#I taught body combat and body pump

[bbugsy]

can we get to know the artist?? who is bugsy (and will they ever draw more polystars 🥰)

hi 😍 (I will I promise <3)

I’m bbbbbugsy… I love horror… I’m an unofficial bug whisperer and medium……. so I’m batshit crazy basically 🤞

I loveeee uhhh to talk about… the environment… I love the ocean and I love critters… umm… I draw, obvio…

don’t be afraid to DM me and talk to me about random shit ! I’m an extrovert and I love attention so ^^ talk to me about anything, I love listening to other ppl’s interests and theories and all that… I’m very open minded so

idk, I’m a pretty open book, everything on my blog is just… what I like… I also like cats, I have an unhealthy obsession with mcdonald’s mocha frappes, I used to caretake for both children and animals… I bake sometimes even tho I’m not that good at it… I like the song space junk by wang chung…

oh and I love ace visconti from dbd :)

[bunnybird-afk]

I make a fist and not a plan (and I break it just because I can)- Merlin & Shakir Character Study

This started off as a warm-up piece since I wanted to get back into writing again, but then it ended up as whatever this is. It can be read as platonic or romantic, but I think it's a secret third thing (being the same kind of fucked up). There are no physical descriptions of Merlin, but he uses he/him pronouns, so I guess you can call this a reader-insert if you squint. And finally, thank you @meepinmeat for prereading this for me. Without further ado, enjoy the fic!

Warnings for depersonalisation/disassociation and non-graphic violence.

Word Count: 2200 Words

The Magister let out a frustrated sigh as he stared up at the brown canopy above him. He was no stranger to insomnia, but with the Warsong Festival's final round fast approaching he needed to be at peak performance, and for that he needed sleep. While Soren, Alsa, and his familiars slumbered peacefully, The Magister had spent the last several hours tossing and turning, trying his best to will himself to sleep.

Maybe he just needed to calm down. Between the fate of the Uru Clan, the Warsong challenges, and the fact that there was a fake version of him running around the Ashen Wastes doing gods know what, he’d had a lot on his plate. He probably just needed to unwind a little, maybe find an outlet for all his excess nervous energy. It had been a long time since he was able to really let loose after all. Being the Magister Merlin required him to remain calm and measured at all times, even when keeping his identity a secret.

Not to mention the fact that he was in a new body with most of his memories missing. Even though it had been months since he had reawakened in the Mystical House, he hadn’t fully adjusted to his new form yet, meaning he couldn’t exactly make use of his full power without overburdening his new vessel. His body still felt unfamiliar to him, like it wasn’t quite him yet. It made him uncomfortable, like a new pair of shoes that hadn’t yet been worn in, or an outfit he hadn’t grown into yet.

He didn’t remember much about his old body, but he did remember what it felt like. It was comfortable and familiar, and it was him. Back then he felt everything so vividly. He could feel his own heart beating in his chest and the air filling his lungs with each breath he took. When he held things in his hands, they had felt real and tangible, not as though he was feeling them through several layers of gloves. And when he had taken a hit in a fight, he had felt it, the sudden shock to his system and the dull ache that followed for hours or even days afterwards. It had all made him feel real.

He thought back to hazy, faded memories of him getting into scraps with random enemies, back when he was more dead set on keeping his magic a secret. He remembered the way a good fight always got his blood pumping and made him feel grounded. The slight pain in his knuckles from when he would throw a punch, and the feedback running up his arm from the impact. Despite what people usually assumed of mages, The Magister was no stranger to physical combat, even preferring it to his magic in some cases. He was no lightweight either, even able to go toe-to-toe with General Hogan back in his youth. It had helped him get familiar with his body, helped him learn about his limits, and taught him just how far he could push them. As the decades passed, he’d grown more and more accustomed to that form until it finally felt like it was his. Like it was him.

He was sure this body would feel the same too eventually, but as of right now, he was impatient. Since waking up, he hadn’t really gotten a chance to get into the thick of a fray, usually relegated to providing ranged support or healing from the sidelines. Even his more offense-based spells had him far away from the action. The closest he had gotten to a real fight was when they had encountered Berial at the Hypogean Rift. Though in his current state, The Magister doubted he could take on a hypogean and survive. Thankfully, Dionel and Scarlita had swooped in to help. After the fight, he had pondered briefly whether fighting Berial himself would have made him feel something. However, he later realised that a few moments of clarity probably weren’t worth the risk of having his heart ripped out of his chest.

Plus, Chippy and Hammie had always hated it when he acted recklessly, fretting over his well-being every time he took even the smallest hit. It was sweet, don't get him wrong, and he really did appreciate how much they cared about him, but gods above was he itching for a real fight. And when he had seen Alsa and Soren face off against Shakir, a part of him desperately wished that it had been him in the arena instead.

The Magister took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, feeling completely disconnected from the action.

He had been wanting to fight Shakir for real for a while now, though it had seemed like it was never the right time. Either there were more pressing matters to attend to, or Chippy and Hammie were there to emphatically turn down Shakir’s offer on The Magister's behalf. Smiling softly to himself, the Magister turned his gaze towards the two hamsters who were curled up in their sleeping bags on the other side of the tent, sound asleep. It seemed like they wouldn’t wake up anytime soon, so at the very least they wouldn’t panic over his absence if he decided to take a quick stroll. With his mind made up; The Magister exited the tent.

The desert sky was beautiful at night, littered with more stars than he could count. Closing his eyes, The Magister reached out with his magic, attempting to locate the Mauler that had been plaguing his thoughts recently.

There. Not too far West of a waypoint.

The Magister opened his eyes again and smiled, eagerness and excitement beginning to well up within him. And soon there he was, standing on the outskirts of an unfamiliar campsite.

The Mauler was easy to spot, sitting on a nearby ledge with his back turned towards The Magister. The light of the full moon illuminated Shakir’s imposing figure, his silvery mane almost shining in the pale glow. The Magister should have known that Shakir would be awake too.

Taking a step forward, the Magister called out gently, only for the Mauler to whip around, fangs bared and claws at the ready. "Who goes there?!" he bellowed, golden eyes glinting ominously.

"It's just me…" The Magister began, holding up his hands in a placating gesture. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Magister…?" Shakir asked, tilting his head a little in confusion, before the realisation dawned on him. A wide grin appeared on his face, his posture relaxing as he shifted to a more casual stance. "Ah, I should have know it was you. There aren't many people in Esperia who can sneak up on the likes of me. I'm impressed!"

The Magister gave him an appreciative but slightly embarrassed smile. “Mind if I join you” he asked, trying his best to sound casual.

“Of course! Have a seat, my friend!” Shakir said, gesturing at a large tree trunk sitting near a campfire.

The Magister took a seat on the makeshift bench, trying to hide the amusement in his eyes as the large silver-haired wolf scrambled to take a seat on the floor across from him, doing absolutely nothing to hide his enthusiasm. That was something that The Magister had always admired about Shakir. He was always honest and open about his feelings, never trying to be something or someone that he wasn’t.

“So, what brings you here?” the wolf grinned. “Not that you need a reason, though I’ll admit, I’m hoping you’re here for a fight.” he laughed, only half joking.

“Actually, that’s exactly why I’m here.” The Magister stated, waiting for the Mauler’s reaction.

“Huh?!” Shakir yelled, scrambling forward so quickly that he had to lean on his palms to keep himself from toppling over. His ears perked up, and his mouth was slightly agape, a mix of excitement and confusion and even a little bit of disbelief shining in his honey-gold eyes.

“If you’re up for it, I mean.” The Magister continued, a slight tease to his voice. He knew Shakir would never turn down a fight, especially if it was him offering it.

“Obviously I’m up for it! How could I ever turn down a chance to fight my esteemed rival?! Just the thought of it has the adrenaline thrumming in my veins!” the Mauler yelled in response, excitement permeating every word as he practically leapt to his feet. He held out a clawed hand to The Magister, helping him up before eagerly leading him to a more open part of the camp.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this, my friend! Ever since we met last at the Remnant Peaks I’ve been dreaming about fighting you again! And then seeing you at the Warsong Festival without getting to face you. I can’t wait to pit my skills against you and your magical prowess again!” Shakir rambled, stretching in preparation for a fight.

“Actually,” began The Magister as he too started to warm up. “I was hoping to face you hand-to-hand. Fair warning though, I’m a little rusty.”

Being in a coma for at least twenty years would do that to a guy, The Magister thought, chuckling to himself.

“Oh, and I’m not saying that so you’ll go easy on me. I expect you to give it your all, and I’ll do the same.” He added quickly.

There was a moment of silence between the two as they stared at each other, each sizing up their opponent. Shakir was courteous enough to wait for The Magister’s go-ahead, which came in the form of a nod.

Shakir paused, blinking for a second before bursting out into laughter. This strange, strange mage had managed to surprise him for the third time in one night. Mages weren’t known for their physical strength, but he knew better than to underestimate the man in front of him. A wide grin spread across his maw as he got into a fighting stance. “You never cease to amaze me, Magister…”

The mage grinned, planting his feet firmly on the ground as he raised his fists to shield his temples.

Without a second thought, Shakir lunged forward, ready to strike with his claws, only for The Magister to skilfully dodge him. Shakir didn’t let up though, going in for hit after hit, barely giving The Magister a chance to process what was happening. He had managed to dodge the hits so far, but as the Mauler’s attacks grew more and more frenzied, he knew he couldn’t keep that up forever. He was proven right when Shakir blindsided him with an unexpected jab, barely giving The Magister time to block it.

A surprised groan escaped him as he felt the impact against his forearm, the sudden pain travelling all the way to his bones. He didn’t have time to dwell on it before Shakir swung again, this time requiring The Magister to block with his other arm. This went on for a while as Shakir continued to throw punch after punch and The Magister continued to deflect them, biding his time and waiting for an opening.

Shakir pulled his arm further back than before, intent on delivering a particularly strong blow that he hoped would break The Magister’s defences. And then in the blink of an eye, the Magister had moved. Ducking below Shakir’s swing, he rushed forward, tackling the Mauler with so much force that it knocked the air out of him for a second, forcing him to stagger backwards.

Shakir let out a startled, almost manic laugh, anchoring his feet to the ground so that he didn’t stumble. Before he could get his bearings, a fist connected with his jaw, causing a sickening clack. The force behind the punch had startled him for a second. No one had managed to land a hit on him in a long time, let alone one with so much strength behind it.

Before the mage could land another hit, Shakir delivered a swift kick to his ribs causing The Magister to stumble back, tentatively placing a hand where he had just been struck. The wolf stopped for a second, taking in the sight of his opponent. He was used to seeing rage, fear, even humiliation in his enemies' eyes. But this…this was new. The Magister had a wide grin on his face, the hand on his ribs seeming more reverent than defensive.

And when they locked eyes Shakir could see the fire burning in them, a primal hunger that begged for more, more, more. The Magister wanted to fight, to win, to feel alive. It was the exact same feeling that had burned within himself all these years. And in that moment Shakir knew that he had finally met his match.

In the early hours of the morning, The Magister would return to his sleeping friends, go back to his tent, and collapse onto his bedroll. For the first time in months, he would feel truly and genuinely exhausted. The pleasant, bone-deep ache in his muscles serving as an anchor, keeping him grounded.

[thewarriorspecial]

Drive Me Crazy

*Archive Edition* Previously only linked to AO3, full work now available under the cut.

Rating: Explicit

Guy Gardner/Kyle Rayner

Additional Tags: Established Relationship, Sex on a Car, car talk, Blow Jobs, Masturbation

Guy is supposed to be resting and recovering, but he'd rather pass the time working on his car than laying about. Kyle's not much help for letting him rest.

Read on AO3

Drive Me Crazy

Guy was a really unfortunate combination of hard-working and short sighted. If he would ever just use the damn ring or ask for some help it wouldn’t take so long for his latest combat wounds to heal. The closest he managed to come to something resembling resting his body was when he dropped face-down onto the mattress after several rounds of sex or entirely too many beers.

“Alcohol is a blood thinner, you know,” Kyle said, pushing sweaty hair out of his face.

“Mruh,” Guy responded, neither acknowledging nor denying the information.

Instead of icing his battered knee or kicking back in bed to let his ribs knit themselves back together, Guy decided to distract himself with some neglected work around the garage. He pushed the gold Trans-Am into the open bay door instead of driving it because, “The clutch is too soft. Don’t wanna plow through the wall.” Whatever that meant.

So Kyle watched his partner grunt and drip sweat in the morning sun. An excellent way to start the day, Kyle thought to himself as he raised his mug to his lips. The heat of the fresh coffee pooled in his belly along with other things. Kyle’s fingers wandered under his waistband as he thought about Guy’s big, powerful body. He knew he should be better about insisting that Guy rest and maybe not enable his bad behavior. But Guy had needs. And he had needs, too.

The cheery sunlight put the dips and curves of Guy’s muscles in sharp contrast. His huge basketball shorts rode up as he planted his feet and pushed the obnoxiously painted vehicle forward. The backs of Guy’s black and white hi-tops were crushed flat from sliding them on without untying them a hundred times. Kyle’s eyes traveled the taught line from Guy’s Achilles tendon along the rippling calf to the middle of his bulging thigh. Big thighs, shapely ass, back like a mountain range—everything tensed, everything heated and sweaty.

Kyle bit his lip and imagined how good that damp, sun-warm t-shirt smelled. He would definitely abscond with that later. Guy’s grunts and curses made it easy for Kyle to imagine those sounds coming from above, Guy panting, sweat dripping. Kyle could feel the soft brush of chest hair against his throat, the rasp of stubble against his temple.

“Big fuckin’ bitch,” Guy coughed out, as he patted the trunk affectionately. He lifted the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face. Kyle needed to put his own face in the molten center of Guy’s hot, sweaty chest immediately. Still in his pajamas, which is to say Guy’s clothes from yesterday, Kyle shuffled his feet into some sneakers and headed out the front door.

The big, gold Pontiac gently rocked against the parking brake as Guy lovingly worked the drain plugs out of the differential. He checked the plugs for any metal debris and ducked the arc of brown, draining fluid with practiced ease. He lifted the wet plug to his nose and smelled it. No sign of contamination or overuse. He loved that smell—real 75 weight mineral oil. It smelled like hot summers on the drag strip and cavitating pumps at the amusement park.

“I’m not the mechanic here,” Kyle said, leaning on the garage door-frame, “but I’m pretty sure that’s not how you change oil.”

“You’re right. I’m juicing the pumpkin,” Guy’s voice came from under the rear end of the car. He began the quick work of refilling the gear oil and returning the plug to its proper position and torque.

Kyle scrunched his lips to the side, wondering how a pumpkin had gotten stuck under the car. He pursued his seduction head-on without questions. “Thank goodness I have a big strong man to take care of my car for me.”

Guy’s upper body came into view as he rolled the creeper out from under the car. He raised a suspicious eyebrow in Kyle’s direction, “My car.”

Kyle sighed and pushed himself off of the door-frame, “I just wish there was some way I could repay you for all of this.” He walked towards the front of the car and leaned his hip on the front quarter panel.

“Never paid me before.” Guy’s eyes roamed slowly over Kyle’s body. He was more than happy to have a booth bunny posing on his ride.

“Isn’t there something I can do for you? Something you’d like?”

“I…you’re fine?” Guy pulled the shredded remains of an old towel out of his overalls and wiped some of the grease off of his fingers. “I was gonna do this anyways?”

Kyle’s chuckle is devilish. He changes tactics, “I want you to show me how your machine works.”

“Oh? Oh! Well in that case,” Guy began, excitedly pushing himself off of the creeper and onto his feet. He pulled the fallen strap of his overalls onto his right shoulder once he was on his feet. If any of the movement caused him pain, he didn’t show it.

Guy walked to the open hood and rested his hands at the front of the engine bay. His eyes swept over Kyle’s long legs and then the the fruits of his labor. “I wanted to keep as much of it as OG as possible, ya know? But she needed some work, that’s for sure. I was running her way too hard—cracked the rings, gouged the cylinders so I had to bore ‘em out.”

“Bore them out. Sure,” said Kyle, expression wide-eyed and lips pressed together.

“The cylinders. They gotta be smooth so I had to drill em out. Widen the holes.”

“Oh.” Kyle moved to lean next to Guy, under the hood. He liked the sound of that.

“Ended up doing a forty overbore—whole new stroke kit, torque plate, the works.”

“Stroke?” Another one of Kyle’s favorite words.

“Yup, more stoke means bigger parts to fill the bigger displacement.”

“Bigger’s always better.”

Guy squinted at Kyle’s enthusiastic nodding, “And then ya gotta balance the rest of the car out to handle that kinda power. But I could only go so far because I ain’t got another transmission and I don’t want to give up my four speed. Wally came by with a custom cam and main caps, too. Really brought the whole thing together.”

“Ah,” Kyle’s face pinched in a frown at the mention of one of his least favorite people. That explained where two bags of Doritos and an entire cheesecake had gone.

“And since I was already doin’ a whole teardown I figure well, gonna need a bigger crank so might as well do a new timing set which let me replace the fuel pump drive so I don’t have to stay carbureted. Lotta guys really like that sound, ya know? Got a certain smell too but long term, you know?”

“Classic, of course,” Kyle knew better than to try and speak man-car to Guy. He’d tried to keep up with the guy-talk once to horrific results. He enjoyed Guy’s gruff voice and his excitement. He just couldn’t understand how anyone actually enjoyed that amount of tedium and suffering to only drive around under very specific conditions. The subway was right there.

“I want her to last. I ain’t no racer. I wanna drive her as long as I can. Springs were rustin’ to hell so I went ahead and put coil-overs on. She sits a little lower but most people wouldn’t see the difference. New control arms, tie rods, you know, the little things. Got her aligned and shined. Upgraded the exhaust so you can still hear that loping rumble. She’s still got it,” Guy said, voice soft as he started to walk around the driver’s side. He let the tips of his fingers trail gently along the aggressive angle of the A-pillar. “Solar Gold Y88, special edition with the T-top. Only the ’78 Trans Ams. She really is…gorgeous. One of a kind.”

“Gorgeous,” Kyle echoed.

“Men like pretty things,” Guy said over his shoulder as he continued his appreciative walk around the vehicle. His piercing blue eyes stayed on Kyle as his fingers follow the curves of the car, “whether they say so or not.”

“We show it in different ways, I guess.” Kyle stands, crossing his arms and cocking his head as he watches Guy prowl.

“You’re an artist. You get it, don’cha?” Guy’s hands worked their way up the passenger side of the car.

“Beauty’s in the eye of the beholder and whatnot.”

“Lucky for me,” Guy grins. He presses himself into Kyle’s space, steps in until they’re nose to nose. His hands flex with the urge to touch more.

“You don’t think you’re beautiful?”

Guy scoffs. He turned away suddenly, reaching for the hood strut. He lifted the enormous gold rectangle and tucked the hood strut into the engine bay. “Kid. I know I’m not,” he says as he drops the hood with a bang.

“Do you?” Undeterred, Kyle stepped behind Guy, crowding him against the front bumper of the car. Feather light, he ran his hands down Guy’s back, gentle with his tender ribs. He let his arms drape around Guy’s waist. He pressed his face between Guy’s shoulder blades and breathed, “You smell good.”

“Psh. B.O. and diff fluid. That’s the manly stuff right there.”

“It is. I like it. I like you sweaty and dirty.”

“You like my dirty hands?” Guy asked, as he laid his greasy hands over Kyle’s paint stained fingers.

“I like what you do with them.”

“Do ya?” Guy smirked as he turned in Kyle’s arms. His hands balled up in the hem of Kyle’s—his—shirt as he roughly tore it over Kyle’s head. He tossed it aside with one hand and grabbed Kyle around the back of his head with the other. He didn't give Kyle a chance to think, much less speak, as he sealed his mouth over Kyle’s. He was done talking.

Kyle let Guy’s grease spattered hands roam as they pleased.

“So? How much a’this little visit is about what I want, and how much of it is about what you want? Hm?”

“Depends how much you’re up for, old man.”

“Oh I’m up for it. I’m always good for it. How ‘bout you, kid? Are you down?” Guy asks, as he shoved Kyle roughly backwards, forcing him to fall onto the hood. Kyle startled; he half expected Guy to freak out about scratches or dents. “Let’s take ya for a little test ride. See what’s gotcha so hot and bothered.”

“You,” Kyle smiled.

“Let’s test that theory. Do a little diagnostic work.” Guy unsnapped one of the straps of his overalls, the look in his eyes heated and predatory.

“Since when are you a mechanic?”

“Since I got tools and shit, how bout that?” Guy’s brow furrowed.

“Tools?”

“Yeah! Lemme go get my new sniffer n’sniff you out.”

“Your what?” Kyle sat up on his elbows, alarmed.

Guy had already stalked away, steel-toed boots thumping a path over to the toolbox. He pulled a few drawers open, metallic clanging and clattering punctuated his search until he found what he wanted. It looked a bit like one of those book-reading lights—a long flexible new protruded from a plastic, oval body and a little rubber tip was affixed to the end.

“What’re you doing with that?”

“C’mere,” Guy surged forward, pinning Kyle to the car and poking him relentlessly with the tool.

“What the fuck! Knock it off!” Kyle laughed, eyes bright as he tried to wrestle the thing out of Guy’s eagle talon grip.

Guy clicked the switch on the side. A little red light flashed and the tool beeped twice. “Oh! Looks like we got a read here, Spock.” Guy held the tool up with exaggerated thoughtfulness, still keeping Kyle pinned down effortlessly with one arm.

“Well, what is it?” Kyle demanded in mock anger.

Guy clicked his tongue and sighed, “Chronic horny, I’m afraid.”

“Is there any cure, doc?” Kyle asked, honey-sweet with a rock of his hips.

“I fuckin’ hope not!”

“You think you’re the guy for the job? You gonna fix me?” Kyle asked as Guy was already popping the button on his jeans and yanking them down.

“I’m gonna fix you real good, you’ll see.” Guy ran his tongue over the big, red ‘W’ tattoo on Kyle’s hip.

The metal hood was cool against Kyle’s heated skin. He let Guy press him down, folded an arm behind his head to keep the hood scoop from digging into his skull. It felt special, being allowed to touch such a valuable car and to be the center of Guy’s focus despite the sun-gold paint and man-sized decal.

Guy’s big hands squeezed Kyle’s thighs as he lavished Kyle’s hipbones with teeth and tongue. He mouthed the bulge in Kyle’s underwear, blue eyes blazing as he stared up and into Kyle’s panting face.

“Yeah,” Kyle growled, taking a rough handful of Guy’s short, copper hair and pressing him down.

“Like that?” Came Guy’s muffled retort. “Yeah I fuckin’ do. And so do you.” Kyle’s rucked-down jeans rustled in the quiet garage as he wrapped his thighs around Guy’s head. He yanked Guy’s hair again, harder. The sound that came out of Guy was as much a growl as it was a raspy chuckle.

It was a lot of power for Kyle to push around—two hundred and twenty pounds of sex and fury, and both with a hair trigger. Like feathering the gas in a tight turn, Guy’s responses were forceful and immediate. And Kyle loved being the one behind the wheel.

Impatient, Kyle hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his underwear and kicked the last of his clothes off. Guy leaned back to give Kyle some room and divested himself of his shirt and dropped the overalls to the floor. Sharp blue eyes drank in all of Kyle’s tanned, tattooed skin one slow inch at a time.

