#I have a thousand little tiny quirks I could share!!!!

[technovillain]

Do you have any characterization thibgs that won't make it into the story?(little things like fears, anxieties, favorite things to do, favorite people, things they do when their relaxed/chilling out etc) I rlly love giving characters little quirks or background buzz but it dosent always make it into comics because of the plot/medium/etc so I'm curious!

OHH yes this is something I love doing!! A few of them have slowly become things that are lightly mentioned in the story because I got attached to them but yes!

I've written a lot about Calvin's family, and as far as I know, most of that will ever make it into the comic save for what was mentioned there in the end of Ep6 and another one-off mention I've put in Ep10. You can read into his family drama by following links through character relationships on the Wykowski family's toyhouse pages. [link] I also decided he has a weird hobby where instead of going to therapy, he makes weird abstract paintings about his feelings and then throws them in the trash. I will never show those in the comic lol.

Mina has made friendship bracelets/jewelry for her whole family. She's good at the metalwork/knot-tying/resin work involved in it. I was originally going to include these on her sibs and one on Ed too, but the outfits they ended up wearing would cover them. She also has an interest in sociology and psychology and has taken a number of digital courses on them recently, paid for thanks to her internship with Umbers Inc.

Edwin has a hobby involving classifying plants. It isn't really scientific classification per se. He has his own complicated system that only makes sense to him, but he'd love to try and explain it to you. He also is a huge fan of all things food (thus him being very overzealous ordering food in Ep4) despite not being able to eat food. Sometimes he will use disposable income to try and cook in his apartment. It is...questionable at best because he has to work on flavor alone and has no sense for texture. His dream would be for everyone to describe everything they are eating in great detail to him.

[kittenofdoomage]

Sweetheart

Summary: Sometimes he's a hunting partner, sometimes he's... something else.

Pairing: John Winchester x female!reader

Word Count: 2060

Warnings: Backseat of the truck smut (including fingering, dirty talk, full penetrative sex), teasing, very little in the way of plot - 18+ content.

Ao3 (over 800 fics to read!)

Author's Note: Yeah, I know I don't post much here anymore, but I'm having a crappy day, and I feel like some other people might be having crappy days too so I thought some John PWP might cheer someone up, I dunno 🤣

You had always prided yourself on your ability to cope without anyone else around, but there was something about John Winchester that kept dragging you back to his side, although this time it was the final death of your beloved Camry that had put you firmly in the passenger seat of his truck. He had been fresh off of a ghoul hunt, and you were planning on chasing down a spirit in Kentucky - turning down his help would have been rude. It didn’t hurt that the man was pretty to look at, even if he was hard to get a read on. The last few times you had hunted together had ended in some of the most fantastic sex you could have ever imagined but since he’d come to your rescue, he had barely looked your way.

“Have I pissed you off?” you asked, watching him from your side of the front seat.

He spared you a glance that lasted only a second, and his lips twitched as if they wanted to curl into a smile. “Not at all, sweetheart. It’s just been a long few months.” You pulled a face, looking out of the window at the rolling corn fields, illuminated by the setting sun. John chuckled, tilting his head slightly. “Was I giving you the impression you had?”

��I dunno,” you sighed with a shrug. “You’re normally a little more… interested.”

“We got a thousand miles to cover,” he pointed out. “I figured you’d wanna get some shuteye.”

“I’m good for a few hours.”

“You can put the radio on if you want.”

He wasn’t getting it, though you hadn’t met a man yet that was good with hints. Sighing again, you leaned forward, switching the radio on and fiddling with the dial until you found a station playing something you liked. John didn’t seem to care about the music, focusing on the road ahead as it darkened once the sun had disappeared behind the corn.

Finding a motel on the back roads he was taking was next to impossible, so when he pulled onto a secluded side road and parked up a few hours later, you didn’t complain. The truck had a back seat in addition to the front bench, and he gave you the choice of which you wanted, and it was all you could do not to suggest sharing. Instead, you climbed over and tried to get comfortable underneath a blanket, attempting to actually sleep when all you wanted was laying less than two feet away.

Your fantasies were running wild, leaving you uncomfortably aroused, replaying the last time he’d actually touched you over and over in your mind. It wasn’t in you to come out and say it, to ask him for what you really wanted, and your fingers itched to take care of the problem, the little devil voice in the back of your mind encouraging you on, promising he wouldn’t notice, though you probably wouldn’t have minded if he did. Still, you didn’t move, glaring daggers into the back of the seat concealing him from your sight.

After your tenth heavy sigh of frustration, you heard him shift. “You okay back there?”

“Mmhmm.”

A beat passed, then he moved again, dark eyes suddenly peering at you over the top of the driver’s side of the bench seat, one eyebrow quirked high. “You don’t sound okay.”

Your mind scrambled for an excuse, avoiding the obvious answer of telling him the truth. “It’s a little cold,” you mumbled, shrugging lightly.

He huffed out a tiny laugh, then disappeared from sight, rocking the whole truck a second later as he hoisted himself over the top and into the back of the cab. You squeaked when he tugged you out of the way with a gruff “scoot over” and settled behind you, warm arms encircling you from behind.

“Better?” he asked.

You shivered at the close contact, feeling him press along the whole length of your body, one hand splayed possessively over your belly. Outside the truck, it started to rain, drops splattering heavily against the windows. “Yeah,” you breathed, hoping he couldn’t sense the quiver in your tone.

“Shame we didn’t come across a motel,” John murmured, hot breath fanning across your throat, the sensation making a beeline to your cunt and your insides clenched. “This ain’t so bad though, right, sweetheart?”

Forcing your eyes shut, you closed your eyes, trying not to think about how easy it would be for him to take you like this. His body was so warm against yours, and even with the material between you, you imagined you could feel his cock pressing into you from behind, inspiring a fresh wave of moisture at your core. John’s nose brushed the shell of your ear, and you couldn’t help the tiny noise that escaped your lips, a moan he didn’t miss.

“What was that?” he asked with a playful tone, the hand on your belly slipping just a little lower.

“Nothing,” you exhaled, shaking your head.

“Hmmm, it didn't sound like nothing.”

He was fucking with you now, you were sure of it. “I can’t sleep,” you complained, still keeping your eyes closed. He hummed again, lips on the back of your neck now, hand gently tugging your lower half harder into his body. “You’re too…”

“Too what?” he teased.

You groaned, finding it increasingly hard to resist the urge to grind back against him. “John,” you mewled, almost choking on air.

“Thought you were cold, sweetheart?” he grunted, pulling your ass flush with his crotch, letting you feel the outline of his erection through the fabric of his pants and yours. You gasped, grabbing the edge of the seat underneath you as you let your body react, pushing back into him.

“Stop calling me that,” you whined.

“What, sweetheart?” He chuckled, lips against your ear again. “Why would I do that when I know how fucking wet it gets you?” The moan you let loose this time was louder, and he laughed, letting his fingers brush underneath the front of your pants. “You think I didn’t notice you squirming away all day? What were you thinking about? Maybe the last time we saw each other?” You nodded, biting your lips when his fingertips crept underneath your waistband. “Hmmm, it’s been on my mind too.”

You writhed in his hold, desperate for his touch to be lower, but he seemed intent on teasing you. Another needy gasp of his name made him laugh again, and you whimpered, pinned in his strong hold. His fingers made short work of the buttons on your jeans, bypassing the thin cotton panties covering you until he was brushing against your wet folds, a low moan reverberating against your ear.

“Goddamn, I forgot how wet this sweet little pussy could get,” he rumbled. “Haven’t forgotten how good you felt wrapped around my cock though, sweetheart. Been losing sleep thinking about it.”

His words made you whimper, and you arched your back as a single fingertip found your clit, circling it as he pressed his lips to your neck. He kept moving his hand, inspiring a shudder that ran up the length of your spine before descending again, and when you parted your thighs to try and give him more room, he chuckled.

“That’s it, sweetheart.”

The pet name did exactly what he wanted it to do, and you felt your entire body tighten in anticipation as his hand dug further into your pants, two thick digits finding your soaked entrance. He didn’t hesitate, sinking them into you as far as he could, restricted by the denim but still enough to make you cry out his name in ecstasy. When he pulled his hand away in the next moment, you went to protest, only for him to tug at your pants until they were slipping over your hips.

“Get these off,” he ordered, and you rushed to obey, barely noticing him reaching for his own belt. The backseat of the truck was bigger than the average car, but it still restricted your movements, and it took a few seconds to push your pants down, kicking your sneakers off so you could discard them entirely. John didn’t even bother with his boots, shoving his pants down to his ankles before lifting, forcing you to roll onto your back.

You looked up at him breathlessly, aware of his cock pressing against your inner thigh. “John -”

“Ssh,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss you as he reached between your bodies. Instinctively, you lifted your knees, parting your thighs as much as you could, moaning when you felt the thick head of his cock brush through your folds. “You ready for me, sweetheart?” he asked, teasing you with the threat of penetration, letting your slick coat his skin.

You couldn’t force the words out, nodding as you stared up at him wide-eyed, feeling the throb in your core. He grinned, kissing you again as he pushed forward, breaching you with one hard stroke, burying himself deep inside. The sound you made was muffled by his lips, and you threw your arms around his neck as he slipped his hands underneath your shoulders, letting his weight pin you down. It was almost suffocating but only in a way that made you feel incredibly satisfied.

He remained still for a moment, looking down at you with an odd look on his face, but you were too drunk on him to give it much thought, squirming in an effort to make him move. When you whined needily, John grinned, rolling his hips into you to let you feel how deep he was. “Impatient?” he chided softly, kissing along your jaw.

You keened quietly, glancing up at the window as the rain got a little harder against, seeing nothing but darkness beyond the glass. “Something like that,” you whispered back, sliding one hand across the back of his neck to pull him into a deeper kiss, rocking your hips to encourage him to move.

He finally started to withdraw, sinking in again before he could escape the clutch of your slick channel entirely, and you moaned on his reentry, trying to find purchase on the leather with your feet. When he slammed into your sweet spot, your toes curled and you moaned into his mouth, breaking the kiss to cry out.

“Gonna get you in a bed tomorrow night, sweetheart,” he panted, moving faster, harder, punching the breath out of you with each thrust. You released your hold on him to grab at the headrest with one hand and the door above you with the other, whining through the build up of pleasure as he lifted enough to get better leverage behind his strokes. It was too easy to come apart for him, but he wasn’t satisfied with how quickly you broke. His hand dipped between your bodies, and when his thumb brushed your clit, you cried out, bucking onto him, tossing your head back.

“John!” you gasped, chest heaving.

He grinned, rubbing the tiny bud with the calloused pad of his thumb in time with his thrusts. “Just let go,” he crooned. “Gimme everything you got.”

With a high-pitched cry, you came, arching up as you clung to the headrest. John growled, taking the opportunity to slide his arm underneath your back, fucking you through your orgasm almost like you were a ragdoll. His climax was hot on the heels of yours, drawn out by the pulsing of your walls around him, and he groaned into your throat as he spilled into you, slowing to a stop as his seed dribbled out around his shaft.

Both of you were still and silent as you came down from your respective highs. He nuzzled at your throat, slowly letting you fall back onto the seat, still buried deep. You made no attempt to move, content with the weight of him inside and on top of you, warm from head to toe.

“You said something about a bed,” you mumbled, rolling your head to look at him as he gazed at you.

“Tomorrow night,” he replied, smoothing his hand over your shirt to cup your breast through the fabric. “As spacious as this truck is, I wanna see you all spread out for me.” He leered as you moaned, cunt clenching around his renewing erection. “Sweetheart.”

I love feedback, btw 😘

[g-h-0-s-t-3-d]

A Gift to Remember - Soap x Myles (OC)

A/N1: My gift to @grianm ,, my best friend of almost seven years now RAHHHH. Here's her OC Myles (who will be paired with Soap in the later chapters of Silhouettes and Songbirds hehe) with the 141 on her birthday.

Pairings: John "Soap" MacTavish x Myles "Orange" Prower (OC), Simon "Ghost" Riley x Wren "Hawk" Yarrow (OC)

Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, SFW, Military Themes (Call of Duty)

Days off for the 141 were few and far between, so all of them being on leave was damn near a miracle. A miracle Soap would appreciate much more if he could just pick the right gift.

“I dinnae know what to tell ye!” he exclaims, his deep accent showing with his growing frustration. “She hates gifts. But I’d be a right bastard not to get her anything.”

“A drink and a good night,” Simon quips, chuckling ever so quietly. “Always worked for you before.”

Soap frowns, unimpressed. “Aye, for the hookers.” Simon only shrugs playfully, earning even more of a reaction from the Scot.

“Leave him be, Simon,” Wren cajoles him, but not without winking at Soap. “He’s just nervous for his girlfriend’s birthday.”

“I’m not,” he huffs, crossing his arms. “Last I checked, Tiny over here is the only one making a big deal.” He gestures towards Wren, who only shrugs her shoulders and grins innocently. Soap groans and begins to pace. “Ye two hens have it easy - yer already hitched with a kid!”

“I never gave her gifts, idiot,” Simon deadpans, “Won ‘er over with my effortless charm.” Wren snorts at that, elbowing her husband pointedly.

“Yeah, right.”

But the corners of Simon’s eyes crinkle as he looks down at Wren - his Wren - and Soap can’t help but yearn for that same camaraderie, that same companionship, with Myles.

“This is important,” he sighs. “She needs to know I care.”

“She does, dumbass,” Wren replies. “Tell ya what. Give her those sketches you’re always doing.”

Soap’s face goes tomato-red. “Ye know about those?” Wren snickers in response.

“ ‘Course I do. What kinda friend would I be if I didn’t occasionally go through your stuff?” She teases him easily, relishing in the irritated response she gets from Soap, who squares up his shoulders and takes a step toward her. Simon steps in before he can get any closer.

“Relax, Johnny. I saw ‘em. You left ‘em out in our bunk one night. You’re not very discreet.” Soap’s mouth snaps shut, and his gaze flicks to the ground. Just when he thinks Simon is going to tease him relentlessly, the tall Brit quirks his lip up into a small smile. “They’re not shit. She’d like ‘em.”

“They are shit,” Soap responds in surprise, shuffling on his feet. “I did them too fast, the proportions are off-”

“But you did them,” Wren cuts in. “That’s all that matters.”

Soap thinks for a moment. With a small boost in confidence, he nods and smiles gently.

“Aye.”

–

Myles’ party was held that night at the Rileys’, if only because little Johnny had pointedly demanded to see his uncle that shared his name. Soap and Gaz certainly weren’t complaining, as any night at the bakery always meant a surplus of food.

A few drinks in and Price was already telling war stories, Laswell listening intently to each one as if she hadn’t heard them a thousand times before. Gaz was focused intently on the game displayed on the television, rooting loudly for a team none of them had even heard of. Myles sat peacefully watching Soap play excitedly with his miniature, baby Johnny always enamored with the Scot and his antics.

Simon sighs contentedly as he watches his son interact with his teammate, a warmth rekindled in his gaze that he thought he’d lost a long time ago. Though Simon had always been a man of few words, Wren can see his happiness radiating from his affectionate gaze, his relaxed posture, his loose movements. She only smiles up at him, the two of them communicating silently through bright eyes and contented breaths. Simon extends his arm out ever so slightly - a silent invitation - and Wren gladly accepts, stepping closer to him and settling against his side.

And after they’d all sat down to a big dinner and gathered around the lavishly-decorated cake Wren had baked just for Myles, Soap found himself alone with her on the back patio while festivities wrapped up inside. His heart beating frantically in his chest, he steps up to her awkwardly.

“Hey, Lass,” he begins, unable to hold back a smile when Myles turns to face him, bright eyes and radiant grin threatening to crumble his world at the seams. She says nothing, but she watches him, intrigued, as he offers a small, wrapped orange box to her. “I know ye aren’t big on parties, but I hope ye had fun tonight. I, uh… I drew these… for ye, Hen. Was hopin’ to touch ‘em up a bit, but I never got the chance. I hope ye still like ‘em.”

If Soap wasn’t blushing before, he definitely was now, hyper-analyzing the way Myles let her hands linger on his just a little longer before taking the gift and opening it carefully to reveal a small notebook full of intricate drawings of her, of them, of the team. She loves the hopeful grin Soap gives her as he watches her flip through the pages, tracing over the sketches with her fingers and noting every finite detail he’d so carefully drawn in.

"Happy birthday, Hen."

Myles was never big on birthday parties. But maybe, she muses with a smile that lights up Soap’s whole damn world, this one wasn’t so bad.

A/N2: happy birthday girl i love you and tumblr is honestly the most fitting place to post this like its so real

[bobaheadshark]

Nashuri - Roses

A nashuri drabble, based on the word prompt: roses

(i.e. due to some grief going on in my personal life, i’ve had five weeks worth or more of writer’s block, and this was what I could manage)

Rated: G/T

————————

“Roses really smell like pooh-pooh ooh…” Shuri sings, very off key.

“This does not make sense. ‘Down to Mars’ girl. Mars is above us. We cannot be down to Mars, when mars is in constant orbit above our planet.”

“It’s just a song, Namor.”

“Yes, a very catchy song. A, how do you say it in your age, a banger-bop.”

“That is not how we say it, but okay.”

OutKast keep singing about leaning a bit closer, and it’s two in the morning, the lab is a little cold because of the delicate cores and material they’re working with, and Namor is obviously grumpy because he hasn’t eaten anything in hours, but Shuri thinks for the first time in a long time she might, possibly, be having fun.

The Vibranium power cell hovers on its tiny dias, glowing blue and purple, even more compact and efficient than when they first started working on it. Two kingdoms, sharing expertise, working for something greater than themselves.

And nobody said sharing expertise couldn’t be fun.

Shuri sways gently along to the song. Namor puts up a front of not being enthused, but he’s tapping one foot perfectly in time with the beat. Shuri finds herself wanting to engage him, has the mad impulse to even take his hands and boogie along, so she stops herself by dancing a respectful distance away.

“Had a lot of time to ponder songs while you were underwater, eh?”

“I got a gramophone right when it came out.”

She’s sure he didn’t mean for it to come out sounding so defensive. It makes the corners of her mouth quirk up, despite herself.

“You are so funny.”

“I keep up with the trends.”

“Okay, boomer.”

“Shuri,” he says, warningly. With as much bite as a sunfish would a sea snail.

In one over enthused move, Shuri bumps the side of the lab table, knocking a vibranium core slightly off balance. It’s in no danger of actually falling off, since Griot is programmed to follow her movement and constantly nanobots are at the ready to form a protective net.

But Namor lunges anyway. Half of his body ends up knocked into hers, one arm outstretched to catch the rock where it would’ve fallen, and logically, exploded.

The lab goes into darkness. The song, silenced.

The muscled bulk of Namor’s shoulder is hard against her lab coat, his bicep like a tree branch where she’s ended up tangled up against him, lifted up on her toes where he is pushed upwards. He seems partially caught in an attempt to push her away from danger, and half to take the brunt of the impact where the core would’ve detonated on the floor.

“What are you doing?” Shuri asks, blinking spots out of her eyes. She hadn’t even realised how bright it was.

“Helping you.”

“I was fine.” She swallows the lump in her throat. Tilts her chin at a display panel, glowing softly in the distance. “Built in failsafes.”

“I know.”

Neither of them moves. She thinks they probably should.

The lights stay low. The vibranium core stains the world blue.

She can feel him breathing; remembers the lightning fast way he crossed the room to her, even though her reflexes are just as fast as his, even though she has her panther habit on, even though she’s done this a thousand times before.

Shuri stretches an arm out gingerly, and plucks the core back from his hand to put on the table. He pulls slightly away and stands straight. He doesn’t avert his eyes, or anything like that. He just looks at her, and waits.

The moment stretches out too long between them. He’s close enough she can see the uneven direction that his beard is trimmed, with so many hours they’ve spent up here.

She leans in, and he does too, mouth parted like he wants to share a secret. But she bails at the last minute, acting like she wanted to move the vibranium piece back to safety.

“Griot, resume song.”

The beat comes back on, and the lab with it. Namor blinks once, then twice, understanding her meaning.

(And what is my meaning? Shuri asks herself. Half fearing the answer.)

Neither of them says anything, falling back into careful syncopation as they fuss with the nano batteries. There is only the sound of music in her lab and the careful hush of quiet work. The smell of molten silver and something aquatic from him that she can’t place, like open sky and dark water.

As he holds a piece in place for her to solder a component tight, she thinks to herself that maybe she didn’t make it up in her head.

That he once told her about the chucum blossom and the tortoise shell; and maybe he wasn’t really joking, when he called her something like a smoking star.

What does that mean? She’d asked.

Precious beyond compare. He’d said back, with the wealth of an entire world in his eyes.

———————

Last few lines are, afaik, from flower song, an Ancient Mayan poem

[hostilecityshowdown]

I'd love love love to hear more about your version of Kevin Nash from that one Heartbreak Hotel fic 🙏

shaking diesel in my teeth and dragging him under the cut

chapter one • additional notes • credit for the AU, lore and character development, original fics, and accompanying material in the series: @cyberslam

this guy. while my little pocket dimension within mango's heartbreak hotel AU is his main 'verse, almost every other time i write diesel, i'm just writing HHAU diese in yet another AU. you can actually thank slater for this one!! they love him so much and are so inspiring for me, and if i could i'd churn out fics based on our conversations and their OCs and headcanons like a machine. slater i am holding ur hand.

in terms of the patented* Diesel Writing Process, his muse is headstrong, stubbourn, and self-centered, and most of the work i do when writing involves convincing him to share the spotlight. my offshoot of mango's universe would be all flowery prose, cerebral horror, and... diesel, suffering largely alone on centre stage, if i couldn't coerce this big lug to cooperate. some aspects of that are still preserved, but i've been able to avoid writing all my chapters in this world as solitary experiences; silent hill one and two deeply impacted me as a tiny xentex, and i always want to write that slow, surreal, murky trudge through dreams and summoned memories laid atop the burnt-out husk of reality that the SH2 hotel section, especially, captures.

