#His eyes are glued to you and starring you down like a hawk telling you to back off

[maiuoart]

Can I hug Mutt and Regal?

Well-

Mutt is much more willing for hugs. He loves connecting and socializing- He's such a butterfly and he wouldn't mind a cuddle. Probably the first one who would pick anyone up just for the sake of carrying.

Regal on the other hand- Can't hug him unless he's known you forever or theres a life situation where he'd have to hold onto you somehow. But he isn't a touchy type at all.

[owlespresso]

dogged pursuit. part 5 of ? / part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 summary: you've been appointed as the bodyguard of one doctor veritas ratio after a failed attempt on his life. he's easy to get along with, so long as you learn when to plug your ears and focus on his washboard abs. tags: filth below the tag, reader being a freak, bottom!Ratio, foot stuff(? mild if this tag is warranted), not beta'd

Revelation comes in the form of thin champagne glasses and another man’s lipstick on your cheek.

You don’t like to fool around on the job—you stand at the door of the ballroom while Veritas mills around with the rest of the guests, sloshing down more alcohol than you think is good for him. It’s probably the baseline amount he needs to tolerate all the talking heads floating around him, nameless IPC reps and rich folk with pearls around their necks. The kind of swooning crowd that heaps on nameless praise without knowing anything about him or any of his actual accomplishments. 

They don’t know him like you do, you think, stewing in your envy as people touch him. It’s always fleeting. A pat on the shoulder or a brief nudge from a passerby, but you still don’t like it. You want to be glued to him, stuck on that deep blue suit like a bloodstain. Instead, you’re stuck by the door with your hands shoved into your pockets, gaze scanning the perimeter of the place, barely fending off the encroaching emotion. 

You keep a careful eye on who walks in, who walks out. Your hawk-like gaze sticks tight to each guest, a silent warning. None of them really catch you off guard until a man— a pretty thing done up in pearlescent pinks, taller than you, stumbles on his way out. He nearly collapses into you with a pitiful kind of squeal. You act like any reasonable gentleman should and straighten him out, make sure he’s right and good before sending him on his way. He goes puttering off into the night with a flush on his cheeks, all the way down his throat. 

You don’t realize that some of his lipstick smudged on the apple of your cheek until Veritas finally comes over. It’s been an hour. That’s an acceptable amount of time to stick around. Just enough to be polite. The sky’s gone black, horizon lit by thousands of glistening stars, faroff galaxies.

He said nothing when he approached you, informing you crisply that it was time to return home. You thought nothing of it. These gatherings always frustrated him, congregations of “blithering fools” swarmed to him like flies to honey, blathering in his ear about potential research projects and hare-brained plans that he couldn’t be less interested in. Usually, though, he would tell you about it. He would fill the silence himself while you enthusiastically nodded along, as though you understood any of what he was saying.

But he had been quiet the whole way home. And when you had pressed him—

“You needn’t worry about how I found the event,” he nearly scoffed. “It looks like you had a delightful time yourself.”

One snappy statement lead unto another. Veritas seemed so determined to accuse you of something, but refused to specify. It was hardly the first time you’d been on the business end of his seething ire, but this time—it frustrated you. It made you want to tear your hair out, when you realized he was insinuating you had an intimate moment with a person other than himself. Because who else on this island have you even looked at for more than five seconds? No one! He’s been the sole recipient of your attention this entire time!

It made your vision blow red hot. Your lips curled into a snarl as you surged up on him, jamming your knee between his powerful thighs. His back hit the wall with an audible thump, his eyes blowing wide. 

“What. Are you talking about!? I’ve only been lookin’ at you! This whole time!” you snarled. Your hand fisted tight in his shirt, fabric crumpling beneath your white-knuckled grip as you leaned in real close, close enough to see the sweat on his brow. “So quit being such a damn brat.”

You’re not sure who lunged forward first. It all became lost in teeth and tongue, lips pressed so tight to yours that he could hardly get a breath in. You’re pretty sure it was you, but it was him who yanked you up the stairs. Him who pulled you into his room with all that strong-chorded muscle. Him who has his big hands on your waist, his lips kiss-swollen and his hair mussed up as he pants, face-flushed and fine suit knocked askew.

The ire from before is all but forgotten as you grab at him. Your fingers slide down his front, watching those buttons pop with unrestrained glee. It’s a fancy little number that twink over at the strategic department bought him. They clatter to the hardwood floor, the sound jolting him out of his stupor.

“You—” he begins, winding up to what’s doubtlessly another scolding, but you giggle and yank him close, teeth digging into the side of his neck. His words empty into a startled shout. One of your hands cups his head, threading into those dark locks to yank him down, while the other pulls at the sleeves of his suit. He seems to get the message. He abandons it with shaky hands, panting little breaths. Still, he glares at you, hawk-sharp as he dumps the now defunct garment onto a chair. “You will explain that to Aventurine should he ask why I am not wearing it at our next formal function.”

“Shut up about him,” you drawl against sweat salted skin. Your tongue encircles the blossoming bruise you’ve bitten into him. You feel him swallow beneath your greedy lips, lick the salt from his skin

You wrestle him out of his clothes and onto the bed. He lays out on his back for you. He looks suddenly—surprised to be there. Shirtless and flushed and wide-eyed. All this skin should be nothing new to you, but it feels new, because it’s just for you. His fat tits and thick biceps, the dips and curves of his abdomen, his skinny waist. 

“And do you know how annoying it was? To see all those people clinging onto your coattails? Whisperin’ in your ear? One of ‘em put his hand on your shoulder and I wanted to kill ‘em, Doc.” You confess, looming over him. Undoing his trousers proves to be a little more difficult, ‘cause if you ruin another expensive piece of clothing, he’ll probably get all pissy again. Clumsy hands fumble with his buttons until they’re undone, and then you’re practically clawing them down his legs with his boxers, watching with rabid-bright eyes as his cock pops free. It slaps against his lower tummy. 

“You’re—” Veritas breathes. His voice cuts off into a rattling inhale as your hand curls around the arch of his foot, bringing it with you as you climb atop the mattress, pulling his leg up, up, up. His toes curl, his thigh and calf twitching at the stretch. And his cock—thick and weeping hard, slides to rest atop his resting leg. He’s spread open for you, now. His golden eyes blow wide, a startled sound choked from his throat as he seems to process the reality of the position you’ve put him in. 

His fingers tense and knead at the sheets. His gaze flickers from your face, to the ceiling, to other places in the room. He doesn’t even seem certain of where he is, anymore. Perhaps too startled at how easily this all escalated to form a proper sentence. His skin is flushed deep pink, from his forehead to his chest. Kiss bitten lips swollen as he swallows.

“You’re enjoying this too much.”

“That’s not what I meant—seeing me in such a flustered and unwieldy state—you take some perverse pleasure out of it,” he rasps, hands continuing to flex atop the bedding. “Even earlier today, at the luncheon—”

“You think too much,” you sigh, and press your lips to the edge of his heel. And then your tongue. He jumps at that, and you laugh. You squeeze the arch of his foot, shifting your grip to rub your thumb over the met-head pat. “I just want you because you’re sexy, and smart, and it’s so easy to get you going when I pretend to be stupid.”

“You’re not stupid—wait, what do you mean you pretend?”

You ignore him. “Been thinking about your feet in those slutty sandals all day.” you drawl, lips cutting into a wide smirk, showing your teeth. 

He gapes, scandalized and momentarily rendered speechless. “You’re vile.”

An erumpent laugh bursts from deep in your chest. You finally relinquish your grip on his leg. He drops it onto the sheets, blushing like a fresh maiden. You slide down the mattress, knees dipping into the sheets on either side of his waist. His skin is like silk beneath your greedy fingers, chest soft and plump. Something on his chest gleams beneath the silvery moonlight and your brain grinds to a halt.

His nipples—they’re pierced. Silvery little rings embedded within the perking rosy buds.

“Doc, holy shit…” you gape, “Did you have these in all day?” You’re used to seeing his naked chest. At least one pec usually hangs out of whatever gossamer robe he’s thrown on for the day, but you’ve never seen him wear them. Roaming fingers roll beneath one of the little rings, your thumb stroking soft circles around his pebbled nipple. The bud hardens beneath your touch, rising and falling with his every stuttered breath. When you finally muster the strength to wrench your gaze away from his chest, to his face, he looks—flustered. 

“Of course I did,” he says, with a righteous anger he has not, in your opinion, properly earned. “You just weren’t paying attention.”

You suck his nipple into your mouth, and he arches. Broad hands seize your shoulders, but don’t move to pull you off. His fingers hook into the silken fabric of your shirt. His neck is a column of pale marble, exposed as he throws his head back. The metal is cold on your tongue. The tip teases at the ring, curling around it. 

And he’s sensitive. Sensitive in a wiggling, writhing way you hadn’t thought possible of such a stern scholar. The sculpted planes and curves of his body struggle against the sheets, against you as you hold him fast. His hips roll of their own accord, hard cock grinding against your thigh. When you pull off the abused nub, he shivers. He looks smaller when he’s beneath you, trembling like a cornered prey animal, exposed to the hot cattle prod of your gaze.

It stays on him, sharp and searching, as you scoot a little further down his body. Nose trailing down his pec. His skin smells like the nice soaps he uses. Lavender and lemon and ocean salts. He’s a little sweaty, too, slick in your mouth. Your teeth dig into the underside of his breast. The squeal that splits the air is so sudden, and so high, that it freezes you in place, lips pressed against his skin in an ‘O’. 

“Quit—gnawing on me like a—bone!” Veritas fumes, slapping your back. The blow is half hearted at best, a love tap in comparison to the level of strength you know he can muster when he feels like it. All of these petty little denials are for show, because he’s still content to stay and shudder beneath you. You hum into his heated skin, pulling back to drag your tongue over the mark your teeth have carved into that alabaster flesh.

Your lips skate down the perfect curves and rolls of his toned abdomen, refusing to part from his skin for even a moment. His tummy twitches with every touch, your tongue tracing deep v-lines, teasing the space beneath his belly button. 

Between his trembling breaths weave groans and soft sounds of his burgeoning pleasure. His wit has abandoned him, left him mindless in the cradle of your affections. 

“This entire time,” he rasps, and he sounds like he’s on the verge of a revelation. “You were—”

You seal your mouth around his cock, and his out loud thoughts whittle into moans.Those thick thighs perch on your shoulders, heels digging into your back.

[laylawatermelon]

Now all we need is a queer club scene a la lone Star.

Buck would absolutely flourish, henren would be flirting, Eddie would be sitting at the bar doing a beer watching Buck like a hawk and sometimes smiling, Tommy would be in the void floating (sorry babe I'm a Buddie 4 lifer), and for a lil pizzazz Maddie and Chimney also go.

(it evolved into a tiny fic 🥺if you wanna read you can🥺)

ao3 link :

Ravi is probably there somewhere with someone in the VIP section looking down at them both happy but also a bit worried to see them.

(he's been working with them for a while now he knows the rumors of that many collective jinx powers they hold)

He sends them drinks periodically and they all wonder if someone is about to get a sugar daddy and then realize they're all couples so who's the couple who's getting a third?

Hen has her hands permanently glued to her wife's side and her head in her neck. She's murmuring sweet nothings and Karen giggles it away as she rubs any part of her that's closest to her and sips her drink.

Chimney and Maddie chat as they become a two-headed, four-limbed creation that smells of tequila, love, and laughter.

Maddie is constantly getting compliments on her shiny outfit and nails and ends up beside Buck periodically through the night, both of them like radiant sunlight to others.

Chimney also magically appears next to her almost instantaneously but vanishes and returns with drinks for his friends eventually chatting up the biggest guys he can on their gym regimen and suggesting they buy a calendar to support the new Asian Sex Symbol.

Of course, they sell a few copies.

Buck is the crown Jewel of the drag queens who are all shapes, sizes, and identities getting off of a show to have a nice night out.

He's marvelous and praises their outfits before quickly getting sucked into impromptu makeup and drag lessons, cards for shows, drunken histories, sexuality stories, and good ole fun lip-syncing.

And of course, since he's a bright star who everyone loves, many people begin their hunt.

A quick wink, a lingering smile, a hand on his lower back that lingers as long as a guy slides past him.

Okay, that's it.

Eddie orders another two beers, checking his phone for the babysitter's update before pocketing it.

He slides up behind Buck sliding a beer in his hand and resting his head on his shoulder his hand coming up to his waist.

The girls immediately gush about the two saying there are Two Hot Firefighters ready to put out their fire and Eddie bursts out in laughter.

They begin to fawn over him next complimenting his jawline and face suggesting he go into modelling or movies.

One of them says it's a waste but they'd be all fired up if they see him covered in soot. Another asks if he's on the same calendar as the sexy Asian guy.

Buck pouts telling them no and he's the focus again.

The drag queens then launch into a spiel about fire safety and if they could do a lecture at a show or help them.

Buck ends up video calling Bobby at the request and he and Athena are laying in bed amused as they watch him stumble through his words before a crowd of colorful queens squeeze into the frame.

He assumes them he'll think about it and the comment on Athena's beauty before the call is cut.

Bobby turns to Athena after the call and she laughs. "Your boy is always getting into trouble." He kisses her forehead softly. "We should go next time." "Let's."

Later that night as Christopher's finally dozing off, his phone slipping out of his hand he jolts at the sound of the front door bursting open.

Harry and Denny freeze on the phone, their faces both lit up by their computer screen, "What was that?"

Chris reaches for his glasses and slips them on staying quiet.

He listens again and relaxes as he hears giggles and shushes.

He rolls his eyes and pulls his covers over his head. "It's my dads."

The shuffling gets louder and he groans softly as his door is knocked on before it's pushed open.

Eddie grins down at his son's lying form and stumbles over as gracefully as he can. Buck is in the kitchen filling two (plastic) cups with water and shakily walking to his room.

Eddie walks to the left of his bed and kneels down resting his head on his arm.

He pats his head suddenly emotional, "I love you so much you know that?"

Chris frowns at his distressed tone but also notices the softness in his touch.

They watch him and Buck tiptoe in to hand Eddie a cup and rest his on a nightstand.

"We should probably let him sleep, okay babe?"

Eddie drinks from his cup smiling and pats Chris' head one last time. "Okay. Night son."

As they're leaving Buck sticks his head back in, "By the way your phone light is still asking through the blanket. Go to bed, Chris."

Harry and Denny burst out laughing and Chris promptly hangs up. He closes his eyes with a smile on his face as his dads fall into bed sloppily in the next room, leaving their problems for themselves tomorrow. 

[aphroditedahlias]

mha boys holding their baby for the first time

Starring // shigaraki, dabi, and hawks 😁

Kofi

Join my taglist

Not edited.

- Dabi is freaking the fuck out.

- He’s not even trying to look tuff and hide it. He’s literally pacing around the room while your screaming and pushing the baby out.

- If he could cry, the room would be flooded.

- He thinks about how you have it much worse then him right now so he runs over to hold your hand and place kises all over your sloppy face.

- He tells you how good your doing and much he loves you and is looking forward to your first addition to the family.

- The baby is placed onto your chest and he watches her curl into you as you place one kiss on her forehead before falling straight to sleep

- Immediately taking the opportunity, his gently grabs the baby in his shaky hands before stabilizing against his chest and cracking a small smile.

- He bounces the baby a bit and runs his finger lightly down her back.

- He watches her coo snd yawn before falling sleep looking just like her mother.

Yeah the room would definitely be filled to the top with his tears by now if he could cry.

- this man is ECSTATIC. He’s not nervous at all, and is cocky asf about how he’s going to be the best dad

- When he hears the cry of the baby he’s letting go of your hand and rushing down to where the doctors are grabbing them, trying to get first look.

- The baby has one strand golden blonde hair and wings the size of his pinky, their eyes are glued shut, mouth wide open as wail.

- He looks back at you to see your already passed out, tired after a 14 hour Delivery. He smile and waits for the doctors to clean the baby off and wrap him in a blanket.

- After about 5 minutes the doctor is placing the baby in his arms and keigo is BEAMINGGGG.

- He rocks the baby back and forth mcast checking every couple of minutes to see if you’ve awaken.

- Your body is still tired so you peek through your eyelashes to check on him and see about your baby and you see him whispering to your newborn :)

- He’s places small kisses on his face and cooing at him.

You know he’s going to be a perfect father.

- Hes nervous asf, but unlike dabi he’s trying so hard to hide it.

- He wants to be with you when you start pushing so about an hour before you lay down for the final time, he goes out and decays as much stuff as he can as a stress reliever.

- He wears one little pinky glove so he can wrap your hand in his and let you use him as a stress ball:)

- Even though a literal human is coming out of you, you still have to hold him tight enough so he remembers that the doctors are only doing their job and not trying to peek at you.

- Hes rushing the doctors to let him hold the baby and he end up decaying their little shit thingy, I forgot what that coat thing they be wearing is called but he decayed that.

- he lets the bay snuggle into the warmth of his Bonney chest as you presses kisses to them.

- Only when he accidentally lays 5 fingers in them does he start freaking out because the baby and everything around her is fine.

- SHES IMMUNE TO HIS QUIRK??? Holy shit he’s excited. He can finally touch someone with worrying, and the best part is that it’s his daughter.

- He’s rocking the bay in his arms but having a hard time understanding how someone as vile as him could be so lucky to create this precious creature.

He can’t wait to get home and show you how great of a father he’s prepared to be.

—————————————————————————

Do not steal my stuff please, just give credit thanks.

Reblogs are always welcome💜💚💜

I’m a new writer so PLEASE leave constructive criticism 😁

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Taglist :

@queenmissfit @kaykaylolz420 @oreosareawesome @team-heichou @sunas-fox @hisokaswhoree @dabis0bitch @sad-baddie001 @w0fflegay @kiko-shirofukurou @tonitomie @megumitodoroki @diducallmevic

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #5: Pretty Please? -  Hawks

In which you and Keigo coin a few new petnames for one another.

Characters: Takami Keigo (Hawks) / f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!), daddy kink, dom!Hawks, vaginal sex, a touch of begging, inappropriate use of gen Z social media apps

Notes: This man is getting dangerously close to the top of my simp list. It’s really becoming an issue. Today’s prompt is ‘Daddy Kink.’ Also, I didn’t come up with ‘kid’ as a nickname that Hawks uses... if u know, u know

Kinktober Masterlist

“How long have you been here?”

Keigo’s voice echoes in the hallway of his little apartment soon after you hear the jingle of his keys in the lock. While it certainly isn’t your first time coming to his place without him, you’re still not quite used to the appearance of that silvery little key dangling from your key ring.

Nor are you used to hanging around the place by yourself. You spent the morning in a coffee shop around the corner, working away- popping by the agency to see Keigo over lunch. He’d told you to come back here if you needed somewhere quiet to work- bonus points, since you’d be here waiting when he got home.

“Came straight after lunch,” you call absently. Your eyes are glued to the screen as you finish your thought, typing out your last email of the day. As soon as you hit send you snap the laptop shut, pushing it gently across the kitchen counter while climbing out of your chair.

“Hi,” you purr, catching up to him in the hallway. You grab his hand and he pauses, leaning in to peck your lips. When he pulls back, he’s got a lazy smirk drawn across his mouth.

“How you been, kid? Sure feels good comin’ home to you at the end of the day.”

“Don’t get used to it,” you tease, pushing your shoulder against his. You lean down and nuzzle his jaw, letting your cheek scrape against his scruff. “I’m a strong, independent woman.”

“Which is exactly why I love you,” he replies. He grabs your chin and pulls your mouth back to his, catching it in a kiss that would have surprised you with its tenderness, if you didn’t know him so well.

When you first met, he played the Cheshire Cat role eagerly. Smirking at you, pulling lines on you, making you think he was the laid-back hero that everybody knew him as. But the more time you spend with him, the more he opens up. The more he lets himself be vulnerable to you. And you him. You’d never meant to let him in so easily, but…

Here you are.

You flop down on the couch together, Keigo leaning against one arm while you keep your head cradled in his lap. He’s happy to fold his wings over the back of the couch and absently stroke your hair while you catch up a little. It’s only been a few hours since you’ve last seen one another, so you settle quickly into comfortable silence.

That’s when you open your phone, idly opening Tik Tok and starting to scroll. Every so often you come across a video related to Hawks. He’s got a lot of fans out there- and a lot of fangirls, too. You don’t mind, though. Sometimes they get a little too personal, however, and you like to scroll.

This time around, you don’t scroll fast enough.

You don’t catch the whole video, but it’s a clip of Keigo that somebody took on their phone. Suddenly, the audio cuts out and it’s interrupted by the sound of a female voice, moaning more obscenely than you could ever hope to.

“Daddy,” it mewls, and you scroll so fast the phone almost topples out of your fingers.

Frozen, you pull your eyes carefully up to meet the gaze of your boyfriend. He definitely heard. And while he knows that Tik Tok can pull up some random videos at times, you can see the flush spreading across his cheeks.

He shifts a little underneath you, hand paused on top of your head. He clears his throat.

“What was that?”

You consider your next words carefully.

“…A video.”

He swallows hard and licks his lips.

“What kind of video?”

Suddenly, it hits you. You have the reins. You realize exactly what’s going through his head. And the next time you look up at him, it’s with a wicked smirk stretching your lips.

“Why do you want to know?” You ask, and your voice has taken on the low sort of drawl that makes him shift again underneath you. “Don’t tell me you like the sound of that… Daddy.”

You feel the barest vibration in his chest as a tiny groan escapes him. He doesn’t move, but you can see the way his wings bristle, the joints stiffening a little as his feathers spread. Your stomach jolts excitedly.

“Don’t call me that,” he grunts, but you know he doesn’t mean it.

The two of you are far from vanilla most nights. You’re definitely up for a little experimentation. And pet names flow between you like water. But this feels… different. This feels controversial.

Oh, fuck. You’re into it, too.

“You do.” You scramble into a sitting position, swinging one knee over his thighs. He looks up at you with a pair of lidded tawny eyes, his jaw drawn slack in an expression that spells sheer arousal to you. You know that face well, and it makes your body ache.

“Do you want me to call you Daddy from now on?” You’re not letting up, and as you lean forward, his hands find your hips. They squeeze. Hard. His wings fan a gentle breeze over your face, and you love the way his breath hitches in your ear.

“Fuck, stop,” he groans. It’s more desperate this time, and as his hips keen against yours you can tell just how hard this is hitting him. He’s half-hard already, straining against the thick denim between you.

“Maybe now’s the time to tell you,” you whisper, “how bad I’ve wanted you all day, Daddy. I couldn’t stop thinking about you all afternoon. I even thought about ducking into your room before-”

That breaks him, and he snatches your hips and stands abruptly. He’s strong enough to carry you easily, and he lifts your thighs securely around his hips before beelining for the bedroom.

When you get there, instead of being spread on your back like the pillow princess he’ll normally let you pretend to be, he pushes you face-down into the pillows, letting your hips hang off the edge of his wide bed. He bends close, his chest brushing the column of your spine as his jaw brushes your ear.

“You brought this on yourself, kid,” he gruffs. He’s already working your sweater up your back. You lift your torso enough for him to wedge it off of you, but he doesn’t wait for you to do the same before he’s peeling your leggings down your thighs and taking your thong with it. The second your ass is bare he brings his palm down across it with a resounding snap.

“Kei-” you start to gasp, but he quickly silences you with another spank that draws a yelp from your throat.

“You started this,” he grunts, “you’re gonna finish it. What’s that you were gonna call me?”

You suck in a shaky breath and let your eyes flutter shut. You deserve this. You want it. All you have to do is take the plunge. The rest will follow. That breath you drew before gets held for a moment. And then you jump.

“Daddy,” you whimper, throwing an extra edge of desperation into it, “don’t tease me.”

“Shit, kid,” he grunts. His belt jingles as he gets his pants undone, and you hear them hit the floor. A breeze from his wings and another pile of fabric hitting the carpet determines that he’s naked now. He’s left your leggings partially on, though, keeping your legs pressed tightly together at the knees.

He knows what he’s doing.

When he steps up behind you again it’s with the warm presence of his bare skin on yours, and you feel the brush of his hand against the back of your thigh, gentle and rhythmic. He’s stroking his cock and you want more than anything to turn your head and sneak a peek, but you know that doesn’t fit into the game you’re playing.

“You ready for me, sweetness?”

He slips a hand between your legs, drawing his thumb along your slit and making you shiver. You could use a little more time, but you’re wet already. He drags his slick thumb down to the swell of your clit and circles it. The tender nerves are already pinched between your thighs, and the sensation is enough to make your hips buck harshly back against him.

Your ass connects with his thighs and he steps back a little, chuckling as he lays one hand in the small of your back to steady you.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you wanted something,” he drawls, continuing to circle your clit with that lazy thumb. It’s making your toes curl against the wood floor as stars explode behind your eyelids.

He leans in close. “Why don’t you tell me what it is?”

“You know what it is,” you choke, because it won’t be any fun at all if you fold right away.

“I know,” he quips, and you can hear the smirk in his voice. “I just wanna hear you say it.” He draws his thumb across your clit in a sudden swipe, making your whole body jump. You squeeze your eyes shut and brace yourself.

“Fuck me, Daddy,” you plead, and he chuckles so low and feral it sends vibrations up your spine. He shifts forward again, hand still pushing you into the mattress. His thumb leaves your clit, but it’s soon replaced by the head of his cock, pressing flush against your slick pussy. You can feel it now that he’s touching you- you’re soaked.

“Now how am I s’posed to say no, baby, when you ask so- ah- nicely?”

His voice breaks as he pushes in, and your whine comes in sync with it. You’re always amazed at how perfectly the two of you seem to fit together. There’s a stretch, but no pain. There’s never been pain. And on top of that, the thirsty Twitter accounts are right.

Your man knows how to fuck.

He bottoms out inside you, sliding a palm to your ass, and lets out a breathy groan. But he’s grinning. You can tell. It’s been a long day for both of you.

