that would be "to omoimashita" instead of "to omotte") but this is still a common way to be polite because he's making a suggestion that is so mild Segasaki can choose to ignore it. This is a great example of Brown & Levinson's "negative politeness" which we'll revisit when analysing their speech patterns, and which you can read about in entirely too much detail here (free to read).

[Y: じゅあ、俺は寝るので** あの、その、そういうことで、おやすみ] Original: Then, I’ll go to sleep. That…sort of thing. Good night. Mine: So then, I'm going to bed, therefore**... Um... that... with that... night!

"Therefore" is an awkward translation for the word ので (node), which is more often translated as "so". I've chosen to use that word because "node", whilst again not a polite form per se, is less colloquial than the more commonly used "から(kara)", to mean the same thing. It tends to pop up more in writing than in speech. "Therefore" doesn't make a sentence polite/formal in English, but it's definitely less colloquial than using the word "so". The use of "node" is just that tiny bit out of place in this sentence paired with the informal pronoun "ore" for "I" as opposed to the more formal choice of "boku".

Again, Yoh answers Segasaki properly here with a "はい (hai)" as opposed to his usual "un" (which is a sound that expresses agreement), when told that Segasaki will be late again. There actually aren't very many moments where Yoh does speak politely to Segasaki (he's definitely rude when he talks about Segasaki in his head hahaha), so these moments stand out. This whole short exchange, together with the random -desu he added earlier, just make Yoh's sentences a little more stilted/awkward, and more distant. Individually they don't deserve much mention at all, but together, and in the context of his jealousy, show just how unsure Yoh is about where he stands with Segasaki.

[Y: あの人の帰宅が遅くなり] Y: That person returned home later and later

"That person" - similar to the above usage of "this person". This sentence is incomplete - the verb form of the last word - 遅くなり (osokunari) indicates that there should be a second part to the sentence (the "completed" form would be osokunatta). But after he says this, there is a pregnant pause, as Yoh puts his phone down and continues cooking alone. The pause continues all the way into the next scene, before the sentence continues, highlighting the loneliness that Yoh feels.

[Y: 当然、触れられることもないままに] Original: Of course, he did not touch me at all Mine: (and) of course, (I) remained untouched (by him) as well

The literal translation for this would be "(the situation in which I) was not touched (by him) continued on as well". Yoh uses the passive form of the word "touch", which places the emphasis on Yoh "receiving" the action of being touched as opposed to placing the emphasis on Segasaki "carrying out" the action of touching Yoh. Consider the difference between the sentences "I was hurt by him" and "he hurt me". The former is the passive form, and is super common in Jp, much less common in Eng. If this is confusing - welcome to Jp grammar just know that the emphasis of this line is more on what Yoh does not have, rather than what Segasaki has not done. It accentuates Yoh's feelings of emptiness and loss.

Y: すっかり日々は過ぎて Y: The days pass by completely ...

Similarly, this sentence is "incomplete", and is instead continued by Segasaki walking in and telling Yoh he'll be late again. (This whole bit just hurts my soul tbh, Yoh is so lonely. )

This is a teruteru bouzu aka a charm of sorts for good weather. See the cultural tidbits post for Ep 2 linked up top for more info!

This is said really strongly, and gives the "what the hell are you doing" feel. Yoh's truly upset here.

I try not to care about some of the subs in these side conversations because they don't add much to the main story and these posts are already too long, but this sentence should really be "Dammit, maybe I should (go) troll the chat" (and the previous sentence should be "If this was broadcasted in a certain country it would be instant death" aka N.Korea ^^;) and I just think it was a nice touch to hint at the fandom wars/flaming that goes on between fans hahaha

[Y: しんどい] Y: This is too draining The word here used is "shindoi", which is a term used when you're feeling mentally/physically exhausted/drained, and carries a sense of frustration (at feeling this way) and sometimes (emotional) pain.