*patent pending

diesel loves being the star of his own show, but so does the heartbreak kid - shawn's a begrudgingly necessary fulcrum for diesel, once he decides he has to be. my diesel muse genuinely suffers from OCD, and projecting his compulsions onto other people is an unhealthy coping mechanism of his. shawn likes the attention and benefits enough to encourage and enable this in his own ways, until he's able to take over performing compulsive rituals for diesel, becoming a mandated aspect of the rituals themselves. i wrote an example of this in diesel's testosterone injection, and shawn's absence will leave an impact on diesel's compulsive thoughts and behaviours in the ongoing narrative. shawn likes when people are dependent on him (to his preferred degree, not for anything... substantial. he just likes feeling special.) sure, but the heartbreak kid and, inherently, the hotel, need that dependency.

diesel also collects matchbooks from hotels, motels, rest stops, tourism welcome areas, reservation smoke shops and other native-operated establishments, and casinos, which he started as vinnie vegas. dallas collects poker chips, and kim collects ashtrays, cigarette boxes, and dice. studd much more passively collects coasters and glass bottles (especially tiny ones) but competes with kim for dice. and scotty flamingo, the most notable member of the diamond mine (duh /j)... he likes to swipe cosmetics, towels, notepads - anything free! and sometimes even things that aren't free. he doesn't collect but outright hoards various forms of tickets, too, but that predates the stable. i was going to include a huge section on these habits, quirks, and compulsions, but... in the end, most of that was cut. it detracted from the atmosphere too much, and it started to spoil plans i have, which you can see the beginning hints of in that heartbreak hotel branded ashtray in my most recent chapter contribution.

diesel's muse solidified for me very quickly and easily, and i barely even need to keep notes on him. big wolf keeps track of himself and comes to me with whatever i need when i need it, or chases me down and demands i devolve into a crazed, sweating, dizzied madman, writing twelve thousand+ words in a single sitting with no breaks. always something with this guy. in a diesel/undertaker fic that will eventually see the light of day, i write in his beloved ford bronco. it has a wolf howling sticker on the trunk, an Idle No More bumper sticker, genuine leather upholstery, leather conditioner and a rolodex (with hundreds of names, numbers, and addresses of people who died of AIDS and their loved ones, roadside memorials for 2SLGBTQIA+ people and missing and murdered indigenous women, and various gay clubs, bars, bathhouses, safehouses, shops, farms, and other gay establishments - including many that are defunct even by diesel's modern time) in the glove box, endless atlases for different states and provinces he swaps out as needed (most of these go with him to his truck cabs as needed), and a dedicated, custom case for depeche mode CDs and cassettes. i hope that gives a better overview of the guy he is than i could ever provide in mere words alone /j

[lady-ofmidnight]

So I got bored and decided to go through my blog to edit my tags.

Then I found this.

It's been over a month and no one else will ask anything from here (I think) so I decided to fill out the rest.

📷 a quote by Jane Austin. "I declare after all there is no enjoyment like reading!" I set it to a flower background and it is so true

🍫 chocolate. Dark chocolate definitely. White chocolate to bite on, but no milk chocolate. Ever.

✨️ for privacy reasons I won't share

🎵 A thousand years by Christina Perri. My friend made me watch the twilight movies with her. Suffice to say, there is a reason as to why I never read past the first book.

✏️ Yes! It's on Ao3. Well, the ones that I edited anyway.

😏 no.

💛 yep! One in each ear. I got them when I was six and I've been gathering earrings ever since. Currently I'm on a butterfly phase!

🐰 why they do what they do. What's the reason.

🍪 white chocolate macadamia nut. The white chocolate is tasty and so good, but then sometimes you find the nuts, which is usually annoying, but tasy in its own way. It just takes time to get used to the quirks.

🐶 cat. 1000000%

🎧 depends, computer=headphones. IPad=earbuds. Phone=wait until at home to blast at moderate volume.

🌼 짜장면 은 다머것어. Translation, "however I ate all of my black bean noodles".

🙃 if you mix citric acid, baking soda and just enough water to mix it all together without it going all volcano at you, then putting it into an airtight container, said container will blow up in 5 minutes.

🦉 night owl. I detest the evil day star.

🧸 like I said before, I don't usually take naps, but when I do, I do it at the foot of my bed. Just the foot. I don't know why.

🏳️‍🌈 i'm biromamtic

🦋 as I said before, but edited; DO NOT TOUCH. I hate when people touch me without permission. I'm not a spider but I get this uncomfortable back tingle if I feel something that could be a threat near the back of my neck.

👖 sweatpants. Not the most dignified, but they sure are comfortable. Plus, they have ✨️pockets✨️.

🥤 as someone somewhere once said, "starbucks is dessert in a cup". However, I do like their fruit tea's. I can make my own coffee if I do so desire it.

🧡 neon yellow. IT'S TOO BRIGHT!!! Plus, it looks like the evil day star.

💎 my fancy tea kettle. It was a splurge and I don't regret it. I love my tea.

☕️ the last question clearly specifies that I can not live without good tea. No I am not British. I'm Korean American.

🦖 Sabre tooth cat. It's a cat. Need I say more?

🌙 long enough to realize that I am crazy (in a good way)

🌴 I got a tiny conch shell from a tourist shop. Pretty sure it's fake but it looks pretty on my shelf.

🐸 a mix of goth and dark academia. Not sure how it works but I know I look good so *shrug*

🔮 freelance writer. I'd love to be allowed to write at my own pace for a living.

💙 single and proud

🌿 comfy shirt, comfy sweatpants, comfy slippers, comfy robe, low ponytail bun. It means that I don't have anything to do. Who wouldn't love that?

🎤 all of the songs from frozen. I was obsessed with it when it first came out.

🤎 ash brown with natural highlights that are only visible under the light of the evil day star.

💌 when I need to rant, sometimes it's to myself, sometimes it's to one of my glass animals. The rubber duck method works. I can't code but it helps with plot-holes.

💄 for fancy occasions I go mostly all out. Hair, makeup, the whole shebang. Usually, however, I can't bother for more than a little lip color and eybag covering.

🌸 can't think of the best one but ironically the worst one was "잘했다" from my mom. It stands for "great job" but the tone she said it in was really sarcastic. I had just broken one of her fancy plates. Again.

💞 @moringmark great art. I understand a good deal about the owl house even though I've never watched an actual episode.

~ 💖 ASK GAME 💖 ~

📷 What’s set as your phone’s lockscreen?

🍫 Cheese or chocolate?

✨ Do you have any nicknames?

🎵 Last song you listened to?

✏️ Have you ever written fanfiction?

😏 Are you on discord?

 💛 Do you have any piercings?

🐰 What do you think says the most about a person?

🍪 If you were a cookie, what kind would you be?

🐶 Are you more of a dog person or a cat person?

🎧 Headphones or earbuds?

🌼 What’s the last thing you said out loud?

🙃 What’s a weird fact that you know?

🦉 Are you a morning person or a night owl?

🧸 Favorite place to nap?

🏳️‍🌈 Are you a member of the LGBTQIA+ community?

🦋 Describe yourself in three words.

👖 Jeans or sweatpants?

🥤 What’s your go-to Starbucks order?

🧡 A color you can’t stand?

💎 What’s your most prized possession?

☕ Coffee or tea?

🦖 Favorite extinct animal?

🌙 How long have you been on tumblr?

🌴 Desert island item?

🐸 Describe your aesthetic.

🔮 What’s your dream job?

💙 Relationship status?

🌿 Describe your favorite outfit.

🎤 Is there a song you know all the lyrics to?

🤎 What color is your hair?

💌 Do you talk to yourself?

💄 Do you wear makeup?

🌸 Best compliment you ever received?

💞 @ your favorite blog.

Reblogs are appreciated!

[wardenred]

Angstober 2: Anxiety

A direct sequel for that first one, with a different POV.

“But it should be Norra, then, not I,” was the first thing Alita said when she heard her uncle’s proposal. It only made sense, didn’t it? Norra was three years older and already yearning for marriage, except she frowned at all the courtship opportunities their cluster of little villages offered. The odds here may be good, but the goods are odd, she kept saying, and even though she sometimes allowed one of the few upstanding young men to accompany her to a holiday market, she always returned from such outings with a frown. She dreamt of a different life, one of balls and splendor, the kind they had in the faraway, nebulous before.

Alita, meanwhile, was too young to remember most of it, and whatever hazy memories surfaced sometimes—usually when she was sick or in pain—she could never apply them to the person she was. She had no desire for balls, royal hunts, or leisurely salon mornings. A homebody by nature, she got overwhelmed even by the country fair after the first hour. Romance held no appeal to her, either. Whether it was because she was a late bloomer at seventeen or because it was merely not for her remained to be seen.

At any rate, she neither needed nor wanted the capital. The thought of her uncle going there was unsettling enough. Who would she play chess with? Who would teach her magic? Who would coax her out of the house for long walks down the river bank, pointing out birds and squirrels to each other? Still, she knew she couldn’t reasonably beg him to stay, not when the King himself had traveled all the way here to fetch him. But at least everything else would remain familiar once he left.

If she came with him, there would be no more comfort.

She opened her mouth to start explaining, but the look on her uncle’s face stopped her: urgent and high-strung, much like the turmoil bubbling behind her sternum.

“No,” he said gently. “I cannot take Norra. She would enjoy the capital a little too much, I should think; get ensnared by its joys and glitter. Under other circumstances, I wouldn’t wish anything less for her. But this is no pleasure trip, Alita. I won’t force you to come if you don’t want to, but I have to say this: I need you by my side. Because—” He leaned in, and Alita was struck by how pale his skin was. “I don’t trust the King.”

Alita’s eyes widened. Her stomach churned, and she hugged herself tight—for comfort as much as to conceal the trembling in her fingers. How could he say such a thing? The King was—he was everything to the country. He was the one who kept the Corruption at bay, who appeased the gods on the behalf of all people, who controlled the ebb and flow of magic under the great moons. No reason could feasibly exist to mistrust him.

Otherwise, they were all doomed.

Besides, a treacherous voice whispered at the back of her mind, in the unlikely event there’s any truth to this brash claim, wouldn’t it be kinder of Uncle Rythan to let me stay home?

Her uncle reached out to put a hand on her elbow. His fingers weren’t still, either. “I know I’m asking a lot of you, Alita. You don’t even have to decide right now. Dwell on it until morning, if you have to. I would of course prefer that you got some sleep instead, but...” His mouth quirked in a tiny lopsided smile, a sad smudge of mirth. “We are too alike, you and I, for me to seriously suggest it.”

Alita drew a long breath and counted to five before releasing it. “What would be required of me?” She could barely hear her own voice over the pounding in her ears.

“Be there. Listen. Watch. Share your thoughts with me, but only when we’re certain no one’s eavesdropping.” Uncle Rythan hesitated before adding, “And should I say so, ride home and help Norra assume permanent command of the estate as the new lady.”

Alita wished she could say she didn’t understand the implications. A thousand awful scenarios swirled in her head, each more catastrophic than the last. She tried to throttle them for now. Sleep indeed would be elusive tonight, anyway. She would get to untangle those terrors at night, with her diary, and that pretty green ink that smelled like peppermint, and probably calming tea.

But out of all the horrible futures she could envision, the one where her uncle ventured off alone looked the worst by far.

“I’ll go,” she said. A shiver ran up her spine, like an echo from his sigh of relief.

[yee-fxcking-haw]

•Love Me Tender•

Summary: After waiting, watching, and wanting, Tamaki finally has a way to get to you. He's willing to do use some questionable methods, make deals with shifty friends, whatever it takes. He'll have you.

Pairing: Pro Hero Tamaki Amajiki x FemReader (both 18+)

Warnings: Yandere behavior, stalking, coercion, sabotage, manipulation, hard dom Tamaki, slight brat reader, mostly sub reader, unprotected sex, virginity loss, oral sex (female receiving), tentacle play (oral, vaginal, anal, gagging), bondage (with tentacles), mild dumbification, degradation, spit play, cum play, wittle bit of bloodplay, creampie, marking, possession kink, collaring. Kinda-sorta dub-con (not really imo but warning just in case)

Word Count: 11,576

A/N: Jesus fucking christ I did it.

Part One: Porcelain Obsession

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

   Tamaki awoke painfully this morning, body aching and covered in dried sweat. It wasn't a feeling to be proud of, but it was a feeling he cherished. 

   Your stolen underwear is clutched in his hand still, like a lifeline. It still smells just a little bit like you… but not enough. He couldn't feel you or taste you or hold you. He had to figure something out, quickly. He had to find a way to make you his. 

   Luckily, Tamaki knows exactly how to make that happen…

***                                         

  You hang up your apron with a deep sigh, wiping sweat off your forehead with the back of your hand. Thank god it's only a half day, you finally have an afternoon off, a day to spend by yourself. 

   You bid your coworkers farewell and head out of the shop. You wander home, earbuds in as you try to drown out the noise of the city. Once you're home, you notice a small box on your doorstep. 

   It's a pretty little gold box with purple ribbon, a tiny note is attached to the top. The scribbled writing reads,

   "I thought this would look pretty on you, I'm sorry about the weird exit last night. I'd like to take you to get some coffee to make up for it, if you'll let me." - Tamaki

   Your heart flutters a bit at the note, you had deduced you were nothing more than a charity case. Him walking you home was just what he felt was fair in exchange for the use of your phone, he didn't really… like you? Did he? 

   His exit was just a little bit strange, he seemed almost panicked. You wanted to ask if everything was ok, but figure it best to stay out of a hero's business. Who knows what door you'd be opening if you started to ask too many questions.

   Beneath his note is a phone number, obviously his. You can't call him right away, it might seem desperate, but you can open the box. 

   When the lid comes off, you gasp quietly at what's hidden inside. On a delicate silver chain sits one lovely little pearl. You stand there, amazed and confused. Wondering why on earth somebody like Suneater would leave such a precious little gift for you. 

***

   You called the number left on the note about an hour after receiving it. As soon as Tamaki picks up the phone your heart leaps into your throat. 

   "I didn't think y-you'd call." He laughs afterwards, but you can hear traces of genuine anxiety underneath. 

   "Well, what kind of an asshole would I be if I didn't call back the hero that saved me from a lonely walk home?" Your face crinkles up at your horrid attempt at flirting. 

   He doesn't seem to mind, though. He gives you a sweet laugh, putting some of your nerves at ease. 

   "So, uh- coffee?" He wonders. 

   "I'd love to, I just got off work, but I imagine you're busy doing hero stuff. We can-"

   "No I'm not busy." He says quickly, his urgency makes you smile. He's almost boyish in his approach, and it's very charming. 

   Somehow, between the two of you suffering your way through the conversation, you set a time for coffee.

***

    Tamaki makes a quick stop before meeting you, visiting a horrid friend of his in an alleyway a hero should never be unless he's kicking someone's ass. 

   His "friend" turns out to be a little more than your average criminal. He's a wicked looking man, with a mess of black hair and an abundance of scarring littering his body. 

   They call him Dabi. 

   "So what's the plan here? Am I just scarin' the poor girl or do I get to have some real fun?" His smile is devilish, and his eyes are telling. 

   It makes Tamaki's skin crawl, he stares daggers at the man leaning against the brick of the alleyway. 

   "If you touch her, I will gut you like a fucking fish." Tamaki says, he's full of rage, but he says it so calmly, so matter of fact. 

   "You can try." Dabi laughs, "You forget how easy it is to cook seafood." 

   Tamaki stands there for a brief second, watching the villain, weighing his options. 

   "I'm not here for banter, can you do the job or not?" His words are clipped, strangely articulate compared to his usual stutter. 

   "Yeah whatever, I got nothin' planned for tonight, and I do love making little girls scream." He tilts his head back against the wall as Tamaki turns to stalk away. 

   "Hey, Suneater." Dabi calls out with a lazy voice. 

   Tamaki freezes and keeps his back to Dabi. He turns his head to the side and waits for him to speak. 

   "Send her my way when you're done with her." If Tamaki had less of the public eye on him, he would have slit Dabi's throat then and there. 

   Instead, he swallows his rage as he tosses a hefty wad of cash over his shoulder. 

   "Don't be late." 

***

   "You always just drink it black? Not even a little bit of sugar?' You ask, astounded by Tamaki's ability to drink the bitter liquid without any sweetener.

   "Sugar is kind of useless for me, I try to eat things that'll help me with m-my quirk." He explains, his deep eyes wander while he talks, like he's watching for something. 

   That must come with being a hero. 

   "Does coffee help your quirk?" You ask, a smile playing at your lips when you see him frown at his drink. 

   "No, but it helps me focus."

   You nod playfully before taking a sip, the cafe he's brought you to is incredibly charming. It's not an overly hip establishment, it's just a sweet little hidden gem. Tucked away into a forgotten street, it gives the impression that it's a well kept secret between two best friends. 

   "Do you feel like people ask too much of you?" You question. It slips out so quickly, running away from you after launching out of your lips. 

   Your hatred for small talk gets the best of you and you jump the gun, as always. You want to hide, but not before you apologise a thousand times for being too straightforward. 

   Tamaki looks at you thoughtfully, his eyes show that he's shocked, but not offended.

   "Sometimes. It can feel like people expect me t-to be the…" He pauses for a moment, mentally grasping for the right word. 

   "It feels like people expect Heroes to be this ultimate, universal band-aid. In a lot of ways, we are, but we're still h-human… I-I'm still human…" His voice slows down by the end of his sentence, like he's realized he might be over sharing. 

   But, you asked him, you wanted to know. You actually care about him? Every bone in his body is screaming at him to grab you, throw you over his shoulder and run away. He feels some carnal desire to just keep you. Hide you from every selfish asshole that would take advantage of the starstruck look in your beautiful eyes. 

   He can't, though… not yet. 

   "S-sorry…" He whispers. 

   And then, you reach across the table to take his hand in yours. He feels the contact all the up his arm, into his chest, into his heart. 

   So you do want him too. 

   "Please don't be sorry, I liked listening to you talk." You say quietly. 

   You did love it, you loved it because you've felt so unheard, so unseen. Being able to provide somebody else with a pair of listening ears serves as a kind of relief for those feelings. 

   "Can you tell me more?" You test, hand squeezing his own a little more. 

   He looks almost elated, thrilled to be seen, excited to be heard. Most of all, he's itching to finally have you. 

***

   The date was nothing short of wonderful, filled with cute little fumblings of words, hands brushing but never holding, and sharing bits and pieces of yourselves with each other. 

   You flop onto your bed, reminiscent of a teenager who's just had their first kiss. You didn't kiss him goodnight, you chickened out of that. But you did press your lips against his cheek for a brief moment, which seemed to have quite the effect on him. 

      His breath hitched, his fists balled at his sides, acting like he'd never been touched so tenderly. It made you wonder, is the Hero as lonely as you are? 

   You glance over at your night stand, seeing the pretty little necklace sitting in its box. You're washed with guilt as you realize you forgot to wear it to coffee, knowing he must have wanted you to. You take it out of the box carefully before pulling it around your neck and hooking it into place. It fits like a choker, snug against your skin, but it feels good to have it so close.

   You're ripped from your musing when you hear the unmistakable sound of breaking glass. 

   Inside your house. 

   Your blood chills, hair stands up on the back of your neck and you rise from your bed slowly. You try to talk yourself down, kill the first nerves that consume your chest. It was probably a poorly balanced vase… except, you don't own any vases. It could have been a picture? Nope, not a picture, it was just glass… like a window breaking. 

   There's a gun in your office, but you're in the bedroom. You scan the room for something, anything that could be used for defense. Of course, nothing but a damn notebook. 

   The police, you should call the police. Your heart clenches when you hear the threatening sound of heavy footsteps falling down your hallway. 

   They're heading straight for your bedroom. 

   You lunge at the door, hand landing on the doorknob just as it begins to turn. Desperately, uselessly, you try to lock it. It's too late, though, it's already opening by the time your thumb lands on the lock. 

   You can hear your blood rushing when the door swings towards you, a large black boot planted on the other side to force it open. 

   "Sorry 'bout the window, sweetheart. I tried the front door, but it was locked." The intruder chuckles as he invades your bedroom. 

   You stumble back as you take in his sewn together form, a mess of black leather and scars. Wild, electric blue eyes devour your trembling form as you press yourself back into the wall. 

   "Oh, hon, you're shakin' like you're in danger. I ain't gonna hurt you, I'm gonna do the opposite." He stalks towards you, somehow moving in slow motion but with incredible speed all at the same time. 

   Your phone sits on your night stand, only feet away but all too unreachable. You're caged in by his arms as he towers over you, filling your nose with some horrid, smokey smell. 

   "P-please, you can have anything, j-just don't-" 

   Your words halt when a long, pale finger traces over your collar bone. 

   "Don't what? 'J-just don't' what?" He mocks you, eyes lit with a sadistic amusement. 

   Your heart rattles in your chest as tears prick your eyes, you can't fight him, he's huge. You don't have your gun. You don't have your phone. You're fucked. 

   "Cryin' already? What's the matter, doll?-" The hand traces your collar bone moves up to wrap around your throat, "Not a fan of villains?" 

   Your hands paw at his wrist, you will yourself to sputter something out, any kind of objection to whatever he has planned. You try to whimper out a 'stop', but when your mouth finally forms the word, the voice isn't yours, but it's familiar.

   It's low, clipped and dangerous as it barks out the warning. 

   Suneater. 

   Suddenly, as if he's being yanked to the heavens by the Gods, your assailant is torn away from you. A large, red tentacle captures him by the waist and throws him across the room. You collapse to the ground instantly, curling around your legs as you hear the muffled sounds of a violent fight. 

   You hide in your own little world, trembling and clenching yourself. You take one peak from between your arms, just to see Tamaki place the intruder in a chokehold before barking some profane threat at him. 

   The villain is smiling the whole time, he even winks at you. 

   "If I ever see you near her again, you won't walk away with your life." Tamaki snarls as the stranger breaks away from his hold.  

   "She's not worth the trouble." He laughs, raising one hand before sending brilliant blue flames blasting towards Tamaki. 

   You scream involuntarily, reaching out for the Hero as he jumps away from the flames. Once they're gone, the villain is gone as well. Like some cheap magician disappearing off stage. The room is almost entirely untouched by the burst of fire, at most, the tip of your comforter is singed. 

   The second the fire is gone, Tamaki is walking towards you urgently, pulling you to your feet so he can cradle your face. 

   "Are you ok? Did he touch you? What happened?" His inky eyes search your face frantically. 

   You don't answer, you just stutter, clinging to his hands until you can finally squeak out, "I'm ok." 

   His shoulders drop as he sighs, hands loosening their grip. His eyes flicker down to the necklace, his gaze softens when he sees how pretty it looks on you. 

   "Y-you… Do you like it?" He asks timidly, glancing up at you. 

    You breathe for a moment, slightly taken aback by the sudden shift in attention. 

   "I love it." You say quietly, still trembling. 

   He just saved you, really saved you from a real villain who was planning God knows what, and he's worried about your necklace? 

   "It's so pr-pretty on you…" He reaches down to touch it, leaving one hand on your cheek. 

   You take the moment to breathe, remind yourself that you're safe, that you're with a hero now. You observe Tamaki's almost casual appearance, a dry fit shirt and simple tactical pants. It almost helps you relax, seeing him like so… at ease? 