For a man who talks so much during foreplay he’s relatively quiet- or, wordless, at least. There’s nothing quiet about the way he grunts as he draws himself back and pumps slowly into you again. He’s testing the waters, but with your thighs pressed together the way they are you’re even tighter than usual.

“Not gonna last long,” he warns headily, and that’s the last thing you hear before he starts to fuck you properly and all your senses go haywire.

When you swim back to the surface, the only sounds in the room are your mingled, laboured breathing, and the rhythmic slap slap slap of his thighs against your ass. There’s something about the angle he’s taking you from- he’s hitting you just right, and you squirm in front of him with a desperate mewl.

“Daddy,” you whine, taking the game and running with it, “daddy, please, I wanna cum.”

“Don’t you worry, sweetness,” he growls behind you, breathless and feral. “Daddy’s not gonna leave you hangin’.”

It sounds different coming out of his mouth. The appeal was already there- anything that turns him on turns you on, too, almost as a direct result. But when you hear it coming from him, it flips your stomach in a way that you could get used to.

He slides an arm beneath your waist and hauls you off the bed, pulling you back against his chest as he continues to fuck up into you. His right hand dances down your hip and between your legs, finding the swollen nub of your clit. He strums it deftly, making you squeal.

“Yeah,” you whimper, letting your head fall back against his shoulder as he holds you close. “Fuck, I’m getting there.”

“Me too, kid,” he pants into your ear. “So damned tight. Fuck, you’re suckin’ the life outta me.”

In another half-dozen thrusts you’re dangling precariously on the edge. He’s still going, hitting you just right and pushing you there one inch at a time. Suddenly he re-centers his grip on you and comes back with renewed ferocity. His rhythm doubles.

You fall.

Your orgasm is particularly spectacular this time around. Your spine goes concave as your legs go fluid. You reach back and grab at his hips as you keen and twitch and rock through the pleasure. Your pussy convulses around his cock and his hips stutter. He grabs you hard, holding you up as he explodes, warm and liquid inside you.

When it’s over, you both collapse onto the mattress. Outside, the sun is painting brilliant streaks of apricot across the sky. A gentle autumn breeze flutters the curtains. You finally catch your breath.

“So,” you sigh, turning your head where it’s cradled on his chest. His body is beautiful, and now that you’ve finally got the chance to look you don’t take it for granted. He’s all long lines and clean muscle, dusted over with tawny hair and the last kisses of the summer sun.

He’s kissing your shoulder as you speak up, one scarlet wing folded neatly at his shoulder, the other fanned out across the bed.

“It’s gonna be Daddy, then, is it?”

He snorts, smirking against your skin.

“Sure didn’t sound like you had a problem with it two minutes ago.”

“I don’t,” you quip, tracing a finger down his sternum. “I liked it. I…” You trail off, and your ears warm. “I liked it.”

He pulls back from your shoulder and rests his head against the pillow beneath him, his eyes casting over your face. Warm and loving and heartbreakingly genuine despite the… sensitive nature of your conversation.

“So did I,” he purrs, and you fall silent for another few minutes. Decompressing. Basking, he’ll say later on. Inevitably, the needs of the evening step in, and as the last rays of light fade from the city you lift your head.

“Dinner?”

His eyes were closed, but they slide slowly open again at the sound of your voice. In the dim like this, they’re the colour of almonds, always soft when they’re looking you over. You fall a little more in love with him every time he looks at you like that.

Then he shoots you a near-boyish crooked grin and your heart warms all over again.

“Whatever you want, kid.”

[mrs-gucci]

There seems to be a darker, more violent take on Clyde floating around right now and I LOVE it!! I’m working on one for him too!

Since you say open for darker requests, I’d love to hear your take on a more violent Clyde! He could be saving you from a stalker. Clyde can show him what a real bad ass can do and then show you how well he can treat you too lol! He could be protecting you from someone at the bar. He could be showing you his special forces skills after some gets aggressive. You name it lol!

Secrets of the Blood Moon {werewolf!Clyde x Reader darkfic}

author's notes: helloooo! my friend shannon, thank you for this request!! I am also a fan of the darker take on Clyde and I hope I did it some justice!! I worked really, really hard on this one, and I’m super pleased with how it turned out.

**PLEASE HEED THE DARKFIC WARNING!! THIS FIC INVOLVES SEVERAL VERY HEAVY AND VERY DARK THEMES, SO PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION!**

warnings: angst. smut. hurt/comfort. a minor car crash. mentions of alcohol consumption. rut. knotting. breeding kink. werewolf stuff. attempted mating bite. murder coverup. clyde feels guilty.

tw's: noncon touching (not by clyde). involuntary attempted sexual assault (werewolf clyde pins her down & dry humps w/o consent, but human clyde doesn’t know he did it nor would ever intend to do it). blood & gore. graphic depictions of murder and violence. human-hunting. depictions of human body consumption (is it cannibalism if he’s technically a wolf when it happens?). werewolf sex.

**this is a work of FICTION. the author does not attempt to condone the actions/behaviors of the characters written.**

word count: 5.9k

my taglist peeps: @frank-and-honey @shygirl268 @icarusinthesea​ ​@gildedstarlight (if you’d like to be added to or removed from my taglist, the link to the google form is HERE or on the top of my masterlist.)

Last Night

Stepping out of your car, you’re instantly suffocated by the thick humidity of the West Virginia evening. The sun paints cotton candy across the sky as it sets behind the trees on the mountainous horizon, the almost full moon hot on its tail, slowly rising on the other side of the sky.

The blood moon comes tomorrow, and from the old folk tales your mom used to tell about the deep West Virginia countryside, some weird shit goes down under the crimson moon. You never really believed her. What all could happen in lil ol’ Boone County, anyway?

The moment you step into the refreshing, air-conditioned Duck Tape, you’re immediately greeted by a loud call of your name.

“Y/N!” You smile and wave at Jimmy. 

Clyde looks up and smiles at you as you come and sit down at the bar next to Jimmy. He serves the customer before coming over to talk with you and the eldest Logan.

You lean over the bar to give him a kiss, earning a couple hoots and hollers from the bar crowd, which made you both laugh as you pull away.

“How was work, buttercup?” He asks, wiping off some glasses. “Weren’t ya doin’ that one presentation today? How’d that go?”

You’re always so flattered that Clyde actually pays attention when you talk about work stuff. Most guys just smile and nod, but Clyde actually listens and remembers. He even remembered your one year anniversary at the company you currently work for, sending you takeout from your favorite place along with some flowers.

“Yeah, it was alright. Boring as hell, but the partners seemed pleased, so that’s all I can really ask for at this point.”

Both he a Jimmy give a small chuckle, nodding before Clyde mixes your favorite drink, setting it down in front of you a few minutes later. You thank him, and the three-way conversation continues before the bar door swings open. 

Something about the man’s entrance makes you look over, already smelling trouble as he steps over the threshold. His eyes are glued on you, a smug smirk etched on his expression. 

A hush falls over the patrons for a few seconds, all eyes on the leather-clad man. Clyde’s hackles are immediately up, body tense as the mystery man saunters over, plopping himself down onto the vacant stool next to yours. 

Things on the floor continue as normal, the chatter picking back up, and you subtly scoot a little closer to Jimmy. 

“Bartender?” A thick New York accent calls.

Clyde walks over, plastering a fake smile on his face, seemingly the epitome of southern hospitality.

“What can I getcha, sir?”

The man gives Clyde a once-over and snickers. “No, seriously, where’s the bartender? I’d like a drink.”

Your grip clenches around your glass. You absolutely hated it when people were dicks about Clyde’s hand.

“Seriously, I am the bartender.” He states firmly. “So, what can I get ya?”

His tone sends a chill down your spine. Normally, Clyde just shuts down whenever someone starts poking fun at his missing hand, but tonight, there was a certain air of frustration, of dominance.

You just thought he’d finally cracked, after years of dealing with this bullshit. But as you would learn, there was an alternate explanation for his sudden outwardly alpha-like behavior.

The guy seems to back off a little bit, just asking for a cold Coors straight from the bottle. You startle a bit when Clyde slams the bottle down on the counter in front of him, and you could swear his eyes turn a light grey for a second before returning to the dark brown pools you’re familiar with.

Everything’s quiet for a little while, the man sipping his beer in silence, before he turns to you. He doesn’t say anything at first, simply allowing his eyes to drink in your seated figure.

“What’s your name, baby girl?” The beer smell of his breath is strong as he leans in. “You lookin’ for someone to keep you company tonight?”

You roll your eyes. Douchebag. “Nope. I’m perfectly content just sitting here, thanks.”

Clyde’s watching the interaction like a hawk as he makes someone’s drink. It’s a wonder he can concentrate on the drink when his thoughts and eyes are glued to you.

His slimy hand touches down on your bare thigh, just above your knee, and you jump in your seat. He grins, trailing it up as he leans in even closer.

“Are you sure? I could show you a real good time...”

Glass shatters from behind the bar and then, Clyde’s grabbing the man by his biker jacket, tossing him onto the floor with an almost superhuman strength. You stand up, appalled, as the man on the hardwood scrambles to get up.

An icy grey begins to frost over his sweet chocolate irises as Clyde clenches his fists by his side. 

“Don’t ya dare touch ma girl, ye pervert.” He growls, voice lower than you’ve ever heard it. “Someone ought to show ya what respect looks like.”

The bar has fallen pin-drop silent, all sets of eyes focused in on the developing scene. He cocks his fist above his head, snarling as he readies to pounce on the helpless man. 

It’s then that Jimmy hops up and puts himself between the two men, holding his hands up in front of Clyde. “Don’t do this t’ yerself. Ye know what’ll happen if ya do.”

This seems to bring him back, the warmness flooding back to his irises. His shoulders slump as he huffs softly, pushing past his older brother angrily, storming into his office and slamming the door behind him.

Shakily, the man stands and puts a twenty down on the table before running out of the bar, bell jingling against the wooden door as it eases shut after him.

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

The rare blood moon hangs in its place against the pitch black sky as you pull up to the Logan’s trailer home. There aren’t any stars in the clear night’s sky, despite it being the dead of summer, but you don’t think much of it as you approach the shadowed porch.

Moths flutter around the dimly flickering porch light while you peek through the windows, which were as black as the night. Not a single light was on.

Odd. The Pontiac’s parked in its normal spot outside.

You flip the threadbare ‘welcome’ mat up, revealing the rusting gold key beneath. Sticking it in the lock, you turn until the door pops open, an eerie creak accompanying it.

"Clyde?” You say, looking around the trailer’s living room as you flip the living room lights on.

You call for him again. Maybe he’s just taking a nap. “Clyde?”

Still no response. 

Now, you’re getting worried. There’s no note, nothing noticeably out of place; in fact, it’s almost all too still. It gives you the creeps, how still and quiet it is in here.

The scent of suspicion thickens the air around you, and you just get the most awful feeling in your gut that something bad is happening or is about to happen.

Adrenaline begins to pump through your veins as you quickly walk around, peeking in the kitchen, and in the spare room. The air seems to thicken again the closer to draw to Clyde’s room, and you push the door open with bated breath.

You’re absolutely mortified at the sight before you. 

Shreds of carpet, fabric, and mattress stuffing is scattered the floor, and giant claw marks have torn straight through the drywall. The blankets and comforter, at least the remains of them, are disheveled where they lay across the clawed-up mattress. 

His vanity mirror is almost fully shattered, and the products that once sat atop are now tossed across the floor. The chilly summer’s night air flutters the curtains on the opened window above the bed.

The first thought that comes to mind is a bear attack of some kind. Now fully freaking out, you’re wondering how in the world a bear got into the trailer, and why it only seemed to attack Clyde’s room. You scramble to grab your phone from your purse with shaky hands, dialing Jimmy’s number in haste.

Was this one of the blood moon enigmas mom warned about? No, no, bear attacks are pretty common around here.

 It takes a few rings before he picks up.

“Y/N?” He sounds out of breath, exhausted.

“Jimmy, hey. Do you know where Clyde is? I’m at the trailer, and--”

Something that sounds like a growl rips through the speaker, followed by a woman’s voice. 

“Is everything oka--”

“Mellie, I can’t help ya right now! I’ll be there in a second!” He yells in the background. “Sorry Y/N, you were sayin’ somethin’?”

“No, it’s alright. I’m just at the trailer, and I peeked into Clyde’s room...”

“Ya didn’t touch anything, did ya?” His voice is rushed.

You shake your head, eyebrows furrowed. “Uh, no, but--”

The growl comes again, louder this time, and it almost sounds like it’s...a voice. A very deep and very animalistic one, but a voice nonetheless. And it was saying something, although you couldn’t really hear clearly enough.

“Jimmy, do you know where Clyde is?” You’re getting a little impatient.

“Don’t worry ‘bout Clyde, he’s okay, he’s, uhh, here with us.”

“Oh, uh, o-okay.”

But tonight was supposed to be your special night together.

“Y/N? Listen real close, now. I need ya to get outta the trailer and go home, right now. Don’t linger, and refrain from touchin’ anything in the trailer. Lock all yer doors n’ close all the windows when ya get back home, okay? ‘N don’t go outside for the rest’a the night.”

Okay, now you’re starting to get fearful. “What--”

“Jimmy!” Mellie’s panicked voice comes through the phone speaker again, this time a bit clearer. He curses under his breath.

Her cries clearly rattled the eldest Logan, and he quickly tells you to just do what he said and then hangs up in a frantic state. 

You’re frozen for a moment, but then you quickly scurry outside to your car, frantically looking around as you scramble to fit the key in the driver’s side door.  By some miracle, you hold your hand steady enough to unlock it, quickly shutting the door and turning on the engine, peeling out of there like a madwoman.

Suddenly, as you go to pull out of the driveway, a strange apparition appears at the edge of the wood across the street. You squint, trying to figure out what the hell it is. Whatever it is, though, it’s panting heavily and looks...inhuman.

It’s standing on two legs, but its large, probably almost seven feet tall if you had to guess, and must’ve had some type of black fur or skin since it almost blends in with the darkened forest.

The reddish light of the moon is the only light that reflects upon this mystery creature, before it seems to notice your car idling in the driveway. The crisp light grey pupils seemingly glimpse into your soul as the creature looks upon you.

Clearly, now, you can decipher what exactly it is, although you’re in utter shock and skeptical to think it real: A werewolf.

You quickly put the car in reverse, slamming down on the gas, flying backwards for a few seconds before colliding with the trailer’s tin wall. Your head slams forward onto the steering wheel, trickles of blood dribble down your forehead and nose as your consciousness is lost.

When you come to, only a few minutes later, you groan as the welt forms on your forehead. You look around, groggily, seeing that your car is in drive but isn’t moving. Surely when you’d passed out, your foot would’ve come off the brake and you would’ve rolled away...

Stepping out carefully, you find that some bricks have been placed in front of all four tires, effectively keeping the car at a dead standstill. 

Who in the world did this?

Then, you turn your head and walk slowly around to the front of your car, seeing the remnants of sharp teeth marks on your bumper. You’re frozen, a lump slowly crawling up your throat as the realization hits. 

A low growl comes from behind you, and your worst fears have suddenly been realized. You slowly, carefully spin around on your heels, afraid that one wrong move may make you tonight’s surprise entree.

Your eyes meet the soul-piercing grey’s of the werewolf, the one you’d seen at the edge of the forest minutes earlier. The one that seemingly saved your life, but...how did a werewolf know what to do?

As you continue to gaze at the large being before you, you’re struck with a sense of familiarity, almost as if you’d met them before. Strange, because you can’t recall ever encountering a werewolf. Hell, you’ve never even seen a wolf before, other than in pictures. Surely you’d remember coming into contact with a seemingly impossible biological phenomenon such as this one.

His presence is scarily comforting, and you find yourself briefly wondering what it’d feel like to be enveloped in his woolen arms. Well, arm, technically speaking. This particular werewolf seems to be missing the lower half of his left paw.

Then, your mind connects the dots, and you’re shocked to your very core. It wasn’t a bear that attacked Clyde’s room, it was Clyde. This werewolf that’s standing before you is Clyde. That’s why Jimmy and Mellie sounded so frantic and breathless on the phone; they must’ve been trying to keep him contained.

But why? Werewolves usually recognize the important people in their human lives...right? That’s why he’d saved you from rolling off...

Your headlights’ reflection was speared by your figure, creating a shadow that covered most of Clyde’s form, except for the very tips of his paws, which had enormous claws emerging from beneath the thick layer of fur.

“Clyde?” You whisper, and he seems to soften for a moment, falling down on all threes.

Just as you swallow the lump in your throat and begin to cautiously approach the creature, hand outstretched to allow him to smell you, his eyes suddenly darken, the once snowy grey now more like the color of storm clouds. 

He snarls, white teeth shining in the moon’s moody crimson-tinted reflection, and you immediately backtrack. Oh god, I’m fucked.

Your bottom collides with the front of your car, the engine thrumming lowly as it idles happily, grille warm from the machine inside. The headlights are now fully shining on the creature, fur shining under the bright lights as he approaches, lines of drool strung between his sharp fangs. 

“C-Clyde, please,” You plead with the creature. “It’s m-me, Y/N, your g-girlfriend. You know m-me, you don’t w-wanna do t-this...”

It doesn’t seem to do much to dissuade him, the animal within now overshadowing the kind, gentle man you know and love. No, this creature is something else. This isn’t your Clyde.

The wolf stops short of the hood, where you’ve crawled up onto and are laying back, raising his nose up in the air, sniffing. You’re perplexed by this action, but it becomes evident when his ear prick and he says, in that same deep, animalistic voice that was in the background of your call with Jimmy, 

“Mate.”

And then, he’s pouncing, trapping your hands above your head with his one arm while his legs scramble to find a good grip on the metallic surface of the car, hips rutting frantically. 

His muzzle dips down, wet nose running along your jawline and neck, teeth scraping dangerously against your thin skin. He quickly settles on a spot behind your ear, growling as his pink tongue darts out to begin lapping at the spot. 

You’re completely still, both physically restrained and unable to bring yourself to even try to move as the creature drags his fangs across the skin behind your ear. Your car is rocking back and forth with his hips’ violent movements, dragging his enormous cock against your lower stomach. 

He pants into your ear, breath hot as he prepares to sink his sharp fangs into your tender skin, marking you as his forever...

“CLYDE!”

Jimmy’s voice pierces through the still of the night. Crickets stop chirping for a moment, and Clyde’s body stills. His head whips around, snarling at his brother.

Mellie’s right behind him, and she peers around him, trying to look at you. “Y/N, are ya alright?”

“YYYeah,” You manage, somehow. “I-I’m o-okay.”

Clyde hops down, all three feet planted on the ground, hackles up as Jimmy takes a step forward. “Mate.”

“She ain’t yer mate.” Jimmy says, calmly. He points to you. “Look at whatcha done to ‘er, Clyde. Would a mate look like that, huh? Look at ‘er, Clyde, she’s all beat up and scared outta her damn mind.”

The wolf visibly stands down, slowly turning his head to look back at you, seeing the scratches on your wrists and the marks on your neck. He sees the bit of wetness on your shirt and shorts, from his slick.

He hangs his head and begins to cry, whimpering and whining as he sprints off, surprisingly agile and quick for a wolf with three paws, across the road and back into the woods.

His blood’s boiling, he’s angry that he couldn’t defend you against Jimmy, mad that his alpha instincts had failed him. Even as a werewolf, one of the most powerful beings in the forest, he was still weaker than and overshadowed by his showboat older brother. 

Loud barks of anger rip through him as he masterfully maneuvers through the forest, weaving through the trees, dodging thorns, leaping over the fallen tree trunks. 

The sky suddenly begins to empty down onto Earth, the cool summer night’s rain a welcomed refreshment on Clyde’s fur. He looks up at the blood moon, huffing softly as he silently curses the orb for bringing this condition to him each full moon, as he did every single moon before this, and will continue to do with every one after.

He reaches his cave a few minutes later, stopping dead in his tracks when he smells smoke coming from inside. He’s on high alert, now, as he moves to peek into the cavern.

There, he finds a lone man sitting by a very small fire, rubbing his hands together over the heat. He’s clad in head-to-toe tree camo with a shotgun laying just out of arms reach.

This man’s scent feels awfully familiar, Clyde thinks, but it takes him a minute to figure out why. And, when he does remember, Clyde is suddenly not so sympathetic for the unwanted visitor in his cave.

The wolf’s mind falls to a certain memory from last night at Duck Tape. This is the jackass that thought he could get away with feelin’ you up. The one that poked plenty ‘a fun at his missing hand. 

Clyde’s still-hard cock presses up against his furry stomach in excitement, tongue licking over his razor-sharp fangs. He couldn’t protect or avenge you last night, again due to Jimmy, but maybe he can now. 

Jimmy ain’t gonna get in my way this time ‘round.

He can’t just come running into the entrance, no, that allows him too much time to grab the gun. He thinks, and thinks, until he remembers the connecting cave that he’d recently found on the last full moon. He bets he can get in there and creep up behind the man, do a sneak attack. 

He’s salivating in anticipation as he bounds down to the opposite side of the cave, paws padding lightly against the soft gravelly dirt floor, trotting along carefully.

The man is none the wiser to the wolf’s presence, and the hum of the loud rain certainly wasn’t hurting. A loud crack of thunder suddenly rips through the forest, vibrating the ground. Clyde freezes briefly as the young man curls up further, chin resting in the gap between his knees. 

Predatory instincts pumping through his veins at an all-time high, he crouches down as he stalks closer and closer to the unsuspecting body by the small fire. The anticipation is almost too much to bear, now right behind the man, moving in slow motion so as to not alert his victim.

When the time is right, just as the next clap of thunder rumbles the rocks, Clyde pounces. He grabs the man’s shirt, dragging him out of the cave with an unprecedented swiftness. The fire is extinguished with the tussle, leaving the cave shrouded in darkness, the shotgun laid abandoned on the ground where he’d put it.

He struggles against the wolf’s grip, fabric ripping violently the further his body’s dragged along. Clyde throws him out onto the forest floor, pawing at the ground like a wild stallion as the disheveled man scrambles to his feet.

His hands are shaky as he holds them up in front of him, as if trying to calm the creature like a domesticated dog.  “E-Easy, easy.”

If he could, Clyde would’ve rolled his eyes at the man’s pathetic attempt to talk down at him. He snarls, watching in amusement at the way he startles and stumbles back. 

Clyde’s got the man backed against the trunk of an old oak within seconds, and he stands up on two legs, glaring at the much smaller figure. He bares his teeth, a wolf’s version of a devilish grin.

“Run.”

It seems like the man is caught in between being shocked that this wolf just spoke English and being chilled to the core by his word. He sputters for a moment, brain smoking as it churns on overdrive, before his legs carry him as quickly as they can down the mountainside. 

The wolf casually trots along after him, in very little rush to catch him. He’s throbbing hard now, the excitement translating into pure arousal. Clyde knows these woods like the back of his hand; there’s no where for this man to hide from his inevitable fate as the wolf-man’s next meal.

His head continuously whips around, meeting the grayish-white orbs tucked behind a thick coat of jet black fur. In a frenzy, he tucks himself behind a large tree, catching his breath.

Twigs snap in seemingly all directions, his breath heavy as his eyes flicker all around the dark, damp wood, the only light coming from the crimson-tinted orb above. He reaches back and wraps his arms around the tree’s trunk, panicked.

A low growl rattles his eardrums and he looks to the side, seeing the black creature right at his side. Clyde’s head snaps to the side, looking directly at his victim.

Crying out in fear, the man leaps forward to make a run for it, but is quickly taken to the dirt by the wolfish creature. The man squirms and screams out for mercy, for God, and Clyde knows what he has to do now.

He quickly sinks his teeth into the back of the mans neck repeatedly, effectively severing the spinal cord, leaving the man completely limp and defenseless. A quick and effective manner of disabling a victim, he’s learned through hunting animals, but keeps him just alive enough to see what’s being done to him. 

Clyde flips the limp form over, now on his back, and his eyes are wide as he watches the wolf above him, black fur now stained red around the mouth, stare down at him with a hungry gaze.

His mouth opens, probably to beg for his life, but it’s too late. Fangs sink through his shirt and into the flesh of his chest, just above where his rapidly beating heart lay.

The thump-thump rhythm slows, then stops, the life leaving his body. Sweet copper tang coats the wolf’s tongue as the body is drained of its remaining energy. 

There is little feeling better than watching the life slowly and steadily drain from the eyes of a victim, and suddenly, Clyde’s throbbing arousal has reached an almost unmanageable point.

But, he wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to devour his freshly-caught prey, especially while it’s still warm. So he digs in immediately, carving further into the hole over the heart he’d already created, ripping out the vital organ.

He holds it triumphantly between his teeth for a moment before setting it aside. His craving is more for the meat, he’s never been much of a fan of organs, so he gets to work separating the good meat from the corpse.

Once he’s done, he lifts his nose in the air, howling loudly. He’s never been this hard before, he swears it, and there’s only one person that can satisfy this urge:

You.

For a wolf on three legs, he reaches your house in record time. He can already feel the wolf-ness fading steadily, the human beginning to peek through the cracks. But, his rut doesn’t give at all, and he bounds up the steps and scratches at your door.

You’re startled by the noise, already a gut feeling you know who it is. When you open the door, Clyde’s wolf figure is sitting politely on your doormat.  Should you let him in?

He pushes past, whimpering as he does so, before you can make a decision. You shut the door slowly before turning around to face the creature. He seems a bit different than when you saw him earlier, seeming a bit more human.

You stand against the door, back pressed up against it, looking down at the wolf in your living room. 

“Y/N.” He breathes, huskily, attempting to ignore the hardness pressing up against his wooly stomach. “N-Need you. Please.”

He’s ashamed as he stands up on his hind legs, wrapping a clawed hand around his oozing cock, jutting his hips out as if to show off for you. The alpha in him needs to show you how suitable of a mate he is, what strong pups he can give you.

“It hhhhurts, b-buttercup.”