Against the gold paint, the warm undertones of Kyle’s skin shone beautifully. His body was framed by the wings of the firebird decal, giving him the look of a Greek deity on an ancient mural.

“Gorgeous,” Guy said softly, reverently. He thought of how many times his phoenix had been reborn. “One of a kind.” Guy leaned down and his big, warm hands clamped around Kyle’s naked hips.

Kyle felt suddenly unnerved so he shoved Guy’s head down again, “Now take care of me, so I can take care of you.”

“You gonna take care of me?” Guy half-whispered, dragging his stubble along Kyle’s thigh and flattening his tongue against the base of Kyle’s cock, “Gonna go to work, and pay for dinner, and take real good care of me?” Guy flicked those dangerous blue eyes up at Kyle again, “Daddy?”

Talk about shifting into a higher gear, Kyle thought as he yanked Guy’s mouth open with his thumb and shoved his cock in. Maybe their interests weren’t so different. “Yeah, baby,” Kyle hissed. His fingers dug into Guy’s skull as he started to move his hips, “My good boy.”

With a groan, Guy dropped to his knees. His body ignited and relaxed all at once at the praise. He couldn’t stop the soft little sounds that worked their way out of his mouth every time Kyle’s dick hit the back of his throat. He hollowed his cheeks. He dug his fingers into Kyle’s squirming hips.

“Fuck,” Kyle pushed against Guy’s shoulders, “Guy, fuck, I’m gonna…”

Guy grabbed Kyle’s thighs and closed them tight around his head.

“So fuckin' good, you’re so fuckin' good for me, baby,” Kyle’s head tipped back and he stilled.

Guy greedily drank down everything he was given.

Kyle tried to sit up but he kept sliding in his own sweat. He reached his hand up and laughed, “Here, help me up. Switch me.”

Guy was biting his lip, pondering the lovely sight before him.

“What?” Kyle asked. “What’s that look for?”

“Can I just, you know, look at’cha?”

“You sure?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Okay,” Kyle shrugged. He leaned back into his comfortable position with his arms over his head again.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” Guy sighed, taking himself in hand.

Kyle found himself unable to look away from the motion and felt his cheeks heat up. Watching Guy work himself was powerfully masculine and erotic. Kyle could feel his entire body coiling with desire again at the sight. He raised his legs up, running the arches of his feet along Guy’s calves.

Guy ran his fingertips over the tattoo on Kyle’s thigh—a row of the solar system’s planets. “When’d ya get this one?”

“Long time ago. It’s kinda like those bumper stickers people get every time they visit a land mark. I did each planet. The first time I went there. When I was a new Lantern.”

“Nine of em?” Guy panted out.

“Yup. Pluto counts.”

“Good, “ Guy smiled. A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, “N’at one?” He asked, gesturing to the cartoon skull and crossbones on Kyle’s bicep. “Hm. You wanna talk about another man touching me right now?” Kyle teased.

“I dunno,” Guy replied, surprisingly unfazed. His eyes were dark with desire, “Is he hot?”

Kyle couldn’t hold in his laugh. He was not discussing Roy on a scale of 1-10 right now. No way. He started to laugh in earnest and covered his face.

“Don’t do that,” Guy panted, “Tell me later. Come back.”

Kyle dropped his hands to his waist, where he twisted his fingers together awkwardly. “Is this one your favorite?” He asked, trailing his fingers along the ‘W’ on his hip. Guy’s hand started pumping faster.

“Yeah.”

Kyle let his hands trail slowly over his body. He watched the way Guy’s eyes followed the motion. He played with his nipples, pinched them, and smiled at the way it made them both hiss.

“Look at me,” Kyle said, “Keep your eyes open for me.”

Guy grunted in response, but did as he was asked. When he came he nearly lost his balance. Kyle sat up, reaching his hands out. Not thinking, he gripped Guy around the ribs. When Guy twisted away, he jerked back immediately.

“Shit! I’m so sorry! You okay?”

“I’m good,” Guy said with a dopey smile. “All good.”

“You haven’t taken any of your medicine today, have you?” Kyle frowned.

“Psh, what do I need Oxycontin for when I got all this oxytocin, huh?” Guy smiled. He reached out and pinched Kyle’s cheek, “My little drug dealer.” He chuckled and stretched—gingerly as he had forgotten about his ribs again already.

“You sure you’re good?”

“Everything’s good when I got you, baby.”

[she-karev]

First Date (Andrew DeLuca x Alex Karev's Sister Imagine)

Previous Chapter Here

Chapters : Two of Four

Age Rating: 12+

Fandom: Grey’s Anatomy

Ship: Andrew DeLuca x Amber Karev (Alex Karev's Sister)

AN: Here’s part two of three the last chapter will be posted hopefully by tomorrow but for now enjoy this chapter. The next two chapters will be posted tomorrow.

Summary: Amber and Andrew go on their first date.

Words: 1898

It’s 6:45 and the T-Mobile stadium is already packed with people. I’m standing outside in the rain wearing my black North Face rain jacket holding an umbrella. I read that it rains in Seattle about 150 days out of the year which is more than it rains in Iowa or New York. I’m still getting used to the wet weather, I’m used to cold breezes though so that’s a good thing. I’m pretty much the only one with an umbrella because all of the other fans lined up outside are clad in either Yankee’s or Mariner’s hoodies.

I fully agree that the Yankee’s suck but the Mariner’s haven’t had a great season either so I just opt for a black v neck with skinny jeans, black combat boots and a red scarf around my neck. I decided to go with casual for tonight because we agreed to start slow and a dress with do me pumps doesn’t scream slow. He’s still trying to get past my relation to Alex and I am trying not to bring it up not that it’s hard not to. Plus talking about our families will open a Pandora’s Box of misery that will scare him away.

I finally see him get out of a cab and run towards me in his black jacket, jeans and a beanie. He looks at me with remorse for leaving me out in the rain for the past 15 minutes, “Hey I’m really sorry I had to move some things around and the cab I took arrived late and for some reason she likes to drive like a senior citizen. But I’m here now and I think if we hurry, we can get the good nachos.”

I shake my head at his lack of baseball knowledge, “Nachos aren’t the main baseball food it’s hot dogs. You know what we’ll discuss this later let’s get inside the line is long enough already.”

Andrew takes my hand in his and leads us inside the building where a long jam of people crowded one of the arched entrances. Andrew paused to pull out the tickets and gave one of them to me and held my hand as we kept walking with me behind him. The stadium wasn’t just filled with people it was filled with sounds too, from screaming to laughing. We took a few steps toward the shortest line we could find and soon I was between the wall and the crowd.

A sudden unease raced through me and I was familiar with it. No, no, not here, not now Andrew is oblivious to my racing thoughts and feelings of being trapped. I try to remember the breathing exercises I was taught but it’s been a while since my last incident and I left my Bcalm in one of my boxes back in my place because I didn’t think I would need it. I try to draw in breath but it was impossible. The air is stale and hot from all the bodies and it was like my nose was stuffed with plugs.

Panic hit me hard and fast and I froze in line even when it was moving. A coat of sweat was breaking out on my forehead, my chest tightened. Black spots started to swarm my vision and I knew in the moment what I needed to do but I couldn’t do it. Nobody noticed it I mean how could they? A girl having a panic attack in a large crowd is like a needle in a haystack. Fear paralyzes me in that moment and I couldn’t do anything even with the college kid behind me yelling at me to move up.

Andrew turned around and even in my state I could see him. He looks at me with concern and walks toward me and gently grabs my arm.

“Hey are you okay? What’s wrong?” I hear him talking to me but his voice sounds like it’s distorted which means this attack is just as bad as I fear.

I try to get past it and have words come out, a few get past my lips in a whisper, “P-Panic attack need…need to…b-breathe.” Andrew looks at me worriedly and immediately walks us away from the crowd. I clench his arm holding on for dear life and exhale as we exit the stadium. I have never been happier to feel the cold air and rain on me. I move away from him so I can get room to breathe and sit on the bench.

Andrew moves toward me and pulls my scarf away from my throat and it helps a lot. The rush of air is a welcome relief on my hot skin. It only helps a little and without the crowd I finally hear myself hyperventilating. I am so overcome with this need to breathe that I don’t even realize Andrew is here and witnessing me at my absolute worst. I would have gladly taken cursing over hyperventilating on a first date. 

Andrew holds my face in his hands and turns me to face him instead of the street, “Okay Amber look at me you’re having a panic attack it’s okay I’ve got you. Take a deep breath in do what I’m doing, nice and slow.” Andrew breathes in slowly and I copy him managing to pull a breath into my lungs, “Good again.” He repeats and so do I. Normally a new different fear would arise around Andrew’s proximity but instead his hands on my face and the rumble of his voice loosened the constrictions in my chest, “Do you feel better? Are you getting air in your lungs?” I stare at his serious and caring expression and nod, “Okay good let’s keep going until you feel better.” We kept breathing together a few more times and I felt my heartbeat steading and the tension exit my body.

When I finally felt more in control I pull Andrew’s hands away from my face and wipe my damp forehead with the back of my hand. Instead of facing him I rested my elbows on my knees and stared at the ground trying my hardest not to cry. I was about ready to sob not because of the panic attack but because of the shame and embarrassment that replaced the anxiety. I try not to look at him because I can imagine he looks scared and freaked out that his first date with me was trying to get me back from a panic attack. God, I want to die.

He rubs my back as a soothing gesture but I still don’t look at him, “Do you need anything? Water? I can run inside and get some.” I’m thirsty but all I want to do now is go home under my weighted blanket and never talk to him again.

“N-No I’m good…you should go though the game is about to start and you bought the tickets.” I try to give him a way out so I can save myself the shame but he is relentless as I see him shake his head out of the corner of my eye.

“I don’t care about the game.” I don’t know if he’s staying out of concern or pity, “Can you walk home or should I call us a cab? Where do you live?”

“Columbia City it’s a studio.”

“My place is closer we can walk there it might help you and you can spend the night.” I close my eyes at his kindness. Most girls would find it endearing but right now I feel like crawling under a rock and never coming out.

“You don’t have to.”

“I’ll feel a lot better if you did, come on let’s go.” Andrew takes my hand and we both stand up. I finally look at him and see that he’s genuinely concerned about me. I don’t know if it’s as a doctor or as a date but truth be told I don’t feel comfortable being in a tight space after what happened and his place is a lot bigger than mine. Hell, the on-call rooms are bigger than my studio so I nod and we walk side by side away from the park into the city at night.

After about 30 minutes of walking, I felt better as the cold air and movement was good for me and dispelled the threads of anxiety that remained. We didn’t talk the entire way, neither of us initiated conversation and I am so grateful for that because I wouldn’t know what to say or how to explain this. We finally reached the house which surprisingly looks bigger than most residents can afford in a big city.

“Nice place.” I say numbly, “I thought you were staying with Dr. Robbins.”

“Yeah, I was but her kid came back and I needed to move out so I’m living with Dr. Hunt until I find a place of my own.” I nod and look down in shame and he catches it, “Are you okay?”

I sniffle, “…I am so sorry.” He looks at me in pity over my sadness and tries to cheer me up.

“Hey, come on it’s just baseball at least I didn’t spill a drink on you or hit you again.” The corner of my lips goes up slightly at his attempts to make feel less like crap. Despite the slight amusement in his tone his eyes are dark with concern. I have had bad dates before but having a panic attack in front of Andrew and him coddling me like a child, God in heaven.

“I’m not a basket case.” I state bluntly trying to put it out there. Andrew looks taken back by what I said but responds.

“I never said you were. Come on you can sleep in my bed and I’ll take the sofa tonight.”

I look at him touched, could this guy be any more perfect and could I be any less? “You don’t have to do that. You can sleep in the bed with me I won’t mind.”

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind at all.” Andrew asks to be sure.

“It’s not like it’s the first time we slept together only those were much better circumstances and I wasn’t such a crock pot.” Andrew looks at me as if offended I’m being so hard on myself.

“Hey.” I look at him, “You are not a crock pot or a basket case. I’m pretty sure those terms are outdated and it’s okay I’m not mad. Don’t be so hard on yourself it’s not like you caused a panic attack to get out of some stupid game.”

“I really didn’t.” I say kicking myself again causing Andrew to be stern.

“Stop it it's not your fault. Let’s go inside and get some sleep okay?”

I nodded at his request and we headed inside the house without even speaking to each other. We go to his room where Andrew gives me a red flannel shirt of his to wear for the night. After taking my clothes off and slipping into the shirt with the bottom reaching the top of my thighs. I opt to shower in the morning because I’m exhausted and just want to pass out. As soon as I lay on my side in bed and pull the blanket to my neck, I close my eyes and let the lull of the night take me.

Next Chapter Here

[laikodaemon]

Fleshing things out more in my head.

Big (very big (I have given you fair warning)) wall of text below. Stream of consciousness type of thing. Lore, setting, more characters,

I need to start drawing or writing something related to this or I might explode.

The setting is a university of magic, The University of the Arcane and Unknowable. This is a dangerous place. Researchers vye for funding half by making good proposals and half by covertly sabotaging their rivals. An incident in class leaves one student dead and two injured. Faculty turns a blind eye to most offenses, save cheating. Most students keep their heads down to stay safe, some thrive on the politics, and some... are here to really learn something.

Our good friend Lenore Winters falls in the last category. They're currently studying in the college of necromancy, with a concentration in applied necrotic energy (as opposed to undeath or medical necromancy).

There are many ways to get magical power. All of them rely on a channel; a pattern that creates a little hole in reality that power from beyond can flow through. Staves and wands use channels intricately carved into crystals. Ritual circles carve channels into the ground. Some wizards, like Lenore, carve (usually metaphorically) the channels into themselves.

the wizards who use this last method usually keep the channel small, then use it alongside other methods. Lenore did this. And then did it again, and again, and again. There's several holes in reality buried in their chest, each larger than the last, pumping necrotic power into their body. They've got safeguards to keep themselves alive and keep the energy from leaking into the air, but no guarantees for anyone who touches them.

The necromancy college is full of social outcasts and obsessive researchers, though, and this sort of practice is not unheard of. What is unheard of is doing all that and then continuing to be seen in public and have a social life. It is the combination of the two that makes Lenore stand out.

Lenore's focus in their research has been on spectral undead and how spirits maintain their forms after death.

Lately, Lenore has been looking into a type of magic separate from necromancy - oblivion magic, or nihilimancy: the art of making things simply stop existing. Lenore believes nihilmancy may hold the key to greater advancements in their necromancy research. Unfortunately, this type of magic is a rather new field, and attempting to research it may draw the attention of other, more dangerous researchers, willing to kill to make sure they are the ones who get the glory of discovering new magic...

To avoid injuring others, Lenore uses a construct created by a friend of theirs over in the College of Artifice. The construct is based off a design for prosthetic arms, adjusted to accommodate Lenore's existing arms. This construct replaced Lenore's old system of using a telekinetic hand. The construct is far easier for extended use.

Lenore talks very quietly, and doesn't show what they're feeling very well.

The colleges of the University of the Arcane and Unknowable include

The College of Advanced Magic (Arcane theory and general use magic. Catchall for new and unsorted magic)

The College of Thermal Magic (including Pyromancy and Cryomancy)

The College of Life (mainly healing and nature magic, with a small department of fleshy horrors)

The College of Enchantment (Warding magic, physical and mental enhancement magic, curses)

The College of Shaping (Geomancy, Hydromancy, Aeromancy)

The College of Artifice (Golems, constructs, magical tools)

The College of Summoning (Magic that calls beings from other places or from outside reality)

The College of Seeing (Magic that grants the user knowledge, like remote viewing or magic sight or prophecy)

The College of War (Magic from a great many other disciplines, taught from a combat perspective)

The College of Necromancy (All necrotic magic is dealt with here, mostly due to the stigma around it)

This is not an exhaustive list.

Other notable mages:

Pall Rannse: A mage from the College of Artifice. Focuses on constructs that attach to the body. Transhumanist. Much of her visible body has been replaced with construct equivalents or enhancements. Loud, enthusiastic about everything, gets in arguments a lot. Good friend of Lenore. Made Lenore's second set of arms.

Richard Lasker: A mage from the College of Life Magic. Very put together and organized appearance. Excellent fashion sense. Concerningly obsessed with perfecting himself biologically. Most assume he's from the medical branch of Life when they first see him... He is from the flesh horror branch. Friends with Lenore, but has been drifting away from the friend group because of his obsession.

Lanaket "Kip" Redwind: A mage from the College of Seeing. He uses magic to compensate for his poor memory. Seems to be friends with everyone. Excellent gift giver. Has severe imposter syndrome because of how often he can't remember how to use spells without using memory magic. Close friends with Lenore.

Cassandra Draegot: Professor in the College of Necromancy. Extremely skilled in Necromancy. Hates Necromancy, hates teaching, and hates the administration that pushed her into her position. Puts on a show of being happy in front of her students and admin. One bad day away from burning down as much of the University as possible.

Garrith Merryweather: Head of the College of Life. Puts on a show of being a kind old man. Wants to absorb the College of Necromancy into the College of Life, but has met great resistance. Has little respect for students or any of the faculty under him.

Naske: Head of the College of Necromancy. Wears a golden mask at all times. They never speak, having an assistant speak for them instead. Extremely hard to read or predict - their actions rarely seem to follow any pattern. They have been in charge of the College of Necromancy for longer than the current headmaster has been alive. Everyone knows they're a lich, but no one says it.

I could keep rambling but I probably shouldn't right now. So that's all. If you read all of this. Good job

Thinking a lot about a character I'd like to draw when my brain lets me,,

A mage who uses what are effectively magical (physical or not) prosthetic arms, despite having functioning natural arms. They specialize in curses, and have wrapped their own body in so many of them using their hands normally (without damaging anything or anyone) is difficult

I have a couple of ideas for their personality/story - the simple route is to have their obsession with curses push them away from others both emotionally and physically

I think it may be more interesting if most people assumed this was their problem, but they've actually got pretty solid friendships and a good grasp on their own situation

I've got a bunch of other stuff boiling around in my head about it but words are hard late at night

[bagdaddyb]

Heat

Warning: (18+ ONLY) smut definitely smut. A little fluff mixed in just maybe. Daddy kink.

Pairing: Alpha!Natasha Romanoff x Omega!femreader

Waking up covered in sweat you tune into the small whimpers leaving your mouth. Feeling the familiar unease start to settle in your stomach you quickly recognize all the signs of your heat coming on. Hurriedly grabbing your phone from the bedside table in your room you check the date and sigh.

"I'm not due to go into heat for another two weeks."

Standing abruptly, you decide there's no use complaining about it now. Locking the door to your room, you open your bedside drawer while grabbing your phone. Texting Steve that you were going into heat and to keep all unmated alphas from your room. Setting your phone down your breathing speeds up now panting, you feel the juices between your legs start to leak out, grabbing your familiar blue dildo you prepare yourself for a long week.

...

If there was one thing Steve was not planning to deal with today, it was (Y/N) going into heat. Steve hurriedly threw his shirt on rushing out of his room to catch any Alpha's walking (Y/N)'s way. Reaching Natasha just as she was going to turn down your hallway Steve quickly grabs her by the shoulder.

"Hey Natasha, would you mind training with me this morning I need to work on my hand to hand combat."

The female alpha ahead of him raised her eyebrow before nodding.

"Yeah, I was just gonna go wake (Y/N) up she never misses breakfast."

"Oh she text me this morning she wasn't feeling good, she's probably laying back down no need to bother her."

If Natasha found Steve's weird behavior suspicious she didn't show it, only silently staring at Steve a moment before agreeing and heading the opposite direction with him. Stopping by a near by beta guard pretending to just be checking up on the man Steve leans in whispering quickly.

"Lock off (Y/N)'s hallway she's going into heat. Let no alpha's in do you understand."

The guard nodded quickly before taking off for the task at hand.

"Where's he going?"

Natasha asked as she walked up behind Steve.

"To get someone to disinfect, we don't all want to get sick."

Steve said with a nervous chuckle before quickly ushering Natasha towards the training room.

...

Moaning loudly as you continued pumping the dildo in and out of your slick center, your other hand holds up one of your legs in an attempt to keep you wide open. Whimpering loudly as you stop your ministrations you let out a pained whine. It isn't enough want..... no NEED an alpha. Your body trembled in want as you whined in pain again.

Need more. NEED MORE.

Gushing at your heated center, you body started to release its pheromones calling for an alpha to mate. Attempting the dildo again you push it past your folds easing the pain for a fleeting second.

Alpha.

...

When Natasha finally lost Steve after taking him down in training five times she sighed. Wiping her forehead with a cloth she moved back the direction of your room wanting to check how you were doing. Try as she might Natasha couldn't deny the strong feelings she had for you. Life was just, right when you were around and she never missed an opportunity to be around you. The red room had taught her to ignore all these feelings that love was weakness and a mate was a death wish, but none of those things seemed to matter anymore the first time Natasha saw you smile. You had just become an Avenger and Sam had said something to you about being part of the family that caused the happiest smile to grace your face and the action melted Natasha. Her body flowed with warmth as the alpha inside her began to purr. From that moment on Natasha had been trying to find a way to tell you how she felt, but when that signature smile crosses your face and you tell her that she's your best friend how can she. Natasha let out a sigh before catching the sounds of a struggle up ahead. As Natasha rounded the corner she saw beta officers blocking off your hallway. One officer was dealing a man she recognized from the lab, restraining him as his partner puts cuffs on him.

"She needs me. The omega needs me."

The beta only huffs as his partner takes him away. Raising an eyebrow as a lovely sweet scent rushes in Natasha's nose her eyes dilate.

"(Y/N)."

Natasha says out loud as her alpha runs wild.

Before she can make a move Bucky is walking straight up to her.

 Omega! My Omega! Claim! Knot! Breed!

"Natasha you need to get out of here."

Bucky says as he tries to reach out for the woman ahead of him instincts taking over Natasha grabs his arm flipping him over her before making her way foreword.

Omega!

Natasha's growls catch the attention of the guards near by as she continues towards your hallway.

"Steve I need back up Natasha's trying to get to (Y/N)!"

Natasha to dazed to even hear the man call for back up continues foreword feeling her own erection grow in her pants. 

...

Your whimpers now filled the room as your naked bottom grinded down against your pillow, you had opted out of your clothes instead putting on one of Natasha's shirts she had left in your room. The smell of the alpha filled your nose helping tremendously in the beginning, but now her scent was only a reminder that the alpha wasn't actually there with you. Grinding down hard on the pillow you moan out load.

"Tasha."

Biting your lip you close your eyes using your imagination to the best of your abilities to try and picture what it would be like if the alpha was here. Moving your hips faster you furrow your eyebrows realizing Natasha's scent is strong, stronger than the faded left overs you had cherished from her t-shirt. 

Alpha!

Your body called for her as you bend foreword in pain and whimper. 

...