This. Is. Huge. Segasaki does 2 things here - one, he rejects an after-work meal, which you rarely do because Japan is all about the group and rejecting a group invite, to welcome a new member, can make you seem like you aren't a team player - two, the guy who invites him is his senior, which you can tell because Segasaki sticks to polite speech forms whilst the other guy does not. It's still relatively casual, so you can tell he's got a good working relationship with them (probably why he's not worried about rejecting them) but still. In Segasaki's world, Yoh is the No. 1 priority.

This is more accurately "WTF". There are many sounds in Japanese that aren't exactly words, but carry a lot of meaning - "Haa?!" is one of them, and is a very rude way to express a lot of anger and shock. Please, never say this in real life. You will royally piss off whoever it's directed at and if you are outside a Shibuya bar you will get punched.

The word used here is てめぇ (temee), which is a really rude way to say "you", and has the same energy as "you bastard". Segasaki usually uses the informal pronoun "omae" for "you" when he talks to Yoh, he's definitely pissed off here.

This is the same word, "shindoi" again.

I'm going to put the rest of the whole argument here with just my translation because it's too long to screencap the whole thing.

[S: 何なんだよ？このエロい惨状は Y: うるさい。 Y: 俺は売れっ子エロ漫画家になるんだ S: なんだそりゃ。おい *takes away beer can* Y: 売れっ子さんが　シコリながらネーム描くと　いいのができるって言ってた S: なんも描けてなかったぞ。 S: おい、だめだっつってんの S: 飲みすぎ　出すもん出して　寝てただけだろう Y: 黙れ！ Y: 俺はエロくて　抜ける漫画描いて　いっぱい稼いで Y: 早く　こんなとこ出ていくんだ S: はあ？　おい、お前　どういうつもりだよ Y: どうもこうもないよ！ Y: 平気で抱かれてると思うなよ 。 Y: 俺のこと、好きでもないくせに Y: 便利な奴隷としか思ってないんだろう？そんなにやりたきゃ隣のキャスターとやってろよ S: お前　さっきから　何を... Y: 俺はあんな風に笑いかけられたことない]

Breakdown: S: What's up with this? This lewd disaster of a scene Y: (You're) annoying! ["うるさい (urusai)" is often translated as "shut up", but it literally means someone is being "noisy", and here is more of a complaint that Segasaki is being bothersome] Y: I'm going to become a hot-selling erotica manga artist! [the word used here is 売れっ子 (urekko), which literally means "someone who gets huge sales" and mostly refers to idols, entertainers, TV personalities etc. So Yoh is not just saying he's going to become popular, he's saying he's gonna be like a celebrity manga artist, which is why Segasaki snorts a little at this] S: What's with that? Hey. *takes away beer can* Y: The hot sellers say that if you jerk off whilst drawing your storyboard, you'll come up with good stuff [urekko-san is a pretty cute way of referring to these popular artists] S: You've not drawn anything, you know? [this is said with a really indulgent air, which contrasts directly with the more authoritative tone of the next line] S: Hey, I'm telling you no more *grabs beer can* S: You drank too much. You just shot what you shot and then went to sleep didn't you? [And this is back to an indulgent tone - also, everyone knows Segasaki is talking about cumming here, he just doesn't actually say it so directly] Y: Shut up! ["黙れ (damare) - contrast with "urusai" earlier. The former is used much less commonly and really does mean to "be quiet". This is why Segasaki pauses and looks at Yoh. Up until now Segasaki just thinks Yoh's gotten drunk and is whining cutely, but this word means things are serious.] Y: I'm going to draw manga that is erotic, that you can wank off to, and then earn lots of money [this is a call back to the conversation with Man-san over the phone in Ep 1, which I did not include earlier because I didn't think it was important to the story when Yoh says "the work that was released last month was amazing! There was a big buzz around the topic "I can't wank off (to this)" - Yoh was being sarcastic here, meaning that he got reviews that his work wasn't erotic enough] Y: and leave this sort of place soon! S: What? Hey - what (the hell) are you thinking? [Again, "haa?" here shows he does NOT like what Yoh's saying, but he does soften the end of the sentence with a "yo"] Y: I'm not thinking of anything! Y: Embracing me so easily - don't think you can (keep on) doing that [again, this is the passive form, so the emphasis is on Yoh being embraced, and here has the nuance of "don't think I'll just (keep on) being fine with being embraced (by you) like it's some sort of norm"] Y: when you don't even like me [this line has quite a bit of bitterness in it - the emphasis here is strongly on Segasaki and his apparent "non-liking" of Yoh my english is dying.] Y: You think of me as just a convenient slave, don't you? Y: If you want to do it that much, go do it with that forecaster next to you! S: You... from the start... what have (you been saying?) Y: I have never been smiled at like that before [again, this is in passive voice]