The battle going on inside him, animal versus human, is painfully evident on his expression. Your hearts been ripped in half as you watch him struggle with himself, the human trying to overpower the animal, and the animal trying to fight off the human.  He doesn’t even know what he did to you earlier. 

“What do you need from me, Clyde? I’m here to help you, honey, I’ll do whatever you need.”

His eyes widen in surprise, but its quickly replaced by a look of what can only be described as pure, primal hunger.

“Floor. A-All fours.” The wolf-man manages, desperately humping his hand to offer some relief. “G-Get the lube, ffffuuuck, I mmuhhmight hurt ya without it.”

You rush to get the lube, placing the tube next to you as you pull your leggings down, exposing your bare cunt. Clyde watches with an eager anticipation as you spread yourself for him. 

As soon as you’re into position, he practically falls over on top of you, hips rutting uncontrollably as he smoothes lube over his drooling cock and lines up with your entrance. 

“B-Buttercup, I...I’m sssorry ‘bout what’s ggon’ happen. This ain’t me, ppuhpplease remember that, mmkay?”

You nod, tearing up at the pure agony in his voice. “I w-will, Clyde.”

His hips shove forward, a choked howl escaping his lips, balls tightening. You cry out, the burn of your walls stretching to accommodate his girthy length more prominent than usual.

Veins bulge out of his neck, jaw clenched as he begins moving, mercilessly plowing into you from behind. He plants his clawed hand next to yours, loud and desperate scratching noises accompanying the wet squelch of your joined torsos. 

The carpet is shredded, hardwood floor scratched permanently by his feet as he humps you with a desperation unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. This really wasn’t Clyde, but you soon realized that you exactly mind this side of Clyde, this primal instinct, this roughness. It was arousing, bittersweetly so.

When you look over your shoulder at the wooly mass moving behind you, your eyes widen. You didn’t notice the shiny substance from a distance, but now that he’s up close, you see that it coats his snout and has even dripped down onto his breast.

A gripping fear bubbles in your stomach. But then, you rationalize immediately, before you find yourself too deep down in this rabbit hole of worry. He probably just hunted a deer or a rabbit or something. He’s a fucking wolf, remember?

You almost sigh out loud in relief, but you keep it in, instead moaning along with each of his thrusts.

“D-Did ya like muhmmahhmm--ma w-wolf cock?” He asks. 

You nod. “Y-Yeah, ohhh god, I liked it.”

“Gonna gguh-give ya real nice p-pups.” His muzzle rubs over the spot behind your ear, the same one that he’d been after earlier, smearing some of the crimson across your skin. He licks it with as much consistency as possible, considering the speed and intensity of his hips. “F-Fill ya u-up, knot ya gggood ‘n deep.”

You’re almost positive he’s talking pretty much nonsense at this point, his rut brain having completely taken over. You know you’re not gonna cum, but it doesn’t really matter; you’re doing this for him, after all.

“Oh g-god, I’m cummin’, I’m gonna--”

He pauses his hips, howling softly as he cums. But this time, something else begins to swell, and you cry out as it does so. 

“M-Ma k-knot,” Clyde breathes in explanation. “Keeps it a-all inside y-ya.”

You nod, not really knowing what all he’s talking about but not really caring for an explanation right now. 

“‘m gonna h-havta stay inside y-ya fer a lil while. S-Should be ‘b-bout 30 minutes or so.”

His tongue begins moving over your cheeks and neck, something that makes you smile, that helps you remember that your beloved boyfriend’s in there somewhere.

The half hour waiting period passes, and as much as you’ve loved snuggling with your boyfriend (who’s wolf counterpart is relatively cuddly, despite previous reservations), you’re happy to have him off you.

After wishing you a final goodbye, citing the need to ‘clean up his cave a bit’, he trotted back out the door and galloped like a madman (wolf?) back out into the shadowed wood, leaving you alone once more.

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

It’s all over the news when you flip on the TV a couple days later.  Hunter Found Slain in Boone County Woods, Bear Attack Suspected.

You have this awful, sick-to-your-stomach feeling that what happened the other night, when Clyde came to your house still in wolf form with a snout and chest covered in blood, had something to do with this. 

When the picture of the victim came up on the screen, you audibly gasp, recognizing the face. It’s the guy that was feeling you up at a few nights ago at Duck Tape. 

Oh god, no. 

Suddenly, the door flies open, and Clyde’s panting as he rushes in and shuts it behind him. He looks pained, bottom lip trembling. “Have ya s-seen the ne--”

“...Police are still investigating the scene...foul play has not yet been ruled out...”

His entire demeanor falls, and the tears fill his eyes. He’s visibly shaking. You stand up and rush over to him just as he collapses on the floor. 

You’re freaking out, trying to confirm what it is you’re pretty sure you already know.

“C-Clyde, did you...?”

He looks up at you from where his head now rests in your lap. “I c-can’t quite remember, b-but I think...I think I m-might’ve.”

Sobs wrack through his body as he cries hoarsely. You’re in shock, somehow hearing the words makes the reality suddenly hit like a damn semi-truck. You run your hands through Clyde’s slightly matted mane, soothing him as best you can. 

“Clyde, it’s okay, baby. It’s alright, it’s not your fault.” You whisper.

“Y-Yeah it i-is, though. I k-killed ‘im.”

You try to stay strong, for Clyde’s sake, but the tears are swelling in your eyes at an uncontrollably fast rate.  “But you d-didn’t do it o-on purpose, h-honey.”

His face seems to drop even more when he sees that you’re about to cry. He sits up shakily, pulling you into a big ol’ bear hug.

“Oh, buttercup, oh god, ‘m sorry. I didn’t m-mean to drag y-ya into all ‘a t-this.”

You sob into his shirt, wrapping your arms around him, holding him close. It’s hard to believe that this man, this kind, gentle man, could’ve done something like this on purpose. Clyde would never hurt a fly.

From what he’s told you, which granted is very little, the line between werewolf and human for him is quite a blurry one. He seems to only be able to remember parts of what happened, and his subconscious is only there for part of the time.

Which means that he’s technically innocent, since he can’t remember nor could he control his canine impulses or instinct. As far as you’re concerned, werewolf Clyde and human Clyde are two different beings.

“I-If anyone ever f-found out ‘bout ma c-condition...”

You pull away and look up at him, holding his face in your hands. “Clyde, I-I’m not gonna turn y-you in.”

“What?” He looks at you with a furrowed brow, like he’s surprised to hear your words. “Y-Yer not g-gon’...?”

Shaking your head, you swing your leg over his lap, hugging him once more while your face settles into the crook of his neck.

“No, of course not. I know you’re a good p-person, and like I said before, it’s n-not you. Your w-wolf side is not really you, Clyde, at least not entirely.”

Clyde looks down at you with an incredibly grateful expression, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He tilts your head up with one of his meaty fingers, immediately pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss is relatively short, just a showing of his gratitude, of his love for you. When he pulls away, you maintain eye contact.

“Okay, so most of the solid DNA evidence will have been washed away by the rain and tampered with by the elements over the past few days that the body’s been outside. Plus, they aren’t looking for wolf DNA, and even if they somehow knew, your wolf DNA wouldn’t lead to your human identity, at least I don’t think so...”

Hours and hours of watching countless true crime shows, movies, and documentaries are finally paying off.

“But, do you remember leaving anything, anything that could indicate foul play? Really search your memory.”

He puts his metaphorical thinking cap on, closing his eyes as he tries to recall anything of use from that night, but nothing comes to mind. His eyes swell with tears as they blink open and he shakes his head. “I can’t ‘member anythin’.”

“That’s okay, Clyde. They won’t find out, I promise, they won’t.” You kiss his neck. “For now, let’s just try to relax and we’ll keep an eye on the news. Will you come snuggle on the couch with me?”

Clyde smiles softly, nodding as you pull away and stand up, extending a hand to him. He takes it, standing up seconds later.  As you walk into the living room, he says your name, causing you to turn around with a slightly perplexed expression.

“Thank ya.”

You smile brightly. “I love you, Clyde.”

“I love ya, too, darlin’.”

[sunflowersupremes]

The Trade

All is not well in Gil-Galad’s war camp.

Characters: Elrond, Eönwë’

Background Eönwë/Maglor because I love them.

Read on AO3

They’d been traded.

He knew - he truly knew - deep down that it hadn’t been a fair trade. Maglor had given his sons away in return for being left alone by Gil-Galad, which Gil-Galad was already doing. It was a trade on paper, and nothing else.

If the Feanorians had also been given a few wagons of supplies, it was mostly because their camp was starving (that had been added to the agreement only after Cirdan - Gil-Galad’s messenger - had seen the condition of the Feanorians and their followers).

No, in truth it had been the easiest way to ensure everyone stayed alive. The longer the war raged the fewer supplies the Feanorians were able to find. Crops would not grow and game was scarce.

Maglor had given them up because he would not let them go hungry, and he had cut his own rations to feed them until Maedhros had ordered him to stop.

That didn’t make it sting less.

He was glad to be in the army, to be making a stand against Morgoth, but every time Eönwë - the leader of the Valar’s forces - would compliment him, Elrond would have to bite his lip. He was forbidden from asking why the Valar had not come to their aid sooner (he had done it once, in front of the entire court, and Eönwë had been spared having to answer by Gil-Galad swooping in to drag his herald off).

Even his position as Herald - which again, he did enjoy to an extent - was given to him to keep him under the king’s eye, because they did not seem to trust him.

Elros was spending more and more time with the Edain, who seemed to have elected him as some sort of leader. No one was watching him to see what he would do (probably because he had not yet stirred trouble by asking King Finarfin if he thought it was fair that Beren was returned and not Andreth. He hadn’t meant to upset the king, he just thought it was a fair question).

At least that incident had finally gotten a reaction out of Gil-Galad. He was tired of being simply sent away like an errant child, with nothing more than a plea to behave himself next time or to think before he spoke.

He did think before he spoke.

That was why he spoke.

But after he’d nearly reduced the king of Tirion to tears, prompting Finrod to shoo Elrond away, Gil-Galad had finally shouted at him, telling him to stop acting like a child and sending him to help reinforce the walls around their camp.

Eönwë stopped by to see him again, studying him with large, owlish eyes that mirrored the night sky behind him. Then he pointed to the bag on Elrond’s hip, where the Peredhel had taken to hoarding food, instinct telling him that the next meal might not come. “You will not go hungry here, half-elven,” the Maia said gently. “We have supplies aplenty.”

He gripped the leather strap more tightly, narrowing his eyes. “Then why can you not share with the others outside your camp? The Sindar, the Dwarves, the Feanorians, the Mortals of the south? Are they nothing to the Valar?”

Eönwë had, once again, been spared needing to reply by Gil-Galad. The king had come from no where to grab Elrond’s arm, sinking nails through his cotton shirt, and promised that Elrond would not trouble him anymore. As soon as Eönwë was out of sight, the scolding had begun.

It had devolved into a screaming match fairly quickly. Elrond accused Gil-Galad of trading in slaves; Gil-Galad had said he was no more a slave to him than he had been to the Feanorians.

The half-elf had said that the king didn’t understand; the king had accused Maglor of abusing the twins.

Elrond had threatened to join Elros and the Edain; Gil-Galad had replied that Elrond wasn’t forced to remain.

At that, Elrond had snapped that he was going to find his family. Gil-Galad had shouted that he was more than welcome to, in fact, he was ordering Elrond to do that.

Of course, Gil-Galad thought he meant Elros, but it wasn’t his fault the king was an idiot.

Elrond practically gloated as he packed and slipped away, heading not for the Edain’s camp, but into the woods. He’d gathered up as much food as he could fit in his saddle bags, and simply walked out of camp, heading to the east where he had last seen the Feanorians.

Back in camp, all hell had broken loose. It was Finrod who had realized he wasn’t with the Edain, when he had gone to visit them. A few people had suggested leaving Elrond to die on his own, but Elros had threatened to disband the Edain army if his brother wasn’t found (no one was certain if he had the authority to do that, but they really didn’t want to find out).

Finally a blue jay had swooped into the camp and chirped at Manwë’s herald. Eönwë had announced that Elrond was merely following the king’s order to return to his family, and Gil-Galad had shouted that Elrond had known exactly what he meant and that he was going to find the half-elf himself and tan his hide (Manwë’s herald had seemed strangely amused by the fight).

No one thought it was a great idea to send the king out on his own, so Cirdan had simply said that he would go and set off before he could be stopped.

But it wasn’t Cirdan that found him.

He felt the Maia before he heard him, but he kept going, his eyes glued stubbornly on the path in front of him. He’d filled his horse’s back with supplies, so he walked instead, leading the horse by her reins.

After a few moments, a voice echoed from around him, asking, “Where are you going, half-elf?”

“Should you not be leading an army, my lord Eönwë?”

The Maia materialized beside him, falling in step easily. “You will not find them where you are going.”

“Then I will keep looking.”

“Their camp has been disbanded. Their followers have joined the Edain army.”

Elrond tightened his grip on the horse’s reins. “Where are they?”

“I know not. Something to the southeast, I believe.”

Elrond turned his feet southeast. Eönwë followed him. “Your king is distressed.”

“My king ordered me to go to my family.”

“You knew what he meant, did you not? Your brother is to the west, by the sea, and yet you travel southeast.”

“My family is there,” Elrond replied.

“They are not your family.”

“They raised me.” He swallowed. “I love them.”

Eönwë seemed to consider. “They would not want you to do this, I should think. They sent you away for your own-“

“Why do you care!?” Elrond turned sharply, narrowing his eyes at the bird-like Maiar.

Tilting his head, Eönwë raised a feathered eyebrow. “Why should I not?”

Elrond snapped his head back to the path in front of them. “I’m not allowed to ask you why no one protected us from Morgoth sooner, if you care so much.”

Eönwë chirped, almost sounding amused. “It was not my decision, young lord Peredhel.”

He snorted. Then - with a bit more caution than he usually spoke with - he looked sideways and asked, “What if it had been your decision?”

“It was my Lord Manwë-“

“But what if it wasn’t?”

Eönwë blinked at him. A cloud drifted by in his large blue eyes. “I do not enjoy war.”

“Neither do we,” Elrond pointed out, breaking their eye contact.

For a while, they traveled in silence. Birds called out to them from the trees, and occasionally Eönwë would twitter back at them.

Finally, Elrond broke the silence, “Ever since the Nirnaeth, there’s been no food,” Elrond said quietly. “Kanafinwë said it wasn’t so bad at first, but as the years passed everyone began to see the damage.”

He blinked, feeling tears in his eyes but refusing to let the Maia see him cry. “Kana would go hungry to make sure we ate.”

“The land is poisoned.”

“Why?” Elrond stopped, turning to look up at Eönwë. “I know the Exiles brought the Doom upon themselves, but it was not just the Exiles who suffered.”

Eönwë sighed, expelling enough air to send up little clouds of dust at their feet. “I cannot give you an answer you will find satisfactory, Elrond.”

He looked off into the woods, at the gnarled and twisted trees, dead leaves drifting by even though it ought to have been the height of summer. “I can tell you that the Valar are much bereaved, that they find no joy in the suffering of anyone, even those who have forsaken them, and that Melkor has long been on their minds.”

Elrond sighed. “Am I going to find them?” he asked quietly.

“I do not think so,” said Eönwë. “And even if you did, I imagine you would be sent back.”

He swallowed and nodded slowly. His feet had begun to ache, and he had no idea how long it had been since he had last slept. It certainly felt as though he’d been traveling for hours, perhaps all night, but under the twisted trees of Beleriand it was difficult to tell the time.

“How far back to camp?” he asked wearily.

Eönwë’s eyes glittered with stars, his lips almost quirking up in a smile. “No so far as you might think. I have been leading us in circles.” He looked remarkably pleased with himself.

Elrond glared at him.

The Maia whistled loudly - Elrond winced and covered his ears - and a large hawk swooped down to land on a branch above them. “Leave the bags,” said Eönwë quietly. “He will take them to your family. I can… make an exception for this, I think.”

Elrond didn’t ask what he meant by exception. It wasn’t hard to understand he wouldn’t be able to help his family again.

They made quick work of removing the bags from the horse’s back, and the hawk simply gathered them up in his talons and took off with a powerful flap of his wings, throwing up a blinding cloud of dirt.

Elrond was practically shaking from exhaustion by the time the bird was out of sight, and he barely noticed Eönwë grabbing him and lifting him onto the horse’s back. He let the Maia take the horse’s reins and leading them back the way they had come.

Elrond was nearly asleep before he heard the Maia quietly say, “Kanafinwë was a friend of mine. If you have need of an ear, mine will always be open.”

He nodded, leaning forward against the horse’s neck with his eyes closed. “He only allowed the trade because he heard you were leading the army,” Elrond confessed. He yawned. “Maitimo nearly called it off when he heard about you.”

Eönwë laughed and the Maia’s hand came up to rest on Elrond’s shoulder. “Rest little Peredhel,” he cooed. “I shall handle your king.”

How many dads does Elrond have at this point? Because somehow Elrond’s dad is, all at once, a star, two mass murderers, a shipwright, a king, and one (1) bird boy.

Also Eönwë totally thinks he can teach Elrond to fly (since Elrond is part Maia AND the son of Elwing) and there’s a 50% chance that someone (probably Gandalf) had to convince him that “throwing Elrond off a cliff to see if he sprouts wings” is a really bad idea.

1

Okay but AU where Elrond befriends Eönwë and after the War of the Wraith Eönwë is like “you know who should guard the Silmarils? Elrond. Because Elrond would absolutely not hand them over to the Feanorians when they come looking for them, because that would be against the will of the Valar and he should be very careful not to accidentally fall asleep on account of his mortal blood. No. Elrond would never do those things. Elrond is a good child, very reliable, and his brother is the king so even if some accident happens he would have diplomatic immunity.

Manwë strikes me as the type of guy that you could absolutely lie to his face and he would believe you just because he wants to think the best of everyone. So if Eönwë was like “oh no, I don’t think Elrond meant for the Feanorians to just… walk out with the jewels… thereby avoiding any more bloodshed… and fulfilling their oath…” Manwë would probably believe him. (also by the end of the War of the Wraith Manwë is just 100% done and even if he did figure out the lie he’d be like ‘FUCK IT. FINE. PROBABLY BEST THAT NO ONE HAS THOSE DAMN ROCKS ANYWAY.’

2

Another great idea is imagining Eönwë just periodically showing up in Middle Earth to check on an increasingly exasperated Elrond who just wants to live his own life, but Eönwë keeps patting him on the head and calling him “little Peredhel” and offering certified ‘Terrible Advice’ because Eönwë doesn’t understand anything about how people actually work.

Eönwë couldn’t be one of the Istari because Manwë knew if they sent him he would just move into Rivendell and possibly never leave and also drive Elrond insane. (Okay, that might be AU #3 because its cracking me up)

Look, I’m not saying that the Counsel of Elrond had to be held outside because Eönwë was sitting in a tree, watching, but I’m totally saying it.

[notabloodmage]

Even then. (DA2 fic)

doin some writing on my canon version of the Hawke family!! this is kind of messy but i needed to get some ideas down  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ anyway listen to me there is nothing in canon that says malcolm hawke couldn’t be an elf @ bioware let me have this

They hadn’t planned to settle in Lothering. Leandra was five months pregnant, the plan was to keep pressing towards the wilds, in hopes of finding a band of Chasind or Avvar that wouldn’t be so opposed to Malcolm’s magical abilities. The prospect frightened Leandra, but Malcolm insisted it was their best shot at a Templar-free life.

The storm had caught them off guard. 

The torrential downpour was on them suddenly, and all at once. Malcolm had enough mana remaining to protect them from lightning, but there was no way for him to subtly shield them from the cold that was creeping in through the wet. Ferelden was not always an easy place to live, but it had to be better than Kirkwall. 

At least that’s what Malcolm repeated to himself as he scooped his firstborn child up into his arms, trying to ignore the way his back ached from days upon days of travel. The long nights of sleeping on the cold hard ground probably weren’t helping either.  

They’d passed several small settlements on the road, but they always tried to avoid contact with other people. People didn’t even need to suspect him of being a mage--being an elf was bad enough for a lot of the country folk. He couldn’t take five steps in a town without being accused of stealing, it seemed. 

They always tried to sleep beneath the stars if they could, or in a tent if they thought it would be well hidden enough. Leandra had accused him of being paranoid, now that they were already so far from home but as far as Malcolm was concerned you couldn’t be too careful. 

He had done so much--sacrificed all of his ideals-- just to get them this far, and Maker be damned if he was going to be caught now. 

Still, in a storm like this exceptions had to be made, and Leandra had spotted an old farmhouse on the horizon. Malcolm, while hesitant, grew more and more at ease as they approached. It seemed to be abandoned. 

The couple trudged through the rain hand in hand. The land surrounding the farmhouse was uneven, muddy, and completely overgrown. Malcolm prayed that the rain would cover their tracks as they made their way to the 

It was a little worse for wear, looking like it had been sitting untouched for years which was a blessing in disguise because all it took was a swift kick (combined with a bit of mana, of course) to break the rusted padlock.

Malcolm guided them in cautiously, scanning the room for any threats. Abandoned didn’t mean safe. He wasted no time setting up wards to protect them-- but Malcolm was tired too. 

Perhaps he’d missed a spot, perhaps he hadn’t been as thorough as he’d thought. Perhaps his wards were weak with his exhaustion as he joined his wife and daughter on a bed of stale hay. Perhaps he’d been distracted with casting a quick warming spell to ensure the most important people in his life slept soundly. Perhaps he’d given in, for a moment, to the sense of hope burning brightly in his chest as he pulled his family close. He slept far too soundly that night. Better than he had in months. 

The high-pitched creak of the barn door swinging open jerked the three of them awake. 

Rays of sunlight were streaming in through the rafters--had morning really come so soon? 

The sight was so peaceful that Malcolm nearly didn’t register the clunk of boots on the wooden floor, and the wide figure stepped towards him, fiddling with the trigger of a small hunting crossbow. Malcolm scrambled back, drawing Leandra closer with one arm while the other fumbled for his staff--lost in the hay. 

“Hold still now, friend, I’d prefer not to use this--”

“Stay away from my family!!” The stranger was interrupted by his daughter’s tiny voice. 

She had leaped out of the shadows beside them, brandishing the pocket knife that Malcolm kept strapped to his belt. 

How did she-- Malcolm didn’t have time to finish the thought. He rushed forward, intent on yanking her back by the shirt collar. He’d been in such a deep state of sleep that he hadn’t even registered her absence. Then again, she was always so sneaky. Malcolm hadn’t the faintest clue where she’d gotten it from, but she had a way of sinking into the shadows and completely disappearing.  

She was only four, and a tiny little thing at that-- shaking in the little booties Leandra had made her. Leaping to defend her family with a . 

So brave, even then. 

“Minerva NO!!” Leandra was shrieking. “Don’t shoot, serah--please!! Minnie get back here--“

For a moment Malcolm thought that all was lost. He pictured himself in chains, being dragged away by Templars-- leaving his wife and daughter alone and penniless in a foreign land. He’d let them down. He’d failed. 

The atmosphere of the room changed entirely, however, when the stranger began to laugh. 

It wasn’t a bad laugh. 

Not condescending. Not cruel. 

It was light and youthful, despite the obvious late-middle-age of its owner. It rang through the morning air like a Chantry bell on the breeze. It was the kind of pure laugh that can only be created by the innocence of a child. In that moment the light in Malcolm’s chest returned, soothing his racing heart. He paused, studying the face of the stranger in the barn doorway as he raised his weapon in mock surrender, humouring the child.  

“Oh my! Be careful with that, little dragonling!” The stranger smiled down at the child warmly, crouching down to her level to look her in the eyes, before his gaze rose to her fathers, noting the matching eyes that seemed to burn with something he couldn’t quite name. Malcolm saw what he hoped was understanding in the old man’s eyes. “Put that there knife away, and settle down. We can talk this out, I promise.”

Malcolm hurriedly ushered Minerva behind him-- the child kept her eyes glued to the intruder, even when she began to cling to her father’s pant leg. Malcolm could feel her trembling, so he reached down and carded a comforting hand through a mop of brown curls that matched his own, trying to be as brave as his daughter. 

A tense quiet had settled over the barn as Malcolm tried to appraise the man before him, who was doing the same. They must’ve been quite the sight--all clinging to each other, covered in hay. Malcolm didn’t dare reach for his staff, he just prayed that wherever the damned thing was it was out of sight.  

Finally the stranger huffed, standing and leaning back on his heels.  

“Name’s Barlin,” The stranger jutted his chin at Malcolm, crossing his arms casually. “Sorry for bargin’ in on ya.”

“Malcolm…” He held his head high, meeting Barlin’s eyes as he introduced himself. “Malcolm Hawke.” 

“Quite the little bodyguard you have there,” Barlin’s voice was genuine. Warm. 

Malcolm’s mouth twitched with the ghost of a smile. 

“Small but mighty,” He could feel Minerva nodding against his thigh, as well as the tears she was smearing into the fabric of his trousers.

He called her that a lot, especially when she was little. Such a simple little phrase, but it always made Minerva feel big, in a way.

“Look, I was just checkin’ to make sure you all weren’t bandits, or bears, or something.” The man shrugged disarmingly. “I didn’t come here for a fight. Lothering’s a peaceful little town, and we like to keep it that way.”

“Peaceful? What’s that like?” Malcolm’s sarcastic question slipped from his mouth before he could stop it, and Leandra squeezed his shoulder tightly in warning. 

Barlin merely chuckled, smiling at him wryly. 

“Y’all don’t look like the type of folk who are accustomed to peaceful.” He observed. “I’m just glad you got out of the storm-- it was a good one!”

Barlin took a step inside, eyes travelling upward, surveying how the roof sagged and leaked. The old building had fallen into disrepair, but it wasn’t unsalvageable.

“Look, this place ain’t even mine. It was my brother’s before he moved to Denerim for work. Place hasn’t seen any life in aside from rats and the occasional nug in a while, as I'm sure you’ve noticed.” 