   His fingers play with the pearl, deep eyes transfixed. Something nearly uncontrollable swells within his chest. It burns and aches and eats at him. You're so close, you're so warm, so soft. He could have you, he could just take you. 

   "Tamaki?" You prod gently, your own chest stirs, and something pulls you towards him.

   His eyes snap up to yours, and something shifts in the air. It feels sticky, heavy, too hard to breathe. His gorgeous form towers over you, pressing you back up against the wall as his eyes devour your trembling body. 

   "Thank you f-for saving me." You whisper.

   He nods earnestly, his breathing is shaking, his hands feel like they're holding back. 

   "Anything. Anything for you." 

   That line, that makes you ache.

   How long have you felt so lukewarm, so overlooked and forgotten? Too long, far too long. Now, with Tamaki looking down at you like you're priceless, you feel fiery, you feel seen and remembered. 

   Your hands grasp at his wrists, your eyes flick down to his parted lips. You're not sure what you want to happen next, but you want him as close as you can get him.

   "If you let me start, I will not stop." His voice drops and it makes your breath catch. 

   He feels it too, then. 

   Is it the high of what you've just gone through? Is it just your body trauma bonding with the man that just saved you? Or do you really, really want him so bad it hurts? 

   His tone is warning and his eyes are frantic. 

   "Please." Is the only thing that falls from your quivering lips. 

   Consequences be damned, motives especially be damned. You need him, and he needs you. That's enough explanation for tonight. 

   He consumes you much like the villains flames, his lips are on yours almost too fast, his hands are greedy as they hold your face to his. 

   While you feel similar to a lovesick girl getting kissed for the first time, Tamaki feels like a prisoner finally set free. He feels like a lion that was held in a cage and taunted with a piece of meat. He feels like the door has finally been opened, and he can finally sink his teeth in. 

   "I wanna feel you." He brings his mouth away from yours with much reluctance, leaving his forehead pressed against yours. 

   You flounder for a moment, with your mouth feeling dry and your limbs feeling heavy. 

   "Where?" You choke out, searching his face for any tell. 

   "God, everywhere." It's a broken request, said like a secret. 

   "Take it. Whatever you want." Your boldness surprises you both. 

   You're hooked on the exhilaration, you're craving more, you want to feel something. Even after just a walk home and a coffee date, you want to feel it with Tamaki. 

   "Don't give me that…" He shivers as he presses his body against yours, making it very evident how much of an affect you're having on him. 

   "I'll ruin you." He whimpers when you grind back against him, your hands tug at his shirt and you look up at him with wide eyes. 

   "Who said I don't want that?" 

   You both stand there frozen, waiting for the other to move, to prove that this isn't a dream. 

   "Fuck." 

   His hands descend from cradling your face so they can wrap around your neck with the most gentle grip. 

   He watches you intently, feels your breath quicken, cherishing the way you bite your lip when his fingers tighten slightly. 

   Internally, Tamaki is fighting the most challenging battle he's ever had to face. He's had to take on a wide variety of formidable enemies, but right now, nothing seems more formidable than having to hold himself back when he finally has you in his arms. 

   He wants to take and take and take, for as long as you'll let him… maybe even longer. 

   She's mine now.

   Something shifts in his gaze just then, making him look almost primal. It makes your chest feel frozen, makes it difficult to breathe or focus. 

   His hands shift around your neck, they feel almost… slippery? Their texture is different, their movement is more fluid. Then, you feel it, the distinct sensation of a suction cup latching against your skin. 

   Tentacles. He's made each of his fingers a tentacle.

   Your eyes stay locked on his, both of you in a heated trance as you watch how the other responds. 

   One slick tendril crawls up to latch onto your chin, he turns your head upwards and to the side with a thoughtful look. It's almost like he's sizing you up, appraising you. 

   After a thick moment of silence, he finally speaks. 

   "I'm going to make you cry." It's a depraved promise, beautifully whispered with no shame. 

   You stand there, held by him, captured by him. You're helplessly entranced, all rational thought is long gone as you reel over the implications of his statement. All you can know for sure, is you want more. 

    Despite every red flag, regardless of any common sense, you want more. 

   "I dare you." You say back to him, the desperation to feel anything other than mundane spurs you onward.

   He receives the words like it's a smack to the face, some shock evident in his eyes. He didn't take you for a brat, but he can certainly roll with it. 

   "You're gonna make this fun for me, aren't you?" He questions, his tentacles grip you tighter now, reminding you who has the high ground. 

   Mine. 

   The air shifts, something heavier takes over the mood, it settles in your ribs and wraps around your heart. 

   He guides you away from the wall, shepherding you around until your back is towards your bed. He starts walking you backwards until your knees buckle once they hit the mattress. 

   You sit there, gazing up at him, held still by his quirk, transfixed by the power he exudes as he towers over you. 

   "Has anyone ever had you before?" He asks, finally returning his hand to normal so he can cradle your cheek. 

   The question has your stomach burning with nerves. 

   No, nobody ever has. 

   You shake your head, looking down, cheeks burning as you try to hide your embarrassment. 

   His reaction shocks you immensely, his whole body shutters and he drops to his knees. His hands settle on your waist as he moves between your legs. 

   "Th-this is… all mine then?" He asks, he rubs his thumbs over the bottoms of your ribs affectionately. 

   His eyes are wide and reverent as he waits for your answer, looking like you're some anointed goddess. His eyes skate over every feature he can, and he cherishes each one. 

   Your confession nearly knocks the wind out of him, especially with how sweet you look, all blushing and embarrassed. It makes his need to rip you apart even stronger. 

   "Please...let me give you everything…" His hands tighten on you and you feel them shaking.

   You study him for a second, at a complete loss for words, he seems so… devoted. It pulls on your heart, clouds your mind and lights your body up. How could you possibly say no to him? How on earth could you turn someone away when they’re looking at you like you’re placed on an altar ready to be worshiped. 

   Carefully, like you’re trying not to frighten a beast, you reach out and touch his face. He moves into your touch like a lonely cat, desperate for affection and recognition. 

   “Please…” You breathe. 

   And that’s all it takes. 

   His breath leaves his lungs in a harsh rush as he moves forward like a leopard, lean and precise as he forces you onto your back. 

   Your blood rushes so quickly you swear you can hear it, your mouth goes dry as he stares you down. He’s suddenly less reverent, now he’s ravenous. A dangerous, carnivorous look dances in his dark eyes. His judgement is clouded just like yours, only it fuels him, while your state is much more terrified. Any spunk you had in you is thrown out the window as he leers over you.

   You shrink into the mattress as he hovers above you on all fours, heavy eyelids and parted lips giving him a nearly drugged look. 

   “When you say everything-” He whispers, moving so he can settle on his knees between your open legs, “Do you mean this too?” He drops his hips as he questions you, pressing something very hard into your thigh, something very intimidating. 

   He watches your eyes go wide, a wicked grin spreading across his face when you gasp after he rolls his hips. His arms cage you, a strong hand placed on either side of your head, the position makes you feel so pathetic, so helpless, but it gives you an incredible rush. 

   “Don’t look so scared, it won’t hurt.” He dips down to press his hot, open mouth against your neck, tongue lapping at your pulse. A dark chuckle leaves his chest, “Not much, at least.” 

   Then he’s definitely less reverent, he’s no longer worshipful, he’s a wicked, unleashed best. His hands are selfish as they remove your clothes, his mouth is voracious against your skin. He has you panting and twitching in seconds, musing at you when your reactions are particularly strong. 

   It’s when he snakes down your body, wetting your skin with his tongue, settling between your breasts so he can suck harshly at the heated skin, that you finally feel something break within you. You arch into his touch, fisting your hands in his raven hair, whimpering so beautifully for him as he works you up. 

   He knows what he’s doing, he’s skilled, well equipped for pulling you apart. He’s already descended into some debauched state of being, and he’s pulling you down with him. 

   “Nobody’s ever tasted this sweet little cunt before, have they?” He asks against your skin, latching his mouth back to the spot he’s focused on marking, but looking up at you with inquiring eyes. 

   You try to swallow, shake your head, do something, but all you can do is lay there naked and gasping.

   He laughs again, a wicked thing that leaves his chest like a wisp of wind. He slides a hand up your body, he flicks over your nipple with his thumb on the way up, pulling another whimper out of you. 

   His hand latches onto your jaw, then he shakes your head for you, doing what he knows you can’t. 

   “Oh baby…” He sighs, “You saved it for me?” He teases, hips grinding against you, the cloth of his pants creates a strange kind of friction against your clit, not unpleasant, but not pleasurable. Where the hell did the sweet, stuttering hero go? If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he looks deviant… almost villainous.

   “Tama- please.” You shiver, not sure what you’re asking for, but certain that you need more. 

   “Good girl, talk to me.” His hand slinks down your throat before he rises to his knees. 

   Your eyes lock on the tightness of his pants, trying not to panic at the sheer size of the imprint he’s making on them. 

   His shirt is pulled over his head, messing his hair in the most handsome way, and the breath is ripped from your lungs. 

   He’s stunning, broad and strong looking. He’s all porcelain skin over well trained muscle. Built perfectly for the work he does. Built perfectly for ripping apart poor little girls like you. 

   “I liked the look you got when I had my tentacles on you.” He sighs, letting a hand fall to your bare stomach so he can trace lazy circles against you. 

   “Did you like that? Do you want me to use my tentacles to play with you?” He questions. 

   His voice is low, it’s rich and warm and dripping with seduction. Nothing like the tentative, wobbly tone he usually has. It rips the ground out from underneath you, leaves you panting and blinking like a brain dead fool as you gawk up at his prowling form. 

   “Just a yes or no, if you can manage it.” He smiles sweetly up at you, splaying his hand across your quaking abdomen. 

   You breathe deeply, trying to steady yourself, trying to catch up with what he’s said. 

   “Y-yes.” You whisper, barely audible, hardly heard over your labored breathing. 

   His other hand mirrors the one he has on you, sliding around to hold you by the waist, a gentle cage meant to establish dominance. 

   “Yes… what?” He prompts, pressing his thumbs down. 

   You falter then, your tongue feels heavy, your mind slows and you’re suddenly void of all vocabulary. Were you really really about to let one of the most well known pros wreck your body with his quirk? Were you actually laid out for him like this? You know so little of him, your only information gathered from small talk, but something about that had you buzzing. 

   You could be whoever you want to be, you don’t have to be the floundering virgin. You don’t have to be so damn shell shocked. 

   “Yes, D-daddy.” You test, hoping to God or whoever is listening that you got the right name. 

   By the way his eyes flutter closed, the way his grip tightens, the way his body tenses, you sure as hell did. 

   “That’s it.” He sighs, “-and what about you?” He wonders, his hold going gentle again. 

   You? What about you? 

   Tamaki watches you carefully, barely containing the raging storm inside him, barely holding back the carnal urge to turn every limb to a pretty purple tentacle and stuff you until you’re crying for mercy. 

   Not yet, don’t fuck this up. 

   “Princess? Darling?” He asks, lowering himself back down to kiss down your stomach, looking up at you through his thick lashes. 

   “Whatever you want.” You answer. Your sweet, sacred submission makes him close his eyes and breathe in. 

   Hold it. Not. Yet.

   “You’re like an angel.” He breathes, making you shiver under the weight of the high praise. 

   He notices your reaction immediately, smiling to himself. 

   “So that’s it.” He presses a long kiss just under your belly button, bringing attention to how naked you are, and how naked he is not. 

   Your thighs squeeze together and your arms come up to cover your chest, suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to keep it all out of view. 

   His hands are on your wrist and his body is crouched over yours again before you can blink. He pins your hands beside your head, looking down at you with some wild, unbridled kind of look in his eyes. 

   “You do not get to hide from me.” His shoulders flex as he pushes your wrists down into the mattress, earning a whine from you as the pressure starts to ache. 

   “You’re mine. That means I get all of you.” He bites the words off, but keeps his voice quiet. 

   You should be scared, crying even, but the only thing you feel is exhilaration, the ache between your legs and the fluttering of your heart as he overpowers you with just the look in his eyes and a few harsh words. 

   “Do you understand me?” He eases up on your wrists slightly, looking more stern, less unhinged. 

   “I-I do, I’m sorry.” You whimper out. 

   He considers you for a brief second, eyes growing softer as he watches the way your pretty lip trembles. 

   “It’s ok.” He releases your wrists and speaks gently, “You’re ok.” 

   The reassurances makes you dizzy, especially in contrast with how rough he just was. 

   "Hold still for me, angel." Then he’s back to mouthing at your skin.

   His teeth meet your collarbone and your hands reach for his messy hair. 

   “There?” He asks against you, a smile in his voice as he lets his teeth gather your skin again. The spot he finds makes you dizzy, you feel the heat spread across your cheeks and the tips of your ears. 

   Tamaki is still stuck in his own chains, fighting against them as he focuses on the way you twitch for him, the way your body rolls when he bites harder. 

   So she likes it.

   Your body heats up, it's all so overwhelming. It's so different from anything you've ever felt, and you can't believe it's with him. 

    Then his kisses get more sloppy, his teeth are sharper against you. He leaves you shining with his spit, painted in blooming purple and red bruises as he begins his journey down your body. 

   "Da-addy." You sniffle when he bites into the underside of your breast. 

   It doesn't feel loving, it doesn't feel passionate, it just feels rough. 

   "Hush." He mumbles against you, "If you can't take this I might as well stop now." He looks up at you, challenging you. 

   "I can t-take it, I can." You breathe, nodding, looking at him with begging eyes, "Please, don't stop." 

   He honest to god growls against you. You couldn't possibly know what you do to him, how sweet your willingness sounds, how beautiful you look laid out for him. He knows he should take his time, and he resents that fact. He almost resents you for being so sweet and needy. With all the things he wants to do to you, he almost, almost, wishes you had at least some experience. This makes you his completely, though, and he wouldn’t trade that for anything. 

   His hot mouth moves lower and lower until he's tonguing at your hip bone, pulling the skin into his mouth so he can work his teeth against it. He will mark you wherever he can, as long as you'll let him. 

   Your hips roll up against him, making him smirk at how needy you're acting. 

   "Ask for it." He whispers, hungry hands slide up the outsides of your thighs, "Ask for what you want." 

   His fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, sending the breath from your lungs as he glares up at you. He lets his wet tongue loll out to give a teasing flick against the crux of your thigh. 

   You take a deep breath in and cling to the sheets for dear life, "Please, use your mouth on me." 

   He smiles so sweetly then, looking mildly amused. 

   "Here?" He goes back to that same spot, sucking and teasing, looking all too pleased with himself. 

   "Be specific, angel, tell me where you need me." 

   Tamaki knows for a fact that he didn't have to spend his time making you ask for things, he knows what you want, he knows how to give them to you. He could take whatever he needs, probably without much a fight from you, but what fun would that be? He would miss the pretty blush creeping across your skin, and the sweet little tears in your big eyes. No, he wouldn't be missing this, not for the world. 

    "I wanna feel your tongue, please, use your mouth on m-my cunt." You shiver, timid and uncertain about your phrasing. 

   It seems to do the trick though, because Tamaki's eyes nearly roll to the back of his head. 

   He answers with a low moan before grabbing you by the insides of your thighs so he can spread you open. Once the air of the room hits you, you're made painfully aware of just how soaked you are. 

   It makes Tamaki look like a wild man, all blown out pupils blushing cheeks. 

   Almost in slow motion, he presses his tongue into the spot right above your clit, making you whine and buck against his mouth. 

   "Needy little thing." He says, giving your thighs a gentle squeeze, "But I suppose I have teased enough." 

   Then he's on you, and the second his tongue meets your weak spot you know you're ruined. You know that not one person will ever hold a candle to Tamaki Amajiki. 

   He pulls away for only a second, just to whisper praises up to you, "Your cunt tastes like everything I've ever needed." 

   You huff at him in disbelief, not knowing what to say or do, heart soaring because of his confession.

   Then he dives back in, and he gets sloppy with it, setting a pace that feels so good it aches. The heat spreads through every limb, and settles somewhere deep in your chest. Everything tingles and burns, and breathing seems nearly impossible. 

   Internally, Tamaki is raging. He’s so close to losing it, he feels himself slipping, your taste spreads across his tongue is the culmination of months of watching and waiting and wanting. He wants to drown in you, he wants to rip you to shreds. No more watching you through windows, no more fucking his fist while he wishes with everything he has that it was your precious little pussy. He has you now, spread open and vulnerable. He knows he could shove your face into the pillows and let loose on you, stuff every hole with an invasive tentacle, the thought makes him even more feral, it makes him work even harder as he eats you. 

   Every roll of his tongue against your clit makes you throb and buck, which makes him growl and push you down against the mattress. He's loud and messy, slurping and moaning, letting it drip down his chin and his throat, never once letting up. 

   Your head is thrown back against the pillows, eyes drilled shut. You know damn well if you saw him, you wouldn't last another second. He builds you up until your thighs are trembling and you're a whiny little mess. 

   Perfect. 

   Suddenly, the texture of his tongue changes drastically. It's much more slippery, and much thicker. Your head shoots up, and you nearly sob at what you see. Tamaki, with his eyes wild and his jaw dropped, is letting a wicked looking tentacle hang from his mouth. 

   His quirk. 

   He smirks up at you as the tip of it writhes against your clit, flicking and circling as he watches the tears start to fall from your face. You can't possibly keep up, you didn't know anything could ever feel this good. 

   You watch the suction cups ripple as he moves the muscle against you, then he does the unthinkable. He latches one of them onto your clit. Your eyes cross and you bring a fist to your mouth so you can bite on it and muffle your screams. 

   He hates that. 

   With another rumbling growl, he lets his hands turn to tentacles as well. You watch helplessly as he snakes them up your arms, ripping your hand away from your mouth so he can pin both limbs to the bed. The tentacles are strong, surprisingly warm, and so damn slippery. 

   It's hard to tell if you're close to the edge, it's felt that way the whole time, everything feels so hot and tight and good. 

   He smiles as you cry out and thrash against the bed, full of admiration for the usefulness of his own quirk.

   “Too much! D-daddy, it’s too much.” You sniffle out as you feel a stinging feeling in your cunt, it’s not necessarily an unpleasant sting, but it’s too much.

   He ignores your objection, choosing to simply suck harder at your overstimulated sweet spot. He revels in your pitifully low threshold, planning to do so much worse to your poor, inexperienced body. 

   The ache in your cunt continues to push the tears from your eyes, and eventually, drool from your mouth. The suction cup works dutifully against your clit, making you feel so overwhelmed you don't know if you can cum. 

   Then you feel the prodding at your entrance. 

   Then you really scream. 

   Holding that one little suction cup to your clit, he snakes the tip of his tentacle into your dribbling hole. He furrows his dark brows and moans against you when he feels how tight you are, desperate to feel the velvety walls around his cock.

   "Holy fucking shit." You gasp. 

   He watches the dramatic rise and fall of your quaking chest, your baffled eyes trying to keep track of everything happening to your body, and he swears he falls even more in love. 

   You're so willing, so compliant, so at his mercy. 

   He crooks the tip of the tentacle towards himself just a bit, and it's like you've been struck by lightning. You cum hard, harder than you ever have. You're a mess of twitching limbs, shivering as your cunt clenches so hard your feel it in your fucking chest. You sob into the air, broken and tearful as he works you through it. 

   You feel the hold on your arms tighten as your body arches away from the mattress. As you feel every inch of you ignite, you know that you're ruined for everyone else. 

   As soon as you lower yourself so you're flat to the mattress, the tentacles around your arms slip away and turn back into his hands. 

   The one between your legs still plays with you a little bit, prodding at your clit, lapping up your mess. Tamaki laughs as you jump and twitch, whimpering and gasping as he milks your body for every after shock you can give him. 

   You watch him pull the tentacle back into his mouth, flicking it over his lips to gather your release before disappearing into his mouth. You watch his eyes flutter shut, you watch him shiver and you hear the sweetest little moan in the back of his throat. 

   “You’re pretty when you cry.” He mumbles, looking up at you with the most tender look in his eyes. It’s a harsh contrast with all the cum dripping down his chin. 

   “You move a lot, too. It’s fun.” He states, almost like some kind of twisted review, “I don’t mind holding you down like that.” 

   The drop in the tone of his voice makes a chill creep up your spine. 

   “In fact…” He lifts himself up so he can start to crawl up your body, “I really, really enjoyed it.”

   You gasp for words, wind stolen from your lungs as he presses his messy mouth against your sternum. 

   “Something tells me you did too.” He whispers. 

   Your voice is finally found, somewhere deep in your chest, hidden and nearly forgotten, “What makes you say that?” You ask timidly. 

   He pulls his head up to look down at you with a confident smirk, “The mess you made.” 

   To prove his point, he swipes two fingers through your folds, gathering your creamy release before holding it up to the light. He looks so damn proud, like he’s showing off. 

   “Messy girl.” He smiles, as you watch him bring his coated fingers to his lips, sucking the sin off with a greedy pop from his lips. 

   “Oh, how selfish of me.” He sighs before grabbing you by the chin, “I should share.” 

   He pulls your mouth open then slowly leans over you so he can push the mess back through his lips. You oblige like a robot, stunned by the debauchery, letting him guide you through this act. He lets it fall from his lips slowly, creating a long string from his mouth to yours. The second it hits your tongue, something clicks for you. Something dark and smokey settles in your gut, something all consuming and blinding. It rids you of boundaries and reservations, it fills you with nothing but the man in front of you. 

   He watches you with a pointed gaze, shutting your jaw for you so you can swallow what he gave you. 

   “What do you say?” He asks. 

   You feel the burn in your chest, the embers in your skin, “More, please.” 

   “Fucking hell," The words tumble out as a breath mostly, "You want more?" He questions, grabbing you by the wrist so he can place your palm just above the waist of his pants. 

   You nod up at him, vision blurred by the heat of his skin against your palm. 

   "Then take it." He leans down to say it, biting off the words. 

   A challenge. 

   You can't possibly disappoint him, you can't possibly leave him wanting. Take it? How are you supposed to take it? 

   In a wild moment of confidence, mostly your body moving without the permission of your mind, you wrap your legs around his lean hips so you can flip him onto his back. 

   Your eyes lock the second you feel him pressing against you, hard and thick, and terribly intimidating in length. 

   He watches you for a moment, then hastily grabs you by the back of the neck so he can pull you down for another kiss. It's hot and needy, full of wicked want and unabashed selfishness. It tickles your ribs, creeps up your neck, and secures itself greedily around all of your common sense. 