Steve arrived with Clint and Sam like clockwork to little avail, Natasha was a strong unmated alpha falling into a rut and she knew exactly who she wanted to mate. Dodging another punch from Clint, she grabs his arm bringing her knee up landing a nasty hit right in the mans gut before wrapping her arms around the mans neck and flipping him on to the ground. Loud growls left her chest at Steve and Sam who stood in front of her trying to make a last stand. By this point Natasha's eyes where black completely predator like as she pushed to reach her omega. Your scent seemed to be rolling out ten times stronger since she started towards you and it was only encouraging her. Steve and Sam stood no chance as they pushed Natasha at the same time. Kicking Sam before landing a strong punch across Steve's face the alpha within her was done playing games. Switching between kicking and punching the two men she made embarrassingly quick work of them finally reaching her destination. Lifting her hand she knocked lightly at your door the loud whimper she heard from you was response enough for her to whip a bobbie pen out of her hair and pick your lock, letting herself into the room your scent almost over loaded Natasha as the true intensity of it smacked her when she opened the door. Looking towards Natasha with heavily lidded eyes your entire being screams out to her.

You let go as tears start to stream down your face, instantly Natasha was making her way towards you, releasing relaxing pheromones as she got close she took your face in her hands wiping your tears.

 "Natasha."

"Don't cry omega, tell me what you need."

"You."

The word leaves your lips before you can even process you want to say it. In a second Natasha's lips are on your own and already the overwhelming pain of your heat is starting to die down a little. The kiss is hot and needy Natasha quickly wins the fight for dominance gripping you by your chin as she deeply explores your mouth. Unable to help yourself your arms bring themselves up around Natasha's neck to bring her closer wanting to be surrounded by her. Natasha's free hand wraps around your waist melding your bodies together and you can't help the needy moan that escapes you after feeling her clothed hard member. Moving her mouth from yours you gasp in a breath as her kisses move down your neck towards your chest. Climbing into the bed Natasha slowly pushes you till your laying on your back before situating herself between your legs. Rubbing her clothed bulge against you she visibly shutters feeling how wet and warm you are through her pants. Continuing her assault down your body she runs her fingers under her shirt your wearing quickly pulling it over your head and marveling at the sight below her. Your body fully exposed to her, you were the most beautiful thing she's ever seen, her alpha purred pleased with her omega. Continuing to purr as her mouth came back down to attach to one of your nipples your back arches into your alpha.

"Please Tasha, I need you! Please!"

Natasha bit back a needy whine of her own as she quickly stripped letting loose her penis. Eyes dilating even more you watch Natasha stroke herself twitching slightly.

"Is this what you need? You need my cock in side you?"

Biting your lip you nod causing Nat to lean foreword and catch your jaw in a firm grip.

"I asked you a question Princess, answer with your words."

"Yes I need your cock inside me, I need your knot."

Sitting on her knees in the bed Natasha gripping you by your hips dragging your bottom towards her front rubbing her shaft in your juices. Fully lubricating before lowering her aim easing herself into you. With how soaked you were it took little for Natasha to fully bottom out leaning down over you.

 "Mine."

You heard Natasha growl out as she started to move her hips slowly allowing you time to adjust to her. Feeling just the light friction caused by her movements stir something delightful in your stomach you wrap your legs around her waist bringing her deeper and closer if possible.

"Fuck Daddy."

The words slipped through your mouth before you could catch them and you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment before that strong grip is on your jaw again forcing you to look in her eyes. The lust you saw there was almost enough to set you over the edge and you took a deep breath in of Natasha's cinnamony scent, her scent brought deep comfort to your omega comfort you didn't know was possible.

"(Y/N) I can't hold back."

Natasha's body starts to tremble as her alpha tries to fight to truly claim you.

"I'm yours alpha, claim me, mate me, fill me, I want all of you."

Bringing herself down Natasha keeps her grip on your chin as she catches you in another kiss. This one slower more emotion. Without warning Natasha brings her hips back pulling herself out to the tip before slamming back into your soaked folds. You moan loudly into Natasha's mouth as your eyes roll into the back of your head. Abandoning your mouth to kiss other parts of your body you feel Natasha's lips attach to multiple places on your skin sucking until she was kissing the pain away.

"Oh f-f-fuck daddy. More."

Natasha obeyed adjusting her angle till she was hitting your g spot perfectly with every hard deep thrust.

 "Mine, My Omega."

You heard her mutter against your skin and you moaned in agreement running your nails up her back.

"Yours."

Natasha was the one to shed tears then as she thrust into you. Biting back another moan as you cupped her face you brought her eyes to yours.

"I love you."

The words sent Natasha over the edge even more her thrust becoming wild as your orgasm fastly approached.

"I'm gonna cum oh shi..... Daddy!"

You screamed out as you came. Your walls squeezed Natasha tight but her pace never faltered as she continued fucking you. As you came down from your first you quickly felt your second one building as Natasha's knot slammed at your entrance.

"Mine. Mine. Mine."

Natasha was continuing to growl as she rubbed against you trying to cover you in her scent. 

"Mate me. Mark me. Knot me Tasha PLEASE."

A groan came out of Natasha bending quickly she dug her canines into your neck as her knot finally slipping past your walls. Your orgasm was intense, your walls greedily squeezing around Natasha's girth milking her thoroughly. Your back arched into Natasha and your bodies shook together as you both experienced extreme pleasure. Twitching inside you Natasha made sure her knot was secure before letting go of your neck licking the fresh mating wound. Letting go of soft pleased whimpers you finally felt the pressure of your heat subside at least for the moment, satisfied at the full feeling of your alpha's knot. Rubbing her cheek against yours affectionately Natasha purrs against you.

 "Mate."

For the first time you feel whole, your body feels complete with Natasha pressed against you like this. This was yours, your alpha, your mate. An overwhelming feeling of love shot through you and you quickly ducked your head head biting into an identical spot on Natasha's neck. A low moan escaped Natasha as you felt more hot liquid pool into your already filled hole. Pulling back and licking the mark you only get a second before a familiar tight grip grabs your chin and brings your lips to Natasha's. The kiss was raw emotion, tears spilled down your face as your alpha's hold tightened. Using her free hand to grip your hip her whole weight is braced against you and its exactly what you need.

"I love you."

Natasha breaths out against your lips before kissing you sweetly again. Kissing her back with just as much passion you wrap your arms and legs tightly around your alpha.

"I love you too."

You finally gasp out when Natasha releases your lips. Hearing a low growl again Natasha starts moving her hips against yours instantly that familiar feeling of need courses through your veins.

"Gonna let everyone know who you belong to. My omega."

Natasha says lowly against your skin.

"My Alpha."

You say in response arching into Natasha.

My Alpha

Ao3 link.

[chiwhorei]

oh, captain

pairing: l. ackerman x fem!reader

genre: drabble, smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: ~1k

warnings: 18+, hair pulling, spanking, fingering, degradation, authority kink sksksksk

a/n: if you have been subjected to my presence in the last four days, there’s a 97% chance i screamed about captain levi pulling hair. i have no excuse for this, i don’t know what happened here, yes i made a walt whitman reference. i am this man’s whore, that is all. this is dedicated to @mindninjax, thank you for welcoming me into the levi harem.

hymn: do it for me by: rosenfeld

get on your knees, beg me to stop.

“are you okay captain? you look a little,” your words trail off slightly, fingers busy circling the tea cup in front of you, “stiff.”

there’s something sick about the way in which his title rolls off of your tongue. how it tumbles from your mouth without any intent but beats against a hollow feeling in his chest. in weaker moments, levi swears he watches the word fall past your lips like you had voiced a spell. you’re presence crawls on him like grime, no matter how hard he scrubs the day off, you linger. disgusting.

you’re affect on him has grated on thin remnants of patience for months now, pulling him farther away from reason and into the dizzying spin of your orbit. every wayward glance at him, every blood-soaked assist in combat. his composure frayed at the edges, decaying around seams and ripping in finality in the center of a dim dining hall only a few hours ago.

the day had already been taxing enough, packed with a parade of senseless bullshit, your usual quips pissing levi off with new vigour. your laugh crackles through the small dining room, bouncing off of the walls and pressing firmly against his temples. the chord of tension is tighter than a harness, wrapping around him and leaving bruises as if he’d been on a month long reconnaissance mission.

your comment is the last straw, your position in the forefront of levi’s thoughts has become a problem. and he knows exactly how he wants to put you back into place.

“what’s wrong, brat?” five fingers spread across your scalp, wrapping deftly to pull you into your captor from behind, “don’t get shy now.”

levi’s voice hits you with a snarl, his downturned pout is wet next to your cheekbone. you feel his breath fanning against your neck in hot pants. the usually cool deminior of your superior has been replaced with something more carnal.

“c-captain i-,” your voice sounds unfamiliar, cut off abruptly with a nip to the shell of your ear. anything worth adding to this one-sided conversation dies on your tongue.

“be a good little thing for me,” his grip on your hair is prickling, squeezing tighter before shoving your forward to stumble slightly, “strip. now.”

you follow your captain’s orders, ridding the suffocating uniform from when it brandashis planes of skin levi had only been able to imagine previously. the image in his head is no comparison to the sight before him now.

you’re left with just a thin pair of cotton paties as you turn your head to face him. you want to catch his eye before removing the final piece, begging the hungry stare to eat you alive. you bend over, pulling the garment down your thighs slowly, before it finds a home pooled at your feet.

levi is on you again in an instant, pushing you forward so your knees knock against the mattress. with two fingers to the middle of your spine, you fold on to your hands and knees obediently. your compliance almost makes him want to coo.

a sharp swat to your ass cheek cuts the silence in the room, you gasp for air around the lump stuck in your throat.

almost.

his hand traces over the newly raised and angry skin, he wants you painted with his hand prints.

“nothing instills discipline like pain.”

another union of his palm to the soft skin sings out, the clap hits your ears before the pain blooms in your heated flesh. you clench desperately, awaiting the next assault and squealing with every spank. levi’s frustration drips from each swat, his head swims at the picture before him. stitching every jiggle of fat and flesh into his brain for moments he’s alone. you’re a sight he won’t soon forget.

after a hearty attack on your poor ass cheeks, his fingers wander further down to the slick nestled in between your thighs.

“dirty little brat, you liked that a little too much.” two fingers prod against your puffy lips, circling slightly before pressing in. your silken walls pulsate at the intrusion, forehead meeting the bedding below you unceremoniously as levi’s fingers begin to pump, curling for good measure. he wants you to shake for him.

his fingers leave you with a squelch, it should be embarrassing but your pride melted in the moments he drug you to his quarters. you’re pulled up by your hair again, the action is growing in familiarity, the prickling feeling against your scalp is intoxicating.

he leans over the juncture of your shoulder, gazing down at the heaving of your breasts. he explores the curve, trailing to a raised nipple and pulling taught, you cry out for your captain. such a mess he’s made of you with so little effort.

“you’re already panting like a bitch in heat. what’s to come of you when i claim your sweet little hole?”

you’re dropped back into the blankets just as quickly as he pulled you up, levi marvels at your compliance. you arch your back dutifully, knowing what the sound of buckles hitting the hard wood below you means. you turn back to meet his form again, craning over your crumbled body.

one hand works over his already fully hard cock, palming in a langued stroke from the base to reddened tip. you watch in awe, whining at each passing stroke that isn’t inside of you. your eyes swim in syrup, completely dazed under levi’s harsh stare. he presses his tip into your already clenching pussy, hands flying to your hips to pull you back against him fully. you’re tight, so tight against him he can barely keep composure. his hips meet you slowly at first but snap into you quickly, setting a pace that leaves you reeling. words seem impossible, all for a select few which you scream like a prayer with each pump.

“please, captain. please.”

the way that title bubbles from you, flicking from your tongue and landing on the pillow next to a new path of tears, might just be the death of him. he’ll fight his way back from hell a hundred times to bury himself into you like this again.

you seem to know your place, under your captain in a thick layer of heady sweat. you’re a quick learner.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[terrence-silver]

Do you think Terry Silver would be a pageant dad or would he leave it to beloved?

A pageant dad? Like Babies & Tiaras type pageant?

I don't know. Not in the classical sense, even though Terry has a huge streak to himself that must absolutely win by any means necessary in everything he participates in, even if indirectly --- be it business, combat or just the ordeal of controlling people and environments. I think he'd organize private little makeshift playrooms where his snakeys can pretend play at being pageant contestants, with his actual staff playing the role of judges, coaches and referees (of course, such play days go into their salary bonus --- a hefty bonus) purely so he'd allow his children the illusion of competition and winning. Which they always do. His children always win. They're enveloped in this bubble where no other outcome is possible for them, something Terry goes out of his way to ingrain in them from an early age. But, to actually let them out into a real world pageantry? With actual judges? Actual scores? People looking and leering at his kids? Don't think so. Too possessive and protective for that. He'd literally much rather have them fight in Martial Arts tournaments and lay out someone face down for his amusement because he's taught them how. Now, that's right up his alley. Not to mention, for some reason I get the distinct impression that the naturally competitive (and often demeaning) nature of pageantry and how strict the expectations are remind him of his parents. He imagines his snakeys being judged for their body type, how they walk and talk and how worthy they are and he sees himself reflected back.

He sees Twig.

He sees Captain Turner mocking him from the audience.

He sees his father telling him to get over himself and Vietnam.

Not that he ever admits this to himself.

(Maybe, to beloved, he would for sure)

So, he much sooner pumps in a whole fortune into a controlled space where his kids can play with diamond tiaras he acquired for them, an onslaught of dresses, expensive accessorises, shoes, purses and elaborate wigs on an elaborate stage he has commissioned and live out their fantasies that way, investing so much detail into this whole little theatre they'd have going on that it is easily more immersive than the actual thing. Yes, his most inner circle staff will be paid to gather around and throw sparkling confetti on his Pageant Princess of Prince and he'll sit front row and center, dressed up the nines, legs crossed and clapping them on with the biggest smile, pumping his fist when they do a trick they're particularly proud of. Maybe he brings in the children of other likewise wealthy socialites he effectively trusts and can find himself tolerating to play with his own kids --- and naturally, never win. Or have better gear. Or better gowns. Or better anything. Woo-woo. This something Terry adores seeing, of course, even if though this is children we're speaking of. He's a bit like a (a mean and very mischievous) child himself. So, to witness the offspring of one of his business partners who's arrived to pick up his own kid from a playdate only for said kid to act sulky because they don't in fact own a doll house that costs half a million dollars is just amusing to Terry on a personal level and feeds his ego. Bottom line is; who said illusion isn't better than reality sometimes?

[selinakidreams]

hello hello hello ! this is my comfort piece for @doinmybesthere ‘s mental health awareness month collab! and I’d just like to say a huge thank you to emme for creating such a wonderful collab and thank you for letting me be apart of it.

paring: kirishima eijirou (I’m talking 7ft big strongman vibes) x empathic quirk f!reader (established relationship)

word count: 3.7k +

genre: hurt/comfort + fluff

warnings: mentions of anxiety & toxic friendships, instigating with means to harm- please let me know if I missed anything!!

a/n: this I think,, was the best way to approach what has tormented me for years. it was a reoccurring thing for me but I never handled it properly, and just this year, someone important taught me that I deserve more than what I’ve been putting myself through. so here it is! I also think that once my schedule clears up, I’m gonna make a sister piece to this but idk !! let me know if you guys would be interested in that!

++ the absolute biggest thank you to my betas/flow checkers @doinmybesthere @lady-bakuhoe @keishinslove BIG kith

pss. the first person who can guess my love language based off this fic wins a prize

Turning other’s confidence to despair, gloating to fear, persistence to tiredness, motivation into loss- but all you felt was drained. The overuse of your quirk left your head feeling full of cotton; Your chest heaving and vision slightly blurry. 

You arrived late to the fight because what started as a relaxing day off quickly turned into a rush to get to the streets. Thankfully Red Riot had been on the scene, waist-deep and stalling a full-fledged fight between two combat villains until backup came. 

His tired eyes met yours and you flashed him a hopeful smile until witnessing the villain get a short-termed upper hand. They landed a solid punch, which caused you to feel not only the repercussions of the shock-inducing impact but your building guilt of being a distraction.

Years of training reminded you not to let it get to your head, your hero instincts kicking in after emotionally experiencing that strike. Heart pumping with adrenaline, you began to focus your heart and mind, simultaneously tuning into what those around you were feeling, never forgetting to keep your eyes wide and alert. 

Confidence, eagerness, perseverance, exhaustion, determination. 

Taking a breath as you ease into a rhythm, you kept your sights on the two people who were attacking the boulder of a hero and finally, a steady grasp.

Quirk at work, the familiar mental image of loose strings flowing in the wind appeared, and you grabbed a hold of them, symbolizing that you had caught hold of their feelings and wasted no time on bending and contorting to your will. You watched as their actions became slower and less motivated, making it easier for Kirishima to handle. He must have realized what was happening, a new surge of elation pumped through him as he began to knock both of the villains down a peg. 

Seeing him fight had always been such a marvel to watch; it was so easy to be mesmerized by the sheer enthusiasm he had while trying to keep the balance and execute justice. Kirishima Eijirou was a hero in all senses of the word- and not just any hero, your hero- as cheesy as it sounded.

Secured under his weight and possibly unconscious, Red Riot looked around, a bit disheveled, until his gaze found yours. Expecting to be met with the warm sincere smile that always made your heart flutter, your heart sunk when you saw his eyes turn wide and frantic as he called out your hero name. 

On top of feeling a bit dizzy from honing into those particular subjects and manipulating two people at once, a wave of distress washed over you, adding to the unfavorable aftermath of pushing your quirk. 

You were quick to whip around, finding another villain was closing in closer than expected. You dropped all previous controls and focused solely on the person in front of you. 

“You had gotten better since the last time I saw you,” they sneered as they attempted to land a hard-hitting kick to your stomach. 

Missing by a hair, you pushed past the dreariness in your head and went straight into a defensive position.

The close-cut dodge wasn’t the only thing to throw you off; now you had realized why Kirishima looked at you like that; your traumatic past, the one you had divulged to him in the safety of your home, warbling with tears streaking your cheeks, was coming back to roughhouse with the intent of ending in a knockout. 

Fear twisted into gut-wrenching anxiety; the plummeting feeling hit the bottom of your stomach with a harsh thud.

In front of you stood the unmistakable frame of someone you had considered to be one of your closest friends for a time; someone that seemed so natural to be with, someone you divulged secrets and shared smiles with, someone that had made it seem like separation was not an option- now turned villain, sporting a suited evil smirk smeared on their face. 

It was hard not to let the tears collect on your waterline, thinking about the whirlwind of your relationship as your gaze met theirs for the first time in years. Months and months of triggered breakdowns, cold sweats from various nightmares, and countless tears have been shed as time progressed, the sinking feeling of long-lost fear that they had put you through now showing its ugly head; the thought you had convinced yourself for so long- that you ended up not even being worth their time starting to resurface. 

It had been hard to learn the lessons that were dealt and see the mistakes made on both parts- not just yours, to pick up all the shattered expectations of what a true friendship is, but you had. Now you were able to sort through the wrong sorts and had gotten emotionally and mentally stronger because of it; in many ways, the ending of the friendship helped you realize that there were ways you deserved to be treated, and like shit wasn’t one of them.

However, it almost seemed like all the progress you had made swirled down the drain now that they were in front of you. It was like you were experiencing the heartbreak of them ending the friendship all over again.

“Awww! The poor little hero is still heartbroken after I left her?” their tone patronizing as they jutted out their bottom lip to form an exaggerated pout. “Look at you! I can practically see the desperation on your face- desperate for me to come back? You’ve always been so fucking clingy. But you know, the news has you pinned as like... some kind of saint… no, no. You’re nothing but a selfish attention whore playing the good guy... so I just wanted to stop by and remind you of the truth.” they sneered, really aiming to trigger your trauma. 

You had opened up to them about all your fears; from the smallest to the all-consuming ones, so for them to be targeting you like this… they must have thought that you haven’t changed- and you fucking have. You worked damn hard to do so; You’ve grown and have started appreciating yourself more, started loving yourself more, started working on yourself more. The villain was only targeting your past worries, keyword, past.

Regardless, you were already feeling too much as is and the best thing you could do for yourself right now was to control yourself. 

The urge to take it personally was beyond tempting- to make them suffer as they had done to you, to watch them break right in front of you… But there was a specific way to handle this situation, one you’ve envisioned more than enough, the perfect high route. 

Quickly looking back to see how Kirishima was fairing, you were met with the rock hero in the process of cuffing the other two offenders, allowing you to feel a rush of relief. You turned around and mentally centered yourself. The convict seemed to put together what you were about to do, so without hesitation, they began charging only a second too late.

Taking a breath, the perfect feeling to muddle their prideful feeling down surged through you as you carefully knotted their violent stings together.

It was the feeling you faced when all was said and done after, the outcome you faced after you had gone through confronting all of the trauma that was built up by this person. 

All you felt was emptiness. 

When it hit them, you saw it in their eyes as they stopped in their tracks. No smugness, no pride, no cowardness. Nothing to egg them on and yet nothing to make them feel terrible. Blank. 

Before confusion slithered its way to their consciousness, you took the opportunity and roundhoused them- your efficient ankle sweep knocking their head to the floor, deeming them unconscious.

Crouching to the floor next to their body, you made sure they were breathing before cuffing them and standing back up, turning around you double-check on the scene behind you.

The police furthest from you were tucking the Red Riot’s villains in their cars while the others jogging towards you kept their eyes on the limp body behind you, Kirishima in tow. He looked incredibly tired but couldn’t seem to keep the smile off his face. He felt proud.

A weak smile graces your lips as you try to take a step, only to see your vision blur.

Great. 

The last thing you saw was the panicked look in his eyes as his pace quickened to a run in attempts to catch you. You faded out to the sound of an urgent call of your actual name before your body hit the ground with a thud. 

The next few hours came in slow-paced blinks. 

The first time you opened your eyes post-fight, your body felt heavy… but you were moving. It didn’t take long to realize that you were being carried by the muscular arms that you wake up to every morning. Slowly peeling your eyes open, the sight of his signature spikey red hair reminded you that what had just happened. Your boyfriend, the one who was on the scene with you, had witnessed you overcome one of the people that truly had left damage on you. He wasn’t looking at you, but staring straight ahead; by the way, his fingers curled around your bicep and thighs, it had been tough for him to watch everything that had gone down. 

You tried to call out his name, but it sounded stifled, sounding more like a broken whisper than anything. After another try, he seemed to have heard you, his ears perking up even though all the commotion- or maybe it was just ironic timing. When his red eyes caught the beaming smile you attempted to comfort him with, he tried to mimic it, only you could make out the way his bottom lip quiver. Your eyelids became unbearably heavy and for the second time, unconsciousness took its hold over you.

Blink.

The next time your eyes peeled open, you were being inspected by the all-to-familiar medical team. The inside of the ambulance was much brighter than it was outside, fluorescent lighting causing you to squint. Unnamable hands were touching your head and pulse points. When they noticed your eyes open, they tried to keep you awake as long as possible, the first step was sitting you up on the gurney. The first person you made eye contact with was your designated nurse- the one with the most comforting presence, was that part of her quirk? 

With a kind smile and knowing eyes, she jerked her head in the direction of the person she knew was first to come to mind. Following the movement, your gaze landed on Kirishima, who was standing off to the side and chewing on his nail, arms crossed against his chest. 

Had he already got checked out? Was he okay? 

When he noticed you were staring, he mustered up a small smile and in return, you slightly lifted both your hands to do a loose wave in attempts to warm up his smile. It worked.

“Okay c’mon, you know how these checkups go- you can go be with your boyfriend once we know you’re okay.” your nurse teased, knowing full well that a serious approach wasn’t going to work with you being this drowsy. 