The old man paused for a moment, gaze landing on the family before him. He’d later told Malcolm that he’d had a good feeling in his gut about them, and his gut was just about the only thing he trusted. 

“I run the tavern in town, why don’t you all come back with me and let me fix you something to eat.”

Minerva perked up at that, and even Malcolm couldn’t stop his mouth from watering at the prospect of a hot meal. Leandra looked cautious, but when he met her gaze she nodded slowly. Barlin smiled at that. 

“Come on, while we walk, why don’t you tell me what you know about farming?”

Malcolm would find out through gossip in the years to come that Barlin had been trying to get rid of that property for years, but that didn’t change the kindness. He didn’t ask anything about where they’d come from or why they were running. He asked Malcolm what he did and he’d told him he was an herbalist--which wasn’t a lie, and he suspected Barlin could tell. 

“Herbalism? Farming? Sounds like the same thing to me.”

The old man let Malcolm pay him back for the land over time after they’d settled in and started earning some money. He’d also scoffed at the notion of charging interest. 

The farmhouse was rotting and falling apart, but with a lot of hard work (and a bit of hidden, domestic magic) they turned it into a home. Minerva grew up toddling around the gardens and helping Malcolm till the fields. She’d climbed gnarled tree in their front yard to watch the sun rise every morning since she was six, regardless of weather, much to Leandra’s chagrin. 

His eldest child had grown up far too quickly for his liking, and couldn’t help but blame himself. He knew it wasn’t fair to place her in charge of her siblings, especially with the added responsibility of protecting Bethany--but Minerva would insist that she could handle it. She’d lead the twins on adventures in the fields and forests surrounding the little town-- quests, she always called them. 

They had to work hard, but Malcolm had taught her to always try to make it fun. The children would race each other home, Minerva usually in front, although Carver would occasionally shove his way past her. Bethany was a lot quicker than she looked too--and always smarter than she let on. Malcolm would never forget the looks on Minerva and Carver’s faces the time he’d taught Bethany how to freeze their feet to the ground, nor Bethany’s own wide grin as she’d crossed the finish line (their garden gate), cheering with victory as Carver swore and Minerva laughed alongside her.  

His children were adventurous-- all three of them. Malcolm had lost count of the amount of times Carver and Bethany had burst through the door, shouting that Minerva was in trouble. She had a habit of getting stuck in trees, that girl... Bethany claimed to be the least so, favouring staying inside to study most days, especially as she got older, but even she couldn’t resist the call of a bright summer day. 

Minerva always knew exactly what to say to coax her out of hiding, too. Be it a promise to stop by the Chantry for one song, or spinning a scheme so grand that even Bethany couldn’t resist. Bethany was more competitive than she let on, and Minerva was always too clever for her own good. The eldest sister got herself and Carver into heaps of trouble throughout their youth. They were so rambunctious, and Minerva was always pressing Carver’s buttons on purpose, but never in a way that pushed the lad too far.  

Always so precise, even then.

Malcolm had had to come down hard on her only once. She’d set off a tar bomb in barracks of the local Templars, bringing the Knight Captain huffing and puffing to their doorstep, completely unaware that he was in the presence of not one, but two apostates.  Leandra was beside herself, disguising her frantic panic for Bethany’s safety as being furious at the tar tracked all over their home. Andraste’s Mercy, she had given poor Minerva an earful. Malcolm knew it was mostly for show-- so the templars could believe it was just a well-meant prank by some kid. Malcolm had a reputation around town for being good around a cauldron, and he promised to supply the knight commander with a free shipment of potions, and assurance that Minerva would clean up the mess. Minerva had inherited his alchemic ability. but not his connection to the fade. He’d taught her the recipe himself, so she could help him fix the thatching on their chicken coop. 

He was mostly just mad he didn’t think of this himself--he would’ve done the same at her age. He couldn’t tell her that, though, could he?What he did tell her was that she was old enough to know better, he’d said. Perhaps that was too harsh… For the Maker’s sake she was only ten...

He’d come up to her guiltily that evening, offering her a glass of her favourite tea-- a recipe they’d invented together. She was gazing up at the stars, before she mumbled an apology and he did too. 

He made it up to her by telling a story about a similar prank he played on the templars back at the Gallows. 

“I know they’re the worst, but provoking them won’t do us any favours, Mighty Mini,” The nickname made her giggle. “It’s not your fight.” That made her pause. 

“But…” She looked up at him, eyes full of concern. “They make things just awful for you and Bethany!” She protested. “You shouldn’t have to hide your magic! Magic is good!” She said it with childlike simplicity. He’d taught her well… Maybe a little too well, if he was being honest. 

“I know, Min, it isn’t fair, but that doesn’t mean you should go out of your way to cause problems for the templars. You don’t want their attention. Think of Bethany.” He gave her shoulder a firm squeeze. 

She stilled, gazing at her feet.

“I know. I’m sorry.” He took her up into a tight hug. “It’s just not fair...” 

Always seeking justice, even then. 

Malcolm was far from the perfect father, but, Maker, did he try. At the very least, he was always there when his children needed him. Even years later, he cherished every moment spent outside the walls of the Gallows. 

He was able to give his kids the childhood he’d always wanted-- more or less.

On (idk what the dragon age equivalent to Sundays is but That LMAO) Minerva and Carver would spar for hours, using swords carved out of sticks they’d found exploring woods, while Malcolm, Bethany, and Leandra would go into town. Malcolm would take care of the shopping for the week and the two of them would head to the Chantry for the service. Bethany always tithed her allowance at the Chantry, even when her siblings teased her for it. She was always such a sweet, gentle girl. She wanted to help, and the cloister in Lothering was vastly different from the Kirkwall Chantry. They were a peaceful folk, down to earth. 

Once their farm was in its prime the revered mother even asked to buy some of their harvested herbs for their healers on a yearly basis, and Malcolm given it to her for free--inspired by the kindness of his youngest daughter. He knew the gift of magic weighed on the poor girl, and he wished he could take the burden from her. 

He would’ve preferred they not have to worry about hiding his and Bethany’s magic at all, but he figured that this was as good as it was going to get. 

And it was good, indeed. For a time. 

Minerva grew up with a Father who could coax her down from the trees she’d get stuck in, and catch her when she fell. Bethany had a Father who could guide her in the ways of the Fade and teach her not to fear her power, but to control it with ease. Carver had a Father who encouraged his study of the blade despite having no combat experience of his own. 

Whatever made them happy, as long as they were safe, just, and kind. That was who their father was.

Malcolm Hawke died too young, and too suddenly. 

The fever came when Minerva had just turned seventeen, and the twins were only twelve. The illness swept through their entire family, but it took her Father with it when it left. He was buried beneath the apple tree in their garden as a free man. Not a mage, just Malcolm Hawke. His children worked in tandem to carve a headstone themselves, nestling it with care between the roots. 

Lothering wasn’t the same after Malcolm died. Minerva did her best to fill the void, standing in as her Sister’s keeper, trying to smile her way through the tears the way her Father taught her to. 

Carver left to join the king’s army as soon as he turned sixteen, prying himself out of his mother’s arms with a groan. Leandra drew her daughters even closer in his absence, especially Bethany. The young mage became even more reclusive, afraid to wander too far from home by herself. She became convinced that the Templars in Lothering suspected something, no matter how many times Minerva assured her of how careful they’d been. 

Then, Carver was back, and the Blight was upon them. They’d only had a few short days on the run to cherish their brother’s return before the darkspawn ripped him away from them once more, this time for good. 

The farmhouse in Lothering never received a proper goodbye from the family that had inhabited it for all those years. The Blight fell upon them far too suddenly for them to grab anything more than their most precious of possessions before running for the hills. 

Barlin visits it sometimes, finding the tombstone beneath the trees. The old man hasn’t died yet, even though he’s buried many of his juniors. He chats to the stone as he clears it of moss, pulling out a book with a dwarvish name on the cover.

The eldest Hawke child--the little dragonling who’d stood her ground in that old farmhouse brandishing a knife while shaking like a leaf all those years ago had done quite well for herself, it seemed. Barlin was glad of it. He hadn’t known Malcolm was a mage, but it certainly made a lot about the strange elf make sense. 

Barlin wonders sometimes if the Champion of Kirkwall knows how proud those few that survived Lothering are of her. 

[yeahimaloser]

Pedals

Hi! So this is a Hanahiki disease kind of story. I don’t really know why I wanted to make this (it was probably because I had a bad day and I wanted to hurt :)). But honestly, It was kinda fun! I apologize if it isn’t very good like my other works, I did just write this today! But it was still really fun!

Summary: You felt it in your chest, not only your physical reaction, but your heart felt it too. For the love you felt for Hawks.

Warnings: blood, coughing up pedals

No pronouns mentioned for the reader

You stared down at your hand in horror.

No, this couldn’t be happening. This had to be some sick joke or some sort of dream. This couldn’t be real.

 You felt your body become light, your eyes glued to your hand. Your head was spinning, “No,” your voice sounded so out of touch, so far gone, it surprised you. You couldn’t even recognize it, it didn’t sound like you, you practically mistook it for someone else’s. It was so scratchy, so raw, it didn’t feel right coming from you.

You shake your head, no, this was wrong, it had to be. There was no way you had fallen in love, it was impossible, how could you fall for someone? 

But the pedals sat there, bloody in your hand. No matter how much you wanted them to just disappear, for this feeling to leave you, you knew it was impossible. 

Your lungs filled with pain, your mind was practically numb, it hurts so bad. But not as bad as your heart. It felt so hard in your chest, like lead. You felt like your heart was sinking deeper down in the pit of your stomach. 

You knew what this meant, yet you hoped it was just some sort of coincidence, some sort of weird happenstance. 

The way your heart would flutter when he gave you that hero winning smile, the way your thoughts would numb whenever he talked, the way your eyes always landed on his lips. But you just pushed it away, you tried to convince yourself you just loved him as a friend. 

But the evidence was right there, right on your palm, bloody and painful.

You were in love with Hawks.

And the only way to get rid of this disease? To get rid of your feelings. 

Anxiety flowed through you, you didn’t want that, you didn’t want to get rid of your feelings for Hawks. 

You loved the way your heart leaped when he would joke with you, the way you got butterflies in your stomach whenever he looked at you with those piercing golden eyes, and the way he smiled at you, it just made your mind go numb. It made you feel like you were the only person in the world like you were floating on a cloud in the sky.

You knew it was idiotic, but you couldn’t help it. You loved Hawks, and you didn’t want your feelings for him to go away.

But it hurt, it hurt so damn bad.

___

The only problem was, Hawks was so perceptive.

When you started to get more sickly, he picked up on it immediately, “Hey, is everything ok? You’re not getting’ sick on me are you now,” he smirked.

You rolled your eyes, “I’m fine, your just overthinking things you dumb bird.”

But Hawks could see through you, he didn’t know what exactly was going on, he just knew that something was wrong.

But then you started having bodily problems, stomach aches, mood swings, and even panic attacks.

He started to get so worried about you, he kept persistently asking, but you just blew him off, telling him it was nothing. That it was just seasonal allergies, and even when he had even offered to pay for a doctor's visit, you declined. “Really, Hawks, you're just overthinking. This happens to the rest of us sometimes, we can't all be perfect like you,” you smiled at him.

But even your smile seemed hollow.

He told you that he did his own research into your symptoms, he found different illnesses, but each one seemed to be different than what exactly you were experiencing.

He was stumped, “I couldn’t figure it out, I’m supposed to be a hero, I’m supposed to protect people, to help make them feel safe. So what kind of hero would I be if I can't even protect my  best friend?”

You just shrugged, “Just stop worrying about it, I promise I’m fine.”

“Yeah, but I hate it. I feel so stupid, I feel like I can’t protect you.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, he was worried about you. The sentiment was just so… cute. It was one of the reasons you didn’t want to get rid of your emotions, you liked feeling around Hawks. It just felt so right.

And if it caused you pain, so be it.

____

Your throat felt so sore.

It was getting worse day by day, not only the hurt of your lungs being filled by flower petals but also how your heart was breaking.

You hated not being able to tell Hawks, you really did. He was your friend, he cared so much for you, but it just made the realization that he wasn’t yours so much more daunting.

But you knew he would never reciprocate your feelings, you just did.

The way he flirted with other people, the way he would always be so charismatic with everyone. So, out of everyone he had to choose from, the beautiful models to the strong, confident hero’s he knew, why would he even consider you?

You sighed, currently, you were in your bathroom, coughing and crying, wishing for the pain to just go away.

Yet still, you loved feeling this way about Hawks, it just made you feel so amazing. 

The only comparison you could make was, he was like a drug to you. You couldn’t stop it, he was your addiction, and you didn’t want to get rid of it, not yet, not ever.

____

But Hawks figured it out.

You two were getting take out, planning to just hang out and watch bad movies.

But you started coughing, and it didn’t stop.

“Y/N! Wow wow, ok, just breathe. What, is it some sort of allergic reaction? To the food ma-”

The pedal, in your hand, red from your blood. 

You saw his eyes fill with shock, “wha-” he looked at you, “what is this?”

You sighed, “I’m sorry, Hawks, I should have-”

“Who is it,” his hand clenched into a fist, “did they reject you? Why haven't you gone to get it removed? Do you need money? Why didn’t you tell-”

He stoped talking when you started coughing again, a hard, pianfill sounding thing., he held you as you coughed into your hand, blood splatting the pedals.

“H-Hawks please,” your voice was so weak, so frail. He nodded, leading you into his bathroom, setting you down on the floor. He sat next to you, rubbing your back as you coughed. After you had stopped, you finally answered his questions, “I haven't gone to the doctor because… I don’t want to.”

He looked at you, in shock, “What? Why not? You would rather die?”

You smiled, a sad, hurt, smile, “I suppose, I mean, it hurts, but I love him.”

_____

You tried to get better, for Hawks’ sake.

But you didn’t get the procedure, no matter how much Hawks begged, saying even if you were the most heartless person after, he would still be with you.

But you would just smile at him, shaking your head, “I told you, I love him. I don’t ever want to stop loving him.”

You two were on the rooftop of Hawks’ penthouse staring up at the stars when it happened.

You coughed, so hard.

Hawks was by your side in an instant, but you were too weak, too weak to even sit up. So Hawks just cradled you against him, holding you to his chest.

You had never seen Hawks cry, but here he was, under the beautiful stars, crying, begging you not to leave him, saying he would do anything to make you stay.

You reached up, wiping away his tears, “Don’t cry. You’ll be ok, I’m sorry we couldn’t spend more time together. I wish we could have, we could have traveled the world together, stayed together. I’m sorry.”

His tears still streamed down his cheeks, “Please Y/N, you can’t leave me, please.”

You smiled at him, feeling the end nearing, “It was you Hawks, I love you. I love you so much, it hurts but I never wanted to stop loving you. But I knew you never felt the same, but it was ok, because as long as I got to see you and spend time with you, I was happy, so happy. I love you, Hawks, and I’ll never stop loving you. I made this decision,” you stroked his cheek as his face turned to one of shock, “so please, don’t blame yourself.”

For a moment, everything was still, then he spoke, “I LOVE YOU TOO! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH, DON’T GO! PLEASE, STAY!”

But it was too late, you were gone, you didn’t even hear the words of his confession.

[101flavoursofweird]

For the ten line drabbles, would you do 20 for any combination of Kat, Ernest, and Sherl (either two of them or all three of them together)? Thank you!

[[Apologies, this ended up being more than ten lines and didn’t even include the quote, though it definitely inspired it! Thank you for giving me the chance to finally write a fic about my Sherl theory!]]

20. “If you feel safer with me being there, you know I will always be there.”

“Aurora, our messenger, do you wish for this human to be reborn as a beast?”

“Yes, please. He has brought a great deal of suffering upon the world and to the fabric of time. And he hurt the professor… Also, can you take away his memories, like you did for me?”

“We were able to accomplish that as you were an Azran golem—“

“I was a sentient being with a beating heart. Surely you can do this same for this man?”

“…Very well. We will grant your wish.”

—

Kat had gone out for dinner with her inspector brother and her chef sister, leaving Ernest and Sherl to ‘manage’ the agency by themselves. (Or rather, stall any clients until Kat got back.)

Sherl thought this would be the perfect time for a dognap, but then Pipstripes decided to switch on the television while he was dusting.

Uuugh, that stupid black box! Why did Kat have to bring it in here, and place it on the drawers right above Sherl’s bed? Why couldn’t she find another way entertain herself when it was raining cats and dogs outside?

Sherl covered his ears as the droning voice of a news reader came on.

“—on this day, seven years ago, that the St. Herald Hotel collapsed during one of the worst storms in British history—“

“Who cares what happened seven years ago?” Sherl groaned. “That’s... forty years ago for a dog...”

“Shush, Sherl,” Ernest said, his gaze glued to the television.

“—While the establishment had received five star ratings in the past, it was undergoing maintenance work at the time, making some rooms unstable—“

“That thing will rot your brain,” Sherl warned. You would never catch Sherl gawking at a screen.

He couldn’t see in full colour anyway...

For him, it was mainly grey with some shades of blue and yellow. Pinstripes stood out like a sore thumb with his waistcoat and his trousers. Sherl could distinguish Kat’s yellow coat and her hat, but her dress just looked... dull. (Kat had nearly thrown a fit when Sherl told her this.)

As far as Sherl could tell, the news reader was a lady with long blonde hair, a grey suit and a solemn expression.

“All of the hotel staff and guests were able to escape, expect for one—“

“Poor sod,” Sherl snorted.

“—Former Prime Minister, Bill Hawks.”

Sherl’s ears perked up. “Who?”

“Shhhhh!”

“Did she say Prime Minister?” Sherl persisted. He stumbled out of his bed to get a closer look at the T.V.— at the photo of the man the news people had put up.

He was probably in his late fifties or early sixties, judging by his balding head, deep frown lines, droopy eyes and glasses... Sherl squinted, wondering if dogs could get glasses.

“Yes— from about twenty years ago,” Pinstripes informed him, frowning slightly. “If you listen, they’re going to talk about his life soon...”

Talk about him they did. Bill Hawks: Born in London, squeaked his way in to university, became a scientist at the Institute of Poly-something or other... until there was an explosion at the lab he worked in. An explosion, it turned out, that Hawks had caused with an experiment gone awry.

Sherl hummed. “Why does that sound so familiar?”

“The... explosion?” Pinstripes fiddled with the end of his feather duster. “It sounds like something out of a sci-fi film, doesn’t it?” He closed his eyes for a moment. “But it really did happen, over thirty years ago... and there were terrible repercussions ten years after. You might have heard Miss Layton discussing it...”

Sherl shook his head. He would have remembered if Kat had mentioned something like that. His short term memories were clear as crystal. It was his long term memories that were murky— at least, those prior to joining the Layton Detective Agency.

All he could remember from his past life was a tower falling down, and lightning flashing across the sky... but with each passing day, the details felt less precise and less important. Kat seemed to have given up on solving his case of amnesia altogether!

“Oh...” Pinstripes glanced out the window and back at Sherl. “Do you— surely you know about the Mobile Fortress attack? From a man called Clive Dove?”

For some reason, that name made Sherl shudder. Still, he answered, “No...”

“He tried to destroy London? There were crushed buildings and a gaping tear left in the ground?” Pinstripes said, his eyes wide with disbelief. “It took them years to repair—“

“I might seem older than you kids,” Sherl interrupted, “but I can’t have been alive for more than six or seven years.” He was a ‘mature dog’ (according to the vet), but that couldn’t compare to a human lifespan. Kat’s grandmother, Rosa, was in her seventies!

Pinstripes waved his hand. “Right, sorry... Anyway, Clive Dove was put in prison— thanks to Miss Layton’s father— and he remains there to this day.”

“Good,” Sherl huffed. “Sounds like this Dove was barking!”

“That’s really not funny...”

“What made him go round the bend?”

Ernest winced. “He, um... he wanted to get revenge... because his parents died in that lab explosion.”

Sherl stuck out his teeth. “But if Bill Hawks was behind the explosion... then why didn’t Dove just go after him? Why take it out on everyone—?”

“I don’t know!” Ernest dropped the feather duster. He sighed heavily and crouched to pick it up. Turning his back on Sherl, he resumed his dusting around the television.

The news reader was exposing more about Bill Hawks; by sweeping his crimes under the rug and making shady deals, Hawks had climbed the political ladder to the very top.

Then he was kidnapped by one of his former scientist colleagues and taken to an underground fake ‘Future London’...

“So that’s what she meant...” Sherl breathed. When he’d first arrived at the agency, Kat had asked if he had a ‘letter from the future’. Had her father been sent such a letter?

Sherl’s heart pounded at the next part of the news report. Clive Dove had imprisoned Bill Hawks in the Mobile Fortress, using Bill’s heartbeat to power the machine... That was intense!

Fortunately for Hawks, Professor Layton had saved him and shut down the fortress.

After they all escaped, Hawks had ensured Dove was arrested, put on trial immediately, and locked up for life.

During Dove’s trial, however, Hawks’ disreputable past had been brought to light. Hawks wasn’t put behind bars, but he had to pay a lot of compensation money for the victims of the institute explosion and for the Mobile Fortress attack.

A clip from an interview was shown— a man from Barkleys Bank described Hawks’ loss of financial backers as his approval ratings dropped. (Poor Barkleys, having to represent Bill Hawks...)

Disgraced, Bill had resigned from his post as prime minister and disappeared from the public eye. His wife had divorced him and he had started mooching off his parents’ inheritance.

“Good-for-nothing fat-cat...” Sherl grumbled. You wouldn’t catch his pups leeching off their families like that. When Kat’s father went missing, she had set up a detective agency. When Ernest’s mother died, he had worked his way up to university— and taken an unpaid job on top of that!

Sherl hoped there were assassination attempts made on Hawks’ life after everything he had done.

But no... It seemed that the world had forgotten about Bill Hawks as soon as he left office.

By all accounts, his death at the St. Herald Hotel had been deemed an accident. He had just been in the wrong place at the wrong time, asleep when the roof above him collapsed.

“...Did he wake up in unbearable pain or did he die peacefully in his sleep?” the news reader lady pondered.

“Oh, come on, woman!” At this point, Sherl was standing on his hind legs with his paws pressed up against the television screen. “I need to know! That skid mark deserved to suffer—!”

“We may never know for certain,” the news reader went on, smiling impassively. “But some might say that justice was served on that day... Thank you for listening! And now, over to Puzzlette for the pollen report...”

“Waste of time...” Sherl flounced away from the television and looked around. He spotted the T.V. remote on the settee. “Turn it off, will you, Pinstripes?”

With a huff, Pinstripes turned off the television. He tossed the remote back on to the settee.

Sherl flicked his tail. “What’s got you so hot under the collar?”

“N-nothing...” Pinstripes crossed his arms as if he was trying to contain something in his chest. Whatever it was— anger, grief or uneasiness— Sherl reckoned Pinstripes wouldn’t be able to hide it for long. (He had broken down the minute Kat accused him of being Lord Adamas.)

“You might as well tell me,” Sherl prompted. “Kat’s out, and it’s not like anyone else can hear...”

Sherl prided himself on being a good secret-keeper. He hadn’t told Kat about Pinstripes’ crush, besides a few snide remarks. He hadn’t turned that street dog, Yapper, over to the pound. And he hadn’t ratted out that mouse who would occasionally nip in to steal Kat’s food...

Pinstripes whispered, “You... you can’t tell Miss Layton. She and her family would hate me...”

“Is it worse than what you did at Richmond Court?” Sherl asked. He made a furtive glance at the door.

“N-no!” Ernest exclaimed, his voice rising a pitch. “It doesn’t even involve me directly... but it does involve... one of my family members.”

Sometimes, Sherl was glad that he couldn’t remember his relatives. He didn’t have to deal with any of that family drama— unless Kat and Ernests’ issues counted as drama.

“Just spit it out,” Sherl growled.

“I... I’m related to Bill Hawks,” Ernest burst out. “Distantly!”

After all the cases Sherl had solved with Kat, that wasn’t too surprising to hear. Sherl cocked his head to the side. “How ‘distant’ are we talking?” He had heard that a lot of Europe’s royal families were related. Did it work the same way with lords and politicians?

“Quite distant... He was my grandfather’s second cousin!” With the cat finally out of the bag, Ernest sighed shakily. He sank on to the settee and tucked his knees under his chin, pulling himself into a tight ball. He looked more like a child than a lanky young man, but then again, he was only nineteen. That was still young by human standards.

“Pinstripes...” Sherl murmured when he heard sniffling. Sherl padded over to the settee and jumped up beside him.

“P-please don’t tell Miss Layton,” Ernest repeated with a whimper. “I nearly— she let me stay... even after what I did. I don’t want to— to hurt her again...”

Knowing Kat, she had probably already discovered the connection between Ernest and Bill Hawks.

It was possible that she had figured out Sherl’s identity as well, but she was keeping quiet. Honestly... Sherl didn’t really mind at that moment.

What would he do if he knew about his past? Track down his family? Would they even be able to understand him? And what if he had left his loved ones on bad terms? He would struggle to make amends with them, and they might be even more upset.

It wasn’t like he could return to his old job, either... unless it involved police work, assisting people with disabilities, or herding sheep. There was always performing— who didn’t love a good dog act?  

But even then, it would be lonely if he couldn’t communicate with anyone.

At least if he stayed here, at the Layton Detective Agency, he could make a difference. He would do his best to help their clients... as well as Ernest and Kat.

Sherl curled up next to Ernest on the settee. After a while, Ernest’s sniffs stopped and he started stroking Sherl’s head.

Maybe one day they would find a way to transform animals into humans... but until then, Sherl didn’t mind being a detective’s dog. There were fates far worse than this.

[hawks-is-kinda-chicken-little]

High in the Sky

Hawks x Winged! Reader

Key:

(F/c)= favorite color

A/N: Sometimes I just start little fics on the tumblr app and just write away at it when i’m bored. This happened to be one of them. The bigger fics are saved on my google docs so, which would probably be smart for me to get on my phone so I can work on the bigger fic, but oh well. Just know that this trash was not proof read at all so its probably terrible.