   Tamaki had no intentions of letting you take anything, it's a game to him. He'll let you have your moment, let you feel like you have the reigns, but he'll take it right back. His has you under control, he vows that he always will.

   Your chest flutters with a clawing, aching feeling. 

   More more more. 

   "Fuck me." It's a prayer, whimpered against his delicate lips, "Please, fuck me." You dig your hands into his hair, cherishing the sweet noises they leave him as you beg. 

   Under control.

   "Tell me you need it." He sighs, answering your prayer by sending his hands down to work urgently at his belt. 

   "Tell me you need me." 

   You bring your face back from his just enough to look into his dark eyes, and you see tears welling in them. 

   He needs to feel needed.

   "Please, I need it, I need you, Suneater." 

   Everything freezes for a brief second, the air thickens and his eyes darken as you wait with a held breath for his next move. 

   Then, everything is flying around you. You feel the bite of fingertips against your waist, your stomach hits the mattress, possibly the sound of his pants being taken off. Your senses are dulled by the raging swirl of emotions beating inside you as your hips are lifted up, and a hand shoves your face into the pillow. 

   "Who's your hero?" His voice is rough, his hand gathers your hair and cranks your head to the side, "Who is your fucking hero?" He's barking the words out now, harsh and demanding. 

   And holy hell does it get you going. 

   "You are! You're my hero, Suneater." You cry out, craning your neck to look at him. 

   You expected furrowed brows, a straight mouth and furious eyes. What you're met with is nothing of the sort. A soft pink blush across his cheeks and the tips of his pointed ears, tears wetting his cheek, and a quivering lip. 

   With your eyes on him, he makes a show of sliding his hand down his front so he can grab at his length. He lets it fall against your ass, heavy and painfully hard. 

   "Don't forget that." He says simply, sliding his thick head down through your slicked lips. 

   The contact makes you both shudder deep in your souls. 

   "Daddy, please." Your voice is pitiful as you fist the sheets and press back against him. 

   "So slutty." He muses, releasing your hair so he can run his nails down your back, "Poor thing, never been fucked, needs it so bad, doesn't she?" 

   You nod fervently and fuss as he presses his head against your tight hole. You tense and shiver, not at all prepared for what's to come. 

   "I need it, I need you, please please please." You have one thought now, no reservations, you need him. 

   "I'm gonna ruin this little cunt." He says, a warning tone in his voice. 

   The hand that was tracing your spine suddenly feels very cold and wet. 

   His damn quirk. 

   He takes his time, letting the thick tentacle slither around your waist. It wraps around you twice, teasing you with the pops of the suction cups, leaving pretty purple circles all over your abdomen. 

   He lifts you easily, pulling you up so your back is pressed against his chest. 

   "Ruin it, please, it's yours, I'm yours." You sniffle, looking down at your trapped position. 

   With a low, menacing growl, he sinks his teeth into your neck, and his cock into your heat. 

   Tamaki holds his breath, willing himself not to fill you up right this second. You're too damn tight, so warm and velvety. You're so perfect, and so completely his. 

   You sob into the air, hands reaching out to hold the headboard as you feel like you're being ripped apart. 

   "Oh don't scream, Angel, people might think something's wrong." His voice is shaking now, and the hold on your waist tightens. 

   You focus on relaxing, letting your walls lose their tension, but it's all fruitless. He's too big, he fills you too well, and all you can do is take it. 

   "Here, let me give that mouth something to do." 

   His other hand comes around to hold your throat, turning each finger into a tentacle again. It leaves you reeling and gasping as he presses further into you, wrapping what would be his middle finger around your throat. He wraps it around twice, like he did with your waist. The appendage comes up to rest its tip on your bottom lip. 

   The sensation makes you dizzy, especially when it finally snakes into your panting mouth. It doesn't really taste like anything, it just feels wet and slick, the texture of the suction cups is the strangest thing about it. He rocks his hips so gently, squeezing you tighter everywhere he's holding you. 

   You don't feel like a moth drawn to a flame, you feel like a moth caught in a spider's web. All tangled up, not willing to fight to escape, not even wanting to. 

   "You're so damn tight." He stutters out, pressing his hips flush against your own. 

   You cry out and gag against the tentacle stuffing your mouth, digging your nails into the headboard as he chuckles behind you. 

   "You're such a pretty little mess for me. Your cunt's already dripping." 

   You don't doubt it, it has to be with how badly your core aches around him as he stretches you. 

   Your thighs start to tremble as you wait for him to move, sniffling as the tears fall from your eyes and the drool spills from your lips. 

   A pretty little mess indeed. 

   Slowly, he drags his hips back with a hiss before pushing back in. He takes his time with it, building an agonizing pace that offers you no release. There's only the pressure, only your clit screaming for attention, only the maddening tease of his head against your sweet spot with every torturous push in. 

   "Fuck angel, I gotta break this pussy in, don't I?" His words pull another pitiful moan from you, nodding and whining is all you're capable of. 

   His picks up speed just enough to make you tense even more, still painful, still mind numbing. 

   "You look so fucking pretty on the end of my cock." 

   His words pour over you like hot wax, heating you up, making you drip. The heat seeps deep into your skin, making you squirm and clench. 

   He speeds his thrusting up slightly, then more, and more, and more, until you’re shrieking and choking against the tentacle stuffing your mouth. Your hands fly up to claw at it, wanting to tell him how it feels, wanting to thank him for the way he’s fucking you. 

   It’s still painful, each thrust splits you open with a sting, but it’s so damn good. The sharp stretching is absolutely spectacular, and it sends your brain into somewhere dark and smokey, it leaves you with a wide open feeling in your chest. It leaves you wanting more. 

   “What’s the matter, sweet thing?” He taunts, “Tell me about it, then, how’s Daddy make you feel?” He turns each tentacle back into a finger slowly, pulling out of your mouth, leaving you a gasping mess. 

   Through spit and tears, you praise him, words spewing out between moans as your body jolts from each punishing snap of his hips. 

   “So fucking good! You make me feel so good!” You cry, clinging to his forearm as he brings you closer to his chest. 

   The tentacle around your waist starts to slither down your stomach, “This isn’t even half of what I’m capable of doing to you,” The tip of it gives the hood of your clit a teasing flick, “-and you’re already such a slut for me.” His chuckle is dark and full as the tip of his skilled tentacle zeros in on your sweet spot, rubbing and wriggling against it until you’re screaming. 

   “Say it. Say you’re my little slut.” His words are a harsh demand against your ear, leaving no room for disobedience. 

   “I- f-fuck- I can’t! I ca-an’t!” You sob, not able to catch your breath between thrusts. 

   Tamaki eats that right up, swelling with pride as he fucks you speechless, delirious with the fact that he finally has your cunt gripping his cock. 

   Before he can bark another order at you, you finally pull the words out of your closing throat, "I'm your slut," You gasp as drool rolls down your chin, "I'm your little slut." 

   He throws his head back and throws everything he has into every thrust, his moans are obscene, high pitched and broken as he feels how hard you squeeze him when he speeds up the tip of his tentacle against your clit. 

   "Give it to me, I feel that greedy cunt tryin' to milk me, give me that fuckin cum." He huffs against your ear. Your entire body seizes up, shaking violently as ribbons of pleasure shoot through you. You pulse around Tamaki almost violently, earning some very rough sounding moans from him as he works you through it. 

   Your orgasm lasts for what feels like an eternity, you shiver with every throb of your walls. It possesses that same almost painful pleasure, and it's everything you've ever wanted. At some point, the tentacle around your waist turns to a hand, still absentmindedly rubbing you as you come down. 

   He lets your torso fall forward, leaving you bent over and exposed for him. His hands smooth over your ass, and you realize he's still so fucking hard. 

   "Can you take more, angel?"

   You nod against the tear soaked pillow you've pressed your face into, not sure that you even can, but willing to try. 

   "Good," He bends down to press kisses into your spine as he pulls out, "'Cause you're going to." 

   He pulls out, almost full of regret, wanting to live the rest of his life buried inside you.

   Now he can have some fun, mind cleared slightly by finally feeling you come undone around him. He's still hazy, still slightly frenzied, but less ravenous, less of a starved man waiting for his meal, more of a well fed man waiting for desert. 

   His hands hold your waist gently so he can guide you onto your back. You oblige, more than willing to let him have his way. 

   You finally get a good look at him, and you're astounded by just how pretty his dick looks. All pale and pink, swollen and shiny, it makes you dizzy with admiration. 

   "You're terribly beautiful." He whispers, cradling your waist so he can worship your stomach with soft kisses, "I don't believe you're even real." 

   Sweetness oozes through your tingling limbs, pouring over you like warm honey. His tender mouth brings you back down, soothes you into a state of catharsis. Your body settles, but your heart picks back up when his lips are on your hips. 

   Your eyes meet his, and you share the sentiment that he just might not be real. He pears up at you through a mess of indigo hair, eyes full of what you can only describe as devotion. 

   He explores your body with his hands, dipping his thumbs into every crook he can, palming handfuls of your plush thighs. He seems to have a soft spot for your hips though, pulling at your love handles, letting his breath speed up each time until he's panting against you. 

   With every pull of his hands, you bend for him, push into him, work with him. You both find a rhythm, falling into an easy dance of grabbing and needing. 

   "I want to keep you." He breathes, placing a hand on either side of your waist so he can lift himself over you, "I want to have you." 

   He gathers your legs while he speaks, hooking his hands under your knees so he can fold you up. 

   "You have me." You whisper, reaching out to lay your fingers on the sides of his ribs. 

   You watch his skin twitch under your touch, you watch his eyebrows sag into an almost heartbroken look. 

   He looks down between your bodies, quivering when he sees his heavy cock resting against your stomach. He feels so incredibly proud of you in that moment, for taking him so well, and asking for more. 

   She's mine. She said I have her. 

   The concept brings another wave of primal desire crashing down on his self control. 

   His fingers dig into your skin, biting at the flesh, spreading you open for him as he puts his weight on your legs. 

   You clench in anticipation, teased by the pressure of his hot length resting against you. 

   "I can take it." You say quietly, sliding your hands up his lean body so you can lace them into his inky hair. 

   He melts into your touch, stunned by your gorgeous submission. 

   "Fuck, angel." His words are shattered as they fall from his lips. 

   You reach down between your bodies and wrap your hand around his weeping tip. He trembles and hiccups as you push him down so he's lined up with where you need him. 

   "Please, I want all of it." m. 

   “Careful.” He pants, looking down at you with a warning in his eyes. 

   It doesn’t create hesitation in you though, only curiosity. 

   “We’re being careful now?” You tease, sliding him up and down your slit. 

   “You little devil.” He hisses, grabbing your wrist harshly, “You think you’re cute, don’t you?” 

   You freeze and blink up at him, once again shocked by his quick change in temperament. 

   “You wanna act like a tease now?” He questions, bringing your hand up so he can press it into the mattress with his. 

   “Did you find yourself a cute little attitude?” His voice drips with venom, it bites at your insides and melts your skin. 

   “That’s ok, angel.” He lets your hand go so he can press on the backs of your thighs again, successfully folding you completely in half, “I’ll fuck it out of you.” 

   Before you can breathe, blink, or respond, he’s splitting you open with a brutal pace. He laughs deep in his chest when you cry out, he mocks you when your hands fly to his abs in an attempt to slow his assault. A wicked smile spreads across his pretty face when tears stain your flushed cheeks once again. 

   “Cryin’ again so soon? Is it too much, baby? You need Daddy to slow down?” He’s testing you, only thrusting harder as he taunts you for your sobbing and moaning. 

   “No!” You gasp between tears, “Don’t stop, please, fuck me like that.” 

   “That’s my girl.” 

   His thrusts are ruthless, sharp, unforgiving. He rocks your body and the bed with each plunge in, headboard crashing against the wall. Each drive into you is enchanting, it teaches you something new, opens new doors, shows you a new, brilliant world of depravity. The way the pleasure shoots all the way up your spine with every drag of his cock, it’s something you want to feel until you die, you’d even be happy if this is the way you die. 

   You watch him disappear inside of you over and over, pulling out just as quick, covered in slick and sin. Tamaki is in his own feral world, watching your lovely face crumble and pout as he fills you. His hands are angry against the back of your thighs, nails digging in hard enough to bring little pearls of scarlet to the surface. 

   When you start to whine from the sting, he flashes you a lazy smile before stuffing his fingers into your mouth. He presses the blood covered fingertips into your tongue just enough to make drool spill from the sides of your mouth. 

   “Hush, you’ll learn to love it.”

   His smile turns wolfish when he watches your eyes roll back. It’s all so black-hearted, it’s everything you’ve kept yourself from, it’s everything you’ve ever wanted. 

   You both throb and cry then, your bodies smack as they meet, obscene and wet as you chase your undoing. Tamaki knows he’s not going to last much longer, and he curses himself for it. He doesn’t want to stop, especially when you wince so sweetly when his thrusts are a little too deep. He wants to watch you suck his fingers forever, crying against his palm as he turns you into his perfect little slut. 

   “You’re gonna give me one more, aren’t you, angel? You owe me that, I saved your life after all.” He slides his fingers from your mouth, dragging your spit down your chin before grabbing you by the throat, “Answer if you can, I know it must be hard to speak when you’re getting fucked this good.” 

   His words drown you in lust, your hands claw at his back, painting angry red lines down the pretty porcelain canvas, “Take it! Fuck- Take it, Suneater, take it all.” 

   It’s not a demand, it’s a plea, it’s a craving formed deep within your freshly corrupted heart. 

   Your begging pulls desperate, whiny sounds from him. With his eyes screwed shut he lets the hand on your thigh manifest the tentacles in place of his fingers. He throws all of his energy into that, trying to stall the twitching of his dick as your hot insides massage him with their relentless pulsing.   

   “Are you sure about that?” He tests, letting the tentacles snake around your thigh before slithering down to where your bodies meet. 

   Immediately, one starts flicking at your clit, making your back go rigid as he grins down at his good work. 

   You wail his name, nails biting at his skin even more but he pays no mind. He has a mission, he’s going to take all of it. 

   He focuses on making his tentacles grow, two long enough to reach up your body and tug at your nipples, and one other snaking down through the mess you’re making to prod at your asshole. Your eyes widen with shock as your body ignites, it’s too much, it’s all too much. Every sensation is heightened, every poke and flick and thrust sends shards of pleasure flying through you, piercing you from every direction. 

   You let yourself cry completely then, throwing your head against Tamaki’s collar bone before sobbing into his chest. You know you’re cumming, you can feel it somewhere amongst all the other stimulation, but it’s nearly drowned out, and Tamaki is still fucking you just as hard as he was when this all started. 

   “More, you have more for me, I fucking know it.” He huffs as he finally pushes into your ass with the tentacle. 

   The ones on your nipples latch on with their suction cups as he fills you more and more. 

   “Give it to me, angel, give it all to your hero.” 

   That’s the final push, the last thing you need to send you into the most frenzied orgasm you’ve ever experienced. Your vision goes white as your body convulses, ripped apart by the flames of euphoria that turn everything you’ve ever known to ash. Somewhere in the distance you hear Tamaki praising you, telling you how tight you feel, how beautiful you look, how good you are for him. 

   It’s lost in the fray, though, all blurring together as you shake violently around him. The only thing that brings you back slightly, is the break in his voice when he sobs, “I’m gonna stuff that little cunt with my cum, I’m gonna make you mine.”

   Your hand is at the back of his neck instantly, pulling him down for a messy, aimless kiss. His moans spill into your mouth as his hips falter, turning to slow, stuttering thrusts as he starts to pump his release deep into you. 

   “I’m yours - I’m yours I’m yours I’m yours.” You chant it against his lips as his tears fall to your cheeks, mixing with your own as you both shatter for each other.

   Coming back down isn't easy at all. It's slow and needy, your hands still pulling at whatever skin they can grab, hips rolling against each other, trying with everything you both have to prolong that rapturous feeling. 

   Frantically, painfully, he pulls himself out of you. He slides his hot mouth down your body, nipping and sucking as he descends to your messy cunt. He spreads your legs wide so he can bury his face between them. He teases your clit briefly, but moves quickly to press his open mouth against your hole.

   Your skin boils as you watch the nasty show. His eyes cross sinfully and flutter shut as he tongue at your well used pussy. When he pulls back, his chin is covered in some wretched mixture of your combined releases. He moves back up your body like an animal stalking its prey.

   He grabs your jaw and you open so willingly. His mouth is on yours instantly, pushing the warm liquid onto your tongue with his own. It’s a spunky, intense flavor, almost overwhelming as he spreads it around your mouth. It creates a dark, blurry feeling in your chest, though. It makes you feel alive, it makes you want more.

   He pulls back slowly, a thick string of saliva and sin connecting your lips as he pants down at you. 

   “You’re such a good little girl.” 

   His lips are everywhere, pressing against your cheekbones, your nose, your forehead. His hands return to normal so he can cradle your face. You both lay there, still joined, catching your breath. 

   "Angel?" 

   The tenderness in his voice pulls you back down to earth, and when you open your eyes, you find yourself lost in his. It’s a harsh but marvelous contrast with the sharp edges of his previous behavior.

   "Does anything h-hurt?" He asks timidly. 

   The stutter is back, the anxious look in his eyes, the restlessness in his hands. 

   You reach out to hold his face like he's holding yours, "Tamaki, no, nothing hurts. You made me feel so good." 

   You don't ever want to be a source of hesitation for him again. You want to make it better. He's brilliant, he's brave, he saved your damn life. He doesn't need to be so scared around you. 

   "You're my hero, Suneater." You pull him down for a soft, intimate kiss. 

   He breathes out against you, more of his tears wet your cheeks but you don't mind. 

   He's allowed to feel this, he earned this. 

   When the kiss breaks he searches your face, waiting for you to laugh at him, to push him off, to change your mind. 

   You don't, though. 

   You stay there with him, loving him and full of him. 

   "And you're mine." 

   You both settle there, kissing skin that hasn't been kissed before, finding ways to make each other fall even more. 

   Tamaki tells himself he did the right thing. You don't ever have to know why Dabi chose your house to break into. You don't ever need to be told that he spent endless nights watching you from the window, because he has you know. 

   It would be wrong of him to tell you, you wouldn't understand it. It would break your heart and ruin everything. Then, it would get messy. You might try to run away, and that would mean he'd have to keep you in different ways. 

   He shakes the thoughts from his head. He can keep you like this, laid out and blushing for him, so soft and beautiful. 

   You belong to him now, and that's all that there is. 

   "Can I take care of you?” He asks softly, playing with the necklace he gave you as he gives you a shy glance. 

   “You just did.” You let yourself laugh a little as you play with the hair at the nape of his neck. 

   “No, not like that.” He smiles softly, dipping down to kiss your neck so softly you almost can’t feel it, “Like this.” 

   He presses his lips against a mark you didn’t know he made, lingering for a moment as his eyes flutter shut. 

   “These say that you’re mine.” His thumb traces over one of the circular bruises on your ribs, “They say you have someone protecting you.”

   The prospect makes your heart soar. He’s right, belonging to him means you’ll always be safe, you’ll always have somebody willing to fight for you, maybe even somebody willing to stay with you. 

   “This says that you belong to me.” He loops a finger around the delicate pearl on your necklace, pulling gently, not enough to make you go anywhere, but enough to make you feel the metal tug against the back of your neck. 

   ‘You do belong to me, don’t you.” He asks, a wild, fearful look in his eyes. 

   You do, you just told him so, you just cried to him and vowed that you were his just moments ago. 

   “I do, I belong to you, I swear.” You reassure him, pulling a deep sigh from his chest. 

   You don’t understand the way he aches for you, the way he’s addicted to you. He was already hooked, from just glances and flighty touches. Now, having felt your soft skin, the tuck of your waist, having seen you cry and heard you call his name, he’s willing to admit his obsession. 

   He does take care of you, he does it beautifully. He carries you to the bathroom where he sets you on the edge of the tub. He fills it with warm, soapy water before picking you up bridal style so he can settle into the water with you in his lap. 

   Neither of you bother to turn a light on, content with the glow of the moon shining through the skylight. Tamaki paints your shoulders with soft kisses as he rubs soothing circles into your back. He takes his sweet time, wiping away the sweat and the tears, mindful of the tender spots on the back of your thighs. 

   “Beautiful, you’re so beautiful.” He sighs, “An angel, nothing less.” 

   You melt into him, lost in his praise, blinded by his devotion as well as your own. 

   Tamaki is just as lost, if not more, only becoming more possessive with every gentle touch, with every whispered adoration. 

   This is how it’s meant to be, and you don’t ever need to know how it all fell into place. He did the right thing, after all. This isn’t a problem, he’s in love. He’s in love and now he has you. 

   He intends on keeping it that way.

[everafterkeiji]

ah! ok, um, is it ok if i request a hc with any of the hq and bnha boys ur comfortable writing for (u can do however many u feel like :)) with an s/o who’s scared of the dark? maybe add a little something about one of them getting glow in the dark stars for y/n’s room and saying that the stars are there in the dark to protect them? idk if that’s cheesy or not lol but yeah, i’m afraid i’m a bit of a scaredy-cat myself so i rush into my room as fast as i can when turning off the lights hehe. anyways, take ur time and take care of yourself ily <33

A/N: and I'm back- im v sorry for taking so long but I'll be posting the haikyuu one in another part but thank you so much for requesting kate love u v much mwah ʕ´• ᴥ•̥`ʔ

BNHA Boys Reacting to Y/N being afraid of the dark!

𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐘𝐀 will not hesitate to visit your room often as he could and provides light in the best of ways.

When he first found out, he deeply understood and offered to walk you on your way home when it was getting a little too late from training then he soon found himself nervously knocking your door in the middle of the night to see how you're doing.

"Hey- it's very late but are you o-okay?" He asks, a hand to the back of his neck with worried eyes as you stare at him with a smile- a little embarrassed that you were face to face with him in your sleep wear.

"Honestly, I couldn't sleep properly." You answered while he frowns, upset that you were probably up all night. With an idea lighting up in his mind, he speaks.

"I'll be back okay? Leave the door open for me. I'm just going to get something." He says with a smile while you nodded while he dashes off looking excited. You proceeded to your bed waiting for him, enjoying the light that the open door gave you. A few minutes pass and a panting Deku with multiple objects in hand. You chuckled at the sight while you let him in as he closes the door before letting a flashlight lit the room.

"What's all this?" You asked, pointing to the materials laid out on your bed while a blush creeps up on the boys cheek.

"I thought that I could make more of those light up stars to help you sleep better." Izuku says while your heart flutters at his comment.

"Let's do it then."

𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 will be your night light and he'll also be the type to wait until you were asleep so he can make sure you're safe with him.