You merely nodded in response, head and eyelids still heavy.

 The rest of the examination went by speedily, you being awake making everything go ten times smoother. After everything was checked and you were clear to go home, the nurses moved to talk to Kirishima as you moved to the edge of the ambulance, waiting for them to finish. 

“I’m so lucky that you’re not only my hero but also a registered caregiver. Well actually… both are pretty super...” You mumbled, trailing off with a lazy smile, lids finally starting to accept the losing battle of staying open. 

“Nooo, you’re lucky that it’s the overuse of your quirk that’s keeping you out of the hospital and not fatal injuries. It’s not manly to push yourself too hard.” he quipped back in a light playful tone; He didn’t miss how hard you were fighting to stay awake. “Baby, can you make it to the car or do you want me to carry you?” 

It was moments like this where you appreciated how comfortable Kirishima made you feel in your relationship; feeling no shame when you revert to a clingy pile of mush. Reaching out, you let your eyes close as you mimic grabby hands to your enormous boyfriend. 

You hear him sigh as he kneels in front of you, opening your eyes in time to catch his broad back muscles shifting, “c’mon love, you need to help me with this bit.”

You clumsily climb on his back and loosely wrap your arms around his neck, standing up with ease. He quickly adjusts you against him to get a better hold on your thighs. Once he begins walking, you let yourself subside back into unconsciousness.

Blink.

You were jolted awake when you felt yourself falling, only for your behind to hit a familiar cushiony surface. Oh right, the car. Before you could fade out once again, you heard Kirishima say something about going to grab the paperwork so the both of you can file your reports later when you wake up. The last thought you were able to think was something along the lines of how incredibly lucky you were to have someone love you so deeply.

Blink.

Waking up to the view of the city lights twinkling below your balcony and the energy of a healthy 8 hours of sleep, you stretch the rest of the drowsiness out of your body till you feel ready to accept the hefty amount of paperwork that’s waiting for you in the other room. 

The only light that illuminated your bedroom was the reflection of the living room lights on the hallway floors. Before getting up, you spared a glance at your nightstand, seeing a glass of water with a note underneath, as predicted; this happened more often than not after a battle. You reach out and take the glass in hand and take a steady sip before letting in more and more water, then reading the messy little note:

 in the livingroom <3 

You smiled at the little doodle he drew- two characters that seem a lot like the two of you, kissing, with a sparkly heart over their heads.

The need to recreate this drawing was growing at an incredible speed.

With newfound determination, you push yourself up from the bed and shuffle to the living room, squinting when the light becomes a little too harsh against your eyes.

Eyes fully closed when you get to the center of the living room, purposely facing the wrong way and trying to suppress a giggle, you try to use the most monotone voice you could muster.

“Kiri - where are you I can’t see.” 

“Your eyes are closed- babe, open your eyes.” 

“No it’s too bright but I saw this cute drawing on the nightstand done by this really talented artist and I must recreate it please recreate it with me.”

You heard a bit of shuffling before his voice came close to your left side.

“Was it a pretty manly drawing?” 

“I would like to think so.”

He was much closer at this point, shifted to somewhere close in front of you right before warm lips were on yours; as quick as the peck came, it was gone in a flash followed by the sound of him plopping down on the couch.

“Wait Eijirou-” you start to pout as you turn in the direction where the couch is, eyes now fully open and set on Kirishima until the shock of pain shot through your nerve endings. 

“Ah, shit! Fuck!…” you wince, lifting your leg to hug your newly stubbed toe.

Kirishima is back by your side in an instant, really trying to suppress his laugh but doing a terrible job.

“You’re such a jerk for laughing,” you pout, giving your best attempt of a proper shove… and he didn’t even budge. 

There was a moment of complete silence then the booming of your boyfriend’s boisterous laughs bouncing off the walls. Rolling your eyes, you limped over to the spot on the couch where he was previously sitting, and as the cushion beside you dips, you sigh. 

The sight in front of you was a disheveled mess. Scribbled on papers were thrown about- most were filled out but there were a few that were blank, pens and highlighters could be spotted under and over random reports.

“I did most of the reports… but I didn’t know if you wanted to fill out yours… because of who you were fighting.” he slowly stated, as if he were walking on eggshells. You could tell that he was holding back from hitting the main issue. 

Was this something you were ready to unbiasedly talk about? Kirishima knew most of the details, but he also realized that you probably wanted to talk about it more now that you’ve not only seen them after all this time but had to fight them. 

With another sigh, you let your head fall into your palms- your elbows digging into your thighs- and you roughly rub your eyes before coming up for a new breath of air. 

“My heart was pounding…” you started, attempting to prepare for the unwanted wave of grief, but as you trailed off, oddly enough, it never came. 

When reflecting on the fight, you remembered the range of emotions you felt, but now… you just felt… empty- which was ironic. No sadness, longing, anxiety… if anything, with your caring redhead staring at you with the roundest eyes, you felt at ease. 

“But honestly? I don’t really feel much right now. Like I can say that when looking back, I think I handled myself in the best way possible- they don’t deserve to have that satisfaction of creating a rise out of me, and quite frankly… I’m tired, Ei. I’m so tired of letting them have that hold on me. I don’t deserve that kind of pain. As much as I am a hero, I need to think about myself as a person and there’s only so much I can endure. My mental and emotional health comes first.” 

After saying all of that, there was a slight hint of relief that flooded your system; you already began to feel lighter.

“I’m so proud of you. I know that must have been really hard to face but you did it, and you were so good about it,” he whispered as he reached out for your thigh. 

Accepting his comfort, you sucked in another breath and smiled up at him. He held and returned your smile for a couple of seconds before slightly leaning in, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. 

“Would it be alright if I.. kiss you?” it was such a heart-warming gesture, how he was making sure you weren’t pushing yourself. 

“More than alright,” you whisper, barely getting out the last word because of how quickly the gap between you two closed. The kiss was comfort in the rawest form; his pace was slow, his large hand cupping your jaw as his tongue invaded your mouth. You were following his pace, your eyes coming to a close, melting into a relaxed state for what seemed like the first time today. 

Keeping the kiss light, he pulled away shortly, but not before placing a lingering peck on your lips, then one on your forehead and whispering, “I made you a snack. You’re probably hungry right now so I prepared you a little something filling. And while you eat, I’m gonna run a bath with some Epsom salt and lavender oil, does that sound good?” 

Overwhelming gratitude washed over you. Words couldn’t possibly measure even the bare minimum of the love you have for Kirishima Eijirou, and yet you managed to string a soft, “You are the most wonderful person in the world, and I… Eijirou I love you so much.” 

His eyes became a little teary as he looked down at you, a wobbly smile in place before whispering a returning “I love you,” before heading into the bathroom to run the water in your massive tub. 

As the thundering sound of the water filling the tub echo through your apartment, you get up and rummage the fridge to find a plate of adorably cut red apples with a glob of peanut butter off to the side. 

“Baby do you want tea?” You call out just loud enough, “I’m gonna brew that green tea with the toasted rice!” 

He came into the kitchen looking big and confused, “what did you say, baby?”

“Green tea?”

“Oh yes, please,” he said, leaning in and planting a kiss to your temple before turning back to the bathroom. 

“Kiri? Can you put on the house shows on the tv? I forgot what channel they were on.”

You didn’t need to turn around to hear tv turn on; a shout of thanks was called out before you took a bite of your snack.

It felt all very domestic, something you never thought could happen to you. Your childhood was a montage of quirk abuse, being emotionally used, following the same types of toxic people, and never learning your lesson. It all flipped somewhere in your twenties- you began to realize the pattern after being shown the kindness the world could offer. No longer world you put up with bullshit like that. You knew better now and Eijirou always reminded you of that. 

You were halfway through one of your favorite flipping shows when Kirishima came in shirtless, letting you know the bath was ready, “Okay my love, it’s ready. Take your time, I‘ll be in the tub.”

You stripped on your way to the bathroom, leaving all your clothes on the bench in the bedroom before padding into the warm-tiled bathroom.

The view you stepped in on was delicious; your huge boyfriend taking up most of the tub, his head tilted back against the wall, eyes closed.

“Gee red, you’re so sexy.” you aimed to tease, but your words came out a bit strained. He chuckles before turning to face you and groaning your name, “hurry up and come in here.”

And it’s then when you’re submerged in all the heat and laying against your boyfriend’s warmth, do you remember that life is what you make it to be. Never accept anything less than the love and care you deserve.

Blink.

[germvity]

RISES THE MOON

leon s kennedy x reader // 7 // wallflower blooming

"that felt really good..." you whisper, and he agrees. "i've been waiting to do that.." he admits with a small laugh. you giggle too, giving him another eskimo kiss as you coddle him close. "trials might start soon..." you say, glancing out the cracked window at the brightened (yet still dark) sky. "nah, we still have a while." leon grins, leaning in to give you a loving smooch. you hum happily, cupping his face as his tongue gently brushes against your bottom lip. "we have at least an hour.." leon trails off, and you catch his meaning immediately. "yeah, we do." you smile.

tags: smooching, a lot of it, relationship development, it aint official yet, leon being a good boy, mild crying

warnings: smexy time, leon giving head :), he just wants to pamper you, very much a people pleaser, me trying to write this as gn as possible without implying any genitalia <3, fingering, semi-public sex?? leon having a praise kink, leon being a sub bc ur welcome, blowjob and handjob for leon hc he's a good boy that deserves love

tag list:

@trinswhimsys , @hex-touchstarved <3

---

you felt safer in trials with leon. a special bond formed between the two of you after that night, and the entity only spawns you both together in trials. you were a team, and a powerful one. with you eliminating totems and any traps and leon pumping out gens and distracting the killer from you. the entity grows amused as it watches the killers scramble to combat your powerful strategies. leon huffs as he finds you at the gate, he left ghostface in the dust after you taught him how to evade them better. you grin at him, and he smiles, leaning in to give you a soft kiss as you open the gate. "thanks for getting rid of noed." he says softly as you grab his hands to pull him through the gate. "no problem, can't have the pretty boy dying." you tease as he rolls his eyes and follows you. "hey.." you say softly before the two of you leave. "hm? what's wrong?" leon stops too, letting you fiddle with his hands, a habit you picked up when you're nervous.

"what... what are we?" you ask quietly, and leon thinks for a moment. "what do you want us to be?" he asks, watching your face carefully. "i... don't know..." you whisper, letting him pull you into a hug. "well... i want us to be a thing, but i don't wanna push you." leon admits, and you nod. "i know.. but... it just doesn't feel real that someone as good as you likes me..." you sigh, resting your forehead against him as he holds you tighter. "nonsense, of course i do." he smiles, giving your forehead a soft kiss as the ground shakes. "c'mon, lets go before we get killed." he says softly, pulling you through the gate and into safety.

the two of you arrive at your shack, and you sigh as you flop down onto the bed. leon chuckles at your exhausted expression as he takes off his new jacket. "you alright?" he asks softly as he sits next to you. humming with a nod, and you take his hands in yours to fiddle with them idly. "what's up?" he asks, watching you play with his fingers. "hm?" your eyes find his, and he gestures to your joined hands with his head. "you normally do this when you're nervous. what's wrong?"

"nothing, just tired." you reply quietly, and leon hums. "alright.." he sounds unsure but lets it go as you pull one of his hands to your cheek. "i just like your hands." you admit, and he chuckles. "alright, i see that." leon's worry melts away and you smile. "what'cha thinking about?" you ask him softly, sitting up to look at him. "just what you said outside the gate." he replies, blushing slightly. "oh..." you huff, clambering into his lap to hug him. leon's arms wrap around your waist as he hooks his head on your shoulder. you nuzzle his neck, rubbing his back gently. "what do you want us to be?" he asks again, voice soft. "i... i do really want to be with you too... but i'm too scared." you admit, and leon hums. "you don't have to be scared." he replies softly, adjusting you in his lap so you were comfy. you sigh, closing your eyes as leon gives your cheek a soft kiss. "i'll always be here for you." the blonde assures you, and you hum. "i know. i'm just scared that i'll either lose you, or you'll change your mind." you say, your arms tightening on him.

"i'll never change my mind, you know that. and i'll never turn my back on you, or think any less of you. i'll be here." leon smiles, resting his head on yours. you sniffle slightly as you nod, "thank you... i just... after everything it feels so surreal that someone cares about me." you say softly, tears wetting his neck. "i know. it's hard to adjust to, but we're making progress." leon says, giving your head soft scratches to comfort you. you sigh, leaning onto him more, pinning him between the wall and your body. "tired?" he asks softly, and you shake your head no. "wanna go for a walk?" you sit back, waiting for his response. "sure, we can avoid the camps and go through one of the realms?" he suggests, and you nod. "the red forest is pretty, can we go there?" you ask softly, and leon chuckles with a nod. "sure, c'mon." he lets you pull him up from the bed and grabs his jacket and an offering on his way out.

your eyes find some fireflies that are floating near the gate. they're peaceful, and leon follows your gaze to the luminous bugs. "c'mon, i think theres a pond in a forbidden area. i used to hide there then get hatch in trails before i got a bit braver." you pull leon along by his hand. "what if it's been blocked off?" he suggests, and you hum in thought. "then we can sit in a quiet area." you smile and leon nods, "alright." the crack in the wall was boarded up, and you try pushing them. the bent nails creak under your weight as leon moves you out of the way. readying himself, his boot goes through the boards. you clap slightly, grinning at him. "that was hot." you tease, pulling the blushing blonde through the crack.

the pond is peaceful, and you sit happily next to the bank. leon joins you, watching you cradle a beetle before it jumps off and scurries away. "this is nice." leon smiles, and you nod. "i found it by accident, luckily it's in the corner so no one knows about it." you shrug, leaning against leon as he admires the clear water. "wanna bathe?" he asks teasingly, but freezes when you nod. "yeah, i'm covered in dirt." you laugh, standing to strip your dirty shirt off. you offer leon your hand, and he quickly takes it. you grasp his hands with both of yours, and it takes most of your weight to actually haul him up, it's cute.

leon lets you take off his jacket for him, and takes off his shirt. you admire a scar on his torso, fingertips rubbing his tender skin. "michael got you good, huh?" you mumble, and leon huffs out a laugh. "yeah, he did. he's surprisingly strong." leon shrugs, glancing to your lips out of habit. you catch his gaze, and lean in slightly. leon takes the invitation, kissing you lovingly as your hand tangles in his hair. his hands travel across the bare skin of your sides, and he deepens the kiss as you hum softly. your other hand stays on his chest as you lean closer to him, letting the officer rest his forehead against yours when he breaks away. "you're a really good kisser." he laughs sheepishly, and you smile, gifting him another soft peck. leon smiles, his finger tips slipping under the waistband of your pants. "can i?" he asks softly, ever the gentleman. you nod, helping him remove his pants as you give him another kiss.

you grin, and leon smiles too, but when you move him back he has to trust you. you giggle as you push him back and he hits the cold water with a gasp. "hey!" he laughs, splashing you with the water as you join him. "sorry, it was too tempting." you giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck as you give him a kiss as an apology. leon smiles into the kiss, his hand finding your back as he pulls you up against him. eventually, his lips find your neck and you hum softly at the feeling. "fuck.. can i make you feel good?" he asks softly against your skin. your thighs shuffle at the thought and you nod. "let me hear you, can i?" he asks again, wanting full consent (hot). "yes, you can." you smile, and leon grins, this time pushing you back to settle between your legs on the bank of the pond. you help him by removing your underwear for him.

he grips your thighs, and your fingers find his hair as he kisses your soft skin, fingers gently stroking your legs. you feel your arousal build, and you whine softly as he nips the flesh of your right thigh. "patience, i want you to feel good." he says softly, moving to pamper your left thigh as well. you huff, letting him lick a soft stripe along your skin and growing slightly frustrated when he pulls away. his teeth sink into your thigh and you moan softly as he suckles a dark hickey onto your skin. fingers tightening in his hair as he licks the bruise lovingly, you cant help but shuffle your hips to him. leon holds you in place as he leaves a bigger hicker further up your leg, before switching to give attention to your other thigh. you moan softly as his fingers begin to stimulate you, rolling your hips into his hand. leon chuckles into your thigh, the vibrations going straight through you as he moves his mouth to your sensitive area. you gasp, trying to push his head closer as he suckles you, fingers slipping to your hole to give you more pleasure. "oh, fuck! leon-" you whimper, grinding onto his face as you pet his hair. "good boy..~" you can't help but moan, and leon smiles against your lower area. "ahh- you're such a good boy, fuck.. that feels really good." you praise and it encourages him to try harder, desperate for your words of affirmation.

"leon!" you yelp, thighs wrapping around his head as his fingers prod that bundle of nerves. leon grins as he breaks away to give you a teasing lick. "f-fuck, please!" you whimper as his mouth covers you again, tongue kitten licking you. "you're doing so well, such a good boy for me.." you keen, back arching as your thighs tighten around his head, fingers gripping his blonde locks. "fuck, you look so pretty between my legs.~" you grin as he flusters, humming against your core. "keep going, you're doing so well." you encourage, and leon drags his tongue along you before going back for more. you groan as you thrust your hips into his mouth. leon hums again, fingers still pumping into you as his mouth does the rest. "you're so good." you moan, still trying to fuck his face as his hands can't find it in them to stop you.

leon whimpers against your pelvis, letting you practically take control as you grip his hair and roll your hips. "oh, good boy. so pretty as i fuck your pretty mouth." you grin, watching the tips of his ears turn red as he moans against you. "fuck, you're so pretty." you continue praising him, hips beginning to stutter as you grow closer. "mm, fuck i'm close. you're doing so well." you huff, using the hand on his head to help continue grinding into his mouth. you moan his name as you cum in his mouth, and leon shudders at the feeling of your fluid gushing onto his tongue.

pulling away, you watch the blonde swallow nicely and pulling you into his lap to coddle you. "good boy, you did so well.." you smile as leon giggles into your neck. "thank you..." he smiles, and you grin as you feel his erection. "want me to take care of you?" you ask softly, shuffling off his lap as he lets out a small hum. "hm? i can't hear you..." you tease as he gasps when your hand presses against his bulge. "yes, yes please!" he begs, letting you remove his boxers. the blonde whimpers as your hand wraps around his shaft, giving him a few pumps before you move down to lick his head.

"a-ah!" he yelps as your warm mouth envelopes his tip, trying not to buck his hips into you. you continue to pump his shaft, tongue teasing his slit. "p-please, i need more- pleasepleaseplease!" leon begs, moaning sweetly as you give him a soft suck. "please i need you!" he whimpers, letting you drape his thighs over your shoulders as he lays back. "shh, let me take care of you." you smile, going back down on him. "ah! you feel so good..!" he keens as your mouth moves down his shaft. the blonde yelps when your teeth gently scrape along his cock, and you hum softly, the vibration driving him crazy. his moans grow loud as his hand finds yours. tangling your fingers with his, you let him slowly roll his hips up into your throat as he whines.

the wind picks up familiarly, you pull off him much to his dismay. "shhh!" you hush him, and he whimpers softly. "a trial is starting, you don't want to get caught do you?" you grin as he shakes his head. "then be quiet, they won't know." you say before wrapping your mouth around him again. leon's free hand clasps over his mouth as he moans behind his palm. the humming of the huntress picks up, and so does leon's anxiety. his hand tightens on yours as you slowly drag your tongue up to his head. "it's okay.." you whisper to him, taking his other hand and holding that one as you go back down on him.

leon whimpers, feeling exposed as he clenches his jaw, trying not to make any noise. "fuck, y/n.." he whines, voice cracking as he tries to keep his noise below a whisper. you rub his knuckles sweetly as you bob your head at a steady pace. leon's back arches, and he whimpers softly, clearly yet slowly getting louder. you squeeze his hand to keep him grounded, and he squeezes back as your tongue teases a vein. leon's breathing hitches as you continue to pamper the prominent vein, popping off his cock to suckle it. "ah!" he yelps, and you pull away to hush him. "be a good boy, and stay quiet or they'll find us!" you whisper to him before lowering again.

the scream of meg makes leon wince, having almost completely forgotten that a trial was going on. "fuck, oh.. please." he mumbles desperately, trying to buck up into your mouth as his orgasm grows near. "ah ah ah, behave." you pull off him, and leon whines with want, not wanting to lose his high. you smile, moving your hand to massage his balls as your mouth engulfs his shaft. he claps his hand over his mouth, loud groans muffled. you tap his hand, and he nods. "so close, so close! please please please!" he keens, practically going feral as he tries to fuck into your mouth again. you decide he's been good, and let him take control slightly. tears of bliss drip from his lashes, and he fucks your mouth desperately, moaning behind his hand as he twitches then suddenly cums into your mouth.

"ah..!" he sighs, letting you off as you swallow. "good boy. you feel okay?" you ask softly, fingers tracing lines on his outer thighs. leon nods, drowsy from his intense peak. "good, this trial will probably last for a little while longer and i wanna see how many times i can make you cum." you grin as leon whimpers.

[ahsokaismyqueen]

I would LOVE to see what you come up with for Marcus Marano using prompts 91 & 102? I really adore all your writing very much, but this is the first request I've ever made!! Thanks if you decide to do mine, either way I'm so excited to see what comes from awesome brain of yours 😁

I am so sorry for how long this took, but I hope you enjoy your request! Thank you so much for sending it in! <3

91. "You want me to give your phone back? Make me."

102. "Are you trying to turn me on, or are you really just that oblivious?"

You were done. In fact, you were past done. You were so far done the finish line, which had never been close in the first place, was a speck in the distance. Shoving him off of you, again, you stalked over to the bench where the rest of your things were laying. “Hand to hand is ridiculous. I can do anything with a damn sword, and I’m stuck here trying to learn how to fight like this when I could slice their damn hands off.” You mumbled under your breath as you gathered your belongings and started shoving them in your bag. You heard Marcus calling out behind you, but you ignored him, instead focusing on getting out of this training room as soon as possible.

Until you felt his hand wrap around your wrist. “I’m not going to let you give up.” He told you.

It was like a spark shot through your body. It was always like that when he touched you. From the moment he showed up at your job in an attempt to recruit you to the Heroics, there had been something about his touch that made your heart do all sorts of crazy stuff. You tried to ignore the reaction though, because as much as you liked Marcus Moreno, you were frustrated. “It’s not giving up if you never even started in the first place, Marcus.” You tugged your wrist from his grip and grabbed the remainder of your things, already pulling out your phone to get an Uber. “You know, when you said we were going to train, I thought you meant with our weapons.” You said, knowing he was a well established katana user, you thought he might be an actual challenge to fight.

“You might not always have your weapons with you -”

You let out a snort. Your weapons were always within reach. “Come on -”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

The words made you pause, and you turned to look at him. There was something about the way he had said those words, and the look in his deep brown, almost black eyes as he stared at you that made your over exerted heart pump even faster. “Why?” You asked, the word sounds much more breathless than you would like. “Why do you care so much?” You added on.

You couldn’t miss the way that his chest was heaving, straining against the black combat shirt that he wore. It clung to every muscle on his body, and you moved your gaze back up to his eyes, hoping he wasn’t able to tell how much that affected you. “You’re a member of the Team,” He said after several moments. “I wouldn’t want anyone -”

Of course. Of course it had something to do with the team, and you had been stupid to think any different. Marcus Moreno caring about you in any way other than professionally was ridiculous. You turned back around tapping at your phone to get your uber, but before you could, your phone flew out of your hand and into Marcus’s. “What the hell, Marcus?!” You gasped, shocked that he had done such a thing.