————————————————————-

Flying was so freeing. Not being only confined to the ground, able to soar above human limitation. Wind combs through the feathers, caressing each bard with care. Leaving nothing caressed with its attentive breeze.

Taking in every sight from miles above. Wings flapping with purpose through the cloudy blue air.

Or at least that’s how she imagined it. Enviously watching the beings above her dance in the sky. Most people payed no mind to the birds flying above, reaching places they never could. But, she did, she could only dream of flying like they did. Why? One might ask. Well, she has a pair of fluffy (f/c) wings stemming from her back. She just didn’t know how to use them. And to make matters worse she was afraid of heights.

She had watched her boyfriend fly around so much, but she could never bring herself to take off after him. How Keigo is so patient with her is something she can’t even fathom. Never forcefully pushing her to even flap her wings like others in her life. Always walking around on his feet when with her, which was something he didn’t do often before they were together. It always made her feel guilty, like she was holding Keigo back. But, any and all doubts she voiced were quickly countered as he words of encouragement and love to his angel.

It was kinda ironic. A winged angel being afraid to fly. People always comment on how she is just a decorator piece meant to complement Hawks in the spotlight. Or that he will get bored of her and her flightless appendages. The media never failed to poke at the fact that she didn’t know how to fly. Saying that she will always be afraid until she takes the leap.

And those kinds of pokes and prods lead her to where she is now. Sitting on the ledge of a cliff overlooking the vast ocean near the outskirts of the city. Fingers anxiously picking at the grass beneath them. God this was so dumb, but she could stop the nagging feeling that all those people were right. It couldn’t be to hard right? Keigo does it effortlessly all the time. And there just wings, all she has to do is flap them.

Pushing all her doubts aside she hops to her feet, puffing her chest with her newfound courage. She was an overgrown bird, she told herself. Now is the time to spread her wings and soar from the nest.

With bright (f/c) feathers separated and a pep in her step. Pep in her wings? A lighthearted giggle passed her lips with the silly word play. She was now ready for flight.

Legs bent underneath her weight as she sprung up, pulling her wings to give a wind blowing flap over the side of the cliff.

Just as she was about to maneuver her wings to do it again, two scarlet feathers hooked firmly under her arms guiding her back towards the ledge.

Shame. It radiated within her chest as well as on her cheeks upon seeing the feathers.

They anchored her onto the ground. And while she might have been still facing the ocean, she knew he was coming. She could hear him. The sound of wings beating hastily at the air. Hurrying towards her with god-speed.

Cold surges of air made her shiver as he descended to the grounds behind.

“What the hell were you thinking?”

Question after question, spewed from Keigo as he approached her. She didn’t say anything though. Back still facing him, hanging her head low while folding her arms to cradle her sides in a protective manner.

A heavy sigh left Keigo. Lecturing her probably wasn’t the best idea right now. But (y/n) scared the shit out of him, she was lucky he was patrolling the outskirts of the city. Keigo doesn’t even want to think about what might have happened if he hadn’t been.

He stood behind (y/n), eyes giving her a once over for any sort of injury. Thankfully though there weren’t any. But, he did notice a couple of things. Her normally relaxed wings were now tucked tightly against her back. Looking uncomfortable flat against her back. Overall, she was tense and clearly upset. Keigo gently wrapped his arms around her waist. Laying his hands upon her which clasped her sides. All while pressing his head into the crook of her neck, lips pecking kisses over the tense muscle.

His lips were warm and smooth. Keigo took his time, delicately pressing each kiss into her skin.

“Keigo.” He hummed in acknowledgement, but showed no signs of stopping the pampering.

Playing extra attention to any place made her melt into his touch. This continued to the other side, giving it the same exact undivided love and attention.

(Y/n) leaned her back against him, spreading her fingers to let his own slip in and interlock with her.

“Are you felling okay?” He questioned in a worried tone, lips now glazing along her neck.

She gave him a slow nod.

“Can we talk now baby bird?”

She said yes, but told nothing more.

“Wanna tell me what you were doing so close to the edge, my love?”

(Y/n) lifted her head, peaking to the side to see that he was staring right at her.

She hasn’t really been her usually peppy self as of lately. So Keigo instantly thought the worst when he first spotted her hopping over the side of the cliff.

She looked at her toes as they shuffled anxiously under her.

“I wanted to fly.” The voice was so small that even she could barely hear it.

Keigo presses his lips back to her skin giving one more small kiss. Lip staying glued to her neck as a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

Quickly, Keigo turned her around to face him. Arms never leaving her waste as she came to look at him. That previous smile soon faded when he spotted (y/n)’s tear stained face, lips quivering and everything. Bringing his left hand up to her face, he cupped her cheek as he lowered his face, lightly kissing away all tears. 

“Why didn’t you just come to me, baby dove?”

Sniffle

“It’s dumb, It wasn’t something that I should bother you ab-”

“Shhhhhh, none of that.”

“But, I-”

Peck 

He silenced her words with his lips, then resting his forehead against hers. Bodies rocking ever so slightly as Keigo swayed them both side to side, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. 

“Never think of yourself as a nuisance, you are my baby bird. The angel who brought light to my dark life, showing me what it meant to love and be loved.”

“Angels can fly, I can’t- I do-don’t- I-”

The urge to cry again piled in her eyes and throat, making her choke on her broken words. 

“Do you want to fly?”

Vigorous nods answered his questions.

“Can I ask what brought this about?”

Letting out a forced breath, (y/n) explained everything going on through her mind, from the poke and prods on the media, to her own insecurities. All which made Keigo want to beat himself up for not noticing how much weight had been piling onto her shoulders. But, what she said next was not something he was expecting to hear.

“I want- I want to fly with you. Dance around the sky in the clouds. Or in the peaceful night time stars. I wanna be able to be with you. Experience everything that life throws at us with you.”

Though her declaration was far from over, it made his heart well with happiness as he gazed upon her eyes that sparkled with that unconditional love you only see a couple times in life.

By the end they were both in tears. But, weren’t tears of sadness, no, they were far from that.  

“Can you teach me?” The question was overflowing with hope.

With a warm smile Keigo responded, “I wouldn’t have it another way, my sweet angel.”

He had the patients of a saint. Never letting her fall, guiding her through each step. A hand squeezing her own in reassurance as she tried to even herself in the sky. Slowly his hand loosened its grip, removing its presence. It was like watching a child ditching the training wheels, scared at first, but soon learning to balance themselves, experimenting with new speeds and freedoms they never before experienced. 

Years later, Keigo and (y/n) got married. They always helped each other, whether it be at the home, in the sky, or even at his agency. Which is where they currently were, (y/n) was helping out with some paperwork while her husband trained the new interns in the medium sized mat covered arena on one of the lower levels of the agency. 

Wanting to clarify some of the details regarding the report (y/n) headed for the training grounds where Keigo was. She stopped at the doorway when she noticed that all the interns were sitting in a circle around their mentor who was standing at the edge. Now, she might not have been able to hear him, but she could tell by the exaggerated arm gestures and tone changes that he was telling them a story. The expressions on the children’s faces showed just how hooked they were by his words. But, the eyes of the interns shifted from Keigo to her, their eyes all glowing with wonder. Keigo, seeing that he lost their attention, followed their gaze to her. A bright smile formed on his lips as he motioned for her to come over.

With a roll of her eyes she strutted over until she was an arms length away from her from there Keigo, pulled her to his arms, sweeping her feet from under her as he dipped down to kiss her. 

EWWWW!

The poor interns gagged and turned away. Keigo gave a bellowed laugh as (y/n) shook her head chuckling at the childishness of not only the interns, but her husband. 

“What are you laughing at?” He questioned giving her a faked gasp of offense.

“Take a guess, dear.” 

“Mrs. Takami.” A voice called from the circle.

(Y/n) brought her attention to the intern.

“I think its inspiring how you learned to fly.”

The bold proclamation brought some of the other interns sharing their delight and amazement.

After the initial surprise and confusion ran its course, her chest bubbled with a sort motherly love towards the teens. A warm feeling that enveloped her mentally as well as physically, since anyone could see the adoration practically radiating from her face. It was an expression that always made Keigo fall ten times deeper in love with her.

“Well look at the time, you kids better go get yourselves some food, nice work to-”

“But, we literally just started.”

“Well then, kid its never good to train on an empty stomach.”

Every intern huffed a bit as they got to their feet and made their way towards the break room. Once they were gone (y/n) lightly jabbed his side, making him yelp. 

“And just what were you telling them?” She asked in a playfully accusing tone.

“Ummmmmm, that you are really pretty.” 

“Takami Keigo, I swear to All Might.”

“The tiny broccoli kid does the same.” 

“Wha-”

“Don’t even try to deny it.”

“Leave the adorable cinnamon roll alone. Midoriya is a very sweet boy.”

“Hey, i,m just saying.”

“No you’re just avoiding my question.”

“Oof, you got me there.”

“Now, back to my question-”

“The question you already have an answer to.”

Poke! 

Keigo let out another high pitched yelp as she stabbed his sensitive sides with two fingers.

Yes, it was not hard to figure out what he was telling the teens, but he knows that she is kinda embarrassed by it. (Y/n) had come a long way, both of them knew it. Sensing her uneasiness, Keigo quickly comforted her.

“Dove, everyone has a place where they started, where they feel so low that they can’t bring themselves up. Feeling hopelessly stuck or trapped. And some of the interns were asking how to dig themselves out of that damned hole. So I told them about your story, how you learned to fly. You were so determined to do it that you almost jumped over a cliff having no clue how to really take off.”

He let out a light chuckle before continuing, “And how sometimes, you just need a little help to get started, a little guidance to lift you up. I mean, once you got the basics down, you fucking bolted. God, I had a hard time keeping up.”

She smiled at him as she remembered the moment with utter fondness. (Y.n) knew he was restraining himself back then, letting her buzz all around him while he kept a much slower pace. He wanted to make her feel special, feel loved, so he held himself back for her.

“And you heard the kids. It’s ‘inspiring’”

“And you’re a pain.”

“But, i’m your pain,” He said holding up both of their hands with the rings on them.

“Hmmmm, I guess so.”

“Wanna go for a quick fly around the building? Their snack breaks last like 15 minutes and its only been about five.”

“Sure, why hell not.”

They stared at each other for a couple seconds. (Y/n) distracted him with a loving peck to the lips, before slapping his arm.

“TAG.”

“Wha-”

She bolted to an open window just small enough for her to fit through. Of course, Keigo dashed towards her, struggling to shimmy his bigger frame past the tight window. (Y/n) flew a couple yards away watching as he tried to push through. She covered her mouth in a failed attempt to muffle laughter shaking through her whole body as she watched. However, that laughter ceased as too as the window let him through, making him fall before catching the air with his giant wings. 

Once steadied, Keigo’s eyes darted to his wife’s who’s facial expression read ‘oh shit, now I've done it’.

He smirked when a squeak passed her lip as she dashed around the building with him now close on her heels. Keigo let her win for a few minutes before tackling her mid flight. Trapping her in his embrace as he nuzzled into her neck letting out a happy coo. 

It was nothing but playful. They could be free in the sky, free to do whatever they pleased. 

Bonus:  

“Do you think we will ever go one day without witnessing him pull her into a sloppy kiss?” One intern asked as he chomped on a bagel, making another teen gag in repulsion. All 5 of them sat around the lunch table in the break room.

Two other interns replied with a quick “no” in unison.

“That’s just gross.”

“Awww, come on guys its kinda sweet.” Said one of the two female interns as she overlooked the streets from the giant window.

“Honey,” said the other girl, “no.”

The five kept chatting until as a flash of red and (f/c) crossed the window. They watched as their mentor and his wife played around in the skies. The two looked like children who had playground all to themselves; happy and completely lost in their own wondrous minds. 

Though the teens might think that the PDA was a bit gross, none of them could stop the smile spreading across their faces as they watched the two outside. 

“Okay, so its a little sweet.”

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[mariinara]

can you do a sailor!sam hc? :) love your writing babe, hope all is well

Oh, wow! Thank you, darling!

That's SUCH an interesting request, because:

-Sam has ALWAYS been a man of the sea. Ever since he was a child, he'd always wondered what lies beyond what his eyes can see. He was crazy about it. Adventure called for him on land, but in the sea? He knew that's where he wanted to spend the rest of his life.

-He grew up near harbors and – because he adored the smell of the sea so much – he worked as the helper of a fisherman during his teenage years. He enjoyed getting out there, in a small boat, and throwing his net and sitting there, getting his hair and his skin stained by the unforgiving sun and sea salt. He adored every second of it. Except when it was actually time to sort the fish and it was when he'd hope for a chance to actually get out there without having to stink later. Whenever he'd voice his true ambition, everyone would laugh and make fun of the lanky, teenage boy.

-He'd kept this job as he grew older, trying to support his little brother. When Nate reached the age of 23, it was when he joined Sam in this job to bring more food to their table. But when Sam finally hit the age of 28, something amazing happened. He'd known that this occurrence was very rare. A famous sailor, who was once as ambitious as Sam, had his ship in the docks, waiting on buckets and buckets of fish for sustenance.

-Sam was awestruck. The grandeur of the ship made his breath hitch in his throat. Almost 20 canons were lined up in the side of the ship and he reckoned that there were more on the other side. Men, as tall and as big as oxes, scaled down the side of the enormous ship, laughing heartily and cursing each other out.

-Sam dropped everything: The fishing net, the empty baskets that needed to be filled– everything. Even his sanity was thrown out the window. And with a grin and a suggestive stare towards his brother, who'd been trying to snap him out of his trance for a couple of minutes.

-Nathan didn't know what was going on at first, but when Sam gestured with his head towards the ship and started to walk along towards it, he begged him to stop and think this through. They argued, back and forth, until Sam made it clear that him and Nathan were to only check it out and make it out before any crew member would catch them. Hesitantly, Nathan acquiesced.

-They carefully looked around as they made it closer. The chattering of men on the docks made it easier for the two men to slip by, unnoticed. And onto the ship, they made it. Boosting each other up and pulling one another aboard the deck.

-As much as Nathan didn't quite.. fancy the situation him and his brother were in, he, too, was awestruck by it.. So much to explore, so little time.. But they paid time no mind. They snuck around and even pretended to be captain and pirate, dueling to claim a great treasure. Swords clashing, shared laughter, and merely children in men's bodies could be heard from the deck of the ship.

-And it was too late to turn back. Everyone was getting back aboard, clutching buckets and buckets of fresh fish and chum. Sam and Nathan dropped everything, finally snapping back to reality, and scurried to hide. Nathan was panicking, whilst Sam kept calm and only focused on getting them out of there.

-So far, they were doing fine and no one had spotted them as they backed away. But suddenly, they both bumped their backs against something– rather someone so big that they could be mistaken for a rough, massive object.

- "Trespassers!" The man yelled, getting a hold on Sam and Nathan, shoving them forward as they struggled against his iron grip. Everyone gathered around them, protesting in unintelligible words.

- "Stop!" Came a stern, demanding voice. Yet, it was soothing in a way– calming. Soft, even. It made everyone freeze. Sam and Nathan included. The boys watched the captain of the ship approaching them. They saw how the crowd parted into two groups, like the sea when Moses walked it. And towards them walked a beautiful woman– taking steps at the pace of molasses. Her head was held high as if she owned the world.

-And suddenly, all struggle left Sam's body and for what seemed to be the umpteenth time that day, his breath hitched in his throat once the woman looked at him. As if his very soul was sucked from his body.

- "Let them go, gentlemen." She ordered and, immediately, Sam and Nathan were let go. Questions seemed to fill her eyes as she looked up at the two brothers and they were the same. But with the power she had over that crew of large, beastly men suggested that she was – in fact – the captain of the ship.

-Sam couldn't help but stare at her in awe. She wasn't nearly as tall as he was. On the contrary, she was probably the smallest person in this sea of men that swarmed her. But with the aura that surrounded her, she seemed to tower over everyone.

-The older Drake couldn't help but allow a smirk to show on his handsome features. He enjoyed the presence of beautiful women. But he had no idea that a powerful woman would be even more intriguing than a woman who would be at his beck and call. She was by no means easy and was going to prove to be a challenge and Sam loved nothing more than a good challenge.

-Nathan, however, was the one sane enough to answer all of her questions after she'd ignored Sam's flirtatious smile and his little "Hey. How are you?" in an attempted, sultry voice that didn't even scratch the rough surface of her hardened spirit.

-She introduced herself with a firm, rough handshake that left the boys grimacing. (Y/N) was her name. She soon found out that the brothers could read maps, had knowledge about the stars, and she could tell that through the way Sam was so enthusiastically engaging with her in talks about the sea and the ocean and its wonders that he'd wanted this for a long time. It almost reminded her of how it was like being a poverty-stricken orphan, begging around in her town.

-And, hesitantly but without her authority wavering, she offered the boys to join her on her next travel across the South China sea. And maybe on every adventure there was to come.

-The brothers kindly asked for a chance to think it through and discuss it among themselves and, as soon as the cabin door closed to give them privacy, Sam was all over the place, hollering and cheering for the "chance of a lifetime" as Nathan stood with an amused smile, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched his brother prancing about, listing the opportunities and things they might stumble upon through their adventures.

-And, reluctantly, Nathan agreed with an unsure nod that made Sam pull him into a bone-crushing hug that Nathan returned with a breathless laugh, patting his back and telling him to "take it easy".

-And so it began. The ship was heading away from the docks, with two new members aboard.

-The captain was not easy, nor was she lenient. But she was kind and showed small acts of compassion that only Sam could notice. He was watching her like a hawk. He followed her every move when he thought she wasn't paying attention. While laying out her plans, Sam's focus would be all on her and he'd make suggestions that made them lock eyes for a few seconds, with Sam flashing a cocky yet warm smile that made her rip her gaze away, clear her throat, and agree to his plans.

-He was adorably charming. As cliche as it was, he had his very own sea shanties that other crew members hopped on while going about their daily, mundane chores. Everyone loved the man. He could hold his drink down, had the most ridiculous, filthiest jokes, and proved useful in almost every area, just like his little brother who was just as outgoing.

-The hardened captain couldn't help but smile lightly as she watched the tall, handsome Drake going about his day. His laugh would echo throughout the ship to infect almost every single passenger. They'd know then that he was up to his usual shenanigans with one of his crew members.

-Sam would not relent when it came to his favorite ship captain. He had dignity and knew when to back away when he left her all flustered because of one of his many ridiculous nicknames that almost cost him his life the first time he'd said it. "Sweetheart" and "Beautiful" was among the very many nicknames he used on her when he'd bombard her with grabbing her waist and dancing around before dipping her and bringing her up again in his strong arms, only to leave her with a deep frown and a frantically beating heart.

-He was very trusted by her, nonetheless. He'd sometimes give orders around and drive the ship instead of her while she got a few hours of shut-eye. This continued every night and sometimes, Nathan would cover for Sam when he'd be too drunk to function properly.

-It was one night that Sam had the wheel in his hand, his hair softly getting blown by the easy sea breeze, his eyes glued to the horizon, and a soft, content smile gracing his lips. The subtle, steady rocking of the ship from underneath them was somehow comforting to the man and he inhaled his blessing deeply, letting it all in his system before slowly breathing it out.

-He thought he was alone. But, no. There she was, emerging from the cabins behind him. She watched his back for a few seconds, her eyes twinkling at his calm posture. It was so obvious that he was deep in thought.

-She'd hate to interrupt him, but on the nights she couldn't sleep, she'd always secretly wished for company and now that he was there, it was tempting to walk up to him. And so she did, taking ginger steps up the wooden stairs that led to her newest, most trusted crew member.

-"Evening, sailor.." Came her surprisingly soft, soothing voice to snap him out of his thoughts. He whipped his head to look at her, the look on his face expressing nothing but mild surprise. She had a small, thin smile across her face as she stood next to him, her eyes glued ahead. He'd never seen her like that before. Hair draped over her shoulders. She was in an off-shoulder top and her usual black pants that had buckles everywhere, and she was barefoot. He couldn't help but smile and look ahead as well, the periodic croaking of the ship filling the silence, "Evenin', cap'n."

-They stayed in comfortable silence for a little while and Sam noticed her looking down at her hands as they picked on splinters on the wooden railing, "What're you doin' up?" He asked, to which she sighed softly. "Couldn't sleep." She simply replied, rocking on the outside of her heels a little.

-This piqued Sam's concern. He had never seen her so fidgety before. She seemed slightly shaken and timid. He had to ask. And, reluctantly, she replied. She came forward about all her reoccurring nightmares. Losing all of this– losing her crew. Her family. The people she cared for and loved for so long.

-He was taken aback by her honesty with him. She told him everything and it was so moving for him– that she trusted him THAT much.

-And just when he noticed a thin layer of held back tears, he took her hands in his and turned to her slowly. She turned to him as well, in completely different skin. She needed him. She wanted to be held and loved. She'd ignored his charming advances for almost two months, but she was still human and Sam was the only one who treated her as such.

- "Hey.." He softly spoke, looking into her eyes with utmost adoration, his hands coming up to cup her face, his thumb swiping against the skin of her cheeks that heated up at the simple, intimate gesture. It made him smile softly, "I'm here.." He assured her. And he could swear that his heart almost leapt from his mouth when her palms pressed against his chest. He took in a deep breath and shook his head, exhaling shakily, "You don't have to go through that anymore." He told her, with as much sincerity as he could manage. His fingers tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and the touch made her sniffle and become more emotional.

-She never thought she was worthy of that kind of love. And as if Sam heard her concerns, he refuted them by pressing his lips against hers, stealing her breath away.

-It was magical. She was a completely different person in his arms. And she returned the passionate kiss shortly, making Sam inhale deeply, his brows arching in desperation. He, too, was a completely different person when it came to her touch or smile or even the slight shake of her head after he throws one of his pick-up lines her way.

-And the wheel on the ship was tied with the railing with a rope, holding it in place securely, while the two got busy in the captain's very own cabin. They got lost in a fog of their desperate moans and whispers of sweet nothings under the dim candle lighting. Their grips on each other was all that tethered them to reality– to planet earth. They couldn't get nearly enough from each other and they only relented when Sam collapsed next to her, trying to catch his breath.

-It was the same way for another month. No crew member noticed, but Nathan knew everything. Sam didn't usually kiss and tell like the grown man he was, but the nights left questionable marks on his neck and chest that only Nathan noticed as he and Sam jumped into clean attire. And upon the question of what that was, Sam gave a dreamy sigh and spilled everything to his little brother.

-It was no shock. Sam was incredibly charming and could wrap anyone around his fingers, but what intrigued the younger Drake was how the captain had Sam wrapped around her fingers just as much.

-Pretty soon, everyone started noticing and gossiping and seeing the not-so-discrete kisses they shared when they thought no one was looking. For their own sakes, they kept their mouths shut about it but they knew that the two belonged to each other.

-Sam was right. He was a man of the sea. And she wore the name of captain with pride. She made sure she was worthy of the title.

-The years flew by, and soon the boat had little rascals running around. The products of the captain and Sam's many late night escapades.. They were just as fierce and as stubborn and wild as their parents and Nathan was the proud uncle of both of them.

-And as Sam watched his wife spoiling their children with kisses, a newfound glimmer in her eyes and glow on her skin, a smile would tug up on his lips.

-He was right, yet again. This proved to be the greatest adventure. The adventure of getting to fall in love with her over and over again every single day.

Tags: @missdictatorme , @samdrakeftw , @yaeji-passion , @easy-and-steady , @the-drakeboys , @the-winchesterboys , @s4mdrake , @hrgnm , @purplezebra68 , @elledrake , @writer-jamie

[tamakiamajikistentacles]

To Die For {Katsuki Bakugo}

A/N: This has been in the works for months and I made sure I’d have it done for Blasty’s birthday 💥 After all, what better way to celebrate than with like, 9.1k of dad-to-be Bakugo? So ayyy happy birthday Katsuki, 4/20 explode it 💥💥💥

"Who would be stupid enough to come after us? We're the Bakugo's!"

He wished she had never said it, even if it was a joke at the time. He wished the thought had never even crossed her mind. The stupid woman was too optimistic for her own damn good and of course the universe had decided to give a huge middle finger to their little family in the worst way.

It was somewhat astounding that it had taken that long for something terrible to happen, really. Seven years together, three of them married, but the eighth month of pregnancy was the tipping point. Of-fucking-course.

Any other time in their lives she would be able to protect herself, no doubt in his mind, but now? She couldn’t use her quirk because there was no telling if the life energy it drew from to create her weapons and shield would harm the baby and neither of them were willing to risk that in any way. Her quirk, Ki, allowed her to harness her own life energy and transfer it into the shape of tangible objects, bursts of offense, or to another person for energy restoration; it was as useful as it was dangerous.

With a huge stomach she couldn’t just rely on her physical strength alone, and a miniscule part of him wondered if she thought it was the only way, would she use her quirk to try and fight back if the only other option was death? No, the overwhelmingly large part of him knew, she wouldn’t. She would fight physically without her quirk as a last resort but she wouldn’t endanger the tiny life inside of her in such an unknown way. She had been out of action of damn near a year now, her quirk dormant since the day they made their decision to start their own family. The doctor’s assessment of how her quirk could affect pregnancy was horrifying and she had resolved not to use her quirk from that moment until after their child was swaddled safely in Katsuki’s arms and at least ten meters away.

Her dedication to having a family was what made everything worse in his opinion. She had taken time off from hero work to get pregnant, be pregnant, and would take even more time off for the beginning of their daughter’s life. The highest ranking she had held was 22nd and it was just as she had announced her leave from active duty as a pro, and realistically both she and Katsuki knew that ranking would never recover; it couldn’t once she took her pre-planned schedule of reduced patrols and days on call for villain attacks.

Everything had been planned and there were backups to backup plans because they knew that not everything could go according to their plans despite how well-thought out they were but this was just sickening.