It's obvious from the acting alone that this entire argument is pretty emotionally charged - this is also reflected in the language because Yoh uses the pronoun "ore (I)" a lot. Pronouns are frequently dropped in Japanese - often you can go an entire conversation without ever uttering the words "I/me" or "you", in part because the pronouns are assumed and also because emphasis on an individual can come across as too selfish/narcissistic or direct. Segasaki uses them often enough with Yoh, which fits his personality, but Yoh normally doesn't. So, when he uses "ore" here it stands out - his plans to be successful and leave, his feelings, his interpretation of Segasaki's actions - all of the emphasis is on his own self. The message is very clear - Yoh is hurting a lot more than he is blaming or accusing Segasaki.

[Y: もう疲れた。あんたといると疲れる。嫌いだ S: お前　酒入るとめちゃくちゃしゃべるんだな Y: ねぇ、何で雨の時はだめなの？ S: はあ？　だって、お前が言ったんだろう] Y: (I'm) tired out. When (I'm) with you, (I) get tired. Hate it. [We've lost the "I" pronouns here, because the emphasis is on the extreme sense of physical and emotional fatigue as opposed to Yoh himself, and on how much he dislikes that feeling. Of note, "hate" here is closer to "detest/really dislike" - the word is "kirai" - which is not as strong as the word "nikui" which we talked about in Ep 1 when Yoh said he hated the part of him that always listened to Segasaki. Also, this is the first time Yoh has addressed Segasaki with the pronoun "you" out loud - he uses "あんた anta", which he also used in his head in Ep 1, after they did it. Again, we'll talk about this in the analysis post in the future, but for now just know that this term is usually used between older couples.] S: You... once you start drinking you really start talking huh? [literally, you "become able to talk"] Y: Hey...why is it when it rains, (we) can't do it? S: What? Because, you said so didn't you? [the last "haa?" from Segasaki! This time expressing his surprise and slight indignation.]

[S: 俺は優しいんだ] S: I. am. Kind. Great example of Segasaki's use of the "ore" pronoun here to quite literally emphasise how great he is. "優しい (kind)" in Japanese carries the connotation of being thoughtful, anticipating the other person's needs and wants and then meeting them etc. It's a characteristic that people often say they look for in their potential partners.

[S: そもそも、なんだ先の言いぐさは 好きじゃないだの　出ていきたいだの お前　俺のプロポーズを受けといてよくそんなことが言えんな S: 養ってやる*っつってんだ　プロポーズ以外になに] S: In the first place, what was with those things you said earlier? That you don't like me, that you want to leave... You... that was rich, saying all that after accepting my proposal. S: I was saying I'd provide and care* for you. If that's not a proposal than what is? ["養ってやる" is a pretty possessive way to say I'll provide for you - it's the same word used when referring to parent providing for a child, or an owner providing for a small animal. It's not rude per se, but it does imply a power imbalance. Segasaki actually sort of has a point here because... this is not something you say to someone else unless you're in a relationship ^^;]

S: ていうかお前、俺のこと嫌いなんだ S: どうなの S: Actually about that... so you hate me huh? S: Which is it?