"What is it- oi stop moving around." Bakugo says while you shuffle in your sheets as your boyfriend questions your nervousness. Was it because it was your first night together? Fair enough, he hasn't known about that fear of yours but he's beginning to put the pieces all at once when he feels your grip on him tighten.

"Sheesh, it's just darkness." He says scoffing before you roll your eyes, pushing him off jokingly while you let your eyes close trying to ease the anxiety.

Seeing that you turned away from him, he sighs before pulling you to him, nudging you with his elbow.

"Look at this." He says while he sits up and you following his actions. The palm of his emits light, surprising you with the sound of a tiny explosion. He continues to hold it out in front of you, seeing the darkness of your room fade being replaced in orange tinted shadows.

"Bakugo- you don't have to do this. I'll be fine." You assured him so he doesn't overuse his quirk before classes. Although it was a small spark, you knew better than to keep him from resting.

"Stop lying. Just.. sleep. I'll be here anyways." The last bit of his sentence trailed off as if he was nervous to show his concern but sighing in defeat, you laid down slinging an arm over his waist, cuddling up on his side enjoying his warmth. You smile at him before speaking.

"Thank you, Katsuki." You bid him before closing your eyes while he sighs as well, wrapping his free arm around your shoulder watching you fall quietly.

He stares at the dirty light up stars on your room while he takes a mental note to remove them since he was always up to help you.

Once he feels how deep in slumber you were, the explosions from his hands die down while he lies with you slowly, careful to not wake you.

He looks at your sleeping state before sighing remembering that you feared this dark room. He then plants a swift kiss on your hair, looking at you once again.

"I'll be right here every day."

𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀 would simply let you fall asleep to his nightly stories to make sure your mind doesn't fall on the hands of fear.

"Then Bakugo taught me how to dodge the attack without using my quirk then use my agility instead!" Kirishima rants following some hand movements as you chuckle with you on his chest as he carries on. He feels how your grip has loosened compared to how it was when he first got in bed with you.

With his endless stories, he too notices how your eyes grew heavy.

"Too tired from today?" He asks softly, his hands lost in your hair making it harder to stay awake.

"Not really. I just stayed up too long cause I- got scared." He looks at you with concern, while he intertwines your hands with his.

"Scared of what babe?"

"Is it silly if I say the dark?" He blinks for a second but then he shakes his head before pulling you closer to him before landing a loving kiss to your temple.

"It's never silly, bub. Your savior is here!" He says proudly, a cheeky grin making you laugh as you hold onto him more, closing your eyes as he smiles at the sight of you. From this day onwards, it seems like he's got a new mission but this mission was way easier and more important than the rest because he'd save you thousands of times before seeing you scared to wits.

"You sure are a hero, Eiji."

𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐈 would mindlessly offer his embrace.

After seeing how quick you were to run to your room on heavy hours of training when the sun got down, he wondered too much about you. It was either you had your own plans or maybe a certain villain was out to capture you. Both options still got him curious.

So the next day of training and learning about which weaknesses of yours could be encountered in a fight, he hears an answer from you that might have gained his interest on you more.

"I prefer to avoid fights when it's dark." You said to Momo, Shoto looks at you with raised eyebrows but he understood either way. If he had his own fears that got in his way, he's sure that yours can get in your way too. Knowing you two share the same liking to each other, he decided to step up and find a solution to lessen your fear.

So when he was right at your door, knocking lightly, he thinks if his phone provided him with the correct answers.

"Todoroki? Hi, what are you doing here?" You asked him, pulling him softly inside your room while he looks around seeing stars decorating the place. He mentally checks off one of the options seeing that you already bought some of them to ease the fear a bit.

"I overheard you with Yaoyorozu and I'm here to help with this. "

"With—"

You were cut off by the tall boy engulfing you in a sweet embrace with his chin on the crown of your head as his hands were placed on your waist as he disregards his racing heartbeat seeing that he put zero hesitation in doing the top option in his research.

"It's okay to be scared of the dark." he assures you, but your focus wasn't on his words— it was on the fact that held you this close and that he knew about your fear. You were thankful that he didn't think it was childish or pathetic but you were too busy thinking about how his first way of showing his concern was like this.

With that, you hugged him back and with his closed eyes, you two had smiles tugged on your lips.

"Thank you, Shoto."

𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐊𝐈 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈 lets your laugh echo through the room making you forget about all your worries.

Denki has always been charismatic when it comes to you. No matter how many jokes he threw, funny or not, you'd always smile or give him a reaction that he loves to receive but all jokes were sent aside when you mentioned your fear of darkness.

You brought up the topic when Sero had sparked up the conversation of what you hated the most and when you said yours, Kaminari was all ears and his mind began running on how to make things a little better for you. It must've been hard, he thinks. Darkness was everywhere so he had to help.

After some exhaustion from training and frustration from battling with Bakugo, he can tell how you were on edge as you went straight to your room after dinner. He knew sleeping peacefully wasn't going to be easy to accomplish today so he let his feet guide him to your room right when he finished his meal.

"Denki here!" He says while knocking. You open the door and he sees how you've wrapped yourself in a blanket, but your eyes bared no sign that you slept.

"Hey Kami, what're you doing here?" You asked him while he enters your room, pouting at how your lamp had flickering lights meaning it's energy was about to fail you. So, he walks right over to the lamp and places his hand on top of it and uses his quirk to make sure the light doesn't flicker anymore. Seeing that it was working properly again, he realizes he didn't want to leave yet.

"Oh thanks, Denki." You said smiling at him while he sits on your bed with an idea coming to his mind.

"I've got a story to tell!"

And a few minutes later, you've got yourself beside him with his arm draped on your shoulder while your laugh became too loud mixed with his making your sleepiness fade.

"Okay okay but you've got to sleep, Y/N. Don't overwork yourself tomorrow or else." He says with a chuckle while you laid down as he gets off your bed.

"Or else what Denki?"

"You'll find out tomorrow." he says, while you bid him goodnight. He comes closer to you just when you close your eyes as he gives a peck to your cheek while blushing furiously when your eyes opened at his actions. He immediately walks away muttering a quick good night as you chuckled when he sprints to the door making you turn off your lamp with a smile.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

[prismatales]

Word Count: 1.2k

Pairing: Mirio Togata x Reader

Tags/Warnings: Fluff fluff and more fluff, Mirio being a nervous wreck, little pinch of insecurities.

Hello there! It’s been a while but I’m back with some BNHA Fluff starring the sunshine boy himself! This is my entry for Anilysium’s sfw Collab. This month the prompt was “Accidental Kiss”, you can find the masterlist with everyone’s works here! 

This idea has been sitting in my wips since September and it was the perfect opportunity to work on it! Hope you guys enjoy it! Special thanks to @vivianvampyric for beta reading, I loved all of your suggestions, baby!

No matter how many times you thought about it, every single time was just as hilarious.

How can somebody as brave, cheerful and fearless as Mirio Togata be as nervous as his childhood friend, Tamaki Amajiki, at the idea of a confession? The same guy who faced the head of the Yakuza without hesitation is currently sitting beside you with rosy cheeks, looking around the park nervously while one hand brushes the back of his neck.

“So, you wanted to talk about something, right?”

When he asked you to meet him in the park during the weekend, you never expected this outcome. It’s almost like you’re standing before a completely different person as he continues to look away.

“Ahaha… it’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?” He asks.

“Ah, yes it is.”

The way Mirio avoids the question confuses you, but it’s the way his hand clutches his knee anxiously, the way he coughs lightly, and the way his eyes avoid you to watch  the children playing nearby,  that makes your eyes widen slightly.

Could it really be what you think it is?

The more you look at him, it becomes more obvious that he’s having a hard time expressing his thoughts.

“We’ve known each other for a while now, haven’t we?” He stated simply as you nodded in response. 

“Yeah, remember the first time we met?” He groans as you giggle at the memory. During your U.A. entrance exam you ended up in the same testing area as Mirio. He could almost hear your shrill cries of embarrassment after he used his quirk in front of you for the first time. “Talk about first impressions, huh?”

Neither of you can stop laughing at the memory, thinking of all the good times from high school as well as the bad, which only helped you grow stronger.

You both went through hardships, providing each other a shoulder to lean on. But maybe you could be more than that one day…?

“You’re sweating a lot. Mirio, are you sure you’re okay?” He just nods quickly, pulling at the collar of his shirt that suddenly feels awfully suffocating. Despite all the emotions running wild through his head, he never stops smiling,  which is something you will never stop admiring, no matter what. It’s exactly that optimism that made you develop feelings for him in the first place.

“I’m fine, I'm fine! I just… There’s something I’ve wanted to ask for a long time.” He stays quiet for a short period. Once he takes a long, deep breath that soothes his nerves, his whole attitude shifts instantly.

With the confidence of a thousand men, Mirio rises from his seat on the bench to stand before you with a determined look on his face. It’s a simple gesture, but it’s more than enough to make the heat in your face grow within a matter of seconds, paralyzing you in place as you stare back at him with the fabric of your sundress clutched tightly between your fists.

After taking another breath, Mirio finally gathers the courage he needed to speak.

“We’ve known each other for a while now, and you’re also one of my closest friends.” Did he just friendzone you? “You’ve always been there for me, from the moment we walked into the same classroom, to all those times we needed help watching Eri. And we never stopped talking even after graduating, and I love having you around.”

What is this weird aching inside your chest? It’s almost like there’s something crawling its way through your ribcage, slowly approaching your heart to crush it in a deathly grip.

“Ahaha… yeah, it’s unbelievable, isn’t it?” You almost want to whimper on the spot, feeling like a small child after being scolded by their parents: Small, sad and vulnerable. It’s too good to be true, isn’t it? That the guy you’ve had a crush on for years feels the same way about you? 

You snap out of those negative thoughts when he takes your hands in his own. They’re much bigger than yours and covered in scars; you can feel the texture of each and every single one, all proof of all his hard work and dedication.

“The thing is,” his thumb traces small circles on top of your hand, making your heart beat faster against your chest. “I want to be more than friends with you!”

It’s incredible how a couple of words have such strength, enough to make the hammering in your chest intensify at a deafening pace that you swear even Mirio can hear. The words stay jammed in your throat, unable to come out through your trembling lips, which you lick nervously.

You’re so nervous that all of your senses feel like they’ve been amplified. Everything sounds so far and so close at the same time. The pounding in your chest, the lively chirping of the birds, the children playing behind Mirio: they sound closer than before, the noises blurring together into an incoherent mess.

“I love how you help everyone around you. How brave and fearless you are. That little scrunch of your nose whenever you’re deep in thought. That cute laughter of yours. I want to—!”

The sound of a loud smack can be heard in the distance, followed by a surprised shout from Mirio. All of sudden, you feel a blunt pain on your forehead as Mirio is suddenly pushed forwards and his face smashes painfully against yours. At the same time, a soft pair of lips come crashing down upon yours and his blue eyes are wide open as they stare into yours. There’s a shrill ringing in your ears as you’re trying to process everything going on.

Mirio’s body is draped over yours, one of his hands pressed firmly against the back of the bench to stop the fall. Neither of you move from the shock, caught off guard by the sudden change of events. Your mind is a cloudy mess when Mirio’s lips finally part from your own, leaving you both in a daze.

“I’m sorry sir!” A small voice snaps you out of it as Mirio turns around in surprise. One of the children from before is standing nearby, holding a red ball with an embarrassed smile. Are they sorry because they hit Mirio with the ball or because they interrupted?

You don’t know, but keep staring silently at their small frame as they run away with that ball clutched in their tiny hands.

“Hahaha...Talk about unexpected.” Once again, Mirio’s scratching the back of his head, chuckling as he looks away in embarrassment. But hearing those familiar giggles of yours makes him look back at you. “Everything okay?”

“You know, people usually start dating first before sharing their first kiss. But that was nice too.”

Mirio blinks repeatedly, processing your words over and over as you stand up from your seat, trying to smooth the wrinkles in your dress after clutching the fabric so hard.

“Does that mean... what do I think it means?” 

“...Yeah, it does.” Your head is tilted gently to the side. “I like you too, Mirio. And I feel the same way.” 

“Good,” He grabs your hands again, slowly lacing your fingers together. “Good. Can I… kiss you again?”

“Mhmm, just be careful of flying balls this time.”

Taglist (If your name is in bold I couldn't tag you.)

@bnha-ra @godtieruwu @hanniejji @mysticalite @savagetrickster @shoobirino @songsforbnha @sugacookiies @unbreakableeiji @pixxiesdust @hawks-senseis @yikerb @definitely-yours @khemz1312 @sadskater25 @ruinedbyatrashcan @lemonadencran @honeytama

[denkamis]

bnha characters as cheesy valentine’s day tropes.

masterlist. | valentine’s day event masterlist.

warnings: none! some swearing, but a lot of fluff for the best boys

characters: shouto todoroki, denki kaminari, eijirou kirishima, tamaki amajiki

notes: dedicated to @nekomanagers / @meilbox ,, for being the most supportive human being in my life and undoubtedly the reason i have been posting so much of my work here on this blog. thank you for dealing with all of my shenanigans on and offline, and for picking me up when i felt like i couldn’t. <33 i love you.

shouto todoroki

flowers & chocolate as gifts

he’s one for the classics

he buys you the most gorgeous flowers, ones that are most definitely your favourites mixed in with an arrangement of others that all have particular meanings to them

he also got you expensive truffle chocolates, and also some cheaper ones that you really like to snack on

he’s so thoughtful, it makes your heart melt

literally so sincere as he gives it to you too, has a whole ass speech prepared

shouto came home after work a bit later than you had expected him to. perhaps he got caught up with some hero work, a report that needed to absolutely be filed today or a villain that just wouldn’t let up. either way, when you heard the front door to your shared apartment open, you came running over to greet him. as you turned the corner to see the front door, there stood shouto with the most breathtaking bouquet of flowers you had ever seen in your life. it was a myriad of colours and petals of all kinds standing out against the white of his suit. since when did he have time to change after work to surprise you like this? his usual aloof expression was replaced by a soft smile, one that was reserved for you and only you, “happy valentine’s day, my love.”

he strolled over to you, initiating a kiss that was slow and passionate. it made your heart melt right on the spot, your face erupting in nothing but pure warmth. “shouto, these are beautiful,” you told him as you took a moment to admire the different flowers that went into assembling the collection in his hands. “these ones mean gratitude, and this one here means love. truth is the white coloured one,” he pointed out, guiding you through the meaning of each individual one that made up your special gift.

he snuck a glance at you, your face radiant with how much you were smiling at his thoughtful present. “i also bought you a few of your favourites,” shouto gestured to the vanity you two kept by the door. you turned to see a very expensive box of truffles and a few hershey's kisses paired with more of your favourite corner store chocolates.

“it wasn’t too much, was it?” shouto asked quietly, watching as your jaw dropped at the sight of the truffles. didn’t you hear a rumour once about how those ones literally had gold integrated into their wrappers?  “no no, it’s wonderful. this is.. you’re so sweet,” you giggled, tapping his chest as a signal for him to lean down so you could kiss him again. no matter how many times shouto gifted you flowers and chocolate on valentine’s day, you got the same butterflies as you did when he first gave you these heartfelt gifts back in high school.

denki kaminari

fancy dinner date at an expensive restaurant

the entire bakusquad was EGGING HIM ON for something good on valentine’s day okay

he’s been talking big game about some kind of secret plan he had in store for the both of you

he bought you an outfit that not only suited your style, but was elegant and absolutely stunning as it complimented your figure

he pulled out all the stops for you

he wanted to be classy, so he reserved a table for two at one of those rooftop restaurants so you two could dine and enjoy each other’s company

“like grown ups” as denki says

you were sat at a candlelit dinner for two near the edge of one of the most highly rated restaurants in your area. denki had really gone all out, wanting to treat you like the resilient and beautiful partner you were to him with a night that would be unforgettable.

and unforgettable it was.

you two were arguably the loudest ones at the restaurant, laughing and overall just having a good time amongst such high class individuals. denki was making faces at you across the table, making you choke back on the red wine you were having. “and then bakugou slapped that dude! it was crazy, y/n, super fucking wild,” he laughed as you nodded your head in agreement. denki sure knew how to talk, filling in conversations with anecdotes and playful conversation topics sprinkled in with compliments for you. he loved you so damn much, he felt like his electricity quirk was on all the time with you from how much you turned his brain to mush.

he couldn’t get over how gorgeous you looked tonight, with your hair done and your outfit styled to perfection. like, that was all his? and a personality to match? damn! he felt like for once, he was doing something right in his life for you. he wasn’t the dumbass everyone constantly made him out to be. he was trying to be the best for you, and if he could make you happy for the rest of his life, then nothing else mattered to him.

your waiters came back with two platters in hand, with outrageously small portion sizes that could feed maybe a small cat at best. the two of you stared at each other with blank expressions. oh no, this would not be enough to appease your appetites. each of your plates were worth twelve thousand yen, so you really couldn’t get more. on top of that, denki had prepaid everything for tonight anyways. what was worse was that the food tasted like a rat’s ass, yet the two of you dined like kings regardless. well, you pretended to at least. as you were suppressing your disgusted expressions out of kindness to both the waiters and the other guests, denki couldn’t help but stare at you. you were his person, and although the dinner wasn’t exactly all it was cracked up to be, he knew that you dealt with so much more of him than anyone else was willing to. that meant more to him than words could even express.

that, and he immediately bought you apology mcnuggets after you two left. then you two really ate like kings.

eijirou kirishima

long captions to their s/o on instagram

this mfing SAP

he has everything planned, he made like 3 drafts beforehand and even had bakugou proofread it for him

he had all the different pictures he wanted to post too

this is a little unrelated but mans definitely showed up to your house with red roses and a suit

LIKE A GENTLEMAN

your phone buzzed, indicating that  you had received a new notification from instagram. after taking your phone off the table and entering in your passcode, you tapped into the instagram app and saw what had caused the tiny ping.

eijikirishima has tagged you in a post!

the first photo was an oldie, but a goodie. it was of you and eijirou at prom together back when you both graduated from ua. he looked absolutely stunning in the darkened suit he had bought, right beside you in a matching colour scheme. though the picture was in fact a meme in itself, as he posed like that one will smith picture gesturing to you with the goofiest smile. you remembered telling him that he was absolutely banned from wearing crocs that night to the dance. it was a good thing you had saved him from that utter atrocity.

the next picture was a photo of you with the puppy you had adopted together. you had named him bean, to which eijirou had expressed was the manliest name he had ever heard for a tiny pomeranian puppy. you were pressing a kiss to bean’s nose, the angle of the photo showing off your loving nature that he had fallen for.

the last was a picture of you sleeping against him during a long train ride for a mission. it wasn’t the most flattering picture eijirou had of you, but it was certainly one of his favourites. you looked so at peace, cuddling against his side with a tiny line of drool running down your chin. he was smiling in the picture, his eyes solely trained on you with the most wholesome look on his face. he was so utterly in love with you, and this picture couldn’t have showcased that look any more clearly.

the caption read as follows:

Hey bros! It’s Valentine’s Day, which means that it is my duty to post about the most amazing person I’ve ever had the pleasure of dating for about five years now! Y/N, we’ve been through so much together over the years, we’ve had ups and downs and everything else in between but I’ve been fortunate enough to remain standing here as the person you can confide in, much like you are that person to me. You’re my rock. I continue to find so much more to love about you every single day. I hope I get to spend the rest of my days with you, my best friend, my partner throughout everything. I love you so so much, pebble. I hope we get to stay just like this forever, and grow as we go along.

needless to say, many happy tears were shed that day.

tamaki amajiki

love letters in their shoe locker

for all the days leading up to valentine’s, tamaki put a different letter in your locker

mirio hyped him up asf to even get him to write what he was feeling towards you

and he was still nervous as hell and had mirio stand guard so that you didn’t accidentally walk in on him shoving weird notes in your locker

but unfortunately for tamaki, mirio isn’t a very good watchman

and so you caught him in the act, right on valentine’s day ironically

it was the end of a long, rather eventful day at school. you had gotten a few confessions from some other students, to which you turned down due to someone else being on your mind. for the past few days, you had begun collecting small letters in your shoe locker. the notes were short, handwritten with small doodles and even a recipe or two for you to try. it seemed like this person was reaching out to you to express their true feelings, their intimate and romantic feelings, towards you. and you couldn’t help but feel the same towards them, whoever they were. this admirer unveiled small details about themselves to you, yet hadn’t revealed enough for you to piece together a name. so here you were, sprinting down the hallway as soon as the bell went to try and catch a glimpse of this mystery individual who had been leaving you such sweet writings for you to cherish.

you rounded the final corner and there you saw him. before that happened however, you first you ran into your classmate and good friend mirio, who let out a tiny “oof” at the sudden contact. you apologized to him in a rush, explaining in a rushed tone that you needed to go meet someone. he nodded and waved to you before realizing that he had one job and tamaki was definitely going to kill him later.

only slightly out of breath, you saw a mess of indigo hair and shaky hands sliding your latest note into your shoe locker. as he turned to leave, his face drained of colour at the sight of you. he slouched further, retreating into himself. he looked around nervously for an excuse as to what the hell he was doing shoving letters into your locker. though, you beat him to speaking first.

“it’s you.”

tamaki’s throat felt scratchy and swollen, his entire form shaking as you slowly, calmly made your way towards him. “i- i can explain, y/n,” tamaki barely murmured, his nerves beginning to get the best of him yet again. “your words, they were so intimate. you were so well spoken on paper, i just had to meet you in person,” you confessed to him with a patient smile on your face. you stood a relatively safe distance away, not wanting to overwhelm him by your presence. you had just caught him in such a compromising act, after all.

“i read all your letters,” you went on, “every night before bed, i read them, tamaki. i even tried out the udon recipe you gave me and it was the best udon i had ever had. everything you said in your letters, the confessions and the other, more personal stuff… is that all true?”

tamaki, though he felt frozen beneath your warm gaze, had the courage to nod his head. “i didn’t know how else to tell you,” he admitted, hands now covering his face in shame. suddenly, gentle fingers grasped at his shaky ones as you uncovered his face to the light that was you. “i like you too,” you said finally. it felt like a chord had snapped inside of tamaki’s mind and all his feelings came crashing down in a deep crescendo of emotions all for you. it was all that he had ever wanted from you: a response.

all works © denkamis 2021.

tags:

@meilbox

want to be on the taglist? see this post!

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Noise

It was the ever incredible and wonderful @minky-for-short's birthday yesterday so I wrote her this fic! Thanks for being such a good friend and also for coming up with this brilliant Artist AU for Thanatos and Zagreus!

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Please consider leaving a comment on Ao3 if you liked this!