He had been on desk duty at the agency with both Kirishima and Sero which meant it was more relaxed, and even Bakugo could appreciate that every once in a while now that he wasn’t foaming at the mouth to prove himself as a hero. He was ranked 4th and it was the highest he had ever been, but he was the youngest person in the Top Five, just behind the old, aging bastard Endeavor, the still annoyingly plucky Hawks, and his personal favorite of those ahead of him, Mirko. Despite his pride in his current position, he was still determined to make it to Number One, and he knew he would, especially when he would have a little one all his own to inspire; “I did this for you,” a phrase he had at the ready for the day that ranking would be announced.

Desk duty was a part of that journey to the top whether he liked it or not. The good part about desk duty days, especially with Kirishima, were that lunch could truly be an hour long and spent at the ramen bar a block away from the agency. Their spicy miso ramen was his favorite and it made the jabs at his palate worth listening to as his mouth watered at the visible heat that could be seen rising from his bowl.

It was after lunch that he and the others were pulled aside into one of the affectionately named war rooms, all three expecting to be told to suit up and head out to respond to a call for backup. The last thing they could have ever predicted, though, was to be greeted by a solemn-looking man in a uniform with a corrections logo on his lapel.

The man stumbled through apologies and excuses as he explained that three high risk villains being transported from their correctional facility to a higher security institution had managed to disarm and disorient their escorts which allowed them to escape. A folder with profiles on each of them was slid in front of the three heroes.

Metal Morph – Quirk: Steel Claws – Retractable steel claws extend from his cuticles at will.

Harpy – Quirk: Avian – Has the beak, talons, and wingspan of a bird while maintaining some physically human characteristics.

Star – Quirk: Drain – By touching another living thing with all five fingers, he can drain their energy to whatever degree he wants, ranging from sleepy exhaustion to death.

Bakugo recognized them immediately from the takedown roughly two months prior. He had been the one to work out their plan of attack since the ringleader Star’s quirk acted similar to his wife’s whose own weaknesses he understood well. All in all it had been a quick and efficient job, the usual threats spewing from the defeated thugs as they were led away in quirk cancelling handcuffs. Generally those threats didn’t bother him, and at the time they hadn’t. “I’ll get you for this, Ground Zero, just you wait,” was pretty standard, but breaking out of custody was not and that’s what had him internally panicking.

Getting him back didn’t necessitate harm to him directly, not when it was a well-known fact that he was married to a fellow hero who had publicly announced her plans to step away from hero work to start a family.

Midway through the more in-depth recounting of the escape, he abruptly stood up. “I have to make a phone call.”

Several of the suits in the room began to protest when Kirishima snapped, “Three villains who threatened to get back at him just escaped and his wife is eight months pregnant, I think he has the right to make a damn call to see if she’s alright.

Bakugo heard him as he continued out the door and into the hallway, grateful that he didn’t have to dignify the idiots with his breath. He was too wound up, his heart pounding as he first texted Jiro to go to his apartment; his old classmate lived in the same complex and he knew she was home that day, so having her go as backup for his wife was only logical. Then he called his wife’s phone, every fiber of his being on edge as he waited for her usual greeting, a playful threat to get back to work that never came.

Pure unfiltered panic coursed through him when he pulled the phone from his ear to hang up only to find a text from Jiro asking why she should be going to his empty apartment. When he called her, she explained that she’d stopped by ten minutes earlier with no answer, assumed his wife had set out to satisfy a lunchtime craving, and gone back to her own apartment. He explained what had happened with the villains and she went back to his apartment, her spare key in hand. She didn’t even get a chance to finish her sentence when she told him of the broken balcony window and his wife’s cell phone still on the kotatsu before he ended the call and ran back into the conference room.

They knew, just based on his expression, that the worst possible scenario had already begun to unfold.

As soon as the briefing was over, Bakugo went into his office and sat down at his desk. His first instinct was to go in blasting anything that moved but he had to think it through, this wasn’t the time to go in and rain explosions without thinking. His wife and his daughter were at stake, and he had to be rational or it could mean that they wouldn’t…

The open-ended thought alone had him grabbing the small wastepaper bin and shoving his head into it so he could vomit his meal back up.

Panting hard, he made the decision to fight. He didn’t trust anyone but himself to head a rescue operation but that would take time to coordinate and he didn’t have time, he had a wife and unborn child being held hostage by villains with quirks that could do nothing but harm to the both of them. He’d taken out more than three villains on his own before and with the addition of who he was fighting for he knew he could sure as hell do it again.

He gathered the last pieces of his hero costume and shoved it into its carrying case that had been its travelling home since UA. Desk days meant being on call so he was dressed in a decent portion of his costume already, needing only his knee pads, gauntlets, mask, and neck piece to be ready for action. Pulling a hoodie over his head, he drew the strings tight and slid a pair of sunglasses on.

Ignoring the shouts of his friends and other agency members he breezed out of the building with his phone in one hand and his costume case in the other. He headed towards the train station, his destination only a thirty-minute trip.

Sitting in a deserted section of the train car, he kept his eyes glued to the open tracking app on his screen, his own orange dot updating coordinates every few seconds as he rocketed across several neighborhoods. The other dot, his wife’s, was stationary.  

When they were married, they agreed that given the nature of their hero work there would be times where they could potentially be held hostage or transported via quirk to different locations. Neither of them wanted any sort of repeat of Katsuki’s experience during the training camp of first year; they hadn’t been together at the time, but it was hard on both of them nonetheless. So it was decided that their wedding rings would hold tracking devices so small that no one but them knew they were there. It linked up to an app that showed their locations to one another and could then be used for rescue and extraction.

In the three years since their wedding it had only been used by him to tease her about how often she went to the bakery four blocks west of their apartment building on her days off. Now he was thanking every star in the sky that they had decided on the small backup plan.

When the stop came he moved quickly to follow the tracker towards the dot that hadn’t moved since he left the agency. The coordinates led him towards a more suburban area that tapered off for two blocks before a large billboard advertising a new housing development came into view—move in date for next spring, applications being accepted now.

At the billboard is where he added the last pieces of his costume, the case and his civilian clothes set aside like so many times before; they always made their way back to him. Tightening his mask, he heard footsteps approaching him and he whipped around, palms crackling as he readied for a fight.

“Hell of a hello for someone here to help,” Kirishima laughed through hardened features, well aware of his partner’s potential reaction. He was dressed in his full hero costume looking every bit as ready for a fight as the blonde.

Bakugo relaxed his stance, a hard look set on his face. “How did you find me? I disabled the location on my comm when I got on the train.”

Kirishima held up his phone as his hardening retreated, his features back to normal. “Your wife gave me the tracking info for both of you. Great idea, honestly. Backup is coming too, we’ll probably just need to send out the exact info once we find where they are in this development.”

“The fuck you follow me for?”

“To have your back like I always have. And just like I always have before too, I’m ignoring you telling me that you don’t need me. So tell me your plan so I don’t get in your way.”

“I blast them to hell, you get her out,” he said simply. “Don’t let them touch her.”

“You can count on me,” he assured him, and Bakugo knew that he could. He knew that if anyone was going to come after him and watch his back, it would be Kirishima. He knew the redhead would sooner die than let him down, especially with a mission like this. To die for his best friend’s family would be a manly way to go—a hero’s way.

“Let’s move.”

They continued follow the tracking app deeper into the housing development, the wooden signs staked in the front yards bearing the lot numbers. It was eerie almost, the cookie cutter western style homes looking like something out of an American teen movie but still and quiet, no traffic noise or general sounds of habitation.

It was at lot number nineteen that placed Bakugo’s dot almost directly over his wife’s, and he tilted the phone screen towards Kirishima, nodding towards the door of the house. Moving closer, there were still no sounds from inside, and the quiet continued when they entered the building, quickly and methodically clearing each room one by one. When they found nothing in the general living spaces they descended into the basement, and still they didn’t find her.

Seeing Bakugo’s growing frustration and panic, Kirishima leaned a hand against the stone wall of the small basement, the cool, rough texture grounding him enough to try and think of what they may have missed. Until he felt it shift.

Eyes wide, he caught Bakugo’s attention and pressed harder on the wall to move it even more. He realized it was a door, the break in the walls not visible in the limited light, and it led to a small corridor towards what had to be an offshoot.

“Me first,” Bakugo told him lowly, a hand on his shoulder as he passed him. “Stay out of sight until I attack, then do everything you can to get her the fuck out.”

He nodded, determined. “They won’t touch her.”

Voices could be heard on the other side of the short corridor, the angry feminine one bringing relief like no other to the both of them. She was alive and she was pissed by the sound of it, insults flying from her mouth like bullets from a gun.

Kirishima hung back in the shadows just beyond where the dim lights of the other room could reach as Bakugo entered, completely visible to two of the villains standing around his angry wife across the room had they not been watching her. The ringleader only a few steps to his right had yet to notice his presence either.

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” he said, a grimace on his lips.

“And guess where the fuck she learned it from, shithead.”

All eyes turned to him, his wife’s looking relieved as a hand raised to push her hair out of her eyes.

“Well look who found us,” Star said airily.

Bakugo snarled, provoked by the indifferent tone, and prepared to strike. A body knocked into him as he moved to rush the cocky son of a bitch, sending him into the wall hard. He could taste iron on his lip but his resolve to kick the shit out of the one responsible for taking away his wife and daughter was stronger than a little bit of blood.

“None of you are walking away from this,” he said, spitting to the side as he regained his footing. “I’ll blow each and every one of ya straight to hell.”

With a shake of his head, Star met his gaze. "I'm going to make your life hell, Ground Zero."

The pro hero chuckled, thumbing at the trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth.

"There's only one person allowed to make my life hell and she's gotten pretty good at it over the past seven years. You've got no chance, asshole."

The villain hummed sinisterly. “It’s going to be so satisfying watching your face as I drain the life out of her and that little leech in her stomach. I can drag it out, too. It’s usually more fun for me that way.”

Bakugo’s lips curled into a sneer, and he launched himself straight at Star with a quick burst from his palms. He’d have to be careful to avoid full contact with five fingers but he was versatile in battle, his attacks varied enough to be suitable for any range. He’d keep close but just out of reach, his midrange moves likely to be more than enough to blow the asshole away.

His issue came in the form of the bird one, Harpy, that was running interference to keep him away from Star who had no offense other than close range. Fine, he could keep two of them at bay.

Across the open area Kirishima was now in the room, entering into a stare down with the villain called Metal Morph, the blue haired man ready to keep him away from Bakugo’s wife who sat back against the stone wall, hands wrapped protectively around her stomach.

“If you surrender now, you can walk away unharmed,” Kirishima offered the villain. “No matter what you choose, you’ll be taken into custody. Make it easy on yourself.”

With a chuckle as the only response, the villain leapt towards him with steel claws drawn. He hardened his upper body easily and crossed his arms to block the slashes, digging his heels into the packed earth floor to stay balanced from the blow. He then charged Metal Morph, his arms taking on his Unbreakable form, having managed to master the move to the point where he could harness it in certain areas instead of his whole body.

Each of them being close range fighters, they were fairly even in terms of intensity, but Kirishima’s skill was unmatched. Within moments he was able to subdue him after a hard hit with an Unbreakable fist sent him flying into a wall, knocking him out as his head bashed against the stone and his body slid down to slump onto his left side.

Releasing his quirk, Kirishima turned to Bakugo’s wife and held out a hand to her, helping her up from her place on the ground. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? Is the baby okay?”

“We’re okay,” she said hoarsely. “They’ve barely even touched me aside from when they took me from the apartment. No hits, no falls. I’ve played nice to make sure nothing happened.”

“Good, that’s good,” he murmured. “I’m gonna take you out of here, backup shouldn’t be far out. Bakugo can handle those two. Do you mind if I pick you up? It’s probably faster, no offence.”

She nodded with a grin. “Get me the fuck out of here.”

He smiled as he scooped her up, careful to hold her steady but not too tight. Turning to the corridor he started towards it, glancing to Bakugo who was flung backwards, and he was fighting himself not to hesitate. He had his orders, he had to get her out—

The villain Harpy crashed into him and made him stumble, but he kept his hold on her and regained his footing. He couldn’t harden his entire body without cutting her with the way he held her and if he let her down the villain could take her. His mind raced with his next move as he felt her shift her legs off of his arm and to the ground, freeing his left side as his right kept her shielded.

Kirishima swung his arm back as he felt the shift in the air from Harpy flying towards him again, hoping to knock him away or off balance. He managed to hit the birdlike man in the temple which caused him to crumple to the ground, but not before he had sunk his talons over his shoulder and dug them in deep.

Pain exploded in his shoulder and he cried out, his hold around her waist dropping as he doubled over to clutch at his shoulder. His knees gave out and he sank to the ground, shock creeping across his skin as blood flowed from the cuts with each beat of his heart.

She knelt down next to him, guiding his head onto her lap. Basic first aid wasn’t much to wounds like this but it could slow the bleeding and buy them time until backup arrived. She just hoped it would be enough.

"Shit, Kirishima, you gotta be okay," she said, ripping the bottom of her dress to create a bandage to help stop the bleeding. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck!"

She wound the ripped pieces of cloth around his left side, his eyes hazy and unfocused. Little whimpers of pain escaped his lips as she pulled the fabric tight against the wound and pressed down firmly.

“Baby girl B,” he breathed out, wincing as he registered the pressure against his shredded shoulder. “Are you both…?”

She nodded, biting her lip. “We’re okay, Kirishima, we’re okay. You took the hit, and they never even touched us.”

He swallowed, nodding as his face scrunched in pain, his eyes closed. Sharp teeth bit into his bottom lip and his right hand balled into a fist.

Bakugo, who had seen the hit, froze at the sight of all the blood on his partner from where he had landed from Harpy’s last attack. It took only a beat for him to see his wife go to the redhead and begin tending to him, but it was a beat too long for him to have lost focus.

Five chilled fingers pressed against his exposed bicep and immediately his entire being felt like lead, his body leaning heavily against the wall. With all his strength he turned his head to see Star’s hand dropping from his arm, a self-satisfied smirk painted across his face. He stepped a few paces back, head cocked as if admiring his handiwork, and Bakugo decided in that moment what had to be done to end this.

“Real shame about Red Riot,” Star said in mock sadness. “Willing to die for his partner’s little whore wife to be saved only for her, the parasite you put in her, and him all to die right in front of your eyes.”

Bakugo’s heart picked up speed, his blood pumping the anger through his veins as he slowly uncurled his right palm and turned it out towards the monologuing villain. It never failed to get them into trouble, fuckin’ amateur.

“I won’t kill you, though, Ground Zero,” Star continued, “no, I’m going to make you watch them die. The three people you care about the most all dead and it’ll be on you.”

“None of them are dying today,” he ground out, palm heating.

Star smirked. “You heroes are all too—”

An explosive stream burst from his palm—a smaller version of his AP Shot designed to work like a blowtorch—and hit the villain in front of him in the thighs causing his knees to buckle, pitching him forward onto his hands and knees in front of Bakugo.

“You villains are all so fucking stupid.”

He shakily raised his right arm, fatigue crawling over his bones and his muscles screaming at the weight of his gauntlet.

“You came into my home, kidnapped my pregnant wife, made your cronies injure my partner, and had plans to kill the three most important people in my life—the three people who make up my fucking family.”

He opened his extended palm, aiming for the now pleading villain in front of him.

"You come after me and I'll kill ya," Bakugo breathed, his left forefinger hooking into the pin of the gauntlet, "but you come after my family and I'll fuckin' destroy you."

On his final word, he pulled the pin.

A massive explosion rocked the open space, the heat being felt on her cheeks as she turned away from the blast, curling herself around Kirishima to shield him from debris without taking the pressure off of his wounds. It would do no good for Katsuki to win the fight but lose his best friend.

Her ears were still ringing when the smoke around them began to clear, and she leaned harder into Kirishima’s shoulder. He gave a soft grunt at the pressure and his jaw twitched as he clenched his teeth. His eyes were still closed, and she could feel the tight coil of his body relaxing, panic running through her at the realization that he was slipping into unconsciousness.

From across the room she heard a shout of her name, “Are you injured? Is the baby okay? What about Kirishima—"

"I’m fine Katsuki, but how far out is backup?" she replied, hands slipping against bloodied skin. "He's in a bad way, Katsuki. I... I don't know how much more blood he can lose!"

His eyes widened as he finished snapping the capture cuffs onto Star, abandoning the crumpled villain and sprinting the short distance to her, dropping down to his knees beside her.

“Fuck! My comm was wrecked when I first came in, where’s his? He usually keeps it in these stupid gears,” he rambled, opening the compartment of his shoulder piece, careful not to jostle him or bump her hands.

Practically on cue, Kirishima's communication device radioed that teams were arriving at that moment and needed a pinpointed location. Bakugo grabbed it from within the compartment and brought it up to relay the info, his hands shaking slightly as he pressed the button to speak.

"This is Ground Zero, current location is an offshoot of the sub-basement of lot number nineteen. Red Riot's down and needs medics fucking stat, he's lost a lot of blood. The villains have been handled with use of potentially deadly force to protect all parties. Hostage is safe and unharmed."

She looked toward him, panic evident in her eyes as Kirishima's head lolled to his right, breath shortened to small puffs against her thigh.

"C'mon, Shitty Hair, don't do this," he muttered, gloved hands cradling the redhead's face. "You don't get to die today."

She continued the pressure on the wound, her heart hammering against her ribcage.

"You listen to me and you listen good, Kirishima," her husband continued, his teeth gritted, "I'll be fucking damned if you bleed out on my wife and don't get to meet my daughter. The hell am I supposed to tell her, huh? That you saved her and her mother but your stupid ass got killed doing it?"

"Katsuki," she whispered, eyes starting to sting as the sound of reinforcements arriving began to grow louder.

He glanced up at her, eyes wild and desperate. "No! He needs to know he's an idiot if he dies!" He looked back down to the redhead. "The day I got married you were so excited to be my best man and there's more I need you to do, you asshole! You gotta be here to-to be Uncle Ei for my baby girl! And I want you to be her godfather! I don't fucking trust anyone else to take care of my kid if something happens to us!"

Tears tracked down her cheeks as she watched his head bow, blonde hair obscuring his masked face further.

"You gotta fight," he murmured so softly she almost didn't hear amidst the shouting beyond the corridor. "You got me back at Kamino. You got my wife and daughter back now. You gotta fight so my daughter can meet the best friend I've ever had. C'mon, Ei. Just fight."

His words faded into the air between them, still for only a moment before the first responders appeared around the rubble and broke into smaller groups to tend to both Kirishima and the villains. Two others approached the couple once they moved back from their friend, Bakugo’s arms wrapped securely around her and hugging her close to him.

“I’m fine,” she started as one of them opened their mouth to begin a verbal assessment. “My forearm is a little scraped up so that will need tended to but other than that I’m unharmed. I just want to make sure the stress hasn’t had any adverse effects on the baby.”

They nodded, pulling out supplies to start treating the scrape and asking some follow up questions. Their partner turned to Bakugo and was also cut off before they even began.

“Cuts and scrapes. Gonna have a few bruises. They can patch me up at the hospital,” he said, tone final. As far as he was concerned, his wife, daughter, and best friend were much more important to be tended to.

His eyes slid over the responder’s shoulder to where a small crowd was around Kirishima, four men and one woman. The men were assessing him and applying more pressure to the wound, muttering flowing between them. The woman was calm in comparison, rigging up what Bakugo recognized as a small, portable transfusion apparatus to her own arm before working on fastening the other end to Kirishima’s.

“Blood type?” she prompted as she worked.

“O,” one of the men responded. It was common practice to send all relevant medical information to the responders heading towards a scene where pros were involved, a useful trove of information that allowed quick, informed decisions to be made when there were serious injuries.

“He’s high risk with this sort of trauma as a type O,” the woman informed them before finishing the setup in his arm, “but you know I’m not the type to lose a cute redhead.”

Bakugo wanted to snap at her to do her damn job, not flirt with his unconscious, possibly fucking dying if he was so damn high-risk partner, but a squeeze to his hand brought him back to the fact that he had his two girls to look after.

“He’s gonna be okay,” she assured him with a steady voice.

“He sure as fuck better be,” he grunted, fingers intertwining with hers as they were approached to provide statements. Neither of them were eager to stay back for them despite only needing ten minutes max between the two, but they both knew that Kirishima needed to be taken immediately and it would be easier in the long run for him if they provided everything they could now.

So as the redhead was taken out through the corridor and to the local medical facility, they ran through their accounts quickly, her abduction, hours held captive, and the fight between the heroes and villains that had one in critical condition pouring out as clinical and thorough as possible. With promises of a formal report once Kirishima was released from the hospital, Bakugo began to lead her out of the area, frustrated that they weren’t with Kirishima and afraid that something could be wrong with the baby despite his wife assuring him that nothing had physically happened to cause damage.

The fear didn’t melt away until they were at the hospital in an exam room with the strong, steady heartbeat of his daughter echoing through the small space. It calmed him down exponentially to hear the doctor tell them that everything was alright, that mom and baby were both just as they should be. So with that knowledge and the fact that Kirishima was in surgery to repair his shoulder and ensure there was no further damage, he allowed himself to be treated, the few cuts and scrapes he had sustained cleaned and bandaged.

Once he was finished, they headed towards the private recovery area to wait for Kirishima to be out of surgery, Bakugo’s knee bouncing for the entirety of the half hour leading up to a doctor asking if they were there for Eijirou Kirishima. They were told that he was stable and would recover just fine, but physical therapy would likely be necessary. The scarring he mentioned with a grimace made the couple snort—Kirishima had always thought that scars from hero work were “the manliest badge of honor a guy could receive!”

They were granted permission to wait in his room for him to wake up, something the doctor said could take a while based on how much blood he had lost. The immediate transfusion at the scene had definitely helped, but his body needed time to heal from what it had gone through.

While Bakugo understood that, he was still anxious when two hours later Kirishima’s eyes remained closed and his breathing even.

"He should've woken up by now," he muttered, arms crossed tight over his chest as he stared at his unmoving partner.

"Katsuki, he lost a lot of blood. His body's been through a lot, so I think it's okay that he's still out. The doctor said he's stable."

"Until he's awake and giving us that dumbass smile of his, I won't be happy."

"You know, I think Kirishima would prefer you focus on other important things while he's lying here in stable condition."

He fixed her with a hard stare. "What in the fuck could be more important than my best friend and partner not waking up after almost bleeding out in your lap?"

She shrugged. "I mean, I'm pretty sure I'm in labor so I figured you may want to deal with that."

"What the hell did you just say?" he whispered, voice soft.

"I started having contractions when they came to tell us he was out of surgery," she admitted. “They weren’t that close together and I knew you’d want to try and wait for him to wake up, so I didn’t mention it. But now, I think it would be best to get me admitted because they’re way more intense and have been slowly getting closer together for about half an hour now.”

Bakugo closed his eyes for a moment and blew out a breath. “With the amount of pure fucking chaos today has been, I’m not even surprised.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Babe, I don’t think I have any room for anger in me right now with all the fucking worry,” he chuckled darkly. “But I’m the one who needs the least amount of attention. C’mon, you need a room and one of those baby heartbeat belt things, right? Let’s go.”

She watched him stand up and head for the door, throwing a glance back at Kirishima’s unconscious form one last time, and stood to join him, her hands clasped beneath her belly as she reached him. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and guided her through the off-white hallways. His calm demeanor was surprising, but more helpful than she could imagine.

As she was set up in the maternity room he stood by her side waiting for instruction from either her or the doctor, very unsure of what he was supposed to be doing at this stage. All the parenting books and articles he had (secretly) read just advised to do as he was asked but no one had asked him to do anything. He hoped that over the course of her labor he would be given a task, something to do to feel useful.

And they did, the tasks asked of him over the next few hours being small: calling friends and family, helping her into and out of bed as she walked around the room, fetching her cold compresses, massaging her sore legs. Whatever made it easier on her, he would do.

Her contractions had built in intensity throughout the night and into the early morning hours, her whimpers of pain tearing at his heart, but she continued to grit her teeth and keep calm. He was relieved when she was able to sleep even if it was only for an hour or two. It was at least some time where her discomfort wasn’t at the forefront of her mind. It also allowed him some time to begin outlining the report on the previous day’s events, a task he had no desire to complete but one he would rather finish as soon as possible if it meant he could begin his paternity leave quickly.

By noon she was dilated eight centimeters, in an intense amount of pain, and practically foaming at the mouth with the desire to start pushing. He tried to comfort her, reassuring her that it would soon be time to start pushing and they would meet their daughter which she found endearing more than anything; it wasn’t often that he was the one trying to calm her down.

To keep the time passing and her attention focused on him instead of the pain and waiting he talked to her about anything he could think of. He talked about the lunch he had with Kirishima and Sero the previous day and brought up memories of their days at UA when they were younger and dumber but not blind to the evils of the world. At one point they discussed names for the baby, a topic that up until then had been volatile at best. The same conclusion was drawn every time: “I have to see her to know what her name should be.”

Finally, at almost three o’clock in the afternoon, it was time for her to begin pushing.

For over an hour she pushed, her refusal for any help with pain something she resolved to revisit for any future children. Katsuki didn’t leave her side, his hand clasped tightly in hers and giving her all the encouragement she could ever need with curse words peppered in just as expected. She would’ve been disappointed if his coaching was anything else.

And suddenly it was over, her body belonging only to her again for the first time in nearly a year. It was over and another Bakugo had entered the world, her volume easily betraying her heritage as Katsuki cut the cord with a dazed expression on his face. He was speechless, watching as the little girl was taken to the other side of the room to be cleaned and weighed and swaddled while his wife continued with the delivery of placenta and receiving her stitches. While he didn’t leave her side, his eyes remained on the small baby as if he was afraid that she would disappear if he wasn’t looking at her.

As quickly as the room had filled with doctors and nurses, it was empty just as fast once everything was over and the tiny child was placed in her mother’s arms.

His wife let out a choked sob of a laugh as the last nurse exited the room with a reminder to buzz if they needed anything, glassy eyes trained on the little girl in her arms. She repositioned the edges of the blanket around her with shaky hands and a wobbly smile.