“You want me to give you your phone back?” He asked, raising it up, and you couldn’t believe the smirk playing at his lips. “Make me.”

The words sent a warmth through your body even though you were sure he hadn’t intended them the way that your mind took it. “Are you being serious right now?” You sputtered.

He raised his eyebrow at you. “Are you backing down?”

He knew you too well. It was one thing to say you didn’t want to do something, it was another to insinuate that you couldn’t. You reached for your phone as fast as you could, but it was pulled out of your reach by the time you had moved an inch. Marcus used your mistake to his advantage, grabbing your arm and twisting it behind your back. He held it tight enough for some uncomfortable pressure, but that was the last thing on your mind when you felt his strong body against your back. “Let me go.” You said, but your voice didn’t have near the command that you wanted it to.

“Make me,” he repeated, so close you felt his breath brush against the back of your head.

It was amazing how two little words could have such a strong effect on your body. Your heart began racing, your mind filled with images of how you’d like to ‘make him’. “Are you trying to turn me on, or are you really just that oblivious?” You murmured under your breath.

“What?” He asked, his grip loosening somewhat in surprise.

“So you are that oblivious, good to know.” Pushing the embarrassment aside, you used your momentary distraction to your advantage, using the move that he had taught you to twist out of his grip and slip your phone from his unsuspecting hand. “Can I go now?” You asked, breathless as you held your retrieved phone up to his eyes.

“I - yeah,” Marcus replied, looking dazed by what had happened moments ago.

That was the fastest you had ever made it out of that training room.

____________________

From the moment that you stepped outside the building, you hoped that he had decided he misheard you. By the time that you made it home, were clothed in your oversized shirt and shorts with a pizza in front of you, you were wondering if the Heroics accepted sick days.

It was at that point there was a knock at the door. Hoping it was the pizza guy with your forgotten sauces, you didn’t even check to see who it was before you answered the door. You probably should have.

“Hi.”

Marcus Moreno was standing there, still in his work out clothes with an odd flush to his cheeks that would make you think he ran there if it wasn’t for his car parked outside. “Um . . . hi? Did I - Did I forget something?” Oh God why was he here? Please don’t let it be to ask you about what you said . . .

“Did you mean what you said earlier?”

Oh fuck. “What are you talking about?” You asked, trying to sound as confused as possible, but you were pretty sure Marcus knew you were full of it, even if he was too nice to call you out on it.

“Did you mean it when you said I was - uh -”

How you wished he didn’t look so cute when he was all flustered, shuffling from one foot to the other, a hand running through his messy hair, and then finding a home in the pockets of his sweats. It made him not being able to say the words all the more embarrassing. “Marcus, they were just words.” You said, biting your bottom lip. “They don’t have to mean anything.”

You thought that might bring the conversation to an end, and Marcus didn’t speak for so long you thought it had. But as soon as your hand started reaching to pull the door closed, he stopped you, making you look back up at him. “What if I want them too?”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. Almost as long as you had known Marcus you had thought he was the best man you had ever met. Sweet, strong, thoughtful, intelligent, and not to mention good looking. All things that added up to make him way out of your league. It had never even crossed your mind that he would be the slightest interested in you until this moment. This time, it was your turn to be surprised. “You do?” You asked in shock.

Never had you ever seen Marcus look so nervous, even when facing down the most dangerous of criminals. “Earlier, when I said I cared about you because you were a part of the team . . . that wasn’t the only reason.”

Your heart felt like it was stuttering as he looked at you, and your grip on the door tightened. “What’s the other reason, Marcus?” You asked.

He seemed to be struggling to find the right words. You watched him, but couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit disappointed when he didn’t say anything. If he couldn’t even form the words, how strong could any possible feelings he had be?

You opened your mouth to tell him it was okay, but it was at that moment he took a step forward, cradling your face in his hands and meeting your lips in an intense kiss that you didn’t know he had in him.

It turned out you didn’t need words for his answer.

At once a blast of heat engulfed you, and it felt like your whole body melted. Your eyes fluttered closed at the fierceness of his kiss, and you could swear that you heard your own heart pounding in your ears.

It was natural to respond to lips in kind, natural to wind your arms around his neck and pull him closer while his wove around your waist. It was natural to part your lips and let his tongue slip into your mouth and make out with him on your front porch like a couple of teenagers saying goodnight after a date. In fact, it was so natural that when Marcus did pull away, it felt like your source of air had been cut off. You took a sharp inhale, trying to get oxygen back in your lungs as you opened your eyes and looked at him with what you were sure was a dopey grin.

It helped a little that your smile was mirrored on his own face.

“Mhmm . . . That was almost good enough to convince me to come back to training tomorrow.” You teased, sliding your arms from around his neck to pat his firm chest.

Marcus raised his eyebrows. “Almost?”

With a little smirk of your lips, you remembered his earlier words. You gave a little tug on his shirt, and then stepped back into your house. “Guess you’ll have to make me.” You said, turning your back to him, but leaving the door open so he could come inside if he wanted to.

There was silence for a couple of seconds, and you worried for a moment you had been too bold.

Then you heard footsteps, and the door clicking closed behind him.

[yee-fxcking-haw]

Shinso with knife play or medical play?

Now this. This is my shit.

•Under Control•

Summary: Shinsou gets creative with your knife :-)

Pairing: Pro Hero Hitoshi x Villain FemReader (both 18+)

Warnings: Knife play, degradation, blood play, wound play, public sex. (This ain't sanitary my friends, PLEASE knife play responsibly)

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

"Easy there, Kitten. Somebody could get hurt with that." Your enemy sneers as he inches towards you.

You hold your bowie knife tight, backing yourself against a wall as he closes in on you. You could respond, you probably will. Knowing damn well he could use his quirk on you. He won't, though, Hitoshi likes to play with his food.

Hitoshi fucking Shinsou, always ruining your plans, always stepping on your toes. He's truly becoming the bug in your windshield, a pesky little irritation that you just want out of your way.

"That's kinda the point, sweetheart." You reply, making your pet name sound just as bitter as his.

The mission went bad, you fucked up, now you're stuck between a hero and a hard place. The dirty brick of the alley way rubs against your back as you press into it.

You hold the blade up to his throat as he steps into your space, he shows no fear, pays it no mind as the blade kisses his pale skin. You have to admit, he's a little handsome like this. His mask is long gone, skin glittering with sweat, pretty little cuts litter his face. Not to mention his furious, violet eyes. If it weren't for him being such a damn rat, he'd probably be a decent fuck.

"Is that a thing for you?" He teases, eyes lit up with something devious. You curse the heat that settles in your belly, disgusted with yourself for wanting to tempt him.

"Oh, Toshi, didn't they teach you that heroes shouldn't talk like that?" You bite back, not missing his implications.

"They did, they also taught me not to act like this." With that, his hand is wrapped around yours, holding the handle of your knife with you.

He twists your wrist quickly, causing you to cry out in pain as your release your weapon. He's too damn quick, before you can combat him he has you spun around with your face against the brick. He holds your arm in a chicken wing hold and your feel the point of the blade press into your side.

"Are you always this good with the ladies?" You taunt, glancing over your shoulder at his amused expression.

"Are you always this easy?" He fires back, he presses the tip in further, not enough to cut your clothes but enough to bite your skin.

"Why don't you find out?" You whisper.

You press your hips back against his, pressing your backside into his crotch. He damn near snarls when you make content with his obviously hard length, and you can't help but laugh.

"Already, Hitoshi?" You're gonna make me blush." You laugh, spreading your legs just a bit so you can press your clothes sex against his.

He takes a moment to breathe, glaring down at where you connect, feeling the heat build in his chest. He shouldn't, he knows he shouldn't, but god does he want to.

"You fucking asked for it." He growls, leaning in so he can bite your neck quickly. His teeth don't feel sensual against your skin, they feel primal.

You open your mouth to retort, but once again, he moves too fast for you to keep track of. He releases you and drops to his knees behind you in one fluent motion.

He grabs the waist of your pants with a rough hand, then he slides through the fabric with your own knife. You gasp and arch as the cold night are nips at your exposed skin, but it all goes straight to your core, inevitably making you more wet than you already are.

"Would you look at that?" He muses, trailing the tip of the blade down the curve of your ass.

"So fucking messy." He spends no time teasing, all he offers is one swipe of his thumb across your slick covered lips before he flips the knife in his hand and shoves the handle into you.

"Shit-" You choke out, filled too suddenly by the girth of the handle.

You look down the alleyway at the street, begging for somebody to walk by, to see their hero on his knees fucking some lowlife with a knife handle. There isn't a soul in sight, just you and Hitoshi alone with your sins.

"Your- fuck- your hand, aren't you c-cutting it?" You question as he picks up speed, cranking your neck so you can drink in the view behind you.

"Yeah, I am. If you cum for me I'll let you lick it up." He tears his eyes away from your dripping pussy so he can glare into your eyes.

You watch him pump his arm up and down as he fucks the weapon in and out of you. The sight is bewildering, the feeling is mind numbing. Its enough to make you cream around the metal, but not enough to make you finish.

"Ask for it, bitch. I know what you need, ask me for it." His free hand plays at the skin above your clit as he angles the handle upwards slightly, the tip of it kisses a sweet spot inside you and you can't help but moan for him.

"P-please, shit, Hitoshi please." How easily you've crumbled for you enemy, utterly undone as he pounds your own knife into your cunt.

"I win." He states lazily before pressing his thumb into your weak spot.

You unravel immediately, with all the adrenaline pulsing through you and the thrill of being caught, you never stood a chance.

You cry out, nails scratching against the brick as you clench around the handle. Your skin feels like it's boiling, your high is rapturous, shocks of pleasure fire up and down your body as you come undone. Hitoshi fucks you through it, whispering slurred praises as he watches you make a mess for him.

He rips the knife from your cunt and throws it to the side, blade painted with blood, handle painted with your creamy mess. He plants one hand in the back of your hair and yanks your head so you spin around to face up.

"Open up." He gives you a wicked smile when you obey immediately, "Stick that tongue out."

Again, you comply without question.

He wipes the cuts on his palm down your tongue, spreading his blood across your chin as he does. You lap it up, thankful for the sharp taste, thankful for the depravity.

"Atta girl." He admires the way your eyes roll back, the way your legs wobble and how you whimper against him.

In an act of defiance, desperate to regain control, you grab the belt loops of his pants and yank. You spin him and press him up against the wall before snaking down his body until you're on your knees before him.

He looks down at you with flushed cheeks and heavy eyelids, his pretty lips part as he gasps when you hand traces over his hard on through his pants.

"My turn." You wink up at him before grabbing your knife.

You show off for him, licking up all of the liquid smeared on the blade and the handle. He shutters and bites his lip when you flick your tongue against the metal.

He groans at the sight, eager hands reaching for his belt, trying to rid himself of anything that could come between your sweet little mouth and his dick.

"Are you always this easy?" You mock him, flipping the knife around before grabbing at the waist of his pants.

He freezes when you lift his shirt up so you can't let the tip of the knife fall against his stomach. You look up at him with a sickly sweet look in your eyes, giving your wrist some slack so the tip can trail down his muscular abdomen.

"I've got a weak spot for pretty girls on their knees." He answers, head falling back against the brick as you dip the knife below his waist band. You flick the tip just slightly, creating a small red line that makes him hiss.

"Oops, I should be careful with this, huh? Don't wanna hurt anybody."

Now it's your turn.

[corpsentry]

ao3 mirror

fandom: age of calamity, botw rating: g starring: prince sidon and mipha note: spoilers for both games

"You know, Daruk’s my idol,” Yunobo says. He pumps his fists in the air like a kid at a fun fair in line for the big pirate ship ride. “They say he was the coolest Goron there ever was. Plus he had a beard. I think beards are awesome.”

“Great,” Sidon says. He stops peeling the mandarin in his hands for long enough to look up blankly at him. "Mipha was my sister."

the age of calamity, side b.

The thing about time travel is, even if someone stands in front of you and tells you point-blank that there’s a way to bring your dead sister back to life, you’re probably not going to believe them.

“I don’t believe you,” says Sidon.

“Okay,” Teba says patiently, fluffing his feathers with an absent glide of his wing. “Try harder.”

Sidon stares at him. He tries harder, though he’s not sure what that entails and so doesn’t end up really doing anything. “I don’t get you.”

“Which part don’t you get?”

“I get to see Mipha again?”

Teba’s eyebrow twitches. “Let me put this as simply as I can, Prince,” he says, a little too loudly. The soldier stationed at the bottom of the staircase turns to look at them. “We’re going to go back to the point a hundred years ago at which the four champions were killed in their divine beasts. We’re going to save them. We’re going to make sure they defeat Ganon before he can send Hyrule into ruin. And then we’re going to leave.”

By now, they’ve caught everyone’s attention. It’s been a long time since a hundred years ago, but here in Zora’s Domain it still feels like the events of last Tuesday, to be recounted over salt tea and fish skewers, to be mourned over an empty coffin. Everyone’s staring at the big white bird with the angry eyebrows, a little curious, a little apprehensive. For what he’s worth, Teba is indifferent. This much will not faze him.

Sidon twiddles his thumbs behind his back, where Teba cannot see them and the guards at the bottom of the staircase can point and laugh all they want. To be honest, he heard nothing. His heart stopped when he heard ‘killed in their divine beasts’, at which point a watery monster punched its way into his skull and crushed his brain. The monster is nothing concrete, nothing crystal-clear, just what little Link has told him, bits and pieces of a history he was prevented from taking part in. It’s been several months since the kid dragged his beaten-up body halfway across Hyrule and kicked Ganon’s ass, though they’re still feeling the after-effects of that particular calamity today. Mipha’s statue still looms over their heads, a reminder of what it means to die alone and far away from home.

“So,” Sidon starts, hearing his voice echoing in his ears like metal slicing through air. “What you’re saying is, I get to see Mipha again.”

Teba looks like he wants to grab one of the guards’ spears and stab Sidon in the face, but for what he’s worth, he reigns it in. “Yes.”

“Okay.” He grins. “I’m in.”

::

He tried to fight a lynel when he was fifteen. The domain had been overrun with monsters who had arrived for the pre-party to Ganon’s return, including an outstanding number of wizzrobes, several moblins, and a tall, intimidating figure which spat electricity from its pink-tongued mouth and whose name he couldn’t recall. While his father, the king, and his sister, the princess, breezed through the area like a lightning strike, reclaiming keeps and stabbing moblins with silver teeth so their generals could forge a path ahead, Sidon reveled in the wonder of being left unsupervised at four a.m. in the morning. And then heard the familiar, haunting roar of a lynel. And then decided to go and say hi.

It was a mistake, of course. The lynel was so tall he couldn’t make out the gear on its back. Its face was all squished up, like a birthday cake that had been stepped on, and its horns were too big for its thick, blocky nose. This was funny for all of five seconds. Then the lynel extracted a bow from that unknowable space behind it and aimed the sharp end of an arrow at his face, and it became a problem.

“H-h-h-hi,” said Sidon, holding up his Kid Spear, which was strictly for Kid Use Only, and had the offensive capabilities of a stick.

“RHOOARHGHHGHH,” said the lynel.

He jabbed the Kid Spear at the lynel’s leg. The lynel spat at him, though probably unintentionally, as it seemed preoccupied with the arrow it was trying to send into his face. It was stuck. The big scary lynel’s bow was stuck.

Emboldened by the stupid scary lynel’s broken bow, Sidon decided to try again. “Please go away, Mr. Lynel,” he said in his best and most charming Kid Prince voice, twirling his Kid Spear like a sweet jellyfish skewer.

“RHOAHOARHAGHOGHHHH,” said the lynel, who sounded significantly angrier than before.

“I understand,” Sidon said politely, and then closed his eyes and sent a prayer to the goddess Hylia (the way he had been taught to since he was old enough to speak, the way every child in Hyrule knew that there was a place for them to go to after they left this world behind). He braced for impact, which he hoped would be of the violent sort, earth-shattering and brisk enough to break his bones and leave nothing breathing in its wake. He was fifteen, not five. This was Ganon’s era. Every living creature in Hyrule knew this, the way their ancestors woke up and knew which direction the sun would rise from. Not if, but when. When the Calamity strikes. When your people die. When the knight emerges from the woods with the sacred sword in his hand, and saves you all.

But none came. When he opened his eyes, and he did so reluctantly, adrenalin coursing through his veins like thunder, the world was pitch black. In place of the cool blue moon was his sister, her ceremonial gear glittering darkly, the Lightscale Trident glowing like a star in her right hand.

“Holy shit,” whispered Sidon the kid. Mipha stabbed the lynel in the face.

She hugged him when it was all over and they had put the moblins and the wizzrobes and the electric moblin (so that’s what it was! Terrifying) back to sleep. Their father was upset, but he was frequently upset at Sidon and so it didn’t bother him as much as it could have. Sidon was not Mipha. It was all right if he got things wrong, as long as his sister never did. Coincidentally, the Hylian princess had been in the area at the time of the attack, accompanied by a knight with blue eyes and a Sheikah warrior who looked like she would throw a knife at a fish for sport. It was a good thing Mipha had been at home, and not visiting one of the other tribes or hunting for crabs near Lurelin. It was a good thing she had intervened when she had, lest the pre-party become the real thing.

“Thank you,” said the Hylian princess, trying her best to smooth her brow and failing. She looked anxious, though she had only come to pass on her father’s word, though the word that she had brought was victory.

Mipha smiled at her with a face full of sun. “It is my pleasure.”

::

He wishes the egg could talk. If the egg could talk then Teba would have less reason to talk, and if Teba talked less then Sidon would have less of a raging headache, which which would make him less of an asshole, which would make their discussions go much more smoothly than the janky, sputtering mess they’ve been all week.

“As I was saying,” says Teba, continuing whatever train of thought he picked up on their way up to Goron City and then dumped unceremoniously by the side of the road. As he does this, Death Mountain spits a chunk of lava out of its steaming gaping top, which lands a few inches shy of his breastplate. He hops backwards without missing a beat and begins fanning himself with one wing.

Riju stops fiddling with the diamond circlet in her hands for long enough to give him a look of inquiry. “As you were saying?”

“I can’t wait to see Daruk.” Yunobo scratches his arm. It makes a sound like two large boulders grinding together. Riju drops the circlet.

“You’re only going to see him for a short while,” Teba comments over the sound of the egg blowing its top at Riju and Sidon plugging his ears with his fingers. “No point getting all worked up about it.”

“You’re just as worked up yourself,” Riju counters. Patricia barks. Teba flinches.

This is true. There are two things Teba won’t shut up about. In ascending order of importance, they are 1) when they should depart for the alternate timeline in which they will prevent their respective ancestors from getting their spirits trapped in giant mechanical monsters for a hundred years, and 2) how incredible Revali is. Because Revali was the most powerful Rito warrior that ever walked the land (or flew over it, or blasted bomb arrows at it, whatever). Revali singlehandedly invented an entire style of aerial combat which involves launching yourself into the air with an updraft that defies the laws of the universe and then setting your surroundings on fire. Revali killed god.

Teba looks like he wants to go back to his wife and kid in Rito village. Good for him. Not all of them have bodies to put in coffins. “I just want to meet him once,” he says quietly.

Yunobo laughs, and it sounds like two extra large boulders grinding together. “Me too, brother.” He picks up the diamond circlet from the floor and puts it on his head like some kind of weird hat. “I’m going to tell Daruk how great he is. And then I’m going to go home.”

::

One time when they were much, much younger, before he woke up one morning and Mipha was three times his height, one of the guards brought back some durians. The durians were misshapen and spiky and smelled intimidating, though Sidon wouldn’t go as far as to say that the smell was unpleasant. The guard had obtained them from a merchant in the Faron region. He hadn’t meant to purchase them, but they were the last of her stock and she said she could only head home once she had sold everything. He empathized her.

At first they tried to open the durians with their hands, but this only produced several pricked fingers and left ominous and eerily substantial bloodstains everywhere, so someone brought out a spear, almost drove it through the table, and someone else brought out a carving knife. Halfway through the spectacle of watching one of the guards, who was thirty-seven and enjoyed collecting glowing stones as a hobby, attempt to de-spike an entire durian, the crowd parted abrutpyl.

“What are you all doing?” Mipha put her hand absently on Sidon’s head. He had been watching the ongoing debacle out of some kind of morbid curiosity, standing on tip-toes so he could peek over the top of the table, though now he had apparently been relegated to armrest.

“Trying to open this durian, your highness.”

Mipha laughed. His sister’s laugh was a delicate, heartrending affair, like trying to pull weeds from the bottom of a lake without breaking them at the stem. The weather at home was always more or less divine, but whenever Mipha laughed, Sidon swore it blasted a hole right through the clouds. If there were no clouds, then the hole appeared in the fabric of the sky instead. Mipha, at her brightest, was a walking catastrophe of sun.

Still chuckling a little, like she’d been made privy to a secret that none of them knew about, Mipha stepped up to the cutting board. “You have to do it like this,” she said cheerfully, digging her fingers into a seam in the durian’s shell like she’d been dealing with danger all her life.

Cue gasping. Cue the horrors of childbirth.

The durian was sweet. It was also a little goopy, but Sidon was no stranger to things which stuck to your fingers and refused to let go (he was one of those objects when it came to his sister, who he could rarely be found more than an arm’s length away from on any given day), so he felt for the little spiky fruit, and decided that he would make an effort to bring some back home when he went traveling himself in the future. While he examined the inside of the durian’s shell, which had been hollowed of fruit and had the texture of rough sandpaper, the guards crowded around Mipha and demanded that she share her secret to not getting stabbed to death by the fierce and terrifying durian. But either she didn’t know how to explain it to them, or they weren’t very good at listening, because she remained the only one capable of cracking open a durian with her bare hands for many, many years, up until she died while fighting a watery manifestation of Ganon inside the divine beast she had been told by the king of Hyrule to pilot to victory’s end. Then it was someone else’s turn to take over.

::

Painkillers for fish are a tricky affair. To begin with, charmingly little research has been conducted into the biology of the fish-person because the Zoras simply aren’t interested in how their bodies work, and while others have offered to do so in their place, among them several enthusiastic Sheikah researchers and one Hylian with a thing for huge glowing orbs, his people have never cared enough to give their consent. It’s a unique kind of apathy, one which stems from a place of privilege, or denial. They are, as a general statement of fact, very good at both.

“This will help.” Yunobo hands him a rock roast. Where did Yunobo get a rock roast from? Sidon frowns. They’re in the middle of the desert.

“Thanks,” Sidon says. Smiles. Kind of, like, holds the roast up to his mouth and gives it a sniff. It doesn’t smell half as good as durian. He puts it down.

It takes him several days to make sense of the convoluted sequence of events that Teba presented to him that day on the front door of the world he had rebuilt from scratch, surrounded by mystique and glamor and promising, in a breath of cold air, to bring his dead sister back to life. This makes it sound like he’s finished making sense of it all and will thus never be confused ever again, but if he’s to be entirely honest, he still doesn’t get it. He wants to. He’s scared to. He won’t look Teba in the eye.