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Thanatos wasn’t used to coming home to a quiet house.

When he was younger, he’d always walked in from school or training classes to the racket of a house full of his siblings. There would always be someone yelling, someone arguing, something crashing to the floor, a handful of brothers and sisters sprinting past. And something inside him would sink under the weight of it.

Even for the size of the house of Nyx, there were very few quiet places, driving Than up onto the roof if he actually wanted some peace after a long day. But then there would be Zagreus, on the good days, sitting beside him and telling some story to cheer him up when he could see Than was tired and getting run down. He was there waving his hands in the air, gesturing wildly as he walked across the spine of the rooftop, eyes bright and wild and full. There was all the life and joy inside him bursting out as noise the way, later in life, it would burst out in his art.

Was it any wonder Than had fallen in love with him? He was the only kind of noise that had filled him up rather than worn him down.

And then he’d moved out but you’d really be surprised how much noise Sleep Incarnate could make when it was just the two of you sharing a cramped dorm room. And when your boyfriend was over half the time, bumping his elbows on everything and playing his guitar very badly as you tried to study, making you laugh, or sketching you as you typed an essay and throwing balls of paper at you when you moved and changed the light.

And you’d smile and you’d realise this was the man you were going to marry.

Now they had their brownstone, perfectly placed between Thanatos’ office and Zag’s studio and there was more noise contained in those walls than the mansion and that little dorm room combined. At first it was music, bright, cheesy music blasting as they unpacked all of those boxes and fit their two lives together for good. It was Zag singing in the shower on a morning, it was Than clattering pots and pans as he recreated his favourite recipes of his mothers, pared down for just the two of them. It was Cerberus barking at the birds on the fire escape or whining and kicking in his sleep, sprawled out across the sofa Than had definitely asked he not be allowed on.

And then Theodora happened. When neither of them had been looking, their bright, beautiful baby girl had come into their lives with one green eye and one gold one and all of her daddy’s spark and her papa’s brains and if Than had thought his life was noisy before, he was a fool.

But his life felt fuller than it ever had.

So when Thanatos walked through the door that evening, he immediately froze, overwhelmed with the sensation that something was very wrong. Because his house was silent.

Frowning, he hung his keys on the hook and shrugged out the heavy black coat he’d been sweating in for the last few days of warm weather. He’d had meetings with potential clients all over the place today and it felt like each one had required at least a block’s worth of walking. Of course he could just have taken the heavy thing off, as Zag often suggested, but he didn’t feel quite right without it. But drowning in sweat or not, he’d sold three of his husband's paintings today and he really felt like it warranted at least a welcome home kiss from said husband, followed by his daughter hauling herself onto her wobbly little baby legs, begging him to pick her up. And any other day, he’d have that wall of noise washing over him, loud and comforting and familiar.

So where were they?

The living room was eerily silent too, Theo’s toys lying in boneless patience for the next time she came along to play with them, the radio normally permanently tuned to Zag’s favourite station voiceless. Than frowned, the sense of disquiet getting a firmer grip on him as he passed through into the kitchen. The pots from breakfast were still in the sink, the dregs of Than’s coffee he’d hurriedly downed on the way to his office now ice cold sludge in the bottom of his favourite mug. Normally he’d be coming home to Zag attempting to cook dinner, it was his job to calmly survey the knife edge of disaster it was balancing on and diplomatically extract his husband from the stove so he could turn it into something edible. It was the thought that counted. But there wasn’t so much as a pot of tea brewing, the normally warm and raucous room cold and still.

Than’s frown deepened and he looked for a note, something to explain they’d gone to the store or the park, Zag often scrawled something on the back of an invitation to the latest gallery showing or letter asking for him to submit some work and stuck it onto the fridge. Thanatos had rescued commission requests worth thousands from the front of their fridge before, still valuable even with a request for eggs and milk scribbled on the back.

But he couldn’t see anything. The fridge only held a now week old reassurance that Zag had picked Theo up from his parents’ and taken her to get ice cream. Not much comfort to Thanatos, his heartbeat now increasing significantly.

Zagreus never left him worrying like this, he knew his husband's anxiety was only ever waiting for the slightest little nudge to topple over into overdrive. Hands starting to tremble now, he groped for his phone in his pocket, unsure whether to first dial Zag, his mother or the National Guard.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to work that out because just as he was about to yank his phone free, he heard a noise from behind the back door, something muffled coming from their tiny little walled garden. Laughter. Two kinds of laughter and he knew both of them well.

Relief settling over him, Than tried not to look like he’d been panicking that much as he pushed the door back and walked into the golden late afternoon sunlight. Their little yard wasn’t much, just a square of concrete tiles, but the borders were overflowing with greenery and flowers in sheer defiance to the lack of soil, all thanks to Than’s mother in law. In was in the sparse shades of these towering grasses and flowering vines that Zag and Theo were giggling. They were both grinning the same crooked grin, both pairs of eyes alight with that same joy.

And they were both covered in paint.

“Good evening,” Than found himself smiling too, before he even really knew why, “And what are we up to exactly?”

If Than was still a little miffed at his lack of a welcome home, it was quickly made up for when both his husband and daughter gave unison cries of delight and rushed towards him.

“Than!”

“Papa!”

Than laughed, bracing himself so he wasn’t completely knocked off his feet by their hugs, wrapping his arms around them. He accepted a lingering kiss from Zag before Theo loudly interrupted it with a retching noise, tugging on the bottom of his coat and demanding his attention.

“You gross!” she declared loudly, “Daddies gross!”

“Oh are we now?” Than chuckled, scooping her up and covering her pudgy little face in kisses until she squealed, “Is this gross?”

“No but your shirt might be going that way,” Zag grimaced apologetically, noticing the paint smearing from Theo onto her papa, “Sorry.”

Than glanced down, eyebrows raising, “Ah. And why exactly is my daughter covered in paint? I know a small amount is normal but this rather looks like she’s been rolling in it.”

Zag’s face brightened, “You’re not far off! I had this incredible idea, you see…”

“One that involved an awful lot of mess?” Than’s smile quirked fondly.

“All my best ideas do,” Zag winked over his shoulder before stepping to one side so Than could see the large roll of paper spread out across the ground.

Already it was filled with multicoloured smears and a few handprints, some footprints too, a cacophony of shape and colour. There were a few in different palettes hanging and drying on the back wall in the sun.

“You see, little Teddy’s going to be my new collaborator!” Zag spread his arms grandly over their work, “She starts them off and she can use whatever she feels like, just really moves with the energy of it all, y’know? Then I come in and tie it all together! She’s a phenomenal abstract artist!”

Than looked over the paintings they’d made together. Part of why he was such a good art dealer and such a good agent for Zagreus was that he found more to love in his work than anyone and he was good at making others see it too as he sold it to them. His love for the man spilled into the art, in the shapes and colours and textures he saw the person he’d loved since he was a kid. It was like Zag’s art spoke a language Thanatos was fluent in.

And looking at this art, the art Zag and their daughter had made together, it took his breath away. It was familiar and it was new all at once, it was bright and joyful as the two of them clashed and flowed together in the paint. If he looked long enough he could start to see what was Theo simply having fun splashing around in the colourful stuff she saw her daddy getting to play with all day and what was Zag fondly stitching her marks into something cohesive, something musical and formed.

And in it Thanatos could see his family. He could see noise.

“What do you think?” Zag’s eager smile had started to dim, his eyes getting a little anxious as he searched his husband’s face, tumbling into a nervous ramble, “I will clean her up, I promise, I put her in clothes she doesn’t love love, y’know? I will get the stains out, I swear and I can wash your shirt too if you want? I’ll use the special stuff that works really good, I mean, you might have to show me how but if there’s instructions I’ll just read those...”

Than took a step closer, careful not to damage the painting, reaching over and putting a hand on his shoulder. As it always did, the touch alone was enough to calm Zag, his nervous stumbling coming to a stop, turning into a self conscious smile.

“Zag, it’s beautiful,” Than murmured gently, moving the hand to brush his cheek affectionately. Fortunately, Theo didn’t deem this unacceptably gross, just pressing her face to Than’s neck and nuzzling contentedly, “It’s really, really beautiful.”

Zag beamed, tilting his head hopefully, “Beautiful enough that you wanna help us make another one?”

Than smiled back, already maneuvering Theo so he could shrug out of his work jacket and let it fall to the floor, Theo giggling and squirming with excitement as she helped him push his sleeves up.

“Well, I’m not a phenomenal abstract artist like you two but it does look like fun…”

The works from this new series would go across the country, thanks to Thanatos. He really was a good agent.

They didn’t sell them, Zag didn’t want them to be sold for money after the initial exhibition. Instead they were donated to art schools and children’s hospital wards and after school clubs. But the one that all three of them had done together, the one with the two sets of bigger handprints in varying shades of red and purple and the flurry of tinier ones, the smudges and smears and bright splashes of eye watering colour, that one stayed firmly where it belonged, hanging in their living room. Over time they would take it down and add to it, especially when they had two more sets of tiny handprints to add to it.

And around it, their house would never, ever be quiet.

[damn-stark]

The Jedi Master

Chapter 2 of Unfrozen

Summary: You once were a General and Jedi Master fighting against separatists alongside the clones, the next, darkness clouded over and life passed in flash, and before you knew it you’re waking up with no memory running for your life.

A/N- next part, I hope you all like it!!

Warning- Angst, SLOWBURN.

Pairing- Since Poe and Rey were tied, what I’m going to do is let you all choose which you like more as the story continues and chemistry’s unfold!!!

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“So this is our key? A Jedi Master?” Finn asks Rey in a horrible whisper. Your drift your gaze up to the trio and pull your hands from your head, looking to Commander Dameron as his gaze remains on you.

“Do you have a starfighter?”

Commander Dameron blinks in surprise, not expecting you to speak, he shifts in his seat and shakes his head. “Have you seen the ship we’re on? Doesn’t really fit a starfighter now does it? Plus it seems like you may have some type of amnesia, you can’t fly.”

You sit up straight to stand to your feet, looking to the end of the hall and feeling the strong urge to not do as he says and attempt your sudden made up plan. “I can fly, I need to go save my Commander. You heard what they said, they have him.”

Rey stands up and gets in your way as you attempt going out to search for some sort of escape pod. “I can’t let you do that. You can’t, you don’t know if they’re lying—”

“I do,” you remark with a cold gaze. Even if you didn’t have an idea how, you knew. “Search your feelings, citizen.”

Finn beside her looks between the both of you with his eyes peeled and Commander Dameron steps in. “We can’t go back on just a hunch.”

“And he’s my Commander, I leave no man behind.” You interject sharply. “And it’s no hunch, they said it, aren’t you paying attention?”

The Commander sighs and nods, grabbing your shoulder to attempt and assure you. “I understand that, trust me, but getting you back to our base alive is our priority. If you go back there's a possibility that you’ll get killed.”

You step back away from him and begin to pace as you think of a plan.

“Plus, if it’s you they want, they won’t kill your Commander,” Rey continues, “they’ll use him as bait. Besides don’t you want to remember your past first?”

You stop your pacing and lift your head to look at her, frowning and letting out a deep sigh. “I do.”

“Well I can help, but only if we go back to base.”

You hum and sit back down to put your head in your hands again. “At least please tell me what year it is? I,” you pause and swallow thickly at the feeling of a sharp pounding pain in your head, more memories flash, but they’re like if you were looking at someone else’s memories. It was all surreal. “I can’t remember.”

The three of them look at one another and commander Dameron answers for all of them with a sympathetic look featured on his face. “It’s thirty-four ABY. It’s been fifty four years since the fall of the Republic and jedi order.”

Your frown deepens and it seems that at the mention, at the knowledge of how many years have passed your headache heightens. You cover your whole face with your hands and tilt your head down, part of you wants to cry, but the other part doesn’t know why exactly. Your head was in thousands of pieces with only small fragments of it pieced together.

“General….Heart, is it?” You hear Finn's voice ask. You proceed to look up and meet his dark gaze, at that moment seeing another vivid flash of someone else.

“Y/N!”

You whirl around and a smile instantly widens on your face at the sight of Anakin Skywalker, your best friend; you see he mirrors your gesture and you both rush towards one another to meet each other halfway with a big, warm bear hug. “Ani! Haha. It’s so good to see you!”

Anakin pulls away and his grin widens as you two begin to pace around each other in a circle, as if it was the most unbelievable thing in the whole universe. “And it’s so good to see you! Damn, it’s been so long! Wow! Look at you! Jedi Master and all!”

You grin and just shrug, “what can I say? But look at you! Look at your hair!” Your eyes scan his shoulder length light hair and you can’t help but giggle at the memory of his previous cut. “It suits you.”

“What can I say?” He mocks you, both of you finally coming to a complete stop in front of each other, still sharing the same gleeful look. “But you, wow, I’m so proud. Turned Jedi Master at nineteen. You’re the youngest Jedi master, I’m sorry I couldn’t be there.”

“It’s no problem, it was a year ago, I’m over it.” You assure him.

Anakin rests his hands on his hips and his grin falls a bit, but not completely, his childlike joy still remains. “What is it your clones call you, General Heart is it?”

Your smile turns shy, and you nod, “yep, it’s silly, but they insist on it, so I’m letting it slide.”

“Well, General Heart not to brag, or anything, but I was the youngest Jedi knight to become a general.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Definitely,” Anakin says smugly as he crosses his arms over his chest. “So I guess we’re both making history.” He begins to approach you and wraps his arm around your shoulders to walk you to the briefing room. “We’ve definitely come far, I never imagined becoming war Generals so young.”

You wrap your arm around his shoulders and agree with his statement. “Nor I.”

Your eyes widen and tears sting your eyes, you look away from Finn and grab onto your chest as this sudden heart aching pain starts within you. Hundreds of memories flash through your mind, all having to do with that same young blue-eyed, brunette that just suddenly appeared in your mind. You suddenly remember his name and what he meant to you, you acknowledge your name from that memory but even that seemed insignificant at the time. You hear the three people before you begin to worry over your current state, but you block them out as the memories of Anakin Skywalker just resurface.

Just the memories that had to with him and nothing else.

“Anakin….” you mouth, feeling the subtle taste of salt in the corner of your lips.

“Did you just remember something?” You hear Rey ask in a concerned tone.

When you look up to her, you make sure to wipe away your tear before speaking. “Uh, yes, my name and a friend.”

“Oh...what is your name?”

“It’d be pretty ridiculous to ask if either of you had knowledge of my friend, would it not?” You ask desperately avoiding her question.

“Uh, depends what friend.” Commander Dameron answers.

“Anakin Skywalker.”

Again they look at one another and share a look you couldn’t understand, when they turn back to you, Rey suddenly has this assuring look on her face that is basked by the yellow light from the hall beyond the cockpit door. “We’re almost at base, it’s best if General Organa helps you with your questions, she’s much more reliable than any of us could be.”

You nod slowly and grip onto your knees as you reveal your name. “My name is Master Y/N L/N.” You offer them a kind smile.

“Oh well it’s very nice to meet you, Master y/n l/n,” Rey formally greets you with her hand extended out towards you.

You look at it and wrap your hand around her forearm. Which confuses her slightly, leaving her a little stunned and unable to think of what to do until a couple minutes later where she does the same. You pull away after a few seconds and stand up to take Finns arm and then Commander Dameron’s; who seems a little starstruck now. He has his lips parted and keeps his hand on your forearm longer than the rest had.

“I, I just want to say that I’m a big fan,”

“Huh?” You quirk your brow and look at him nervously.

He draws in a deep breath and then swallows thickly before releasing his breath and explaining. “You may not remember, but you’re actually a very amazing pilot, my mother used to look up to you, she would tell me so many stories of you and Anakin Skywalker.”

“Oh,” you grin, feeling a warmth begin to burn under your cheeks, “well I’m very flattered.” You use your other hand to grab his forearm with both hands and just suddenly become very flustered. “Thank you,” you pull your hands away and rest them on your hips, “I’m very honored, as well as proud and upset because I can’t rub it in my friends face.” You smirk, “regardless, thank you.”

“No wonder you seemed so familiar,” Commander Dameron added with a more confident smile.

You look to the other two who just look at the commander with a teasing look, and before they could say a thing, the same blue and white droid as before rolls before you and beeps before showing a hologram screen of a scoreboard that read, “Skywalker v L/N.”, and had a line in the middle that each side kept a score of ten tally marks. You narrow your gaze on it and can’t help but grin brightly at the memory. “Ah, yes I remember now, Ani and I had a racing competition going on, we restarted every couple of months because he couldn’t handle not being the best pilot in the galaxy or whatever he called himself.”

The droid remarks your comment and you laugh for the first time before glaring at him. “Don't make me throw you out of this ship you old fried machine, because I will. Anakin isn’t here to stop me.”

The droid goes on a burning ramble and you recall your relationship with this droid and just ignore him and sit back down to look at the three people just watching your interaction. Rey chuckles, but still looks at the droid with concern. “Wow, I’ve never heard him swear, it’s new.”

You scoff, “new is understatement.”

“Well,” Commander Dameron sighs as he turns to the control board, “enough of that, the ship should jump out of hyperspace in three, two and one.” He jumps on the pilot seat and maneuvers the ship down to a beautiful, green jungle planet that soon showed a small hidden base on the ground, hidden amongst all of the greenery. When the ship lands you can’t help but feel a tight stomach churning feeling, or as if something was going to happen. You walk out as normal as possible, you disguise your nerves and walk through the tiny base, seeing the stares and hearing the murmurs. It’s not until you walk inside a building does your gaze focus on one person, on the General they were speaking of.

Upon sight of you she dropped what she was doing and approached you and the four walking beside you. You studied her and noticed she was very small, old and pretty, yet her determination was unmistakably reconzible. Her brown eyes locked on your eyes and her eyes widened a bit as her face turned paler, as if she was seeing a ghost. Once you all finally came to a stop in front of one another, she managed a warm assuring smile that matched her greeting. “Master y/n l/n, welcome.” She grabs your hands and her gaze turns more sympathetic, “everything must be so confusing at the moment, I’m sorry, but I can assure you that we can help with any of your concerns.”

You tugs your lips into an understanding smile and nod. “Thank you, General. And as far concerns, I have plenty,” you swallow thickly and sigh, “I can’t seem to remember a lot of my past, I’ve been getting some memories back. Piece by piece, but there's still a lot I’m missing.”

The General nods and walks you further into the base. “Well to ease some confusion, I’m General Leia Organa Skywalker.”

You drop your smile and a new wave of confusion spills all over you. You blink and freeze in your spot. “Skywalker?”

“Yes,” she confirms, turning to face you as the others watched curiously, “you may have known my father, Anakin Skywalker.”

A faint smile tugs on your lips and you nod, “yes, he was my best friend, he was like my brother, and,” you suddenly cut yourself off and stare blankly at the ground as the memory slams into you. “And I knew your mother too. She was a good friend too,” tears well in your eyes and your voice sounds shaky, “you-you’re their child. I knew of you, of course you were only a fetus before, but I knew of their secret. It’s such an honor to meet you.”

The general's face expresses different emotions, but she ends up smiling softly. “And it's an honor meeting you. I’m sorry for what happened, to be thrusted into such a new place, a new year, everything must feel like a crazy dream.”

“Yeah, just about,” you nod, clasping your hands behind your back.

“And I’m sorry to put you in distress, but it seems the force has brought you here for a reason. The galaxy is yet in another war and we need your help.”

You frown and keep your gaze downcasted. “Hmm.”

“And before I go into much more grave detail, I think it’s better if we ease your mind and help recover what you've lost.” Her gaze drifts to Rey beside you and she gives her a small nod, “Rey if you could, please.”

“Of course.” Said girl responds kindly, turning to you and offering a warm smile, “we’ll find more peace outside, I can take you somewhere.”

With no choice in the matter you follow after her, leaving the two men and the General behind; walking back out to the blazing sun and the humid jungle air. Even if you knew it was impossible, part of you searched for something slightly familiar, a face mainly. But nothing, you were surrounded by new unfamiliar people. All from a different generation apparently, all just purely new.

“We can stop here,” Rey spoke up, breaking you from your train of thought and stopping in a clear spot. Proceeding to turn to you with a sweet and assuring smile, “I’m just going to need you to clear your mind and meditate. I’m going to just help you remember, heal you in a way.”

“Okay,” you nod, looking down at the new change of clothes she had let you borrow before straightening your shoulders and closing your eyes to take in deep breath, breathing them out and clearing your mind, falling into a deep state of meditation. Not feeling as her fingers gently touch the side of your temple and she slowly begins to use the force to ease your confused state; to heal what was damaged and reel back everything that had been lost in the inner corner of your brain, bringing back a huge wave of emotions that used to be well put away. Causing a pain and disturbance within you.

“Something doesn’t feel right, I sense a disturbance in the force.” A new pain shoots through your head and you fall to your knees, screaming and hearing voices and other shouts, feeling a heartbreaking pain and a breakaway.

“Execute order 66.”

The order passes over your head as you’re on your knees in pain, all you could say was just. “No...Anakin.”

The heartbreaking pain finds its source and the face of your longtime friend fades through your mind and displays an unfamiliarity in his now yellow sith eyes. As hard as you try to hold on and just confuse it as some trick, the blue eyes that belonged to Anakin were gone. You were left suffering until it was too late to notice what was actually happening around you.

“General General run! Get out of here!”

“Ahhhh!” You scream out and fall to your knees, grabbing onto your chest and crying out in pain and heartbreak as everything resurfaces and you remember yourself, remember your time before it froze. Literally.

“Y/N! I’m so sorry!” Rey exclaims as she falls on her knees before you, grabbing your hands and trying to help ease your situation.

You fall on your hands and knees and cry out to the ground. You punch it and punch it as if that was going to do anything. You last in your own little secluded, painful and heartbreaking world for a while, until you could grasp what was currently happening, where you were, what time you were in. You speak up hoarsely and unintinally startle Rey. “I remember, everything,” you croak out, slowly picking up your head to look at her with your bloodshot eyes. “The force, it kept me alive when I fell in the ice,” you sniffle, “my commander pushed me to save me and I pulled him down with me. The force kept us alive.”

Rey’s eyebrows knit together and her light eyes search you for her response. She’s caught lost, unable to find the exact wording to help you. She can only seem to cup your shoulder and try to share an assuring look. “I’m sorry. I really am. I wish I could say something to ease your pain, but I feel like there's nothing I can say.”

“Don’t worry,” you assure her before you clear your throat and push yourself to your feet, “I understand. Thank you for helping me,” you express kindly, grabbing her hand and failing to smile, “I appreciate it.”