“Look at her, Katsuki,” she whispered, her voice wavering. “Look, she has your eyes!”

He couldn’t stop staring at the blotchy-faced little blonde in his wife’s arms, her nearly-too-light-to-see brows furrowed as she stared up at them wailing. She definitely had his eyes, the bright red even looking indignant at the fact that she wasn’t as warm as she had been for the last so many months.

“She’s… she’s finally here,” she continued. “We have a daughter, we’re parents.”

He felt emotion bubbling in his chest and he wasn’t sure if it was purely the exhaustion from being awake for a day and a half or the fact that his child was safely swaddled in the love of his life’s arms or the fear that his best friend was so close to never being able to meet his daughter, or likely a combination of everything. Regardless, he knew that this was a day he would never forget for the rest of his life, for both the good and the bad it had brought.

“Can I hold her?” he asked as he finally found his voice, rough as it may be with the emotions swirling beneath his skin.

She sobbed out another laugh, eyes misty as she beckoned him closer. “She’s your daughter, of course you can hold her.”

He didn’t respond, only wiping his nervous hands on his pants before leaning forward and allowing his wife to gently set the newborn in his arms. Hyperaware of how his hands supported her, he sat back in his chair and looked down at the slowly calming child in his arms.

His child, he reminded himself, his daughter with the woman crazy enough to stick by him for so many years. Somehow he had ended up with the both of them in spite of the unforgivable words he spoke as a teenager, the anger had used as a weapon for so long, and all the other mistakes he had made in his life.

A small huff of a laugh escaped him as he moved a hand to rest atop the blanket bundled around her. She was fascinating to him, red eyes and just a smidge lighter than his ashy blonde hair so easily traceable to him but surprising nonetheless. It was surreal to be holding her, finally, after so long watching her mother’s belly grow and speaking to the taut skin that was her first home, and he could only continue to laugh quietly in disbelief.

“I’m your dad,” he managed to tell her between giggles. “I’m your dad and one day I’m gonna be the highest ranked hero to all of Japan, but I’m always gonna be your number one hero, yeah? You and your mom gotta be my biggest fans.”

Having been discreetly taking pictures of the moment, his wife began to tear up again at his words. Never once had she imagined a scene like this when they were teenagers and began dating during their second year at UA, but watching it unfold right before her eyes was more than she could have ever hoped for. Katsuki would be happy when they finally met their daughter, she’d always known that throughout the past few months, but this was better than any other reaction she could dream of.

“We’ll always cheer the loudest,” she said with a watery smile.

He looked up at her, the grin still on his face. “You damn well better.”

They were both in awe at the little girl and the influence she held over them already, the next hour being spent still in disbelief at the fact that she was finally with them and able to be held close, kissed, and fawned over.

It was soon after that Bakugo’s parents arrived, excited to see the newest member of the family and eager to hear the fine details of the previous day’s ordeal with the villains. They fit right into their roles as doting grandparents, Masaru taking on an even softer tone than usual to speak to the tiny girl in his arms and Mitsuki cooing affectionately how much she looked like her daddy. Bakugo held so much pride in the little family he had built for himself, watching his parents interact with his daughter stirring within him the desire to be different, be better with her than they were with him. She would be great, but she would be humble.

He was happy that his parents could see how far he’d come, from explosive little brat to a hero with a family, explosions still prominent but saved for work alone. It was nice too for him to see them happy and proud of him, the phrase not something he had heard from them in a long time. Everything felt right, at peace, except for one obvious missing piece.

His parents stayed until visiting hours were over and left after many hugs and promises to help whenever they needed. That was also comforting to know they were near and able to help them if the need arose, her own family from much farther away and unable to come as quickly should they need grandparents’ intervention.

Bakugo blinked sleepily as he finished changing his daughter out of one tiny white hospital onesie and into another, grateful that his parents had been able to grab their hospital bags and bring them in so he didn’t need to leave the hospital himself. A day and a half with no sleep was beginning to catch up with him.

“Katsuki, you should sleep,” his wife said as she watched him scoop the baby up. “You didn’t nap when I did while I was in labor which means you’ve been awake for nearly 36 hours straight. You need to rest.”

He shook his head as he cradled their daughter close. “S’okay, I can stay up with her tonight, you’ve been through way too much in the last two days. Plus I’ll be able to get news about Kirishima as soon as there is any.”

“Baby girl is tired, I could probably get her to sleep if I feed her. She’s due to eat anyway so why don’t you go sit with Kirishima for a bit and if he’s not awake soon, come back up and rest.”

He sighed, glancing down at the wriggling little blonde in his arms. It felt like no matter what he decided he was going to be away from someone he cared about and feeling guilty.

“Gimme that baby,” she playfully demanded, beckoning him closer. “Sit with Kirishima then get your ass back up here to cuddle us.”

“I… yeah, okay,” he relented, moving to set the baby in her arms. He ran a hand through the tufts of hair on her head, one finger drifting down to run over a chubby cheek. “I’ll be back soon okay? I’m taking my phone so if you need me, text me.”

“Say bye to daddy, baby girl,” she giggled, taking her little hand and waving it cutely at him.

With a smile and a kiss to his wife, he headed out the door and to the elevators, the distance he put between himself and the maternity room feeling so much larger than he could ever anticipate. But still he walked, intent on at least seeing his best friend and hoping that he would be able to bring the happy news of his daughter’s birth.

He entered the room quietly and took a seat in the same chair he had been in when his wife had said she was in labor. That moment a day ago felt like another lifetime entirely. In a way it was, it was a life where he didn’t have his daughter in his arms, when her life in the outside world had yet to begin.

Alone with his thoughts, he watched Kirishima’s steady, even breaths, the bandages over his shoulder crossing his chest and having just enough give to ensure it wasn’t constricting his breathing. Surely he would see the bandages as another one of those manly badges of honor he always spoke of, and Bakugo would readily agree. His decision to go into a three-on-one fight wasn’t the best and without Kirishima, things would likely be very different. He didn’t want to dwell on it; it wasn’t what happened, and it could never happen again.

So he settled in to wait, slowly sliding down in the plastic chair as time ticked by on the clock above the door. He didn’t expect his partner to be out this long and he was worried. All of the good he had experienced in the last day wouldn’t feel complete, not truly, until he was seeing the goofy, sharp smile of his best friend. He wanted, no, needed him to wake up. And within forty minutes, when he saw red eyes open tiredly, he felt like he could finally breathe fully again.

When Kirishima regained consciousness and heard the distinctive beeps of hospital equipment, he didn’t even need to open his eyes to know that he and Bakugo’s mission had more than likely been successful. The soreness in his left shoulder was bearable so he’d been healed and if he was in a hospital bed then that meant that reinforcements had come and retrieved them.

Slowly blinking, he let out a sigh at the brightness of his room.

“Nice of you to finally wake your ass up.”

Turning to his right, he spotted a very exhausted Bakugo slumped down in a visitor’s chair.

“How—” he cut himself off, voice cracking weakly. He cleared his throat and tried again, “How long have you been here?”

Grunting, he sat forward. “In the hospital, a little more than a day. In your room, this time, about an hour.”

Kirishima furrowed his brows. “This time? Where else were you? Shouldn’t you be with your wife? Wait- is she here too? Is she hurt? Did something happen after I went down? Is the baby—”

“Shut up, Shitty Hair,” he groaned, rubbing a hand over his face before levelling the redhead with a tired look. “I took care of the villain after you passed out and reinforcements came in time to get your ass here to get your shoulder taken care of. We were both treated for minor cuts and we came here to wait for you to wake up, but she ended up going into labor, so I was with her for that. She’s fine and so’s my baby girl. They’re both asleep right now up on the third floor.”

“Baby girl B is here?” Kirishima whispered.

Bakugo’s lips quirked up into a soft smile. “Yeah, she’s here safe and sound. Little bit of a lighter blonde than me but she’s got my eyes without a doubt.”

“Bro, congrats, I can’t believe she’s here!” he said happily, his eyes stinging with the threat of tears. “What did you guys name her? When can I visit her? Did your parents already stop by? Have—”

“You gotta slow down with the questions, Kirishima. I’ve been awake for almost two days straight,” he grunted, no heat behind the words. “You can come up and see her as soon as you’re discharged which should be quick if you call in a nurse. My parents were here for about two hours after she was born but they headed home already. Visiting hours ended at seven but you get a special pass to come back with me for a bit tonight.”

Kirishima had never hit the call button for a nurse so quickly in his life.

Within twenty minutes, he had been checked over by the attending physician and officially discharged with orders not to return to the field for three weeks, a recommendation for physical therapy, and a bounce in his step as he followed his best friend to the elevators. He had been given a special visitors badge that allowed him in the maternity ward despite visiting hours being long over and not having a wife and child of his own to be with; generally he wouldn’t let his pro hero status be used to bend the rules like that, but considering he was about to meet his best friend since high school’s newborn daughter for the first time after a dramatic rescue, he decided that one time couldn’t hurt. Bakugo had been the one to ask for it anyway, so it wasn’t entirely on Kirishima in the first place.

His excitement was bubbling beneath his skin as he walked behind Bakugo towards the room his little family was assigned to. When they stopped at room 304, a quick but soft knock on the open door was all that needed to be done to announce their presence.

“Look, honey, daddy’s back,” his wife cooed to the small bundle gathered in her arms as she sat on the bed. She looked tired, but her smile never faltered as she glanced up to the two men. “Kirishima, I’m glad you’re alright. C’mon in, you’ve got someone who’s been waiting to meet you.”

The redhead cautiously walked forward with Bakugo who reached out to take the baby from her. Turning back, Bakugo gave him a wide grin.

“Alright, baby girl,” he murmured, tucking the blankets away from her face, “open those pretty eyes for me, there’s someone here to see you.”

Kirishima caught his first glimpse of her face, smooth skin and chubby cheeks surrounded by the minty green of the blanket she was swaddled in. Just as he’d been told, her hair stood out as paler than her father’s, but when her eyes fluttered open and he could see the bright red he’d always associated with Bakugo, he had to hold back the tears.

“’S a little Bakubaby,” he managed to laugh, his voice caught in his throat at the sight of the tiny child.

“Hold out your arms,” Bakugo instructed, placing his daughter in his hold when he complied. He watched proudly as Kirishima cradled her to his chest, then started to speak, his eyes on his friend but his words to his daughter, “Now, baby girl, I want you to meet your Uncle Ei. He’s the one who helped me make sure you and mama were safe, because he’s my best friend and has had my back since we were teenagers. He’s always gonna have your back too, you know. That’s what godfathers do, after all.”

That was the breaking point for Kirishima’s tears as he whispered out a choked, “Really?”

Bakugo nodded, chuckling. “Yeah. No one else I trust to look after my kid if something were to happen to us. You’d raise her right.”

He sniffled, then smiled back down at the tiny blonde. “Yeah, I… I’ll do my best for her no matter what. Did… did you two decide on a name for her yet?”

Bakugo glanced back, bringing his wife into the moment.

“We did,” she said, catching Kirishima’s attention. “We wanted to give her a name with meaning, and we decided that the most meaning we could find was in the man who helped make sure that she made it into the world. So, Kirishima, meet your goddaughter Kira Bakugo.”

[sleepychai-fics]

Takami x Reader - Your First Valentines

Request: Anon; Could you please do something where Hawks finds out you have never done anything for Valentine’s Day so he goes out of his way to do an epic Valentine’s Day for you and then at the end of the night asks you out?

I actually made it past 1000 words. Kinda concerned about the formatting of it. I hope you like it!

Pronouns: Gender Neutral

Words: 1280

Buy me a Ko-fi? ←(link in bio)

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

You throw your towel into your duffle bag and ruffle your still-damp hair. You take a seat on one of the benches as a bottle of water is offered to you.

“Thanks Takami.” You say as you take it, immediately chugging half of it down.

Takami smiles and turns to his locker, his wings tucked behind him. “No problem. Great work out there today (L/n).”

“Thank.” You slide your shoes on and slam your locker closed.

“You have anything special planned for tomorrow?” Takami asks as he eases his jacket on, wary of his wings.

Your face scrunches up in confusion. “No? Why would I do anything special tomorrow?”

Takami gasps. “Because it’s Valentines Day! The day of love!”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “And?”

He strides over to you, taking a seat on the opposite bench of you. His hands are clasped together, elbows resting on his knees as he looks at you with a serious expression. “Have you ever done anything special for Valentines Day?”

“No.” You watch as his eyes avert away from you, lips pursed, his signature ‘thinking’ look. “What are you planning?”

A smile plays on his lips as he shrugs. “Nothing.” And without another word, he stands up and takes his leave.

You shake your head and sigh.

~*~

Your hand slams down on the blaring alarm clock, shutting off its annoying tone quickly.

A sigh leaves your lips as you swing your legs over the edge of the bed.

Your heart leaps to your throat as your eyes settle on the trail of rose petals beneath your feet.

Intruder?!

With practised ease, you tiptoe across your room, quirk activated and senses on high alert.

You cautiously follow the trail as they lead you through your apartment.

You approach the living room, where the petals dwindle into a single line. You take a deep breath in and turn the corner, hands poised and ready to attack.

A yell erupts from you.

“TAKAMI YOU ASSHOLE! NEXT TIME FUCKING TELL ME YOU’RE  VISITING YOU PRICK!”

He smirks, oh so casually like he hadn’t just scared the shit out of you a second ago.

You glare at him. “How the fuck did you get in here anyway?”

Takami shrugs. “Your lock is easy to get through.”

A heavy sigh leaves you as you shake your head. “You and your fucking feathers.”

Takami huffs out a chuckle. “Come on. You should get dressed and have something to eat. We’ll be leaving soon.”

You turn your attention back to him. “What’s the mission today?”

He shakes his head. “No mission. No work. I’m taking you out to celebrate Valentines Day.”

Soooo many questions run through your head. But frankly, you’re too tired to ask any of them. Besides, why not just go with the flow? See where it takes you.

“Oh and (L/n)?”

“Yes?”

“Call me Keigo.”

A smile settles on your lips. “As long  as you call me (Y/n).”

~*~

You side-eye Takami, raising a brow at him. “A parkour course?”

His smile beams at you. “Yep! I thought about taking you out to see the botanical gardens and stuff. But then I figured that you’d be more interested in adventure.”

You nod in silent agreement as you slide on a pair of grip gloves.

“Besides,” Takami stands beside you, eyes gleaming at you. “We can race.”

A challenging smirk plays on your lips. “No quirks?”

He shakes his head. “No quirks.”

“Alright then bird boy. Let’s see if you’re as fast on  land as you are in the air.” You leap into the course, not wasting any time on a count down.

~*~

Takami laughs at the surprised look on your face as he settles the flower crown atop your head.

You sputter around the pastry in your mouth, mind genuinely confused at what exactly was placed on your head. It isn’t until you reach up with one hand do you realise what it is.

You swallow down the mouthful of pastry before you reply. “You’re such a dork.”

The laughter continues to bubble out of Takami as he nestles his own flower crown on his head before taking your hand in his.

“I know.”

~*~

You cling tightly to Takami as his huge red wings flap consistently, carrying the two of you swiftly through the air.

Takami can’t help but smile as he holds you in his arms. “Almost there, angel.”

“Better fucking hope so.” You mumble, hiding your growing blush at the pet name.

You pass by skyscrapers and cityscapes, the bright lights of the city lighting up the night sky, barely allowing any twinkling stars to show.

The chill of the wind brushing against you has you pulling yourself closer to Takami,  seeking warmth.

“Y-Ya know. I thought the day would’ve ended after the full body massage and the fancy dinner.”

Takami hums. “We only have one more destination tonight.”

Barely two minutes pass by before Takami slows down to a stop, landing atop the railing of a wide hotel balcony. He hops down and carefully sets you down on the ground, gripping onto your hand as you wobble in place for a bit.

After properly regaining your balance, you look up into the room that awaits you.

The hotel bedroom is simple, two beds are situated next to each other. A large flat-screen  TV faces the bed, several movie discs are laid out on the table below it, along with an abundance of snacks and drinks.

“I know it’s not much, but it was the best I could get on such short notice. I mean, it is just the bedroom but-”

You cut him off. “It’s perfect.”

Takami gleams at you. He leads you inside. “Get comfy, I’ll set up  the first movie.”

You do as told, diving into one of the beds.

As Takami sets up the movie, you speak. “Thank Keigo. For today, and for everything in general.”

Takami turns around after pressing play on the movie and collapses into his own bed. “It’s no problem. Really. I had fun with you today.”

You puff out a chuckle. “Same here. I really appreciate you doing this for me today.”

Takami nods, his ever-present smile still set on his lips.

A few minutes pass by in silence. Your eyes are glued to the screen, watching as the beginning scene plays through.

Meanwhile, Takami’s golden gaze has yet to leave you.

“Do you want to go out with me?”

You turn your head to look at him. “Didn’t I go out with your today?”

Takami shakes his head. The nervous fluttering in his stomach is sickening to him. It makes him feel nauseous, even though he knows it’s anxiety, he’s suddenly wary of the possibility of throwing up.

He takes in a deep breath, trying to quell his growing anxiety. “That’s not what I mean.” Why does he feel sick all of a sudden? Is it his nerves? Could it be the food he ate for dinner? “What I mean is,” Just keep breathing Keigo, you can do it! “Do you want to become my partner? My… significant other?”

The sigh that leaves your lips has his heart leaping to his throat. But the bright smile that follows it immediately has it returning into place.

“Of course I would silly.”

There is no hesitance in your actions as you stand up and crawl in Takami’s own bed.

The nerves that once sat within him is now replaced by overwhelming joy.

As he pulls you tightly against his body, he can’t help but think how much he truly adores you.

Valentines Day, the day to celebrate love. Neither you or Takami could agree more.

[druddigoon]

prompt fill #1

@shame-cubed: bede and gloria in a raid together

this was supposed to be a simple one but then i decided to add 3 more people and a metric fuckton of tension and it kinda blew up. word count: don’t worry about it

————————-

“Where’s the dynamax pokemon?” 

He eyes you with a mask of disdain, attention briefly flitting to the vikavolt you have buzzing over your shoulder. “Not an issue, no thanks to you.” 

“There’s been reports of energy flares in almost every gym, so it took a bit of time to get here.” You pause to catch your breath, removing your beret to run a hand through your windblown hair after a harrowing flight over the Tangled Woods. Dangling under a vikavolt fifty metres off the ground doesn’t do well for vertigo. “I’m here to help. There’re other people coming, just show us where the pokemon’s at and we’ll calm it down.” 

There’s muffled banging at the main entrance, a drawn-out holler cut off with a sharp rebuttal. Hop and Piers. Bede’s voice ices over. “Then go play hero for the other towns. We don’t need you here.” 

The nerve of him. “I don’t know if you’ve stuck your head out of your little me-bubble yet, but people are trying to save the region from collapsing, and maybe if you stop babying your ego for just one second you’d accept help when help is offered—” 

“I believe Bede is suggesting he’s already dealt with the issue.” Opal cuts in, stepping out from under the shadow of the backroom. She looks the same since your gym challenge—angular face drowning amid her ample ruff, deceptively leaning on her umbrella-cane like she isn’t capable of throwing it away in a heartbeat—but it’s the way Bede stands straighter and draws closer to her presence that has you thrown. 

This is not the Bede in Galar Mines, not the Bede in Hammerlocke, tired and disgraced; this is not the Bede at Wyndon semifinals, desperate for redemption. This is the Bede who’s found his home, confident and grounded when you’ve had the rug swept from under your feet. 

The gym challenge changes people, they say. 

(You’ve never felt more alone.)

“Miss Opal! We’re here to help you with the dynma—” Hop skids to a stop once he notices Bede, and the way they size each other up reminds you of fights between wild pokemon. 

Coming here was a mistake. 

“Evenin’, ma’am.” Piers brings up the rear, eyes glued to his rotom-phone, unheeding toward the palpable tension in the room. “Dynamax readin’s gone, I reckon you’ve got it taken care of then.” 

“Why yes, my protégé handled the rogue shiinotic brilliantly a little while before you came.” 

Bede smirks at her praise; you lay a hand on Hop's shoulder to stop him from pulling anything, only to have him roughly shrug it off and stalk out of the building. 

“I wouldn’t bother with him,” Bede says as you stare at the still-swinging doors, something close to shame prickling deep in your throat. “Someone who thinks he's entitled special treatment because his brother’s the champion doesn’t deserve to take his spot.” 

Deep breaths. Opal watches you with hawk’s eyes, and for a second you feel more bone than flesh, surrounded. Think of secret summer grottos, ponds with water so clear the remoraid’s scales gleam as they swim through, think of how happy Crustle was when his crabapple tree bloomed, maybe wiping that smarmy expression off Bede’s face even though you can’t throw a punch to save your life. 

When you dare to speak again, your voice comes out lowed like a hiss from a boiling kettle. “If you’re so good at dealing with dynamax pokemon, I’d like to see you handle the rest of this problem.“ 

“I fail to see how the rest of the gyms fall under my jurisdiction. We’ve dawdled for long enough, it’s time—” 

“He’ll do it.” 

“—for you to...what?” 

You’d savour the look of disbelief on Bede’s face if the implication of Opal’s comment didn’t sink in. She regains control of the situation with a smile, too pleasant for the gravity of her words. “It must be difficult for the three of you to handle all of this on your own. These bones are too old to hitch a ride on unlicensed fliers, but Bede here can accompany you while I guard the gym.” 

Bede runs a hand through his hair, considering. 

“Fine,” he bites out, releasing his gardevoir before striding out the entrance. You quickly jog after him, hoping to reach Hop before he does. “Let’s go.” 

“—very keen on addin’ fuel to the fire.” Piers comments far behind you.

“They’ll sort it out,” Opal replies, “Sometimes all it takes is getting a little burnt.” 

————————-

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Hop gapes at the skulking figure of Bede from his perch atop his corviknight, an imposing bird outlined in scintillating angles against the dead of night. “Glor, please tell me you’re joking.” 

“He wanted to come. You...we need all the help we can get, and having him just means we can get this done faster and safer. Please. This is for the greater good.” 

“Are you siding with him now? Is this what it is? This is a bloody insult to injury, Glor. Do you remember what he’s done to you? Do you remember what he’s done to me?” 

“I’m not taking anyone’s side! You can choose to never see Bede again after this is over, Hop, it’s just that we have a bigger issue at hand and everyone’ll need to put aside their difference until we can stabilize the region.” 

“I know, but I'm a hundred percent sure that we. Don’t. Need. Him.” He punctuates every word with a jab of his finger in Bede’s direction. “We were fine in Turrfield. We were fine in Hulbury. We were fine in Motostoke, we were fine in Stow-On-Side. We’re almost done, we’d just finish everything with more peace of mind if he buggers off.” 

Bede crosses his arms. “Flattered you think so highly of me. Honestly, Hop, you’re desperation is showing. Worried that I’ll steal your thunder?” 

“Guys, please—” 

Hop’s corviknight lets out an ear-piercing screech, rearing up and flapping its wings in a way that forces the rest of you to back up. Bede’s gardevoir steps in front of him, her horn glowing with the beginnings of psychic energy. 

“ENOUGH!” A dark shape, too fast to make out, cleaves between the two boys, the acrid smell of something sour lingering behind. 

Piers steps out, followed closely by his obstagoon, the vestiges of a night slash still roiling off its foreclaws. “This isn’t what I was expectin’ from a finalist and a gym leader, and you two ought be ashamed of yourselves for this kind of behavior.” He sighs heavily, rubbing his temples. “I need a smoke break. Gloria, come with me.” 

————————-

“Marnie told me you lot were good kids.” Piers takes a slow drag of his cigarette. You fidget with the hem of your skirt, sneaking peeks at the clearing even though neither of the boys are in sight. “So imagine my surprise when I end up babysittin’ two kids who look one second away from tearin’ each other’s throat out, with you actin’ like you’re the reason they want to.” 

“I am.” The floodgates burst all too easily; you never expected to pour your heart out to a near-stranger, fraying dye job illuminated in the harsh glare of the street lamp and wreathed in a halo of cigarette smoke, but lately all your friends have been worse than strangers and Piers. Piers sits still and listens. “I-I never wanted to do...this. The championship is always Hop’s dream, and I promised to help him get it like a friend before pulling it out from under him. Could’ve supported him after Bede broke his spirit—he said he was a disgrace to Leon’s name, even though he isn’t even relevant—but instead I decided to hammer it in by battling him and winning.” 

You shut your eyes, grind the heel of your palms hard onto them until you’re seeing stars. “I saw Bede’s disqualification. I was there to see the hope go out of him when Rose told him he no longer worked for them, was there and did nothing. I’ve done nothing but shirk and shirk, and now i’m supposed to stabilize Galar’s dynamax outbreak when I can’t even lift a finger for the people closest to me.” Bitter smile. “Some champion I am.” 

Piers huffs. He drops the cigarette, crushing its embers under the heel of his boot, before looking up and speaking. “I don’t know enough to say it’s not your fault, but you’re takin’ your mistakes out of proportion.” 

“Spikemuth’s never been my dream; most people don’t end up doin’ the thing they want, believe it or not. This may not be yours and yet you’re tryin’, and you’ve got heart. I doubt a bad champion would be risking her life travelin’ from town to town confrontin’ rampagin’ pokemon like you are now.” 

“That...still doesn’t make me a good champion.” 

“No, it doesn’t.” He stands, brushing off lingering ash. “But Galar doesn’t have a ‘good champion’. It has you. And even if you can’t redeem yourself in the eyes of your friends, you can redefine yourself in everyone else. Come, let’s head back.” 

You return to the same silent standstill you left. Hop can’t meet your eyes, face buried in the feathers around his corviknight’s neck. Bede only stares back; a challenge. 

“Which cities do you have left?” he asks. 

Piers checks. “Only Circhester and Hammerlocke, it looks like.” 