“We should get going soon, don’t you think?” says Riju, who is twelve and somehow more put-together than all four of them combined. She pulls another book from the shelf and leaves it on the pile on the desk.

Yunobo shrugs loudly. “Doesn’t make a difference when we leave, does it? We could leave for Hyrule in twenty years, and we’d still end up at the same place.”

“But I want to save them,” Riju says earnestly. The pile behind her has been growing all afternoon, and will soon overtake her in height if she is not stopped. Mission preparation looks like archaeological excavation when you’re traveling backwards in time, and not forwards to some yet unknown destination. Ancient Sheikah records. Research journals. The writings of people who were obsessed with the events of a hundred years ago despite having no personal investment to speak of, and whose words carry with them a hint of reverence, even as they choreograph the funeral song of the old king. This is all that’s left of those ruins, aside from Link, who they’ve all quietly decided to keep uninformed of the current proceedings. Hyrule itself has been kept in the dark. No need for them to know about the maybes and the what-ifs and the could-have-beens. No need for more people to go crazy.

Sidon shuts the book in his hands with a thud. “But why?”

Riju’s eyes go wide. Drama queen. “Why what?”

Sidon opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again. There’s a heat rash on the back of his neck which he can’t quite reach on his own. The elders had warned him about the desert, but the charm he received from Link has proven to be effective in all areas except for maintaining good skincare. He blinks dumbly at Riju, who has begun to flicker like the glassy surface of a pond. His eyes hurt.

“I mean, why do you.” His eyes hurt. His throat hurts. There’s something large and horrible stuck in his chest, and he can’t get it out. “Why do you want to save them?” There’s a durian in his rib cage. It must have lodged itself there when Teba glared at him like he was an idiot as he came face to face with the cruel reality of the universe, and it dawned on him like a dead body falling out of the sky that he would get to see Mipha one last time, and then he would have to come back. To a Hyrule without her. To the stupid stuck-up world that had to try again and again and again, coughing up blood and dragging itself through the dirt on bruised knees, before it could defeat the monster. “It’s not like they’ll come back to life,” he says, each word a silver knife in his mouth. “They’ll stay dead here. They’re already dead.”

Silence.

Riju has let everything go, including the diamond circlet, the topaz earrings, and three volumes sheathed in gold. Yunobo’s mouth is open so wide, you could stick your head inside and take a look around if you leaned in close enough. For the first time since he met him, Teba is at a loss for words. His chest rises and falls erratically, his hand on the bookshelf quivering, his eyebrows doing a little dance on his forehead. He’s sweating. Of course he is. They’re in the desert.

Riju, Hylia bless her soul, is the first to speak.

“It’s the spirit of things,” she says softly. She looks sadder than any twelve-year-old should ever have to look. But then and again, Sidon was barely old enough to hold a spear with both hands when his sister died and everything went to shit. Then and again, everything goes away eventually.

Sidon stares at her helplessly for a moment, gulping the humid air of the library like a fish out of water, then gives up and walks out of the room. He spends the rest of the afternoon blowing bubbles in the pool beside Kara Kara Bazaar while the other three continue their work, and then buys a durian from one of the vendors and hacks it open with his spear. You can’t crack open a durian with your bare hands, unless you’re Mipha, in which case you can do anything. It’s a good thing, then, that she’s gone.

::

When they were children and they got into trouble, his father would always scold Mipha far more harshly than Sidon. Mipha was the older sibling, after all. She should know better. This dynamic remained firmly established between them even as Mipha grew into her role as princess, future ruler, and eventually, champion. Of course, the reprimandings grew less stern, but Sidon had a penchant for winding up in places he wasn’t supposed to be in and Mipha had a penchant for being with him whenever this happened. He secretly resolved to pay her back when he got older and was finally able to stand up to his father, and therefore explain that most of the things they got into trouble for were his idea. He would be the one to weep at his father’s feet while his sister looked on with a horrified expression, and in that moment she would understand how much he loved her.

Then she died. You can’t tell the story of Mipha without this part. Mipha was a humble, kind girl, and then she died. Mipha could crack open a durian with her bare hands, and then she died. Mipha was the pride of their people, and then she died, and she died, and she died.

You can’t change the past with the wave of a hand. You’re not a bird. You’re not a fortune-teller. You’re a fish-person with an empty coffin for a sister, and in a few weeks’ time, you’re going to save her specter.

::

“...What if I brought her back with me?”

“Huh?”

“Hahajustkidding. No way I’d do that. Not a chance.”

“Um. Do you need painkillers?”

“Thanks, but they don’t work on me. I’m over a hundred years old, you see. Us Zoras, we’re different.”

::

The day before departure. They’re back at Zora’s domain. It’s raining. Teba is running through a checklist of items to bring with them which is so long, he has to hold it above his head to prevent it from touching the floor. Riju is feeding Patricia mandarin peels.

“You know, Sidon.”

Sidon looks up from his mandarin. “Mm?”

Yunobo grins at him. “Daruk’s my idol,” he says proudly. He pumps his fists in the air like a kid at a fun fair in line for the big pirate ship ride. “They say he was the coolest Goron there ever was. Plus he had a beard. I think beards are awesome.”

“Great,” says Sidon, as enthusiastically as he can, because he genuinely wants to be happy for Yunobo who is finally going to meet his idol and has clearly dreamed about this moment for some time. He wants to be happy for all of them. He fucking wants to. This is a rescue mission, not the imprisonment Princess Zelda walked into in Hyrule castle, not the hundred-year nap Link took on the Great Plateau. This is a happy ending, even if it’s not theirs.

Daruk the idol. Urbosa the warrior. Revali the bird. Sidon pictures them in his head, the way Link described them to him once, his voice carrying across the water like beams of light.

“Mipha was—”

He stops peeling the mandarin in his hands, his nails still embedded in the soft skin of it, the white-tinged flesh peeking out like a wound. Outside, the rain keeps falling. A river of tears from the sky.

Yunobo tilts his head to the side. “Mipha was?”

Mipha was the pride of their people. Mipha was the first person he wanted to live forever. Mipha was the only one he knew who could crack open a durian with her bare hands, like she was peeling open the heart of a monster, only to reveal that it had been something soft and scared all along. Mipha was a flesh-and-blood person. Mipha was the light of their world. Mipha is an empty coffin with a name inscribed on the lid, a house with the lights off, a memory drenched in ocean.

Yunobo prods his shoulder, though he barely feels a thing. “Mipha was?” he repeats kindly, herding him along to the end of the line, to the boat at the edge of the water.

Sidon puts the mandarin away. He stares long and hard at Yunobo, and hopes that his eyes will convey the wound his body no longer knows how to carry.

“Mipha was my sister.”

::

Let’s say you’ve been entrusted with the future of your kingdom. There’s a bad guy coming, and everyone’s scared to death, so you learn how to pilot this big robotic elephant which shoots turrets of water like a machine gun, and you get really good at it, and when the bad guy arrives on your new friend’s birthday suddenly you can’t do it anymore. You’re trapped inside the giant elephant. You’re bleeding out all over the floor. Your chest hurts like something awful, and your vision is beginning to blur. Sensing your despair, the monster closes in on you, wielding that big blue trident like fury. It holds the sky up over your head, and as it does so you close your eyes. You send a prayer to the goddess Hylia (the way you have been taught to since you were old enough to hold your little brother in your arms, the way every child in Hyrule knows that there is a place for them to go to after they leave this world behind). You brace for impact, which you hope will be the gentle sort, a slap to the wrist that’s conclusive enough to break your bones and leave nothing breathing in its wake. You’re twenty, not five. This is the end of all things as you know it. Every living creature in Hyrule knows this, the way their ancestors woke up one day and knew that this world would come to ruin. Not if, but when. When the Calamity strikes. When everyone you’ve ever loved dies. When you walk into the mouth of the elephant, and the elephant changes its mind, and decides to keep you in its belly forever.

None arrives. You open your eyes slowly, hesitantly, fear a living memory in your bones, but you are not faced with the stinging end of a trident. In its place is a boy almost three times your height, his eyes glittering darkly, the spear in his right hand shining like a star.

He is not your brother. But, Hylia bless you all, he is.

So what can you say, when the evil has been defeated and you are standing on the balcony of the castle, smiling up at him through tears while this big overgrown baby stares at you like you’re the answer to the universe, except:

We’ll definitely meet again, won’t we?

He flinches, but you don’t ask, and he doesn’t say why. He pulls you into an earth-shattering, bone-crushing hug. It’s a beautiful day to be alive, the sun shining like sin, Hyrule’s beaten but stubbornly breathing carcass laughing up at you from the fields below. He takes your hands in his. He’s shivering. He’s shaking from head to toe.

Of course, he says in the kindest, saddest voice you’ve ever heard, though he has only come to pass on someone else’s words, though the word he has brought is salvation. From now on, I’ll always be by your side.

: : : : :

You smile at him with a face full of stars.

[daisybeewrites]

Sorry, I’m Married

word count?: 3.5k

warnings: canon-typical violence, i don’t describe it graphically tho, just a minor skirmish. happy ending :)

requested? no

ship: dousy/daisy johnson x daniel sousa & dad!coulson

hey guys! i wrote this on a whim after hanging out in a dousy group. i was inspired by the chat at the end of the fic. as always, thank you for reading!! and drink some water ;) fic under the cut!

Neon lights reflected off rough concrete walls as Daisy’s combat boots walked down the steps to the underground club. Light up signs glowed and glittery heels flashed as crowds of people surged and stepped on the technicolour dance floor. The sequins of her dress reflected spotlights that roved the entry area. There were booths with cushy red banquettes lining the walls near the bar, giving college girls a place to rest their feet and hotshot businessmen a table to sip beer. Currently, the club was full, young men and women crowding the bar and dance floor. Decades night, Daisy deduced, as most of the inhabitants were wearing flashy dresses or denim bell bottoms. Deke would’ve loved this, she thought. I wonder how Deke is doing…

Daisy’s mind drifted as the light up jukebox in the corner switched songs. She didn’t spot the target anywhere, so she pushed in a quarter, chose her favourite 80s hit, and watched as the jukebox queued her song. The vibrations of the speakers were reverberating through her, pumping her adrenaline up. Good, more energy for a fight if I need it. 

Three leather stools were open at the bar—one by itself, and two side by side. She nodded at the bartender and sat in the single empty seat. Her comms crackled in her right ear, reminding her of why she was here in the first place. 

“Dais, can you hear me?” She located where Coulson was speaking across the room, sitting in a wooden booth near the side exit. He casually leaned back and sipped his drink. 

“Loud and clear,” Daisy mumbled. 

“New intel from HQ just came in. The weapons the target is dealing? Alien tech.”

“Great, she said sarcastically,” said Daisy, clearly annoyed. 

Coulson laughed. “On your 3.” 

Daisy rested her elbow forward on the bartop, scanning the selection of alcohols as a premise to look down the row of people to her right. She noticed two young lads dressed in all black suits, carrying briefcases. There was no way these guys were in charge of the illegal operation. Well, at least they won’t be a problem if it comes down to a fight, she thought.

As Daisy’s eyes roamed the club, she locked eyes with a muscular, bodyguard-type with a small, raised scar over his eye. She smiled then turned around. She recognized the uniform he was wearing as standard bouncer garb, but his side-piece was not. CF380, Princetown standard issue. Daisy signaled his presence to Coulson. 

“These guys? Again?” 

Princetown was a group of rich, privileged sons of international diplomats and of heads of large corporations. They slipped through the FBI’s fingers like sand. Now, they had alien tech. No diplomatic immunity would allow them to get out of an arrest now. 

Coulson nodded behind her. She subtly turned her head and glanced in that direction. Wearing an overly expensive silk suit and holding a glass of champagne, stood Luca Casagrande. Son of the Italian Minister of foreign affairs. Notorious for his parties, wealth, and lack of self-control. He winked at a blonde waitress who slipped him a piece of paper, which was very obviously not a bill. Daisy rolled her eyes. Criminals these days are so stupid, she thought. 

Coulson bit back a laugh at Daisy’s reaction. “Alright, Daisy, you’re up.”

“Remind me again why I was chosen for this part of the mission?” she murmured while sipping her drink to hide her words.

“Because, you’re good at it.” Coulson went quiet for a second then added, “And I'm not Casagrande’s type.”

Daisy flashed her eyes in Coulson’s direction, frustrated. She mentally went over the calming exercises May taught her. Deep breath, exhale. Let’s do this.

Daisy slid off the barstool, and approached Casagrande slowly. He only looked her direction when she sidled up next to him. 

“Hey, sweetheart. What’s a beautiful girl like you doing out here all by yourself?” A smooth, accented voice inquired.

Daisy bottled up a sarcastic remark and stocked it on the shelf for later use. Only Daniel is allowed to call her sweetheart. 

“Well, I was hoping,” she blinked up at him, batting her eyelashes. “to find some product. Heard you had all the good stuff. I'm lucky I even caught you here, considering your reputation.”

“Geez. Laying it on a little thick aren’t we?” Coulson couldn’t help it. The snort Daisy covered up as a cough was too hilarious.

Luca smiled. It was charming, but unsettling. “Oh? And what reputation would that be?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Daisy countered. She looked around before continuing, “Look, I've got pressure on me to deliver. I’d appreciate it if we talked business before pleasure.”

 “Hard to get.” Luca’s eyes sparkled. “Alright. Let’s talk business.”

He leaned over the bar and signaled the bartender to bring him two glasses of whiskey on the rocks. Once a glass was in his hand, he gestured to Daisy’s. “You don’t drink?”

“Not when I'm on the clock. My employers frown upon it.” 

Casagrande nodded. “I see. So, what type of product were you looking for?”

“Anything I can sell. Uncle Sam called and said they need a next gen advantage for soldiers. Weapons, maybe?” She ran a finger down the lapel of his suit. “They pay generously.”

“You work for the US military.”

“We have a... mutual understanding.” Daisy flashed a brilliant smile. It was kind of fun playing an undercover persona. 

Luca studied her face. “I don’t get details?”

Daisy scoffed, “Of course not. Son of a foreign diplomat, it’s a risk the US can’t take. If other countries found out…”

“Yes, I understand," He responded carefully. 

“And I understand that you also do some dirty business with governments.”

A menacing half-smile rose on his face. “Only the beautiful ones.”

Looking up into his eyes, Daisy felt the same disgust that had been worn by everyone at the mission briefing. Au contraire, Luca seemed to find Daisy extremely attractive. 

“Why don’t we—”

“No.” Daisy internally cringed, but on the outside she seemed relaxed and blasé. She risked a glance at Coulson, to see his reaction. His entire body was rigid. She didn’t blame him. Hearing some douchebag proposition your daughter...yulgh. She wished Daniel was here to watch her back, too... this guy was getting under her skin. Everything about Casagrande pushed her buttons. 

“No?”

“No,” Daisy affirmed, tilting her head. “Business first. We can talk about any other deals after.” 

“But there is a possibility?” He cheekily remarked. 

Not a chance in hell, Daisy thought. “Maybe. But for now, I need to move product ASAP.”

Luca mulled thos over and sipped the burning whiskey. “I may have some contacts that could help you. In return, what will you give me?”

Though the question was innocent, his intentions were obvious. That was exactly what she wanted. 

“Depends on how good the product is.” She stepped a little closer “It’s a little crowded in here, don’t ya think?”

He pushed off the bar, inches from her. He smelled like overly expensive cologne, and not the good kind. “I'm meeting some business associates out back in a few minutes. We’ll make a deal after that.”

“Would they happen to have anything I could—”

“Sorry, sweetheart, I do business privately.”

Daisy faked a sweet smile and resisted the urge to punch him. 

Luca took two steps toward the back door, then turned around and strutted back. He tilted his head towards her. “A good luck ki—?”

BRing. BRing. Bzzzzz. 

Best. Timing. Ever. Daisy shot Luca an apologetic look before picking up. 

“Hello? Oh, Dad! One sec.” Daisy took the phone off her ear, and whispered to Luca, “It’s my Dad. He’s in the hospital. Doesn’t know what my real job is.”

She brought the phone back up to her ear as Luca irritatedly glanced around. 

“Dad? Yeah... No, I'm fine, how are you feeling?... That’s great, Dad.” She winked at Luca and held up a finger. Daisy was glad he didn’t notice Coulson over her shoulder, also on the phone. 

“I'm with some friends…” Luca raised his eyebrows. “Luca Casagrande... He does business with my marketing firm.”

Daisy waved Luca away after noticing him checking his Rolex twice in ten seconds. He nodded and headed out back. She made sure he was out of earshot before alerting Coulson.

“Coulson, he’s headed out.”

“Yup, QJ-6 is on the way. I’ll stay to watch his lackeys.”

Daisy gave the bartender a tip and walked towards the back door, grabbing her gauntlets from behind the bar. He dipped his chin and continued wiping down the counter.

As she walked into the chilly night air, Daisy was greeted with silence. Droplets of water dripped onto the leather of her boots from the rooftop. The concrete crunched in the darkness of the alley. Light from the streetlamps was scarce, melding shadowy corners with the dim alleyway.. Daisy could hear faint music through the brick walls of the club. A smirk formed on her face as her pick from the jukebox played. Walking towards the street, she checked behind the moldy trash bins for a sign that Casagrande was hiding. The opening guitar grew louder as the safety of a gun clicked off behind her. 

“So,” Daisy raised her hands up. It was a trap. “what happened to your business associates?”

Luca chuckled behind her. 

“You’re not stupid. You can figure it out.”

Daisy slowly turned around to face him. 

“You bluffed to see if I would follow you.” She wasn’t surprised. She had counted on this. “You’re a decent liar.”

“So are you.” Luca lowered the gun a bit. “Who are you? CIA?”

“That’s classified.” 

Luca laughed, haphazardly slinging the pistol to the side in a grand gesture. “Of course it is.”

“I wasn’t lying when I said that the government and I have a mutual understanding.”

“But that isn’t the whole truth, is it?” 

Daisy smirked. “Of course not.”

Technically, this was true. Her status as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent was protected knowledge, no one but people inside her agency and a handful high-ranking world intelligence officers were aware.

Daisy decided he might as well know who she was. He was going to be locked up in a max-security cell pretty soon, anyway.

He fell against the wall as Daisy hit him with a small quake, just enough to get her point across. His expression was one of pure shock.

“You- Y- You’re…”

“Mar—”

“Daisy, what’s going on?” Coulson must have felt the vibrations. She didn’t think she had hit Luca that hard. Daisy could hear the quinjet approaching, the comforting vibrations of the engine helping to calm her nerves. She stepped toward Luca.

“You have two options: come peacefully with me, or I call the cavalry to take you in by force.”

Luca stayed on the ground, silent. He reminded Daisy of a pouting toddler. 

This toddler had a few tricks up his sleeve. 

Coulson’s voice came through her ear. “Daisy, do you ha—”

Daisy’s blood ran cold as she received static from the other line.

“Coulson? Coulson?!”

Wide brown eyes turned to watch Casagrande’s smirk grow. 

“Problem?" He said smugly. 

Daisy quickly knocked him out with the mini-ICER she kept inside her boot and ran back inside. Opening the solid metal door to the inside of the club, she registered the panicked screams from the main room. As she hurtled through the plain hallway towards the crowds, she wished she had a way to tell the backup team that they were flying into trouble. He must’ve known we’d be here. How did he know we’d be here? 

The walls were a blur as the confusion and fear from the civilians in the club became palpable. The door squeaked on its hinges as Daisy threw it open. She didn’t see Coulson anywhere. Actually, she couldn’t see anything at all. An EMP. Cool. Fun. Alright. That’s fine. 

It’s all fine.

Wandering the crowds, Daisy tried to find a way to contact the team. Surely they had a landline in here? 

The bartender pulled her aside as she passed him. He silently pointed to the jukebox. It was the only thing still on and functioning. Of course, Daisy didn’t know how she hadn’t seen it before! 

She walked to the jukebox and searched the sides for a dial, a button, something... Aha! She unlatched the panel and bent down to dial Piper’s number. She pressed the call button while her vision grew blurry. Her eyelids drooped. A sluggish head turn towards the dance floor gave a view of unconscious bodies asleep next to each other. Daisy tried to stand, to walk to the nearest victim of the sleeping gas. A burning zap that seemed to travel through her veins rendered her unconscious. I have to find Coulson…

Daisy knew she probably shouldn’t have left Casagrande in the alley by himself. She was playing right into his hand.

Coulson was more important.

Coulson. What would he do?

Daisy slowly tried to open her eyes. She felt like she had a hangover. The light was dim, the floor beneath her cold as ice. Her hearing slowly came back as she took in her surroundings. A pair of black dress shoes blurred into her frame of vision. 

“Hey, you’re awake.” Coulson’s voice flooded her with relief.

“What happened? Where…?”

Coulson helped her sit up against a rough stone wall. “I have no clue. Best guess? An Italian castle.”

Daisy was suddenly very awake. “We’re in Italy?”

“Hey, I said best guess.” Coulson pointed his fingers to the ceiling. “I heard footsteps up there earlier.”

Daisy just nodded. Last time she was in Italy, she had a hell of a lot better time. For starters, no one zapped her with— wait, what was she hit with?

“What was that weapon I was hit with? It felt like it was melting my insides.” The thought scared her. The only other time she had felt that type of pain was when... she didn’t like to think about it. 

“You know the alien tech that Casagrande was running?” Daisy nodded. “Yeah, it was that.”

A loud groan solidified Daisy’s frustration. Her eyes closed while she tried to concentrate. She tried to feel any vibrations near her, to soak up anything that could signal where they were. Instead of feeling the vibrations of a mountain or a plane, she felt footsteps. Coming closer, closer... Daisy opened her eyes. 

Luca entered the chilly cell through the thick steel door. She would have quaked him back about a hundred feet if it weren’t for Coulson’s hand on her arm. 

“You two seem comfortable. Can I get you a drink? Water? Coffee?” His smile was smug and irritating.

Coulson replied before Daisy could. “No, we’re good thanks. How about instead, you give us some answers. Starting with: where are we, and who’s your source?” His voice got harder and colder as he went on. Luca acted unfazed. 

“No. You are insurance. You have physical evidence of my illegal trades. I was going to leave you on the curb, but then this guy,” Luca pointed over his shoulder at a soldier then slapped the short lad on the back. Daisy recognized him as one the short lads with briefcases at the bar. “This guy had to go and shoot you with the Widow’s Bite!”

Coulson's eyes grew wide in recognition. Daisy could connect the dots herself.

“You stole Black Widow’s weapons?” They said in unison. Coulson and Daisy looked at each other and fell silent. By Daisy’s profile, if they kept acting surprised and in awe, he would keep giving them answers. 

“Yes, I did. Amazing right?” Luca stared off into the distance. “Last month I hired a thief to get into the Avenger’s Compound. She got a copy of Stark’s old hard drive, picked up some old relics, modified them with alien metal stolen from Hydra. But every time I tried to open it, it would corrupt my servers. I took the damn thing to every hacker I knew, now they all want to kill me because I crashed their servers. Some of them used to be part of the Rising Tide, when they were still young and hotheaded. They told me about a hacker named Skye. She disappeared, never heard from again. She has no information on her. She has no records. Not even in the top intelligence departments of America. She doesn’t exist.

“But Daisy Johnson does. Daisy Johnson, a hacker who rose in Skye’s place. Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“And you need us to get to her,” Coulson finished. “I hate to burst your bubble, but we’re expendable. You’re better off throwing us in the ocean than you are waiting for her to come.”