You drop her hands and then begin your mission and walk past her, hearing her quickly catch up. “Wait, Master, don’t you want to know more? I know a way you can talk to your previous master, talk to any master and...Anakin Skywalker—”

“Don’t,” you cut her off sharply, “don’t say that traitors name again.” You whirl around and glare at her, “don’t you dare.”

Rey stops in her tracks and looks at you stunned and mouth agape, gasping at the new sudden change at the mention of his name. She wants to apologize, but you walk off towards General Organa before she could.

“General.”

“Yes, Master?”

“I need a ship.”

“Wait,” she blinks, “what?”

Your gaze drifts to Commander Dameron and Finn behind her and then slides back to her. “Rey helped me remember what I had forgotten and now I need a ship to rescue my friend. My commander.”

“But, we—”

“And I understand you need me help,” you cut her off in a cold tone, “but I need to save my friend before I can help. Your fellow soldiers promised and I promised my friend I would help him. What kind of General would I be if I can’t keep my promises?”

“Master, l/n, I know you’re desperate, but there's still much you have to learn, to know before you go running off.” General Organa tries to calm you down, “I can help, you’re struggling, you’re confused and hurting. Please wait until everything makes sense.”

You fist your hands and shake your head, “no, I can’t, but I'll hear you out after.”

“You’ll hear me out?” She questioned with a pointed gaze.

“Hmm.”

General Organa looks at Rey behind you and then at the two behind her before looking back at you with a sigh. “Fine, but I can’t let you go alone.” She turns to Commander Dameron and her face softens, “Poe, I know I may be asking a lot, but I trust you to fly her to her location and bring her and her Commander back. All of you.” She turns to Finn and Rey with the same look.

“I don’t need help,” you interject, “I can fly myself.”

“You could,” General Organa says as she turns back to you, “but I need reassurance that you’ll return, I need you.”

You look to a ship parked a few feet behind you and then return your gaze to her, adding a feigned smile and a lie. “I will.”

.

.

.

.

A/N- again depending on the interactions with Rey and Poe you guys can choose which ship you like better :) Rey and him tied so I feel like choosing as the story proceeds would be fun.

[agerefandom]

Something Wrong

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Regressor!Katsuki Bakugou (aka. Kacchan), worried!Izuku Midoriya (aka. Deku), worried!Shouta Aizawa (aka. Sensei), caregiver!Eijiro Kirishima, and the rest of 1A as background characters

Words: 4,000

Summary: Izuku notices Kacchan regressing in class and makes the mistake of following him when he leaves, intending to try and help. 

Content warnings: Graphic descriptions of violence. Dissociation. Trauma. Bullying. Prevented (unintentional) self-harm. Self-neglect. Physical abuse. Verbal abuse. Mild burns. Blood. This fanfiction raises many questions and issues and doesn’t necessarily solve all of them, although everyone receives physical care by the end. 

Author’s Note: Please note the content warnings and exercise caution when reading. I just finished the third season of My Hero Academia, and I have many emotions about the way the relationship between Katsuki and Izuku is handled by both the writers and the characters in the show. I’m also aware that their dynamic is a popular one in the fandom, and thus something I might be asked to write when I open requests again. This story was my attempt at figuring out how I felt about that. (Conclusion: I’m willing to write regressor!Katsuki with other caregivers, but not with Izuku, and vice-versa. I promise my regressor!Katsuki fics will not all be this angsty. I just had to get this one out of my system.) 

Something was wrong with Kacchan today.

Izuku spent a lot of time looking at Kacchan from day to day, since the taller boy’s head blocked his view of half the blackboard. Even in Junior High, Izuku found himself often watching Kacchan from the back of the class. He was always in motion: his leg bouncing and his fingers tapping on the sides of his desk.

Here in 1-A, many of the students had trouble sitting still. The classroom was always alive with the shifting of fabric and clicking of pens, and any students with sensory problems had to wear sound blockers when trying to get work done (Izuku himself took advantage of that sometimes, although it made his tendency to mumble a little worse).

Today, though, something about Kacchan’s tapping fingers was different. They wouldn’t stay on the desk. He kept lifting his hand to his face, tapping them against his jawline and then around to his mouth. Izuku couldn’t see what Kacchan was doing, but he knew that the other boy had often teased him for biting his fingernails in Junior High (Aww, are you sucking your thumb, Deku? I always knew you were just a baby!) so surely Kacchan wouldn’t have the same habit. And even more strangely, Kacchan kept whipping his hand down and away from his face, keeping it frozen at his side for a few minutes before his fingers started tapping against his leg and the entire cycle would restart.

There were other signs, too: Kacchan wasn’t taking notes, Izuku’s view of his notebook around his shoulder confirming that he was just scribbling random lines across the pages. As careless as Kacchan seemed, he was a good student, and his friends often asked to copy his notes. There must be something wrong, Izuku knew it.

Maybe he didn’t sleep well last night? Izuku knew that Kacchan had been having trouble sleeping since the kidnapping. He started playing loud music at all hours and snapping at anyone who asked him to turn it down, even Kirishima and Kaminari. Eventually, they had to bother Aizawa about it, and Kacchan had been threatened with his sound system being confiscated. That seemed to stop the noise, at least when it was lights-out. But Izuku could still hear him pacing sometimes.

Most of the class had nightmares about their various villain encounters, and insomnia meetups were a regular occurrence in the dormitory common rooms. It had been nice to find out that the others had been struggling to sleep since everything started. Izuku had originally assumed he was alone in the experience. Calming down after a nightmare was easier with Denki chattering about the game he was playing or Koda’s quiet presence sharing the space.

But Kacchan never came out of his room to join the others when he couldn’t sleep, and only the distant sounds of pacing and the darkening circles under his eyes allowed Izuku to notice when he was doing worse.

Shoot, Izuku had started missing some of Aizawa-sensei’s lecture because he was so distracted by Kacchan. He turned his attention back to his notes, scribbling desperately to catch up with the lecture slide before it changed. He could always borrow notes from Tenya, of course, but he didn’t like to bother his friends about things like that.

Izuku snuck another glance up and saw that Kacchan’s fingers were back up to his mouth. His head was tilted slightly down, as if he were looking at his notebook, but his pencil wasn’t moving.

Was Kacchan asleep, maybe? That wouldn’t last long: for all of Aizawa-sensei’s naps, he didn’t tolerate students falling asleep in lecture, his capture weapon quick to pull a napping student’s chair out from under them.

Just as Izuku started to worry, there was a harsh shriek of metal against floor as Kacchan pushed himself to his feet.

“Bathroom,” Kacchan blurted, and stalked for the door with his shoulders a tense line.

Confusion and worry warred in Izuku’s stomach, and he was standing before he could think twice about it.

“Same, yeah, bathroom,” Izuku said, and speed-walked out of the room before Aizawa could remind him that only one student was allowed to leave the class at a time, according to school rules.

The hall was empty, which meant that Kacchan must have taken off running as soon as he’d left the class.

Izuku paused as the door closed behind him, considering his options. There was a possibility that Kacchan had abandoned class entirely and gone back to the dorms, but he probably would have taken his backpack with him if that was the case. Usually, Kacchan went straight for the training rooms when he was upset, but they would be in use by classes right now.

In the absence of a better idea, Izuku decided to check the nearest bathroom and see if Kacchan had been telling the truth.

Izuku’s shoes squeaked quietly against the hallway as he approached the door to the boy’s bathroom and pushed it open. The sound gave him away, but he distinctly heard a gasp, followed by a sharp sniffle.

“Kacchan?” Izuku called out, letting the door close behind him.

There was no answer. Izuku walked fully into the bathroom, easily picking out the stall that Kacchan was hiding in. It was the only one with the door closed, but Izuku could see that Kacchan had pulled up his feet to avoid being seen. Something was definitely wrong, he’d never known Kacchan to be this desperate to hide.

“Kacchan, are you okay? Are you sick?” Izuku approached the door, straining his ears. He could hear Kacchan’s breathing, familiar from the years they had spent together.

“Fuck off, Deku,” Kacchan snapped.

Izuku could hear the tears in his voice, and something like curiosity unfurled in his chest. He hadn’t seen Kacchan cry in years. Izuku was the crybaby, and Kacchan was the one who got to tease him for it. What was going on?

“What’s wrong?” Izuku leaned against the line of sinks, staying in front of the stall. “Did something happen?”

“I told you to go away!” Kacchan shouted. “Nothing’s wrong, you idiot. Fuck off!”

“I’m not gonna leave you,” Izuku told the stall door. He didn’t know what was wrong, but he would get to the bottom of this. “Just tell me what’s going on.”

“Deku…”

Izuku could hear the warning in that growl, but he ignored it. Just as he always did.

“Come on, Kacchan.” Izuku tried a softer voice. “It’s okay! I’m not gonna make fun of you.”

Kacchan started to laugh, and something in Izuku’s stomach twisted. That wasn’t a good sound. It was strangled and getting louder, the tears abandoned for hysterical cackles. Izuku shifted to standing, but stayed in front of the stall. Maybe he was getting somewhere?

Sure enough, the lock clicked open, and the door swung inwards to reveal Kacchan.

Kacchan was standing on the floor now, his uniform even more rumpled that usual. His eyes were red-rimmed, tears still streaking his cheeks.

“You? Make fun of me?” he managed between the harsh laughter. “Deku, you wish.”

Kacchan stepped forwards, and Izuku knew what was going to happen only a second before his hand wrapped around Izuku’s neck and pushed him back into the line of sinks. Pain shot up through Izuku’s spine from where the edge of the counter hit his back. Kacchan didn’t stop pushing, forcing Izuku’s head to lean back against the mirror behind him.

Idiot, idiot, idiot. Always rushing in, Izuku lectured himself, closing his eyes to avoid the furious expression on Kacchan’s face. He had only wanted to help, but he knew Kacchan, and knew that he was at his most dangerous when he felt vulnerable. Why had he put himself in danger?

Force of habit, said a cynical voice in the back of Izuku’s head.

“You don’t listen, huh? Everyone thinks you’re so smart, but you and me know different.” Kacchan’s hand wasn’t pressing hard enough to cut off Izuku’s airflow, but he could feel his quirk starting to heat up the air between them, the sting of a thousand sparks jumping from Kacchan’s palm. Not enough to hurt, not really enough to leave burns, just a red mark that would fade in a few hours. Izuku kept his eyes closed. Kacchan had set off one of those tiny sparks in his eye once, and Izuku had needed an eyepatch for a whole week. Of course, Izuku had spent that time pretending to be Peg Leg the Pirate Hero, but it had still hurt.

“I was worried,” Izuku managed, bringing up his hand to try and tug Kacchan’s wrist away. Kacchan intercepted the attempt, making a tight fist around Izuku’s hand.

“Worried about me? You should worry about yourself, pipsqueak. You know I can take care of myself.” Pop pop went the tiny sparking explosions, starting to hurt the tender skin on the underside of Izuku’s chin. Those little burns could layer up and get painful eventually.

“I’m sorry,” Izuku said. “I know.”

“Do you? Do you really, Deku? Then why did you follow me?” Kacchan shouted, and Izuku felt spittle hit his cheeks.

“I don’t know!”

Izuku pushed out with his free hand, and was surprised when Kacchan’s grip on his throat subsided, the other boy stumbling back. He opened his eyes and saw his hands sparking, the power of One For All coming to his defense.

Kacchan had only been pushed a few steps back, and he was grinning now.

“You want to fight, shitty Deku? That why you followed me here?” The same little sparks were going off in Kacchan’s palms, flashes of light that made Izuku’s throat ache just watching them. At least they were away from his skin now.

“I don’t want to fight.” Izuku dismissed One For All, feeling the buzzing energy dissipate from his body. Kacchan’s cheeks were still blotchy, his eyes wild, and Izuku couldn’t bring himself to get on the offensive against him. “I’ll leave if you want.”

“Oh, no,” Kacchan hissed. “You had your chance to leave, but you just had to see me, huh? Wanted to gloat some more. Are you happy now, Deku? Want to rub it in?”

“I… no!” Izuku waved his hands in front of his face, feeling his eyes widen. “I’m not gloating! What? Why would I be happy that you’re sad?”

One moment, Kacchan was glaring down at Izuku with sparking palms, and then his face suddenly crumpled. His eyes closed, and he curled inwards, his quirk turning off as his hands went to grip his elbows. “Fuck,” Kacchan muttered. Izuku was close enough to hear his breathing hitch. “FUCK!” he shouted, and brought his hands up to his face, sparks flying again, this time against his own skin. It didn’t affect him, of course, his skin resistant to his own fire, but Izuku automatically started forwards. Kacchan’s eyes were still vulnerable, and he could damage himself.

The movement caught Kacchan’s attention. His head snapped up again, and Izuku could see the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

“Deku?” Kacchan asked, and he sounded… confused.

“Y-yeah, it’s me,” Izuku said. “Are you okay?”

“I can’t-” Kacchan shook his head, bringing his hands up to his face again.

“Careful!” Izuku stepped forward and caught his hands, keeping the sparking palms away from Kacchan’s eyes, even as the tiny explosions started to burn Izuku’s fingers. “Kacchan, what’s wrong?”

Kacchan had frozen under Izuku’s touch, but Izuku could feel his hands shaking.

“What’s wrong?” he echoed, and his voice sounded wrong. Tense and tight and young. “What’s wrong with me, Deku?”

“It’s okay,” Izuku said. “You’re okay. It’s just anxiety, I think. Just breathe, okay?”

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

Izuku didn’t see the attack coming this time, as he was pushed back against the mirrors for a second time. This time, the push was less controlled, and he felt the back of his head hit the mirror with a cracking noise. Hopefully, that was the glass.

“Kacchan!” Izuku reached out, trying to grab his shoulders. “It’s just me, it’s okay.”

“Shut up!! Stop trying to… COMFORT ME!” Kacchan shouted, and backhanded Izuku across the face. The sharpness of the pain made Izuku gasp, but it was easy enough to bring his head back up. “I don’t need your help! I told you to leave!” And Kacchan hit him again. “I told you to leave me alone!”

This is familiar.

The sour smell of the bathroom, the hard line of the counter pressing into Izuku’s spine, and the surrender to the pain of blows to his face. Usually, it had been Kacchan with a number of other boys, two of them holding Izuku’s arms, but Kacchan had never really needed the physical backup. Izuku was helpless enough on his own. Quirkless, couldn’t even stand up to a friend. Couldn’t stand up to one person. The burns, the bruises, the feeling of floating above himself as the pain became sharper yet somehow more distant.

I’ve been here before.

Izuku couldn’t remember the first time Kacchan hit him. He felt like it should have been a turning point in their relationship, like it should have made him see the other boy differently. But Kacchan had always liked to hit people. Like heroes, he said, practicing his Detroit Smash on all his friends. Like heroes, he said, when he tied Izuku upside-down and left him for the teachers to find. He just wanted to be like a hero, and heroes talked with their fists.

Izuku could feel tears on his cheeks as blood filled his mouth, but he hated the tears more than the copper taste on his tongue. He hated that crying had always been his first line of defense. When he was excited, when he was sad, even when he was angry, he could barely speak through the tears that rose up and choked him. It was just more for Kacchan to mock, calling him a baby, calling him weak, calling him useless.

I’ve never been anywhere else.

Izuku couldn’t tell if Kacchan was using his quirk or just his fists. The sharp impacts felt the same at first whether his hands were on fire or not, the heat of the pain blocking out the deeper burns. He would only know later how bad the damage was, whether he would need to hide his face on his way back to the dorms.

It was a shock when the punches stopped.

Izuku stayed where he was, leaning back against the counter. He didn’t know if he could move if he tried. His arms felt numb, his face stinging, and his head was distantly aching. He could see through his eyes, but it felt like he was watching from a long way away as he watched Kacchan draw back and wipe his eyes.

They had both been crying this time. That was unusual.

What happened next was even more unusual.

“I’m sorry,” Kacchan whispered, then turned and walked out of the bathroom.

There was silence.

Izuku drew in the first breath he was aware of, and stood up. It hurt, but it wasn’t as bad as he’d expected. He turned and saw the splintered mirror behind him, blood streaking down it. Head wound. That explained the warmth soaking the back of his school uniform. They always bled a lot. He could see the shattered pieces of his reflection, a red puffy face and tears still rolling down his cheeks. It would be a few hours before the burns and bruises really become visible. For now, he was just red all over, as if he’d gotten a bad sunburn. By tomorrow, everything would be a rainbow of white and red and green-red-brown, but for now… it didn’t look so bad.

Izuku limped out of the bathroom and walked towards his class as quickly as he could manage. He knew he would disrupt the lecture, he knew the broken mirror would be charged to his mother, he knew it was going to suck to open the door, but it didn’t matter. He needed help.

Sure enough, Izuku pushed the door open and was met with a collective gasp from the class.

Aizawa was kneeling in front of Izuku before he knew what was happening, his hands resting gently on Izuku’s shoulders.

“Were you attacked?” Aizawa demanded, his eyes flickering over Izuku’s face and back to the door he’d walked through.

Izuku ignored his teacher, shrugging under Aizawa’s hands and dragging himself towards the person he came for.

“Kirishima,” Izuku said. “You need to find Kacchan, he’s really upset and I’m worried about him. I think he might be in danger. He wouldn’t listen to me, but… maybe you can help.”

Kirishima’s face swam in Izuku’s vision, shocked and concerned.

“Did he… are you okay?”

“Don’t worry about me,” Izuku smiled. “Please just find Kacchan.”

“O-okay?” Kirishima said, and Izuku stepped out of the way to let him leave.

“Deku!” Ochaco’s hands were the next to land on Izuku’s shoulders, less carefully than their teacher. Izuku fought the urge to flinch and smiled at her. “Did Bakugou do this? Are you okay? Oh my god, you’re bleeding a lot…”

“It’s just a head wound,” Izuku explained. “They bleed a lot.”

“Do you have a concussion?” That was Tenya in front of him now. With how much his vision was swimming, it probably was a concussion.

“Don’t worry!” Izuku said, trying to wave them off, but then Tsuyu was also in front of him, looking worried. “I’m okay! I’m sorry for interrupting the lesson!”

“He looks like he’s gonna pass out,” Denki commented.

“I’m not going to pass out!” Izuku said. “I’m fine!” He had a concussion, sure, but he’d gone to class with a concussion before. He would probably miss most of the notes, but that was okay. He could catch up later. “I need to text Kirishima…”

“You’ll do no such thing.” Aizawa was there again, looming over Izuku’s classmates. Izuku winced, dropping his eyes to the ground. He was definitely going to get in trouble. “Everyone, back to your seats. Stop crowding him.” Izuku moved to obey, but Aizawa’s hand blocked him. “Not you, Midoriya, stay where you are.”

“I’m sorry,” Izuku said. “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to interrupt.” He risked a glance upwards and saw Aizawa’s unreadable expression, his mouth more downturned than usual. “I should have… I thought I could help. I’m sorry.”

“You’re a hero, Midoriya,” Aizawa sighed, and Izuku had never heard anyone say the word ‘hero’ with so much weight. It didn’t sound like a compliment. “Of course you thought you could help. Can you walk to Recovery Girl, or should I carry you?”

“I can walk, sir! But I really don’t need to visit Recovery Girl. She… doesn’t want to see me anymore.” Izuku winced, thinking back to all the times she had threatened to stop treating his injuries if he didn’t stop visiting so often.

“That isn’t her decision,” Aizawa said in a tone that allowed no argument. “Her job is to treat our students. And my job is to protect them. Now, for the rest of you, I expect you to behave while I’m gone. Start any more trouble and you will be expelled when I return. I’m not lying this time.”

From the dead silence that met his words, no one doubted him.

“Come on, Midoriya.” A hand was offered, wavering in Izuku’s reluctant vision. It took him two attempts to accept the hand, his depth perception all but gone. Eventually, though, Aizawa’s fingers wrapped around his, and Izuku was led out into the hallway. Aizawa’s grip was gentle, but Izuku could still feel the callouses on his fingers and palm, the marks of a lifetime of hero work.

It was easy to focus on that warm sensation as Izuku stumbled down the hallway after Aizawa’s long-legged strides, his head spinning.

“I really am sorry, Aizawa-sensei.”

“Save it until it’s time to tell your story,” Aizawa told him. “I won’t make you go over it while you have a concussion, but we’ll talk after.”

“Okay,” Izuku said meekly.

I hope Kacchan is okay, Izuku thought as he followed Aizawa into the elevator, trying to stay on his feet as the world spun around him.

--

Eijiro leaned back against the wall, breathing a deep sigh of relief.

Katsuki was curled up with his head on Eijiro’s lap, his favourite stuffie tucked under one arm. Eijiro’s cheek hurt, where Katsuki had gotten a strike in before Eijiro’s quirk had been able to protect him. Eijiro’s quirk was what made him able to be Katsuki’s caregiver, able to stand up to the worst of his tantrums. And today had been a bad one.

The walls were scorched, and even Eijiro’s hair was blackened. Eijiro had tried not to fight Katsuki, but eventually he had to protect the room from being set on fire. It was always awful, holding Katsuki down as he screamed threats and struggled and wept. But eventually, the tension had drained from his body and left him sobbing, and Eijiro had let his skin soften and pulled him into an embrace, Katsuki melting against him.

Katsuki had fallen asleep as soon as he’d stopped crying, and Eijiro had no idea what mood he would be in when he woke up: ready for another fight or craving cuddles and nostalgic cartoons.

Eijiro thought of Midoriya’s face, all red and wounded but trying to smile, waving away Eijiro’s concern and worrying only about Katsuki.

We can’t keep going like this.

Midoriya didn’t deserve the treatment he got from Katsuki, they all knew that, but there was nothing they could do. Katsuki turned on his friends just as fast, accusing them of taking the other side. Eijiro only knew bits and pieces of the pair’s history, and it had always disturbed him, but… it had never seemed like his business. Now he wondered if he should have put his foot down sooner.

Something was wrong with the two of them. Midoriya, all bloody and raw and waving them away with that innocent smile, as if he didn’t feel the pain at all. Katsuki, desperate for affection, screaming as Eijiro’s arms had wrapped around him, struggling until he was too exhausted but accept the simplest kindness of human touch. Constantly lashing out at anything that tried to help him.

Eijiro had always wanted to stand by Katsuki, but sometimes he found himself scared of Katsuki’s actions and where it would lead them. He wanted to believe that he would stand up to Katsuki if he ever went too far, but…

The image of Midoriya’s tear-streaked, smiling face flashed in Eijiro’s mind again.

How far is too far?

Eijiro closed his eyes and tried to push away all the big questions. He needed to rest so that he could be ready for whatever mood Katsuki would wake up in.