S: ふーん。あ、そ S: Ohh..? I see. ふーん (Ohh..?) - Segasaki says this a lot, especially in this episode. This is another one of those sounds that isn't a word but carries a lot of meaning. It has a dismissive sort of tone to it, like you've already assumed something or when you're pretty nonchalant/not impressed about whatever the other person has said and are just playing along with them by giving them some attention (so again, if you use it wrongly, it can piss people off). Segasaki uses it whenever Yoh goes mute or shy, as a way to tease Yoh - though Yoh seems to think Segasaki is dismissing/not interested in his answer. あ、そ (A, so) - again, Segasaki says this a lot - can be interpreted as "oh really?/I see/is that so?" - Combined with the above, you can see why Yoh often thinks Segasaki isn't interested in his answer, and even when he does recognise it as teasing, he gets too flustered to do anything about it.

This seems to have gotten longer, if you reached the end - congratulations! I hope this makes it a little clearer why it's so obvious to us as the viewer that Segasaki is really quite patient with Yoh, and is waiting for him to come to terms with his feelings, but at the same time so confusing for Yoh, because of the way many of these interactions can be read both ways. In Ep 3, we'll really be able to get into their dynamics because they've got so much more interaction together.

[frankcastleonlyfans]

𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐀𝐈𝐋𝐀𝐑, 𝐌.𝐐

pairing: recom!quaritch x latina!recom!reader

summary: miles is not holding himself anymore around you.

author's note: so, i know reader speaks spanish but there's one reference to brazilian culture because we're still latino.

warnings: cussing, reader is a tease, miles is a thirst trap, he gets a boner in this one.

reblogs, feedbacks and likes are appreciated. support your content creators 💓 please leave a comment if you like my work, and enjoy your reading.

gif by @vluminial

part 1

· ┈┈┈┈┈┈ · ୨♡୧ · ┈┈┈┈┈┈ ·

"You know he's playing favorites, right?" Z-dog complained.

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed and bit on your bottom lip. Since she returned from the forest task she couldn't stop complaining about how the Colonel did her dirty.

"Chica, stop. You know he send you on the task because you whined" You murmured, staring at yourself in the mirror while braiding your hair, "Besides, why would he play favorites with me?"

"C'mon, you have to admit it was a little unfair," Walker said behind you, while her fingers worked on braiding your queue, "Since we woke up as recombinants, how many times did he bother to give you a task?"

You frowned, "I'm always by his side being Ardmore's bitch and trying to get us permission to hunt Sully!"

With Walker's help, your long hair was styled on boxer braids, divided into six equal parts, plus your queue braid in the middle of your head.

"Girl, you're a lieutenant. Being the Colonel's assistant isn't the same as being on a task force" Z-dog grinned teasingly. 

“Aye, vete a la mierda.” You chuckled. 

But they were right. Kind of, you told yourself. Quaritch did have enough reasons to send you to the forest task, but he didn't. He chose to be unfair to Z-dog, knowing it was the wrong thing to do. Why would he do that?

You and the girls were going to the hangout room inside the recom's quarters, where the team would be reunited to celebrate Lopez's birthday. You had made a little more effort than everybody else trying to make it a special occasion for your friend since you were the only one who could cook latinoamerican food. And you wouldn’t complain, you felt thankful for that. You missed your country so much, and you wouldn't miss the chance to cook something that for seconds could bring you back home. And Wainfleet was in charge of the cake, and he did a very good job as well. The rest of the team decorated the room with blue balloons to match the huge blue cake.

The whole squad was waiting inside the room as the lights were off, waiting for the birthday boy to come any minute now. Lopez came in with Miles right behind him. Looking around throughout the darkness, the corporal frowned with a confused face, but his features lightened up as soon the smell of Ropa Vieja reached his nostrils.

“Sorpresa!” Everyone screamed the moment Quaritch switched the lights on. You could remember how funny it was to teach them to roll their R's to pronunciate the word.

"Guys! I can't believe you did this all for me..." Lopez smiled.

"Our lovely Y/N did most of it" Colonel Quaritch blurted out, tapping Lopez's back but looking directly at you. You blushed at his words.

Cleaning your throat, you opened a large smile and pointed to the table; "But they decorated the room. And guess what? Lyle made this beautiful delicioso cake for you! We should leave it for dessert." 