Luca seemed to be seriously considering this. Then he nodded. You’re right, I need to up the ante. Raise the stakes a little.”

He jerked a thumb over his shoulder as he turned on heel and swaggered down the hallway. “Bring them.”

Two soldiers came in to get Daisy and Coulson. They reached down to grab Daisy, and she swiftly brought her head forward to hit theirs. Stunned, the soldier took a step back, giving Daisy time to stand up before she gave a hard kick to his stomach. The other soldier was similarly impaired, having taken a startlingly strong punch to the jaw from Coulson. The crack! of the bone echoed off the stone walls. Daisy quaked them against the wall for good measure, realizing they hadn’t taken her gauntlets. Coulson was waiting by the door. 

“Let’s go.” 

They ran through the halls, following where they thought Casagrande might have gone, stopping in several rooms on the way to hide from Casagrande’s soldiers. They ran into him at the front of what was, indeed, a stone castle. He stood on the uneven steps gazing out at rolling hills and cottony clouds hung high above a choppy lake. The wind blew hard, just enough to make you wish for a sweater from someone warm and comforting. It was all quite picturesque. 

Except for the criminal standing in front of them. 

“Congrats, you escaped! I’m so glad.” Luca smiled and opened up his arms. 

“Somehow this guy still sounds smug. We just escaped from his prison and this guy still thinks he’s won.” Coulson turned to Daisy. 

Daisy shook her head and shouted, “Hey, Luca! The fight’s not finished yet!”

“Really, sweetheart? Because it looks to m—”

He was interrupted by a violent quake in his direction. She strided over to where he was struggling to get up. 

“It looks like what? I can’t hear you.” Daisy rested her hands on her hips. 

“It looks as if you are lost. Even if you escape, you have no way to get home,” he wheezed. 

Daisy rolled her eyes. Coulson walked up behind her, squatting down beside Luca and using a hand on his shoulder to keep him in place. 

“We’re resourceful. And while we were hiding from guards in some of your fancy tech rooms, we found an old sat phone. They’re easy enough to use, all we had to do was phone a friend and tell them exactly where we are,” Coulson explained. 

“Ah, but you don’t know where we are, sweetheart.” His rebuttal was pointed at Daisy. She decided it was her turn to prove him wrong. 

“See, that’s where you’re wrong. You counted on us not being able to crack your hard drive’s encryption and get past your feeble firewalls. That took less than five minutes. The only remotely hard part about hacking you to find our coordinates was trying to read everything in Italian.” Daisy laughed. 

Luca tried the wiggle away from them. “If you have my hard drive, then you know there isn’t anything of importance on there.”

As she pulled a pair of handcuffs out of her boot, Daisy exchanged a look with Coulson. 

“You’re right, there isn’t anything of value on that hard drive,” she said. “There are about 100 other files I downloaded from your personal computer that do have important intel, though.” 

Coulson pulled a face and sucked in a breath. “Yikes.”

“So, I guess if you’re arresting me, there isn’t any chance we could ever do business, if you know what I mean?”

Daisy mentally pulled that bottle off the shelf and dusted off her sarcastic remark. 

“Sorry, I’m married.”

Daisy locked the cuffs into place and stood Casagrande up. Two quinjets touched down thirty minutes later, one with a team of agents to search the castle, and one to take Daisy and Coulson home. Agent Piper met Daisy on the ramp of QJ-6, something metallic and glittery in her hand. 

“Thanks for holding onto it.” Daisy hugged Piper before taking her ring back. 

“No problem. Wouldn’t want this rock to get lost in the field!” she laughed. 

Daisy slipped the smooth metal on her finger and sagged into the jump seat next to Coulson. She rested her head on his shoulder, softly gazing at her hand. 

“I can’t wait to be home with Daniel.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: heeeey! this fic was inspired by @starkmaiden ‘s post in a dousy group i’m in. thank you!! if you have a request, question for me, or want to be added to my taglist go visit my ask box! i love each and every one of you :)

[z-iridest]

My Hero Academia: Ascension

Warning: Language

Chapter 1: Birds of a Feather-

The bitter cold winds of Japan’s early morning in the dead of winter felt crisply refreshing against a young woman’s skin as she soared through the air like her brother had done many times before in her childhood. Her white wings flapped up and down as she flew higher and higher still, eventually breaking through the clouds before she retracted her wings, releasing a deep breath out of her mouth as she stayed suspended in the air for a brief moment before her descent from the nostalgia of the past began, her feathery dark hair flowing upward as gravity dragged her down. She tucked her arms into her body as she allowed herself to twist in midair, pulling reckless mid-air maneuvers that she knew her brother would kill her for even attempting. At the last second, her amber eyes snapped open the same time her wings burst through her jacket, the young girl smirking as she effortlessly sped through Japan’s early morning air. Adrenaline pumped through the girl’s veins, her wings flapping up and down faster than before, allowing her speed to increase. She was headed toward a construction area, a mischievous glint flashing in her eyes as she flew toward it, toward the perfect obstacle course to challenge control of her powers. She flew through the unfinished building, maneuvering pretty easily around the framework of the rooms that had not yet received windows nor walls, performing sharp turns in tight spots, loop de loops on the higher floors with no ceiling... Would her brother consider this dangerous? Possibly, but he was never a stickler for the rules, so who ever said she couldn’t be similar to her brother in at least that much of an extent? Coming up on the one spot she knew she couldn’t get through without hurting her wings, the girl quickly switched gears, flipping midair as she retracted her wings once more, this time running along the beams to get through the narrow path before somersaulting off again and activating her quirk for the third time that night to soar higher into the air. “WOOOHOOOO!” She yelled in excitement at the top of her lungs as she soared upwards once more, laughing as the excitement began to dwindle down and she began her flight home, allowing the tailwinds to keep her hair out of her face. Right on cue, her phone buzzed against her leg in her pocket. Unbuttoning the designated pocket, she pulled out the device and looked at the caller ID before grimacing a bit. It was her brother, and something in her gut told her he wasn’t going to be very happy if he ever found out about the type of training she was putting herself through this early... Reluctantly, she pressed the green button, answering the call from her brother. “Kei, before you say anything, I just went for a fly to warm up my wings, I’m on my way back right now.”

“I should hope so...And don’t stop anywhere else like you did last time, okay? It’s bad enough that you go on these night flies, but staying out as long as you do leaves more opportunity for a villain to see you, chickadee... You do realize those wings don’t exactly hide you in darkness, right? With how white your wings are, you’re practically a target day or night..” 

“Oh, please, like your bright red wings would hide your dumb butt any better? And that one time I didn’t come straight home, it was to grab breakfast for both of us, because if I didn’t, we’d be eating friend chicken for breakfast again.”

“Hey, what’s wrong with fried chicken? It’s my favorite...”

“Yeah, I know it is, bird brain. But the problem with it is that it’s all you ever wanna eat. Chicken and waffles is one thing, but nothing but fried chicken every night? You’re gonna make us both fat.” A laugh left the male on the other end of the phone.

“Oh come on, with all the extra flying you’re doing at night and considering that I work hard as a pro hero, we both burn it off pretty damn fast.” The statement from her brother caused the girl to deadpan.

“Kei, you literally do nothing but walk around and send your feathers flying to do the work. It’s me burning off the fried chicken you always feed us both.” 

“Hey! Hasn’t no one ever taught you to respect your elders, young lady?”

“You’re my big brother who’s nearly 8 years older than me, you don’t count as an elder when you’re not even that old.” A sniff from the other line caused the girl’s eyes to go skyward.

“Hinaki, why are you always so mean to me?” Her older brother whined. Hinaki sighed heavily in response, pinching the bridge of her nose in partial annoyance. ‘Why do I even bother with him? I swear...’  She asked herself.

“I’m almost home, Keigo, and please, for the love of God, no fried chicken for breakfast this time.” Hinaki told him.

“Okay, that was uncalled for, I haven’t even...” 

“Keigo Takami...”

“Fine... Ugggh, you’re so mean, I swear.”

“You mean just like how you’re annoying at times? Damn straight, and I love your bird brained dumbass anyways.”

“Love you too, baby bird.”

"Okay, when are you going to stop calling me that? I’m not a baby anymore.”

“Yeah, I know you’re not, but you still are my little sister, Hina.”

“Not so little anymore, but...”

“I know, I know... See you in a minute, birdie.”

“See you in a minute, bird brain...” Came Hinaki’s soft reply before the siblings hung up the phone. A sigh left Hinaki’s lips before she glided down to the front gate of the home she shared with her older brother...

Since childhood, Hinaki knew of the hero world, having been raised within the Hero Public Safety Commission only because Keigo had refused to train if she hadn’t been with him, kept safe and protected from potential threats. Not too long after she turned four, she gained her quirk: Steel Wings, and she still had the scars on her back from the first time she found out why her wings needed to go back to normal before retreating into her back. Wings that she could use to fly as fast as Hawks, if not faster, and feathers she could use as weapons or just use the entirety of her wings as a sturdy shield. The white wings had grown with her as she had gotten older, relying on her big brother to teach her how to control her newfound power of flight and the rules of combat in order to defend herself in his absence... Training that came in handy in more ways than one, as she came to realize. The first time she watched Keigo fight as a pro hero, she knew exactly what she wanted to use her quirk for... Though telling her brother that she wanted to become a hero hadn’t exactly gone smooth as silk at first....

Keigo was waiting in the kitchen with a protein shake waiting for Hinaki when she set foot in the house. “Hi, birdie.” He greeted her as he took in the wide awake eyes that were identical to his own in shape and in color. Both Takami siblings shared the same golden brown, triangle shaped eyes with two little triangles just below their tear ducts. Though, while both siblings had feathery hair, Keigo’s was ash blonde in color, while Hinaki’s was darker, closer to chocolate brown like their mother’s had been. At 22 years old, Keigo was known to the rest of the world as Hawks, though in the current moment, he was just Hinaki’s laid back for the most part, but protective, older brother.

“Hi, Kei.” Hinaki greeted her brother back, stretching her arms a bit before accepting the protein shake and taking a gulp of it. 

“Drink up and replenish those muscles, kiddo. After morning training, you’re hitting to books and studying today. The entrance exams for UA are just a few months away, you know.”

“I know, it’s not like I’ve been training for the past nearly 6 months now for nothing... I know the deal, Kei. Train hard, study hard in order to get into UA. I’ve been working really hard...”

“So you can have the choice I never did in becoming a hero... But not just that. You’ll be learning from pro-heroes that had been students at the school years before you. You might even get to make new friends and be able to interact with new people your age.”

“Oh, goodie...” Hinaki’s voice dripped with sarcasm, making Keigo give her a look. He knew why Hinaki had made that comment, meeting new people was not one of her strong suits, tending to hide away and allow him to do the talking more often than not. Deciding to attend UA alone was a huge step for her, not only in becoming a hero, but also in conquering the anxieties she felt about meeting new people before it hindered her as a pro hero.

“Hey, none of that, you’re gonna be fine, you’ll see.” He firmly reassured his sister. The look she shot him told him she wasn’t exactly convinced of it herself. Before she could walk away from him, he made her turn back around to face her and cupped her face in his hands. “Hinaki Takami, you’re one of the most incredible people I’ve ever known. You’re quiet, sure, but you’ve got a heart of gold. You’re quick on your feet, and even faster in the air, you’re talented, smart... I might be your brother, but trust me when I say you’re going to become one of the best heroes in the world if not the absolute best and I’m not just saying that. You. Got. This. Baby. Sister.” The grin on his face made Hinaki giggle, the sound making Keigo’s grin grow even wider. With the final words of encouragement, the two Takami siblings went their separate ways, the younger counterpart heading to her school: Jakku Jr. High. Due to her silent nature, Hinaki didn’t have many friends, preferring to eat lunch on the rooftop, where she could be alone and think. But, as she ate lunch that day at school, all she could think about were the upcoming exams. What kind of tests would U.A. put her through? She knew there would be a practical exam and a written exam, but she was more worried about the practical part of it. How would they test the students quirks? The only thing she knew she could do to prepare was study for the written and train so she’d be ready for anything when it came to the practical.

Over the next four months, that was exactly what she did... She trained hard the nights she couldn’t sleep and every chance she got after school, she studied hard and aced every test she was given in school. Her hard work didn’t pass by her brother, who came home to a plate of food in the microwave and his sister either studying, training outside in the backyard or fast asleep on the couch. He smiled every time he caught sight of her and ate his food before either training with her, studying with her or carrying her to bed in his arms. A couple months before the entrance exams, after carrying his exhausted sister to bed, Keigo decided to do something he knew Hinaki wouldn’t like... But, hey, it was for her own good. 

The morning of the exams, Keigo had to leave early for work, but left notes of encouragement by Hinaki’s beside, in the bathroom, and next to a plate of warm and nutritious breakfast for her. When Hinaki woke up to her alarm clock going off, she noticed the little note her brother had left on her bedside. She picked it up and read it: Hey chickadee, sorry I couldn’t see you off, but I know you’re gonna do great. I’ll see you after work, kiddo, and I love you.

- Your Big brother, Keigo

Hinaki shook her head with a smile before gathering a backless high collar top, a pair of black shorts and other things she needed before going into the bathroom and kick starting her morning routine. In the bathroom, she found the note Keigo left for her on the mirror.

Take a look at the mirror, chickadee and you’ll see the hero I’ve always seen in you. By the way, there’s a plate waiting on the table for you, don’t skip giving your brain and body power, ‘kay?

Hinaki glanced at her reflection in the mirror, shaking her head as her brother’s written words echoed in her mind as if he had spoken them to her just before he had left. He had always seen a hero in her? How? She shook the doubt out of her mind and continued getting ready. 

As she descended down the stairs just a few minutes later, she pulled her dark, feathery hair back into a ponytail, her hair swaying as she headed toward the food waiting for her on the table. Next to the plate was the third and final note.

Eat up, chickadee, you’ll need to feed that smart brain of yours. I won’t tell you good luck because I know you got this. I believe in you, kiddo, more than anyone or anything... And that’s saying something, because you know how much I look up to Endeavor. 

By the time Hinaki left, she couldn’t remember what she was so nervous about... With a brother like the one I have, who has time for insecurities? Hinaki asked herself as she flew toward U.A. High School. Though it was early in the morning, her bird’s eye view was able to pick up a few people commuting to work and or school, including a green haired boy training on Dagoba Municipal Park Beach below her. She notice him look up for a second and gave a friendly wave to him as his eyes landed on her. 

As she touched down in front of U.A. High, however, the confidence she’d had earlier dissipated. The school was HUGE. She blinked for a second before shaking it off, forcing herself to walk forward and shoving down the doubts that threatened to make her turn on her heel and run away. Her body slightly trembled as she walked through the doors of U.A. for the first time, but she steeled her mind against her fears. If she was going to be a student at U.A., let alone a pro hero, she couldn’t let her fears get to her, no matter how nervous she was... She took a seat in the designated area, looking around. Not many people were there, and a quick glance at the clock on the wall told her that she was actually early. She sat silently for a moment, observing everyone else as more and more people entered the room, talking among themselves. The hushed whispers of the first few slowly turned into a buzzing noise as it grew closer to the time appointed for the entrance exams to start. Hinaki closed her eyes, letting her ears not focus on one single voice or conversation, but allowing herself to block it all out. If her wings had been out, she knew they’d be vibrating like crazy from the noise, thankfully being tucked away for the moment...

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” A voice interrupted Hinaki’s thoughts, causing the winged teen to open her eyes and turn her attention to the source. A girl around her age was standing near her. Her hair was jet black, tied up and out of her face in a high ponytail, her eyes a charcoal grey color. Only shaking her head in reply, Hinaki silently gestured for the girl to sit down next to her. The teen next to her bowed. “Thank you.” She replied before sitting down next to Hinaki before taking out a thermos and a mug, unscrewing the cap as she continued to speak. “Would you like some tea? I noticed you were looking a little nervous earlier, and since tea always calms my nerves, I figured I’d offer.” Straightening up a bit as the girl poured the tea into the mug, Hinaki nodded, murmuring a small,

“Thank you.” As the girl gave her the mug of tea. Keeping her hands warm around it for a moment, Hinaki watched as a part of the girl’s stomach began to glow before another mug appeared, making Hinaki’s eyes widen. Noticing the look on Hinaki’s face, the girl giggled.

“It’s my quirk: Creation. I can use the lipids in my body to create anything non-living... That is, as long as I know the chemical makeup of it. The more I eat, the more I can create.” She explained.

“That’s a pretty cool quirk.” Hinaki commented, making the girl blush in embarrassment. 

“Oh, please, you’re too kind... I’m Momo, by the way. Momo Yayorozu.” She introduced herself. Hinaki smiled softly in response.

“I’m Hinaki. Hinaki Takami... It’s nice to meet you, Yayorozu-chan.” Hinaki replied, an identical smile spreading across Yayorozu’s face.

“Same to you, Takami-chan.” Yayorozu responded cheerfully, the girls talking a bit more while drinking tea. After a bit, all the chatter in the room was interrupted by the intercom going off. 

“YEEEEEAH! HELLO, LISTENERS AND WELCOME TO THE U.A. ENTRANCE EXAMS!” The voice over the intercom boomed. The girls exchanged looks.

“Was that Present Mic?” Hinaki asked.

“I believe so...” Yayorozu trailed off before Present Mic continued.

“ALL RIGHT, YOU COOL CATS ARE HERE BECAUSE WE RECEIVED RECOMMENDATIONS FOR ALL OF YOU! HOWEVER, AS YOU’RE ALL WELL AWARE, ONLY SIX OF YOU WILL BE TAKING UP THE RECOMMENDATION SPOTS, SO I HOPE YOU’RE ALL READY!”  

“6 spots, huh... That sure is a lot of pressure...” Yayorozu murmured, meanwhile Hinaki’s mind was racing to figure out why she would be part of the students who were recommended to the school faculty. But, her thoughts came to a halt on the one person she should’ve guessed the first time around and deadpanned at the thought of her brother sending in a recommendation into U.A. for her. Really, Keigo? She thought, making a mental note to talk to her brother when he got home.

“ALL RIGHT, SO THIS IS HOW IT’S ALL GONNA GO DOWN. ALL OF YOU WILL BE DIVIDED INTO GROUPS, AND EACH GROUP WILL HAVE THE WRITTEN AND PRACTICAL EXAMS AS WELL AS AN INTERVIEW! TO ENSURE THAT NO ONE KNOWS WHAT TO EXPECT, THE PRACTICAL EXAMS WILL BE DIFFERENT FOR EACH GROUP!” Present Mic finished explaining the entrance exams before a different voice came onto the intercom.

“We’ll start with the interview. When your name is called, you will be interviewed by one of the teachers here before the written exam. Good luck.” With that, the intercom shut off.

“Not exactly words of encouragement...” Hinaki mumbled under her breath, her nerves returning.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll do just fine, Takami-chan.” Yayorozu encouraged her new friend, Hinaki giving a small smile back.

“Thanks... With any luck, we’ll both end up getting into U.A. and be in the same class.” Hinaki grinned at her new friend, making the other girl smile back in response. 

“I hope so too.” Yayorozu replied before Hinaki felt a chill in the air and shivered slightly, glancing around the room before noticing him...

The boy looked around 5 foot 9, 5 inches taller than her, with red hair on the left side of his head while right side of his hair was white in color, and Hinaki's sharp eyes caught that his eyes were the same way: His right eye was a grey color while the left eye was a turquoise blue that looked familiar to her for some reason... Over his left eye, however, Hinaki noticed a huge scar and wondered what happened to him to cause a scar like that...

Just as her thoughts started to run, he turned his head, the cold look in his eyes making her feathery hair ruffle before she quickly looked away. "What's wrong?" Yayorozu asked, noticing the look on her face. For a moment, Hinaki considered telling Yayorozu about the boy, but chose to keep her mouth shut, shaking her head.

"It's nothing, don't worry." She gave her friend a reassuring smile before it dropped as soon as Yayorozu looked away. What was with the cold look in the boy's eyes?

"Hinaki Takami." A female voice on the intercom called Hinaki's name. Hinaki swallowed before standing up, feeling Yayorozu gently pat her back to silently wish her luck. Hinaki smiled at Yayorozu in thanks before walking toward the closed door to the office. She paused at the office door to take a deep breath in order to keep herself calm before opening the door. She was greeted by a female hero, one she recognized as Midnight. “You must be Hinaki Takami, correct?” She asked. The younger girl nodded in response.

“Yes, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Hinaki politely responded with a bow, Midnight smiling at her.

“Go ahead and have a seat and we’ll begin.” Midnight told Hinaki, the younger woman taking the seat across from Midnight, her back straight as the interview began. It went on for a good hour or so, and Hinaki found herself more relaxed the longer she talked with Midnight. “All right, Hinaki, I only have one question left for you at this time.” Midnight said as she adjusted the papers on the desk before looking at Hinaki once again. “Every hero has their reason... Some are in it for the fame and fortune, others simply want to do what’s right. I guess what I’m asking is, what’s your reason for wanting to be a hero?” Midnight asked. The question caused Hinaki’s eyes to look away in thought. It was certainly something she didn’t think about too often, the training she went through with her brother was bonus time with him whenever she could get it while learning how to defend herself. After a moment, Hinaki’s amber eyes returned to Midnight, the woman’s eyes showing her eagerness, yet patience, to hear the answer to the last question of the interview. The young girl’s reflected her determination.

“I want to be a hero to protect people. My brother didn’t react well at first when I told him I wanted to be a pro hero, and who can blame him? The line of work itself is dangerous, but I can’t sit still on the sidelines anymore, especially not when I have the power to help... Not with my brother risking his life as a pro. I’d give anything to be a hero and protect people, even my quirk. I’d rather be quirkless in a world safe from villains rather than have a ton of power in a world where innocent lives are constantly put at stake. I’m risking sounding like Hawks here with this next part, but I think the goal should be a world where pro heroes have too much time on their hands.” Hinaki answered, Midnight smiling at the girl’s response. 

“Thank you, Hinaki. That’s all the time we have, but I wish you the best of luck in the written and practical exams.” Midnight told the young girl as both women stood and bowed to each other. 

“Thank you.” Hinaki replied before she stepped out of the office. Hinaki caught glances with Yayorozu on her way to the area for the written test, giving her new friend a smile and a thumbs up before entering the designated area for the written exam. Now that the interview was over, she knew it’d be a piece of cake for her. She’d studied pretty damn hard to ace the written test, and it didn’t hurt that she had grown stronger from the training with Keigo either, but the nagging question of whether or not it’d be enough kept tugging at the back of her mind. That one insecurity kept rearing its ugly head like a parasite no one could get rid of. Sitting in a seat near the back, Hinaki shook it off once more. No... She could do this. Keigo believes in her, and he’s the 3rd ranked pro hero in Japan, as he had been for the past 4 years. She just had to have confidence in herself, no matter how difficult it was for her...

Before Hinaki knew it, the written exam was complete, and she was lined up with her group at a pair of giant gates, dressed in her workout clothes. She looked around at the fellow examinees around her before her eyes landed on a familiar head of jet black hair. Hinaki smiled and once Yayorozu’s eyes caught sight of her, Hinaki waved in greeting, gaining a smile and a wave back. “Takami-chan, how do you think you did with the interview and written exam?” 