Maybe they could figure this out. Maybe he could ask for help, explain what’s going on. Someone else must know better than him. He was only fifteen, after all. How was he supposed to help, really? Why hadn’t anyone stepped in already? It felt like something was terribly wrong, but maybe this was normal. Was he worrying too much? Was he worrying too little?

Eventually, Eijiro managed to fall asleep like that, sitting up against the wall with his thoughts running in circles and Katsuki’s head resting softly in his lap.

[nicknellie]

@sunnysbright requested: something flarrie pls, maybe like a cute date or something, also pls include 🍓

Anonymous requested: flarrie first date pls!!!!

Seeing as both of these requests were for a flarrie date I decided to combine them into one prompt. I included strawberries, but I’m not gonna lie, I’m no expert on how strawberries grow and stuff like that so you might have to suspend your disbelief lmao. Anyway, these prompts were really cute and I love writing for flarrie, so this was a lot of fun. Thank you so much for your requests!

Like Summer

As far as first dates went, Flynn thought she had outdone herself. She had picked the right day, with the sun streaking through the canopy to bathe her and Carrie in its warm summer light, the slightest breeze and the shelter from the trees keeping them just cool enough. The activity couldn’t have been better either – it was Flynn’s opinion that Carrie needed to get out more, so she had packed them each a rucksack and brought Carrie hiking through the forest.

Though judging by all the grumbling, Carrie wasn’t quite enjoying it as much as Flynn.

“You could have at least told me we’d be doing this,” she groused, not fifteen minutes in. “That way I might have been prepared.”

A dozen or so paces ahead of Carrie, Flynn grinned to herself. She had purposely been secretive about what she had planned for their date, fully aware that if Carrie knew she’d be walking through a forest for three hours she would be less than excited. But still, Flynn knew their destination would lift Carrie’s spirits and that all the complaining she was about to receive would be completely worth it.

“If I had told you what we were doing you wouldn’t have come,” Flynn called over her shoulder.

“You know me so well,” Carrie deadpanned. “I’m not even wearing proper shoes for this.”

Flynn briefly turned back to glimpse Carrie’s dainty slip-ons already caked in mud. The rest of Carrie was looking a little worse for wear too; she had pulled her hair into a ponytail that was starting to look like she had been dragged through a hedge backwards, the sleeves of her cardigan were rolled up to the elbow, and the hem of her dress was grass stained. Flynn couldn’t help but feel a little bad, but equally she was probably one of the few people to ever see Carrie Wilson looking less than perfect, so in a way her state of utter disarray was endearing.

“You’re not wearing proper anything for this,” Flynn corrected. “But you let me choose what we were doing. You should have been prepared for anything.”

Carrie rolled her eyes and stormed ahead of Flynn, nose in the air, clearly displeased. Flynn was sure that Carrie wasn’t as moody as she was making it out to be. This had always been their dynamic – quick wit, insults, and snide remarks hiding that little flame of affection that had gradually blossomed into a roaring fire. Now that they were finally on an official date, they still kept that sense of rivalry, but it was diluted by the fact that they had finally admitted to one another how they felt. So Flynn wasn’t worried about Carrie’s mood, and even if she was really grumpy Flynn knew she would be able to cheer her up one way or another.

Plus her bad mood might have been more intimidating if she hadn’t fallen into a bush fifteen seconds later. Flynn was laughing so hard as she tried to tug her out that she dropped her back in several times.

Not long later (although with Carrie’s complaints it felt much longer) they came to a break in the treeline that exposed a hill, the grass coloured a summery bright green. Over the hill Flynn saw the sky for the first time since they’d entered the forest – pure blue, no trace of any clouds, the sun high in the sky. It was inviting and warm and she couldn’t help but feel happy. She glanced at Carrie and felt her breath hitch in her throat.

The thing was, Carrie shouldn’t have looked so good at that moment. She was covered in mud, her hair was a mess, there were ladders in her tights and an enormous rip in the shoulder of her cardigan, and she had been scowling so much on their hike that there were lines on her face Flynn was sure hadn’t been there before. But the sun gleaming down on her lit her hair like a halo and made her skin glow, and for the first time in hours she really let herself smile, an unhidden release of joy that reassured Flynn that she really was enjoying herself. She looked like a painting, so gorgeous that she couldn’t possibly have been real. She blew her hair away from her face and then flipped it over her shoulder, seeming like she moved in slow motion.

“Flynn!”

Flynn was snapped out of her thoughts by Carrie’s voice. Judging by her face, she had called Flynn’s name more than once. Flynn smiled pleasantly, trying to act as if she hadn’t just been worshipping Carrie like a goddess.

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“What’s up? That hill.” Carrie pointed up the slope.

“Oh, that. Didn’t see that there.”

“Are you seriously going to make me climb that?” Carrie said, glaring daggers at Flynn.

Flynn wasn’t fazed. She slipped her hand into Carrie’s, delighted with the blush it elicited from her and the tiny quirk of her lips as she suppressed a smile. Flynn knew better than anyone that Carrie was all talk – she could pretend to be as angry as she wanted, but it was easy to tear down those walls with something as simple as holding her hand.

“Yes,” Flynn said brightly as Carrie regained her composure. “It’s not that steep and you can literally see the top from here. Plus, when we get up there I promise it’ll be worth it.”

Carrie pouted. “My legs ache. This better be somewhere we can sit down.”

“I could carry you up the hill if you’d like,” Flynn half-joked, winking at Carrie. Again, Carrie flushed pink, easily ruffled.

“I can walk myself, thank you very much,” she said, and set off up the hill ahead of Flynn.

It was, truthfully, a very small hill, so it took them barely two minutes to reach the top. It was hotter at the top of the hill, free of the shade the forest had provided, but Flynn wasn’t bothered with the heat – she was looking at Carrie to make certain that this had all been worth it.

Thankfully, Carrie was smiling. No, she was positively beaming, a glimmer in her eye that made her look happier than Flynn thought she had ever seen.

“You like the view?” Flynn asked. Carrie nodded mutely, wonder plain as day on her face. Flynn inwardly breathed a sigh of relief – she had been sure Carrie would like it up here, but to have it go down well in reality was a whole different feeling.

She tore her eyes away from Carrie and looked out across the scenery for herself. Right in front of them was a large field, uncut grass swaying in the gentle breeze, the whole area lined with row upon row of strawberry plants, ripe and ready to eat. Spanning out below them was a splendid view of the ocean, the sea glittering with dashed sunlight, boats framed by gold as they floated on the horizon. It was a sight Flynn had seen many a time before when she had walked this same route with her family and after she had discovered Carrie’s love of strawberries she had known she had to share it with her.

“The walk was worth it?” she checked, sliding her hand back into Carrie’s.

“The walk was worth it,” she confirmed, gripping Flynn’s hand tight as she raised it to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. Flynn felt her heart flutter, getting a little hot, and not because of the sun. “I did know you had something amazing planned – you know that, don’t you?”

“I know,” Flynn replied, leading Carrie to the hedgerows. “I knew that your whining all the way up here wasn’t you not enjoying yourself, it was just your personality.”

“The same way I knew how you being so stubborn and refusing to tell me what we were doing wasn’t you being a complete control freak, it was just you trying to surprise me,” Carrie quipped.

Flynn grinned, ready to rise to her challenge, but as soon as she opened her mouth Carrie silenced her by sticking a strawberry in there. Surprised, Flynn had no choice but to bite into it – luckily, Carrie had picked a ripe one, and the flavour danced over her tongue, tasting like summer.

“These are safe to eat, right?” Carrie asked, picking up another strawberry and inspecting it closely.

Flynn raised an eyebrow. “You’re only saying that after you put one in my mouth? Should I be worried?”

“Yes,” Carrie said. Flynn rolled her eyes fondly. “But they are safe to eat, aren’t they?”

“I wouldn’t have brought you here if you couldn’t eat as many strawberries as your heart desires,” Flynn said wistfully. Carrie beamed again, that smile as bright as the sun, and popped the strawberry into her mouth. She sighed contentedly, all of her earlier gripes seeming to be completely forgotten.

“Good?” Flynn said.

“So good,” Carrie replied.

Flynn lost track of how long they stayed there together, feasting on strawberries, feeding them to one another, basking in the sun, laughing and joking and talking, doing nothing more than simply enjoying each other’s company. As far as first dates went, Flynn was pretty certain this one couldn’t have gone any better. It felt like they had been on a thousand dates just like this before: comfortable, familiar, utterly perfect. With the sun on her skin and Carrie’s hand in hers, Flynn couldn’t imagine anywhere she would rather be.

They shared a few tentative, slightly nervous kisses. They tasted of the strawberries they had been eating. Flynn had never kissed anyone before, but she was certain that there was only one person she ever wanted to kiss from then on, and it was Carrie Wilson. The feeling of Carrie’s lips on hers sent shivers down her spine despite the hot weather. It was thrilling and calming at the same time, a sensation like no other, but Flynn was drunk on it.

As the afternoon wore on, the sun drifted slowly across the sky, and Flynn realised they needed to start heading back before it got too dark.

“I wish I could bring some of these strawberries back,” Carrie thought aloud.

“Oh, that reminds me!” Flynn announced. She had known Carrie would say that, and she was prepared for it. She dug around in her backpack for a while and eventually pulled out another bag, this one empty. She handed it to a bemused Carrie, smiling proudly at her own predictive skills. “So you can collect some and take them with you. I knew you’d want to.”

There was a small, soft smile on Carrie’s face, something in it that Flynn couldn’t quite name. She watched as Carrie practically bounced back to the hedges, giddy in a way that Flynn had hardly ever seen her before, and followed after her to give her a hand.

When the bag was nearly full, Carrie zipped it up and shouldered it, reaching for Flynn’s hand and leading the two of them back down the hill towards the forest, back the way they had come.

“I can carry the bag if you like,” Flynn offered, trying to be a good date.

“I’ve got it,” Carrie insisted.

“I thought you’d be eating them as we walked back,” Flynn said.

Carrie just smiled. “These aren’t for me. They’re for you.”

“Me?”

Carrie nodded briskly. “I’m going to make you a pie.”

Flynn almost laughed. “What for?”

“As a thank-you,” Carrie said like it should have been obvious. “You organised this entire amazing day and all I did was tag along. So, to show how much I care about you and how great today was, I’m making you a pie.”

“I– thank you.” Flynn tried to keep the tremor from her voice, trying not to show how touched she was. She liked this aspect of what they had – they were always equal, it was never one of them putting in more effort than the other. It showed how much they cared, how much they respected each other. It made Flynn feel loved.

But it was too early for love, she knew that. It was only their first date after all.

Carrie rolled her eyes again, but there was a blush on her cheeks. She squeezed Flynn’s hand affectionately and they walked the rest of the way back through the forest in comfortable silence.

*

The next day, Flynn’s legs were killing her. She texted Carrie as soon as she woke up, but other than that she allowed herself to sleep in until late, resting her aching joints. She just laid in bed and spoke to Carrie, remembering how perfect the day before had been and becoming ever more eager to go on another date.

She had almost forgotten Carrie’s promise until the text came: I’m outside your house by the way.

Flynn leapt out of bed and peaked out of her bedroom window. Sure enough, Carrie was stepping out of her dad’s car and walking up Flynn’s driveway. In her hands she held a large dish, mostly covered by tinfoil.

Ignoring the fact that she was still wearing her pyjamas even though it was nearing one o’clock, Flynn ran as fast as her tired legs would carry her from her bedroom to the front door. She opened it before Carrie even had time to knock.

“Hi,” she said breathlessly. Carrie looked a lot less haggard than she had on their walk yesterday, beautiful even without the gleam of the sun on her face. The smell of the pie gently wafted out from underneath its covering.

“Hey,” Carrie replied, smiling sheepishly. She held the dish out and Flynn took it carefully. “I told you I’d make you a pie.”

Gently, Flynn pulled back the tinfoil and saw perfect pastry filled with bright red strawberries, covered with careful latticing and lots of tiny pastry hearts. Carrie was blushing the same shade as the strawberries and Flynn didn’t remember ever feeling so touched.

“It looks great,” she said, smiling up at her girlfriend. “Do you want to come in for a bit and have some?”

“I’d love to,” Carrie returned.

Flynn led her to the kitchen, cut them both a slice of pie each, and completed it with whipped cream. They sat at the table together, quietly eating their pie, the strawberries just as sweet as they had been the day before, the mood just as bright and comfortable. Flynn thought that if being with Carrie was so easy, there would definitely be a lot more dates and a lot more shared strawberry pies in the future. And she was more than alright with that.

*

Taglist (if you want to be added or removed just let me know): @ace-bookworm @williexmercer @willex-owns-my-heart @itstiger720 @the-reckless-and-the-brave @that-one-newsie @bluedarkness @lookingthroughmirrors @tmp-jatp @salty-star @julieandthequeers @lmaohuh 

[lilravenswritings]

Waves of my Heart

A commission I did for the wonderful @witchesconstellation <3

Thank you so much for letting me work with your ocs and give them the honeymoon they deserve!

Oc: Keira Shepard (Merit), Jules Merit

A day at the beach

2k Words

********

Beautiful scarlet strands floated in the air behind the pale woman running along the sand, her laughter a melody of music Jules never wanted to live without again. The sound of the crashing waves beside them deafening, splashing tiny droplets of water onto their feet.

Jules ran after his wife, his joy palpable, overwhelming. To be with her at this moment, knowing they had each other for the rest of their lives, everything felt right in the world.

The sun had just begun it’s descent towards the horizon, bringing with it a light breeze. Keira’s black cover up danced with the wind.

Catching up to her easily, he lifted her, spinning around dramatically. Keira squealed, clutching tight to his shoulders. Feet safely planted back on the ground, she pressed her lips against his gently.

This kiss was no different from the others before it, a fire melting ice, an earthquake cracking a foundation, a firework lighting the night sky. Jules could feel how much his wife loved him whenever they joined like this; she put her whole weight behind it, cupping the back of his neck like she never wanted to be apart.

“You were right,” he said, pressing his forehead to hers. A questioning hum vibrated through her, eyes shut. “The beach is definitely the best place to spend our honeymoon.”

Her cheeky grin could have lit up a thousand night skies. “I told you so.” They pulled apart, her melted chocolate eyes searching him, amused.

I don’t deserve her. The knowledge crashed through him every time they shared a tender moment. He watched as her love twisted to sorrow.

“Don’t do that,” she chastised. Her hand cupped his cheek, and he nuzzled into it. “Jules, there is nobody in the world I would rather be with. You are everything to me, don’t let your doubt get in the way of that.”

It wasn’t the first time they’d had that conversation; she’d always find a way to let him know. Still, the little voice in his head never stopped trying to bring him down. “I know.”

Another chaste kiss, a tug of his hand, and Keira was able to, mostly, dispel the thoughts. She chatted animatedly about the wedding, all the cards they had gotten, and how sweet they all were. How it was so very lovely to see their families together at the reception.

She described how it felt to walk down the aisle and see him standing there, handsome in his suit and tie. How emotional it made her to know they were seconds away from belonging to each other. How their first dance made her feel, and how the song they danced to would always be her favorite for the rest of eternity.

A deep flush colored her cheeks, making her light freckles stand out. Their hands stayed connected throughout the walk back to their belongings; Jules kissed the top of hers every so often. She couldn’t hide her shy smile whenever he did, biting her lip and looking at the sand at their feet.

“I love you, Jules.” He startled at the words, having been deep in thought. She didn’t look at him to know he had heard her. It was just something she knew he knew, never even questioning whether it was obvious or not.

Keira loved him, and she was his Mrs. Merit. He beamed, pulling her close to wrap and arm around her shoulder. “I love you, my wife.”

She kissed his chest, warmth spreading through him at the action. “Let’s go swimming?” She suggested, turning them towards the water before the question had even been fully revealed. He followed obediently; why would he ever say no?

Water splashed everywhere as she lunged in, instantly diving beneath the water. Juled meandered in after her, moving much, much slower to adjust to the cooler temperature. Keira scoffed, throwing water at him playfully. His eyes went wide, he stumbled backwards. “Hey-!”

“Don’t be dramatic, it’s not that bad! Get in here,” she laughed, hitting the water at him again.

A sound of disbelief flowed off of him. Oh, you’re in for it now.” Keira squealed as he dove into her, tackling her under the water. She sputtered when they came back up, Jules’ arms wrapped around hers. Water dripped from their hair into their lashes.

They both cackled, peppered kisses shared between them before Keira puledl him back into the water. Using her feet to kick off of him, she had hoped for a quick getaway.

He caught hold of her foot last minute, tugging her back. He lifted her into the air, goosebumps rising along their skin as the air hit them. She giggled, struggling to loose his grip. “Jules, I’m cold. Come on, let me go!”

“Oh, you’re cold? Here, let me help you with that.”

Understanding immediately, Keira squirmed roughly. “No, no don’t you-” He let her go, tossing her into the water kicking and screaming. A loud gasp echoed around them as she emerged, amusement tickling her voice when she shouted: “Jules!”

“What?” He mocked with a grin. “You said you were cold.” She kicked water at him again.

Later, as Keira laid with her back pressed against Jules on their beach chair, they watched as the sky bled from blue to yellow, to orange, to purple, eventually turning into the black of night; stars shone bright without the lights of the city to dull their glow.

“Look!” Keira shouted, pointing up. “A shooting star! Quick, make a wish.”

Jules placed a kiss on her temple. “Everything I could ever want and more is right here beside me.”

He could just imagine the blush spreading across her cheeks as she swatted him. “That was so cheesy.” He chuckled, brushing his lips over her freckled shoulder. “I wish to always be this happy with you.”

A satisfied sigh of agreement grazed over her. “You’re right, I wish for that too.” His voice turned soft, quiet, like he didn’t want to disturb the moment. “And that was way cheesier than mine.”

“Not even close!” She scoffed. Then, turning so she could get a good look at him, she asked: “Do you want kids?”

Chewing his lip in thought, he pondered this. Did he want kids? He could picture them, sure. A little girl with Keira’s bright red hair and freckles swinging back and forth on a little playset in their backyard, eyes as blue as his pinched in joy. A brown headed little boy teetering down the stairs to run into Jules’ arms. A ghost of a smile danced over his lips. “With you? Yeah, I’d have them all.”

Her answering grin turned his limbs to mush. “I think we should get a dog too. Maybe a beagle? Although a fish might be the best thing for the kids for the first couple of years.”

“Woah, woah. Slow down there, we just got married. Let’s finish our honeymoon first, yeah?”

Her laugh was girlish and teasing all at the same time. “I know, I was just messing with you.” She paused, eyes drifting over his shoulder in thought. “Although, I would like to know where you see us living in a few years.”

“Hmm,” he pondered, eyes catching on her full lips. “I think a nice ranch style home, with a big fenced in yard for the kids to run around in. A big enough porch for us to sit on one of those swings and watch them, maybe even go out at night to look at the stars. A flower bed on both sides of the steps. No rose bushes, though. I don’t want the kids to get pricked. Maybe some trees in the yard, and a hammock.”

She pushed at his shoulder playfully. “Hey, slow down. We just got married.” Her brown eyes glinted, mischievous but oh so soft at the thought of their future together. His arms tightened around her. He snuggled into her neck, breathing in the soothing scent of coconut mixed with salt from the ocean.

“You’re right, but I can’t help it. I look at you and imagine it all. Imagine our house, our yard, our kids. I think about the adventures we’re going to have, all the places I want to see with you by my side. I think about the mundane things, like cooking you breakfast on Mother’s Day, dancing with you in the kitchen after we’ve put the kids to bed, helping you do laundry even though you know I like my pants folded a certain way.”

She cleared her throat; Jules knew she was holding back tears. “And yet a pet is too much to handle?”

He snorted. “I’m thinking about our kids! Who knows if they’re going to be allergic, or if they’re even going to like the fish. And a beagle? Kind of small, don’t you think? How about something bigger, like a german shepherd-”

“Oh, nice-”

“-or even a husky? A dog to protect the home if I’m away,” he continued, speaking over her remark.

Keira pursed her lips in thought. “I guess we could get a german shepherd and name him Shepard, like my last name.”

“You’re old name,” Jules corrected.

A rush of air came out her nose; laughter. “My old name,” she conceded. She kissed his nose, nuzzled it with hers. “Let’s go down to the water and try to build sandcastles.”

His eyebrow quirked up. “Right now? It’s nearly two in the morning.”

“Exactly! How many people can say that they’ve built sandcastles on the beach at night?” Before Jules could even think to respond, she remarked: “Not a whole lot of people, that’s who.” Her head bobbed in triumph, confident in her decision. How could he ever tell her no?

They walked across the sand, so much cooler now that the sun had been down for hours. The wind held a little more bite. A shiver ran down Jules’ spine.

“That one should go here,” Keira ordered after they had settled in their spot, plopping down a lump of wet sand on the spot she had picked out. “That will be the guard tower. And here, this will be the barracks. Oh, and we can’t forget the moat, who’d have a castle without a moat? That’s just idiotic.”

He’d never get used to the way his heart would swell over these simple moments. How, during even the most mundane of tasks, just being near her, hearing her talk, he’d instantly think I love you, I will never stop loving you, you have my heart.

“Okay! I think we’re ready for the flag now, don’t you my love?”

Swallowing, he put the fabric into her open palm. “Absolutely.” His voice sounded hoarse. She proudly placed it on top, standing to see the finished product. The castle looked… Horrible, if Jules had to be honest. Multiple places were already falling in on itself, the water from the moat overflowing and collapsing it from the bottom.

He’d never tell her though, especially as she pouted and looked to him for comfort. He pulled her into his embrace, instead looking over the beautiful ocean view.

“Look love, you can see the moonlight reflected on the water like it’s right here for us to touch.” He let his fingers drag across the skin along her spine. “I never thought about the fact that you’d be able to see the stars in the water as well.”

“Huh, I don’t think I ever have either.” She hummed, impressed by the revelation. It was one of the many things he loved about her, the way she was always eager and willing to learn anything she possibly could. She drank in information faster than a dehydrated animal, and it was never enough.

Clouds were slowly starting to form in the sky, crossing over the moon to leave them in total darkness for longer than a few seconds. “I think… We should probably get back to the hotel,” he offered, head tilting.

His wife sighed, “I guess we should.” His attention turned to her, inquisitive. She rushed on. “I’m not ready to go home yet. I want to stay on this vacation for the rest of our lives.”

“I want that too,” he whispered. “But we are needed back home. Besides, if we stay here, who will take care of our children? We can’t just leave them with the dog every day.”

She laughed hard, lightly bumping his shoulder with her head. Oh, shut it.”

His grin was infectious. “Never. You’re stuck with me, Keira Merit.”