You weren't so surprised when they ate it all. Not to be cocky about it, but not only you were a great cook, the food was also amazing. And in the end, it did bring you home.

Unfortunately, your efforts to teach them Spanish had their limits, and the team sang happy birthday in english. After Lopez gave you the first slice of cake, you played reggaeton to dance and celebrate.

"So, who's gonna dance with me?" You called out.

The eyes around the room watched your hips moving from side to side as you swayed through the floor. You called Lopez with your index. Walking to you, the corporal moved to the rhythm of the song. He placed a hand above your ass and you followed his lead, your hips meeting his, your tail entwined his leg.

Across the room, Quaritch enjoyed a glass of tequila and watched that scene. His eyes followed every step you took, as you swung in Lopez's arms, being caught in Mansk's embrace. Lyle hurried to dance with you as soon as he caught an opening to do so. 

"So cute," He thought. 

Those men were there, practically throwing themselves at your feet, but none of them could have you. At the end of the day, they weren't what you were looking for.

When your body met Lopez's again, your gaze met Miles'. As your friend's hand traveled through your body, the colonel's stare made you hot. You moved your hips slowly and seductively against Lopez's crotch, and you could see Quaritch's hand going to his own. Did I just give the colonel a boner? Yes, you did. And now you teased him on purpose, which aroused you even more.

Quaritch's upper lip twitched as his blood boiled. You rubbed your body to the others, but your eyes never left his. You were teasing him, wickedly and intentionally. His mind was running with dozens of ways he could teach you a lesson, while his cock was growing inside his trousers. 

And then you called for him. 

"Coronel," that sexy accent shouted, "won't you dance with me?" You pouted, innocently. He almost snarled at your audacity.

Miles smirked before taking a sip from his neat tequila, "Thanks sweet pie, but I'm good,"

"Then I won't dance anymore." You shrugged, leaving the center of the room where everyone was dancing.

You passed by the table and grabbed a couple of sweets along with a glass of tequila. You sat beside him, placing a gentle hand on his thigh to get balance. You crossed eyes again, and Miles squinted as you slightly squeezed his thigh.

You took a sip from your drink and a bite from the brown candy. The Colonel's eyes went from your hand to your lips as you chewed. You offered him the bonbon.

"Prove it," You cooed, "I made it myself."

Miles raised a curious brow, "What's this?"

"It's brigadeiro. Just eat, you'll like it." And he let you feed him. The tip of your thumb entered his mouth and touched his warm wet tongue. You pulled your hand back, quickly.

Miles' licked his lips clean, staring at you. You flushed but didn't let yourself be intimidated by him.

"How does it taste?" You asked, licking your thumb.

"Sweet," he replied, "just like you."

You snorted, "Careful, sir. I might start thinking you're flirting with me"

"Would you like that?" Quaritch questioned.

You looked around to see if someone was paying attention to your proximity to the Colonel. Fortunately, everyone was too drunk and entertained by the music to see something other than the drinks in their hands.

His huge blue hand gripped your thigh, squeezing it to call your eyes back to him.

"I asked you a question, Y/N" Miles smirked, "What's wrong? The gato got your tongue?"

You snickered, "You suck at spanish, Coronel."

"I could suck at other things, Teniente." He muttered under his breath. 

Miles was taking a blind shot. You could either turn your back and leave, or fall for his games and give yourself to him. It was a shot in the dark. But Miles is a well-trained marine, and even if he shot in the dark he would hit the target.

"You like to tease, don't you? Flirting all the time, teasing the corporals until they're all at your feet begging for your attention, just so you can deny them and do it all over again."

His thumb caressed your thigh softly. You could feel the tenderness in his touch. His other hand met your cheek, where his blue fingers traced lines through your features. 

"Don't start something you won't finish" You held back a whine when the tip of his finger brushed against your bottom lip.

"Oh, I could finish it..." Miles taunted, wickedly "But what would be the fun innit, sugar?"