“We’ll split up, then,” Hop interjects, not even looking up. “Piers and I’ll go to Circhester, while Gloria and Bede go to Hammerlocke.” 

“That’s fine,” you concede after a moment’s pause. He’s trying to distance himself from you, but can you blame him?

(You can’t, not really. This must be a nightmare situation for him—losing to the false heirs, failing to catch them, fighting alongside his former-friend-now-champion knowing he could’ve been the one in her place, watching her strike the final blow as his cinderace heals on the sidelines. Every reminder is driving a nail in the coffin, and Bede’s arrival is simply the stake that split it at the seams.)

“Best of luck to you, then.”

“Good luck to you too.”

————————-

“Everything you’ve said to Hop applies to you, y’know.” 

“Are we really going over this now?” The Hammerlocke gym halls are far too empty for comfort, deep rumbles echoing against your skull as you catch flashes of light past stadium doors. You stalk onward, eager to get the situation over with and return to Ballonlea. Damn Opal. “We have a bigger issue at hand.” 

Out of the corner of your eye you see Gloria puff out her cheeks. If someone were to back you into the corner of an alley with a knife pressed to your throat, you’d admit you do respect her; becoming the Champion is no easy feat, and nobody expected it from a quiet girl with a team full of bugs, the beginner’s route fodder others grind to train their battlers. It’s her altruism that irritates you, a relentless selflessness that will get her bitten, somewhere down the line. “Can’t you accept help without fighting it?” 

You fall silent. 

Oleana’s voice, ice against your ear. “Is this how you’ll treat the man who found you, back when you were all alone?” 

(More wishing stars. Always more wishing stars.)

A rattling roar resounds ahead. Sensing she’s needed, Hattie coalesces by your side with a chiming noise, and you continue on, pushing past reinforced double doors. “The last person who offered me help was Rose.” 

And look where it got me.

The dynamaxed haxorus is huge; its scythe-like tusks crest above the open roof of the arena, claws as large as longswords carving deep furrows into the turf, an excess of power and energy given a corporeal form while the haxorus’s original body is tucked away behind layers of shields. An entire section of bleachers had been razed to the ground, steel gouged with millions of tiny lacerations that fractal in draconid energy. Gloria finally shut her mouth, calling out her crustle as you start putting distance between you and her.  The flash of light catches the haxorus’s attention. 

Its eyes are impossibly wide—a deerling in headlights, more prey than predator—and when it roars, it's a pained cry pitched like a plea.

The raid begins. 

Gloria fights like battling is innate to her, instinct ingrained through bone in a way no amount of textbook memorization or controlled-environment training can hold a candle to. Bugs are notoriously more id than superego; rather than suppressing it, hers seem to have tailored their natural behavior towards battling, where her commands are less commands than they are suggestions, tips, and warnings, a coach to her players. She trusts her pokemon, and they make it worthwhile. It makes her incredibly hard to read, as most of the time she isn’t even giving instructions.

Helpful in a singles matchup, not so much in a tag-team battle.

You hear her call out from the other end of the stadium, and her crustle withdraws into its shell just fast enough to dodge the brunt of Hattie’s dazzling gleam. In the split second when the haxorus is sent reeling, it pulls off a shell smash, darting out of its shell in a blur of orange to land a stone edge that shatters the haxorus’s shields. 

It keeps up the distraction long enough for Hattie, slow as she is, to charge up another dazzling gleam. The stadium lights up in a brilliant light display as it explodes against the haxorus’s side, sending it reeling. Crustle is also sent flying a couple metres back before getting back on its feet, the exoskeleton of its claws warped from where it used to to block the worst of the attack. 

“Stop hitting me!” Gloria calls. 

“Then dodge out of the way! Hattie can’t avoid you without compromising her output!” 

Haxorus finally notices you, letting out a bellow as its tail warps into something steel-tipped, sharp with metallic ridges gleaming crimson in the dynamax light, before swinging the entire thing towards you. 

Of course. Bloody thing knows steelspike. 

Your back collides with the stadium walls before you realize there’s nowhere to run. Damn Opal. Couldn’t make do with just the shiinotic. Hattie matches the haxorus with her own war cry, energy streaming through her coat in a last-ditch attempt at damage. 

In the span of a split second, something orange collides with the tail, knocking it off track. 

Then the world flashes white. 

When you finally regain your vision, the haxorus is back to its regular size and barely conscious, keeling over onto the ground. Hattie twirls, unscathed save for shards of steel tangled in her hair. 

You could hardly recognize it without its boulder shell, but buried in the sand beside her was the fainted body of Gloria’s crustle, who’d taken the brunt of the steelspike. 

“What was that?” You ask Gloria, who had recalled the fallen haxorus into its gym-issued pokeball. 

She crouched next to her crustle, checking it for injuries before withdrawing it as well. “Crustle blocked its attack. Don’t worry about him; he’s tough, and I’ll reward him with extra fertiliser to his favorite tree after this.” 

“Hattie could’ve take—” You stop, because no, she wouldn’t, before amending “It’s unnecessary. Crustle could’ve utilized the chance to get its last hits in.” 

“He might’ve missed. This gave us the best chances of winning, and he wanted that. Wouldn’t have followed my order if he didn’t. Also...Hattie?” 

“Stop changing the topic. You’d let it throw itself into the path of danger for a chance?” 

“Yes.” 

She looks a little dejected, but doesn’t push like he expects her to. Nobody gives charity for free; he’s learned this through his multiple orphanage relocations, Rose’s too-large watch, Opal’s quest for an heir. His mind is quick to point fingers at pity, just like the others, but he can smell pity a mile off and Gloria’s never been the type for it, not to him. 

Why?

“Isn’t this a betrayal to Hop?” 

Her face steels over. “He doesn’t have to like anything I do. He’s not here, and this isn’t about him.” It’s a far cry from Stow-On-Side, her fury on Hop’s behalf. You’ve noticed the two seem more distant lately. The gym challenge changes people, they say. 

The outside air is cool on your face. Gloria’s vikavolt has its claws latched onto her backpack, carrying her in what you’d describe as the most dangerous method of flying and you still don’t understand, why why why why why? 

“Gloria?” 

She glances back at you, head tilted slightly to the side. Your question dies in your throat. 

“Stay safe.” 

She looks at you strangely. “T-thanks. Stay safe too.” 

You watch until her figure becomes a dark speck on the horizon before heading home, alone.

[queenxxxsupreme]

Request: Tony Stark x fem!Reader with the song Everytime We Touch by Cascada (yay romantic stuff)!

A/N: I’m sorry did you say angst? I did my best to balance the angst with fluff. I’m so sorry this took so long!! I have been fighting some sort of sickness this past week and I don’t usually get sick so it’s taken a lot out of me😞 I really hope you like this💕 (I did take out some lyrics because they either didn’t fit or I felt like they weren’t beneficial to the little story) I think I fixed all the mistakes but my eyes like to play tricks on me so I apologize if I missed anything 

Also side note: I don’t know why but every time I try to do one of these things and I put the lyrics in italics it goes away when I publish it or some of the lyrics get italicized and others don’t. I’m not sure if it’s because I do the keep reading cut or what but I apologize for it. I find it so annoying.

***

Tony let out a sigh, scrolling absentmindedly through his phone. He was waiting for you to put on one of the dresses you’d bought today and show it to him.

A flash of lightning danced across the sky and a deep rumble of thunder followed, vibrating the Tower. The Iron Man looked to the large wall of windows in the bedroom and watched the rain fall from the dark clouds.

A shooting star fell down to earthLightning cracked across the sky

This had been an all day event. A charity gala for the city of New York was taking place later on this week and you had yet to find a dress. Being that Natasha was out running errands with Steve and Bucky, you asked Tony-your next closest friend on the team-to give his opinion of each dress you’d bought.

Tony was more than willing to give his opinion. That was one of the things he knew how to do best. He also loved seeing the little blush that rose to your cheeks when he gave you a flirty compliment.

“How much longer are you gonna be, Y/N?”

“This dress is tight, Tony. Don’t rush me.” You muttered from the inside of your walk-in closet. The door was left open just a little bit. He could see you moving around inside. The royal blue material of the last dress you had to try on could be seen for a brief moment through the crack of the door.

Something weird is happeningSomething I can’t deny

The door opened and you stepped out into the room, fixing a strap and moving the material just a little.

The royal blue silk material cling to your curves all the way down to your knees and then the bottom had a mermaid tail effect. The straps were thin but sturdy enough to hold your bust in place. The deep V in the neckline was what concerned you. You didn’t usually wear such revealing clothing but you did like the dress.

The second Tony saw you, he sat up on your bed and leaned forward. His chocolate eyes seemed to study you like you were some sort of artwork.

You nervously glanced up at him through your lashes, brushing your hair out of your eyes.

When he offered no immediate comments, you figured the dress looked worse than you thought. You turned to look in the huge mirror that clung to the door of your walk-in closet. You shifted your weight from one foot to the other and turned to the side to observe the dress from a new angle.

“Be honest, Tony. What do you think?” You smoothed your hands over your stomach, thankful for the good pair of spanx you wore underneath the dress.

Still, he said nothing. You frowned and turned back to face him. His lips were parted and his eyes were glued to you.

“Okay, Stark.” You sighed. “You don’t have to look at me like that. Just tell me how you feel about it.”

He couldn’t find the words to describe you. In the dress with your hair done the way you normal had it and not much makeup on your face, you looked like some sort of goddess. The dress hugged your curves and showed you off in just the right way.

Hearing the uneasiness in your voice, he cleared his throat and shook his head, glancing down at the phone in his hand briefly. He rubbed his eyes and then looked back to you. A smile crossed his lips.

A strange kind of magicRunning through my brain

“You look amazing, Y/N.” His voice was quiet and soft. “Amazing doesn’t even cut it. Stunning, maybe. But even then…. the word doesn’t do you any justice.”

Heat rose to your cheeks and you smiled shyly, turning to look back into the mirror.

“Are you sure it’s not too tight for a charity event?”

“Of course not.” He shook his head. He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. Anxiety swarmed in his stomach and doubts swirled in his head. But he had to do this. He’d regret it later if he didn’t, just like how he regretted many things he never told you sooner. “Y/N, be my date to the gala.”

You furrowed your brows together, meeting his gaze in the mirror. Your hands slowly fell from your hips to your sides. You held his gaze until you turned around to face him.

“What?”

“I think you should go with me to the gala…. as my date.”

You stared at him for a while longer, unsure that you heard what you did.

“I-I don’t…. Tony, I don’t know.”

“Ouch.” He grinned just a little to hide the ache of rejection he felt forming inside. “Are you turning me down, buttercup?”

You blushed again at the nickname, one he used only when you two were alone. You were never sure why, but it always felt right that he kept the tender nickname reserved for just you two. It had started off as a teasing nickname, one he used when he was poking fun at you for being so shy and bashful. But it had become something you loved hearing.

“I’ll go with you.” You nodded your head, biting your bottom lip in an attempt to hide just how happy and ecstatic you were.

You’d been secretly crushing on the Iron Man for years now. Since you met him, you’d fallen for the man he truly was, for the hero he didn’t see himself as.

You’d shared a handful of intimate nights that you were sure he never allowed anyone else to witness. Intimate meaning you’d helped him during one of his episodes where he became so overwhelmed with his problems, with every crisis that showed itself just as things were getting better.

You’d rescued him from a handful of panic attacks. You knew the signs, knew how he’d get right before he’d shut himself off and hide away in his room or his lab with a bottle of whatever alcohol he could find the quickest.

You were the one he wanted to be around when dark thoughts and horrible memories swarmed his mind.

Having him ask you to be his date meant the world to you. You weren’t sure if he did it simply because you looked, to be blunt, hot in your dress or if maybe, just maybe, there were mutual feelings he shared for you.

Feel I’m in heavenOr going insane’

In the days following you finding your dress and a date all in one day, you’d noticed little things changed with Tony. He was a little more quiet around you, a little more shy. He wasn’t his usual flirty self, which admittedly you missed. You liked how he flirted casually with nearly everyone. You liked how when he and Steve got into one of their little bickering sessions, Tony would throw the Captain off by giving him a compliment. The Iron Man also had the ability to give backhanded compliments. He did this not so often with his teammates, but more with those he couldn’t tolerate and didn’t care for.

It was just two days before the gala and you were sitting at the bar with Wanda, Natasha, Vision, and Thor. Tony sat across the room on one of the sofas. Peter was next to him, playing a videogame with Clint, Bucky, and Bruce. Rhodey and Sam were in chairs talking idly about their experiences in the military.

Tony was watching you like a hawk. You were next to Thor, carrying on a conversation with him about something Tony didn’t care to listen to. All he cared about was the way you smiled at something Thor said and then you threw your head back and put your hand on his arm as you laughed.

“You sure you’re holding that cup tight enough, Tony?” Rhodey nodded to the glass Tony held in his vice-like grip.

Tony blinked as he looked to his friend and realized he was close to breaking the cup.

“You good, man?” Sam asked him. Tony muttered a ‘yeah’ and put the glass down on the coffee table.

“Why don’t you tell her?” Steve’s voice was low as he spoke. Tony looked over to the Super Solider, who saw in a chair to his left.

“Tell her what?”

“That you like her.”

Tony rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

“I don’t like her any more than a friend, Capsicle.”

“Sure.” Steve nodded his head, a grin crossing his lips. He looked to you and Thor as he moved to sit on the edge of his seat. “Take it from someone who waited too long. Don’t. You never know when you’re not gonna see her again.”

The pain and regret in his voice made Tony’s stomach churn.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” The Iron Man mumbled.

Steve stood up and as he passed Tony, he patted his shoulder.

“I think Ms. Y/F/N likes you too, Mr. Stark.” Peter didn’t take his eyes away from the television screen.

“What are you talking about, kid?”

“The way she looks at you and you look at her. It’s how all those couples in those Hallmark movies look at each other.”

“It’s nauseating.” Bucky commented. Tony’s eyes widened just slightly. He wasn’t aware that everyone within a ten foot radius of him had heard what Steve said.

“Thanks, Sarge.”

“No problem.”

Tony rolled his eyes. He sighed out and put his hand over his eyes for a moment. His heart was racing his chest as he thought about what to do. What if Thor stole you from him? Was that even possible? Could something be stolen from him that wasn’t technically his to begin with?

Tony stood up suddenly and moved swiftly across the room to the bar.

Cause everytime we touchI get this feeling

Tony put his hand on your arm, his fingers lingering just a little longer than necessary.

You turned to him, a warm and soft smile crossing your lips at the sight of him.

“Hi, Tony.”

“Uh, hi. Can I talk to you for a moment?” Tony was surprised with how even he was able to keep his voice.

“Of course.” You nodded your head and slipped from the barstool.

You followed him across the room to the elevator. You didn’t notice that everyone in the room was watching you two. You also didn’t notice the huge grin plastered across Peter’s face like he knew what was about to happen.

The youngest Avenger looked over to Rhodey and Sam as the elevator doors closed.

“He’s gonna do it, isn’t he? Like in the movies? He’s gonna kiss her, isn’t he?”

“Don’t ruin the moment, Bug Boy.” Sam told him.

The doors to the elevator slid shut with a hiss behind you. You didn’t have time to register what was happening. Tony’s hands were on your face, holding you with a tenderness you had never experienced. You were tense, unsure of what he was doing. For a split second, his chocolate orbs gazed at you and then he pressed his lips to yours in a soft kiss.

And every time we kissI swear I could fly

Your eyes slid shut and you loosened up, your hands coming up to hold one of his that still cradled your face. Your other hand went to hold the side of his neck.

Your senses were overwhelmed by him. His gentle touch was so soft like he thought you were something as delicate as a flower petal. He tasted of the mint gum he so often chewed, doing so to keep himself busy in even the slightest way. His scent filled your nose, reminding you that he wore only the best and most expensive of cologne.

As he pulled away, you were left breathless and with your lips still parted. Your eyes opened, dazed and disoriented from the rush of the kiss. You met his gaze, a small smile coming to your lips.

“I-I don’t want to end up like Rogers.” He admitted, his voice quiet and timid. “I don’t want to look back ten, twenty years from now and regret not saying anything. I don’t want to lose you and never have told you what I feel.”

“What…. What do you feel?” You asked softly.

He ran a hand through his salt-pepper hair and shook his head, taking a step towards the wall. He leaned against the corner, crossing his arms and looking down at the floor. He was silent for a while, for almost too long. And you thought that maybe he regretted kissing you, he regretted even thinking about it.

He lifted his head and finally met your gaze. His eyes were glossy but he did a good job at fighting back the tears.

“I feel everything, buttercup.” He whispered. “You-You are like this magical thing that can make me feel everything. I-I’ve felt highs I never thought possible. Like when you watched the Matrix with me at four in the morning because I couldn’t sleep and you wanted me to at least try.”

You giggled a little at the memory. That had happened a year ago and to know that he still thought about that made your heart race.

“But I’ve-Y/N, I’ve had lows too.” His voice was a weak murmur. “When you dated that dick from high school…. I saw the way he broke your heart, Y/N. You didn’t deserve any of that.”

Your eyes fell to the floor. The ache and pain you’d felt during your last relationship was still fresh. It had happened a few months ago, yes, but the feelings would always be there.

“He cheated on you and told you that you weren’t good enough for him.” Tony’s hands curled into tight fists. He was so angry that anyone would say that to another person, let alone you. He firmly shook his head. “I was there to pick up the pieces though, wasn’t I? I helped you through that.”

“You did.” You nodded, confirming his words. “I wouldn’t be where I am today if you hadn’t helped me.”

Silence fell between you two. He pushed himself away from the corner and crossed the short space to get to you. He held his hand out for you and when you accepted, placing your hand in his, he thought he’d burst from happiness.

Can’t you feel my heart beat fastI want this to last

You put the curling iron down just as the door to your room opened. It was Natasha.

“Looking good, Y/L/N.” She complimented. “Tony’s asking for you.”

“Can it wait?”

“I think it’s kind of important. He seemed a little…. flustered.”

You nodded your head and stood to your feet.

***

Your heels clicked against the floor as you made your way out of the elevator and down the hall to Tony’s room.

You stopped at his door and knocked a couple times.

“Tony? It’s me.”

A few moments passed before the door opened.

Tony was in his suit pants, a dark blue that matched yours, and his button down.

“Hey, Y/N.” He opened the door for you to come into his room. “You look good.”

You looked down at your outfit. You were in a pair of black sweatpants, a white tank top, and the black stilettos you’d be wearing to the gala. Your hair and makeup were already done. You just needed to put on your dress.

“I really don’t, but thanks. What’s up?”

He sat down on the edge of his bed, his hand brushing over his face.

“What if this is a mistake?”

Your heart dropped as you automatically thought that he was talking about you two.

“I-I don’t…. I don’t understand. I thought we were doing good. I mean-I mean sure it’s only been a few days but–,”

“No, no. Not us.” Tony shook his head. “Going to this gala. Letting everyone know what…. what you mean to me.”

You moved to sit on the bed next to him. You took his hand and held it in yours.

Need you by my side’Cause everytime we touchI feel this static

It was only then that you felt how he was trembling. His nerves were getting the best of him.

“The media can be brutal, Y/N.” He murmured gently. “What if they get to be too much? There’s going to be reporters there and they’re going to be taking pictures–,”

“Then let them.” You cut him off, giving his hand a firm squeeze. “They’ve taken pictures of me before. I’m an Avenger, remember? I’m use to that sort of thing.”

“Yes, but it’s different with me.” He shook his head softly. “I-I’m Tony Stark. Every now and then they like to rub it in my face that I’ve made mistakes.”

“Because a lot of people view you as a god, Tony.” You told him. “They bring up your mistakes in order to remember that you’re only human. You aren’t perfect, and that’s okay. Making mistakes is a part of living and growing.”

He nodded a little, his eyes flickering over to meet yours. A small smile found its way to his lips.

“Thank you.”

“That is what I’m here for, honey.” You leaned over to kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you in ten down in the garage, right?”

“Ten?” He repeated, following you as you moved towards the door.

“Ten minutes. I’ve got to get into my dress.”

“Is it gonna take you that long?” He teased. You rolled your eyes but laughed.

Before you could completely slip out of his room, he grabbed your hand and pulled you back to him. He kissed you softly.

And everytime we kissI reach for the sky

Tony held his hand out for you as you moved to get out of his car. The lights were already so bright. There were so many there taking pictures. You squeezed Tony’s hand just to make sure he was there and you weren’t imagining it. He squeezed back and you smiled.

“You look absolutely stunning.” He murmured to you as he slipped an arm around your waist and held you close.

“You’ve said that at least nine times already.”

“Just want to make sure you know.” He grinned.

As you two followed behind Bruce and Natasha, you smiled for pictures and waved to a few who shouted your name.

Once inside, you were pulled from Tony by Wanda. Apparently there was some big news resource here to do some sort of segment on the ladies of the Avengers.

You unwillingly let Tony’s hand go, casting one more glance his way before you followed the Scarlet Witch.

Can’t you hear my heart beat soI can’t let you goWant you in my life

As Tony watched you leave his side, he couldn’t help the anxiety that rose in his stomach. You were his comfort, the one person who he felt like could keep him sane and sober enough to get through the night.

“Come on, Tony.” Steve put his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “She’ll be back shortly.”

Tony nodded, knowing the Captain was right, and followed the rest of his team through the unusually packed room.

***

After you, Natasha, and Wanda managed to break away from the reporters, you looked around in search of Tony. You expected to find him sitting with the rest of the team at their designated table but the billionaire wasn’t there.

You frowned but went to the table anyways, hoping he’d show up soon.

“Do you guys know where Tony went?” You asked, standing between Rhodey’s and Bruce’s chairs.

“There was a reporter who snagged him.” Bruce answered you. “They went towards the front doors.”

“Thanks, Bruce.” You smiled at him and gave him a nod before making your way in that direction.

The wind was like a hurricaneStorm clouds filled the sky

You pushed the doors to the gala open and stepped outside. The wind was rough and relentless as it whipped around. You didn’t remember it being this chilly when you arrived at the gala.

You looked around in search of Tony and at first you didn’t see him. There were reporters talking to a few familiar faces you recognized but none that you wanted.

Then you spotted him. He stood near the road on the sidewalk. The woman he was talking to, a pretty blonde, had her hand on his arm. She was being flirtatious. The smile on her lips bigger than what it needed to be. Her dress was a deep ruby red and the V in the chest was much deeper than yours.

Your breath hitched in your throat when you saw her lean in like she was going to kiss him. A sudden crack of thunder made you jump and your hand came up to cover your mouth.

I heard a crash of thunderThe earth shook in reply

Not wanting to see what you were sure was about to take place, you turned and hastily made your way back into the ballroom and to your table of friends.

You took your seat next to Steve, shaking your head when he asked you what was wrong. You picked up a flute of champagne and drank it a little quicker than what you should’ve.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Wanda could sense your sudden rush of negative emotions. It was bitter and nauseating.

“I’m-I’m fine.” You nodded, offering her a forced smile. She didn’t believe you but she let the topic drop.

Your foot began to bounce, tapping against the floor with the anxiety and fear that coursed through your body.

You heard a few of your teammates greet Tony but you kept your head turned the opposite way, pretending to be interested in a story Sam was sharing. You could hear Tony take his seat next to you and underneath the table, he placed his hand on your knee. He wasn’t sure if you had noticed his presence and he wanted to make sure you knew he was there for you.

You took his hand off of your knee and moved just a little bit away from him. This went unseen by the team. Tony became instantly concerned, unsure of what had happened.

“What’s wrong, buttercup?” He leaned over to whisper to you.

“Nothing.” You spoke through your teeth. You didn’t mean to sound so harsh but you couldn’t help it.

“Clearly it’s not nothing. What’s got you upset?” He kept his voice low enough so no one else could hear.

You turned your head to look at him, uncontrollable tears filling your eyes.

“Did you kiss her?”

His brows were furrowed together as he watched you. But when it sunk in that you had seen him outside with the journalist, his features softened.

“Come with me, Y/N.” He spoke normally, wanting everyone to hear his request. He knew you wouldn’t cause a scene, not in this setting. Maybe at the Tower, but not in public.

Reluctantly, you stood up, ignored his hand that he held out for you, and started moving towards the door to the bathrooms.

The two of you stepped out into a hallway. You eyed a few individuals standing outside of the women’s bathroom.

“Y/N, I didn’t kiss her.” He put his hand on your arm. You turned to face him, your jaw locked tightly.

“It looked like it.”

“But I didn’t.” He firmly shook his head. “I stopped her and told her that I was in the best relationship I had ever been in.”

“We’ve only been doing this for less than a week.” You muttered, sniffling.

“But I already know what we have is stronger than anything I’ve ever had before.” He took your hands, lacing his fingers between yours. “Buttercup, I’m a lot of things, but I’m not a cheater. You know that.”

You nodded stiffly, still feeling upset from what could’ve been. He let one of your hands go so he could cup your cheek.

A strange kind of magicRunning through my brain

“You mean the entire world to me, Y/N.”

“Okay, Tony.” You mumbled.

“No, it’s not okay. You do.” He leaned in to kiss your nose and then your lips. “I wouldn’t chance losing you for anything.”

Hearing those words made your heart soar. A happiness rushed through your veins, giving you a dopamine high you never wanted to come down from.

Feel like I’m in heavenOr going insane’

He kissed you once more. His hand fell from your face to slip around your waist. He pulled your body flush against his and started to move side to side with the gentle music coming from the ballroom.

You rested your cheek against his chest, your eyes closing.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. You have every right to get upset over something like that.” He kissed the top of your head with such a gentleness that you cherished. “You’re my world, buttercup.”

In his arms, you were happiest. You could stay there for the rest of your life and you’d be perfectly content. He had that way of making you feel complete just by holding you, whether it was after rough nights or when you were just feeling not like yourself. You felt complete with him, and that was something that had taken you way too long to realize.

Cause every time we touchI get this feeling

Taglist: @malena-stark @trenchcoatedwings @coolgeekywolf @wayward-dream @tone-stark