“I feel like I did good with both, hopefully it was enough to get in.” Hinaki replied, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. “What about you? How do you think you did?”

“Honestly, I feel like I did well, but that just leaves one test remaining...” 

“Right, the practical.” The girls faced the gates. “What do you think the practical exam's gonna be?” Hinaki asked.

“I’m not sure... It could be anything, from endurance to strength tests... Honestly, that just means we have to be ready for anything." Yayorozu told her, the other teen nodding in agreement.

"Right." Hinaki replied. Before either girl could say anything more, the intercom turned on.

"Right, then... Group Gamma, your practical exam is simple: Defeat as many faux villains as you can. There'll be certain targets that are worth a certain amount of points, but the biggest targets are worth zero. Try to avoid the biggest targets as much as you can. You'll have 10 minutes to gain as many points as you can. Good luck." The girls exchanged glances.

"Faux villains?" Yayorozu asked.

"Sounds like they'll be robots.... Least, that's my guess. I doubt they'll put us against the faculty when we're not even students yet." Hinaki responded, speaking what was on her mind.

“That’s true.” Yayorozu stated before the gates slowly began to open. The girls stood at the ready.

“Here we go.” Hinaki told her friend. Just as she finished her sentence, an air horn sounded off, sounding the start of the practical test. Hinaki’s feet automatically moved, running through the gates with the others. Once she was clear from the others, her wings sprouted from her back, allowing her to take off into the air as she pulled two feather blades the size of swords from its sheath on her back, flying straight for the robots in her path. She sliced through them both with ease, taking a sharp turn to encounter more. She sliced through them, at the same time, keeping a watchful eye on the other examinees as she took down faux villains. She sliced through robot after robot, all the while, a few of her feathers left her wings to help the fellow examinees in harm’s way. Yayorozu paused for a moment as she watched the way Hinaki fought... Something about the airborne female’s movements reminded her of Hawks... But why?

Just as the thought entered her mind, a few white feathers flew past her to dig into the faux villain that had snuck up on her, allowing her to follow up with an attack that destroyed the faux villain all together while Hinaki flew by several feet above her, the feathers she had sent out returning to her wings. “Might wanna pay attention to the fight, Ponytail.” Hinaki teased from above her head. Yayorozu rolled her eyes at the smirk on her face. 

“Thanks for the assist.” Yayorozu thanked her, ignoring the joking comment and gaining a salute in reply. One by one, the number of smaller faux villains shrank more and more in size. As Hinaki sliced down yet another, she heard a scream. Turning her head, she saw one of the students frozen in fright as one or the bigger faux villains headed toward them. Judging by the looks of those scratches on the robot, they had tried taking down the faux villain only to realize that their quirk didn't have enough power. She looked toward the other smaller faux villains before ultimately reaching her decision and diving for the student. While she sent a few feathers to get the student to safety, she somersaulted in mid air, pulling her wings into her back for a brief moment to let herself fall, slicing the robot in half as she fell before landing nimbly on her feet, her feather blade held out to one side as her wings reemerged from her back, straightening out behind her. Her wings flapped a little as she stood up straight, her snow white feathers returning to her as she turned to the student she had helped. "You okay?" She asked the student, holding out her hand. She noticed it was a female around her age, with crimson eyes, pale skin and ebony black hair that hung in her face slightly. The girl glared at her before smacking her hand away and standing up on her own.

"I'm perfectly fine, you shouldn't have helped me." She snarled in response. Hinaki blinked in surprise before her eyebrow went up and she placed her hands on her hips.

"Oh, so I was supposed to let you get crushed by that thing? What kind of hero would that make me?" She asked.

"You're not a hero, you're nothing but a wannabe trying to copy her big brother." The girl snapped in retaliation.

"Oh, really? Then why are you here? You talk about how I'm a wannabe hero, but you're here for the same exact reason, aren't you? I know you want to be a hero too. If the opposite was true, you wouldn't be here right now." Hinaki pointed out, the girl pausing before growling.

"Just stay out my way, bird brain." She snapped before hesitating a minute. Just as Hinaki opened her mouth to ask what was wrong, the girl manipulated some water from the pouch that was slung across her shoulders. The water covered the girl's hand and made it glow aqua blue as she touched a deep cut on Hinaki's right wing, a cut that the winged teenager herself had failed to notice. The wound itself glowed aqua blue itself before disappearing entirely as the girl lifted her hand. "There, bird brain. Now, we're even." The girl told her, not meeting her eyes before runnning off, not giving Hinaki a chance to thank her. Hinaki blinked as she watched the girl go. What the hell was that about? She asked herself before shaking it off and continuing to fight.

Before she knew it, the airhorn blared once again, marking the end of the practical exam. Hinaki once again sheathed her feather blades and relaxed so her wings once again retreated into her back. She spotted an old woman hobbling toward her. She noticed that the old woman looked like a nurse and smiled, recognizing her as the healing hero, Recovery Girl.

"Are you all right, dearie?" She asked the younger woman. Hinaki checked herself over and nodded.

"I have a couple scratches, but it's nothing I can't take care of myself. You'll need your strength for those who truly need it." Hinaki told her with a smile. Recovery Girl smiled back before nodding and walking away toward the next examinee. Hinaki's amber eyes searched the area for her new friend, the smile dropping and her brow creasing when she didn't spot her. She was about to release her wings out of her back to look for her when she heard a shout behind her.

"Hey, Takami-chan!" Hinaki turned at her name, relief flooding her face as she spotted Yayorozu behind her.

"Yayorozu, glad to see you're okay." Hinaki replied.

"Same to you. I was just wondering if you wanted to hang out together sometime. Even if one of us doesn't make it in, I still want to keep in touch and be friends... If you're willing to, that is." Yayorozu replied. Hinaki smiled.

"I'd like that." Hinaki replied, making Yayorozu excitedly squeal before creating a pen, taking Hinaki's hand and writing down her phone number. "This is my cell phone number. Call me when you get home, okay?" She asked. Hinaki nodded before taking the pen and writing her number down on Yayorozu's hand.

"Here's mine, just so you'll know it's me." Hinaki replied with a smile, causing her new friend to smile back before the girls left the arena together.

A few hours later, Hinaki was studying at home for the finals to wrap up her 3rd year at her junior high. She was listening to music with one earbud in while twirling her pencil in her hand, her golden eyes scanning the pages of her textbook. But, for some reason, she couldn't focus... Why had the boy in the hall looked so familiar to her? She sighed and shook her head, rubbing her eyes a bit and glancing at the time on her phone. 9:30... Kei should have been home by now... Hinaki thought to herself. She had made dinner a couple hours before, and had already eaten. Keigo's plate had been left in the microwave for him like always, and yet here she was, studying on the couch just to wait up for him. She shook her head once more to keep herself awake. However, her eyes kept sliding shut despite her best efforts to stay alert long enough to continue studying. She felt tired, but she couldn't sleep now. She had a test to prepare for....

She jolted awake a while later to a pair of arms slipping under her and lifting her from the couch. She automatically lifted her fists before the soft hushing from her brother caused her to relax against his chest, fatigue taking over the young woman. "You gotta stop staying up so late, chickadee. I know you were studying, but you're gonna end up brain fried if you don't give your all-star brain time to rest too, you know." The 22-year-old's voice rumbled in his chest as he told her, his comment earning a small grunt in response as the pro hero carried her with ease up the stairs and into her room, setting her down on her bed and tucking her in. By the time Keigo had kissed her forehead and left the room, Hinaki had already gone back to sleep.

The following week was nothing short of torturous waiting for Hinaki. Between studying for the upcoming final exams plus training, she had very little free time to worry about the results... "Hey, you know, rumors have been flying around that All Might's gonna be teaching at UA this year." Keigo told her one night during dinner.

"Oh, yeah? That'll be interesting. Wonder what subject he'll end up teaching." Hinaki replied, her head tipped to one side in thought. Though her voice and face didn't show any of her excitement, her mind was bubbling with the possibility of the Number 1 Hero teaching her.

"Probably the Heroes 101 if I had to guess... He is number one, after all. If you're gonna learn how to be a hero, you might as well learn from the best, right?" Keigo asked before smiling a bit. "By the way, I can tell you're excited just by that news, you can hide it from anybody else, but forget it when it comes to me. I can read you like an open book."

"Kei, I'm not exactly holding my breath here, it's just rumors for now... But, the thought of being taught by All Might is really cool." Hinaki answered her brother with a sheepish smile before blinking, her smile dropping. "Don't get me wrong, training with you is just as awesome too..."

"Chickadee, calm down, it's okay. Besides, I know we haven't had much time to train together especially in recent years... I taught you as much as I could from a big brother stand point. Now, it's up to the teachers for the boring but essential part of it." Keigo told her.

"That is, if I get in." Hinaki replied, glancing off to the side.

"Hey, what did I say about that? Stop it. You're gonna get into UA, and you're gonna be freaking awesome because you're Hinaki Takami, damn it. You're a badass through and through, on the ground and in the air. You're gonna be an amazing pro hero because you've got the heart and the drive that every great pro hero has. If I'm wrong, I'll never eat chicken again." Hinaki stared at her brother. Those were words that she thought he'd never utter in his life. "What?"

"You're that serious?" Hinaki asked.

"Hell yeah, I'm that serious. Kiddo, I've been watching you since you were little. You've always worked hard to become a pro since you first got your quirk and I'm proud as fuck with how far you've come. You've got just a bit further to go, but I can already tell that you're gonna help so many people, birdie." Keigo told her. Hinaki smiled.

"If I am, it's only because I had the best big brother anyone can ever ask for growing up." Hinaki responded to her brother's praise. Keigo grinned at her counter praise and winked, shifting so he was close enough to wrap his arm around her.

"And as your big brother, I'll always be here to continue helping you. Always." He promised, giving her a side squeeze that made her giggle. He grinned in response before letting her go and the two continued to eat together.

"By the way..." As soon as Hinaki spoke again, she watched as Keigo stiffen slightly. "I was told a certain little bird sent in a reccomendation letter for me. You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?" Hinaki asked before her brother laughed nervously. "Keigo..."

"Okay, so I did, but come on. You deserve it. The kids that train under the wing of the Hero Safety Commission? They don't do half the shit you do when it comes to training, let alone have to go to school at the same time like you do. Besides, if I can give you a hand in becoming a pro, I wanna do as much as I can." Keigo pointed out.

"Yeah, but the whole point of me training was so that you wouldn't have to." Hinaki told him.

"I mean, it's already been done, what'd you want me to do?" Keigo asked with a shrug and a slight smirk. Hinaki rolled her eyes. "Hey." Hinaki looked at her brother. "I love you, birdie. I was only trying to help, you know."

"I know, and I love you too." Hinaki replied as the two finished their food, bringing their dishes to the sink.

Just a few days after the conversation, Hinaki sat motionless on the couch, staring at the envelope addressed to her. The seal on the back indicated that it was from UA, more than likely with her test results. Should she wait for Keigo to open it? Or just tell him what the letter held for her? She blinked a couple times before shaking her head. Better late than never... She ultimately decided before she broke the seal on the back, her hands trembling from the anticipation. But, instead of a letter, was a little metal disc. She raised an eyebrow, turning it over and over in her hands. What the? But, just as she set it down on the coffee table in front of her, it lit up, coming to life. A loud, boisterous laughter filled the room before a muscular figure came in view. His eyes had been sucken in over the years, but his bunny ear like blond hair and bright grin were more than a little recognizable. "Hello, young Takami! I am here to give you your test results!" Hinaki blinked in surprise.

"All Might? So, the rumors about you coming to teach at UA were true, then." Hinaki answered.

"That's right, young Takami! However, I'll be only one of the teachers at UA High this year! Now, before I get too ahead of myself, onto your results! You passed the written exam at the top of the recommended students, and the practical allowed you to shine brightly, only coming in second to one recommended student. But, young Takami, you didn't just gain Villain points in the practical. You see, there was a secret point value we were looking for... After all, what's the point in being a hero if you can't rescue those in danger? You didn't hesitate to help one of the fellow examinees in trouble, earning you 50 rescue points. But, there's one more thing I want to show you before we move ahead." All Might stepped off to the side as a small video popped up, showing a video of Midnight.

"For someone so young, I have to admit, it surprised me a little that Hinaki has a level head on her shoulders. She shares the same idea as Hawks in that we should aim for a society where heroes have too much time on their hands, yet in contrast to Hawks appearing relaxed no matter the situation, Hinaki looks more than ready for even the worst case scenario, which is something we need in more heroes if I'm completely honest... I can't wait to see the hero she's going to become."

"That's right, young Takami. Though Hawks was the one who recommended you, he's not the only pro excited to see how you'll continue to grow as a fledgling hero. With that in mind, young Takami, it's my pleasure to officially welcome you to the Hero Academia. You've made it in, welcome to U.A." All Might congratulated her. Hinaki smiled brightly back.

"I can't wait to learn from you, All Might." Hinaki replied before All Might signed off and the Holographic disc went quiet once more. Hinaki trembled with excitement before a holler of joy left her, her wings flapping hard and fast in excitement to lift her up into the air slightly before she touched back down. A laugh left her as she ran her fingers through her feathery dark hair, her golden amber eyes lit up in joy.

Wait till I tell Keigo....

Taglist: @bisexualmattholtstan @lirinstaalem

(Message me if you wanna be added to the taglist! Hope you enjoy the first chapter of MHA: Ascension! ^.^ )

[ashestoashesjc]

A Necromancer & His Zombie Boyfriend On A Couple's Retreat

Short Story 1/2/(3)/4/5/6/7/8/9/10

"RrRRrrrr... grrr? <Hey, uh, babe... seen my arm anywhere?>" rang Sett's voice throughout their cigar box of a house as he rummaged through closets, opened cabinets, overturned couch cushions. 

Shutting and latching the front door behind him, Ulrick began flipping through the stack of envelopes clutched in his right hand. "Huh? Oh…”

“Okay, so… don’t get mad,” Ulrick began, as meekly and guilt-tinged as one can make a shout. “But... there was this huge, I mean HUGE silverfish…” 

“GRrrr! Rrrrr. <Dude! Not cool,>” could be heard as Sett stomped his way to the foyer. 

“I know! I’m sorry! I’m weak!” moaned Ulrick. 

Sett sighed as he entered the cove and laid his single remaining hand on Ulrick’s left shoulder, the other sleeve draped flaccidly at his side. “Grrrr. <Well, yeah.>” he said. Ulrick snickered. 

“You know, having your boyfriend kill a bug for you is exceedingly normal,” Ulrick said, separating the bills from the letters that weren’t bills. There were very few that weren’t bills. “Almost conventional.” 

“Rrr. <True,>” Sett replied. “Rggrrrr. <Probably while the arm’s still attached, though.>”

“A mere quibble.” 

“Rrrrgrrr? <So, where is it now?>” Sett asked. 

“Ugh. Still getting cozy with the silverfish, I’d imagine,” Ulrick admitted, guilt creeping back into his voice. He covered his eyes with his free hand and shuddered. “In… the shower.”

Sett sucked air through his teeth in a compassion-filled cringe. 

“Yeah,” Ulrick sighed, resigned to his trauma. 

“Grrrr. <Don’t worry,>” said Sett. “Rraarr. <I got it.>” 

Ulrick slid his hand down his face with a grateful groan. “God, I love you.” Sett pulled him forward by his collar and pecked his forehead.

Continuing to sort through the mail, Ulrick came to a red envelope and, seeing it addressed to Sett, handed it over. “Looks important.”

Confusion clouded Sett’s eyes for the first few, slow moments spent undoing the envelope’s seal flap, until suddenly, a surge of realization like lightning drove him to violently tear the crimson paper away.

As he scanned the contents of the letter contained within, words failing to do his emotional state justice, Sett began to fist pump wildly, God help anyone in the flight path of his singular elbow. Ulrick looked on in entranced bewilderment.

“Was there itching powder in that envelope?” asked Ulrick.

Sett shoved the creased letter in Ulrick’s face, his manic energy not yet dissipated. Ulrick took it and held it out at arm’s length until his eyes brought the words into focus. 

“A couple’s retreat?” he wondered aloud, lowering the paper enough to peer over the top at Sett.  

“Grrgrrrr. <An all-expenses paid couple’s retreat.> Rrrrrr. <At a swanky resort.> GrrrrRr. <Complete with water skis.>”

“This is from a contest?” he asked, rotating and inspecting the sheet. “When did we enter a contest?”

“Rrggrrrr? <You know those entry slips we’re getting in the post all the time?>”

“The ones I’m always throwing away? I’m familiar.” 

“RrrRrrrrr ggrrrr. <Well, your aim could use some work, because some of them wind up in the mailbox,>” said Sett, with a shrug.

The sound that next filled the room, colored with exasperated mirth, was one Sett was used to Ulrick making, though one that never stopped bringing a flush of heat to the place where his heart used to be. 

He grabbed Ulrick by the hips and the two began to sway back and forth. “Rrrrrr. <Just imagine it,>” he purred dreamily. “GrrrRRrrrr rrrrRrrr grrr...arrrr? <Massages, rock-climbing, a luau. And… did I mention waterskiing?>”

Swaying still, Ulrick looked up with his head cocked. "I've... never heard you mention waterskiing before."

"GrrRrrrrrr. <I enjoy a lot of things I don't talk about.> Rgrrrrgrrr. <Like country music, or bad chick lit,>" Sett said before twirling and dipping Ulrick in a blur. "Rraarrrr. <I'm a multi-layered zombie.>"

Breaking clumsily away from the songless dance and squeezing the bridge of his nose, Ulrick set down the remainder of the mail on the side table by the entrance and looked his boyfriend over. “It’s totally free?”

“Grrarrr. <It’s totally free,>” confirmed Sett. 

Ulrick raised an eyebrow. “No catch?” 

“Rrr… <Well…>”

-

“And streeetch! That’s right! Streeetch!” 

At the front of Meadow Grove Resort’s famed yoga studio balanced - one foot planted on the ground, the other hooked deftly behind her neck - Chrysanthemum Smith, a remarkably limber 60-year-old instructor, urging her out-of-shape contest winning students to achieve the same feats of flexibility.   

All around Ulrick and Sett, a pretzel factory’s soon-to-be-discarded collection of heinous, gnarly undesirables had been given life in the form of sweaty middle Americans. 

That pretzels went through a less agonizing process being baked at 500 degrees was a fact Ulrick was both confident in and envious of. His legs were angled in a way he was sure he’d feel for weeks to come. 

Sett, on the other hand, had apparently been a contortionist in a past life, the way he bent himself into poses, well, a pretzel would gawk at, holding each position stoically before moving gracefully on to the next. It also helped that he couldn’t feel what would leave most tendons shredded rags.

Ulrick gave up the pursuit of dislocating his pelvis and instead went to poke Sett in the cheek. Through his mask, Sett made a chomping motion at the finger, though remained otherwise totally still. "Okay, but this kind of bites, right?" Ulrick signed. 

"A little. And not in the fun way," Sett signed back.

On a pair of blue, rubber mats to their left were two women - one in a biker's jacket and tattered, patched jeans, short red hair tied into a haphazard ponytail; the other a dark woman donning a shaved head, flower-patterned maxi dress, and combat boots - the former of whom suddenly grabbed Ulrick's attention with a nod. 

"You're telling me," she signed. 

And in an instant, they were no longer alone in the hazy, secluded sphere that made their reality.

So taken aback was he that he blurted aloud, "You sign?" 

The yoga instructor shushed him from her place at the head of the wide room, leading him to duck down sheepishly. With the forced inclusion of an overly casual air, he said more than asked, "You sign."

"Oh, yeah," the woman chuckled gruffly. "Mom's Deaf." 

Taking a sudden interest in the conversation, Sett's head swiveled to the leather jacket-clad woman. "Shit yeah!" he signed with fervor, eliciting a harsh snort from the woman. The instructor's head whipped around to glare her way, but went ignored. 

Sett's hands jumbled for a moment before he continued. "I mean, I'm sure that must have been very difficult for your family and--"

She gave a dismissive wave of the hand. "Nah, don't worry about it. She's capital 'D' Deaf. A congenital thing. Whole family's been signing forever."

Her wife - Jen, they later learned - chimed in with, "Di does it at home, too. She's taught me half the lyrics to Boys for Pele." 

"Wow!" Ulrick said with teeth-clenching enthusiasm. "That's so great! Isn't that so great, Sett?"

The mask did nothing to conceal Sett's raised, beaming features. "That's so great!" he signed. 

"I'm sorry!" bellowed the lithe yogi, shattering all delusions of serenity. "Am I boring you?" 

Several overlapping voices came to the general consensus of "Christ, yes."

One of the husbands, portly and somewhat resembling the famously affable capybara, asked, somewhat less affably, why they were being stretched into taffy when they should be outside taking one-on-one lessons with the beach volleyball instructor. He was joined by a few surly “yeah!”s. 

They were met with an unimpressed crossing of the arms. Though it should be noted Smith’s foot was still being held comfortably behind her head. 

"I would suggest, in the future, that you more closely scrutinize contest entries," Yogi Smith advised in as calm a manner as it seemed she could now manage, though with an unmistakable edge to her voice. "In order to partake in our facility’s more... physically involved activities, you’ll first need to align and cleanse your mental, emotional, and spiritual energies.”

This provoked a studio-wide groan, with the exclusion of Jen, who seemed just eager enough to cancel out the cloud of grim impatience encircling her. 

“Unless, of course,” Smith said, shifting poses to something favoring the letter ‘G’, “you’d prefer to construct your own schedules. In which case, a full price admission to Meadow Grove Resort remains available.”

She sleekly extended her right leg, pointing its foot pin-straight toward the sliding studio doors. “Don’t, as the masters of yore were wont to say, let the door hit ya.” 

When no one moved and the room went quiet enough to hear an acupuncture needle drop, Smith resumed a standing position and bowed three times to each division of the studio. “Namaste. Namaste. Namaste.” 

Chrysanthemum Smith had in no way undersold how ‘aligned and cleansed’ couple’s therapy and its airings of dirty laundry and subsequent ferocious dissolutions of decades of marriage; couple’s pottery, the same thing but with clay vases; and couple’s finger-painting, a bonding exercise in shared humiliation, would make their minds, emotions, and souls through sheer gut-rending hilarity.

Ulrick almost didn’t want to stop watching people who, hours ago, seemed all confidence and bravado, now being brought to tears by an instructor’s criticism of their macaroni art lacking ‘depth.’ 

But their confinement was over and they were free to roam the grounds as they saw fit and Sett, without even feigning to look for a map of the resort, made a beeline for the largest body of water (and the largest gathering of humans) he could sniff. Ulrick was still surprised at times by how agile Sett could be on his feet when on the hunt for blood - or recreational watersports - and struggled to keep up. 

Their long-awaited waterskiing adventure began almost as soon as they arrived at the lakeside, the instructor needing a volunteer at that instant to man the skis while he lectured another guest on the controls of the boat. At nearly a head taller than anyone else present, Sett didn’t need much more than a raised hand to stand out. 

Things were going great; Sett mounted on skis as long as he was tall, the boat revving greedily for take off. At Sett’s thumbs up, the runabout hammered off in a thunderous roar. And then, all at once, things were going wrong. 

The envisioned majesty of skimming the motionless calm of the crystal river was halted abruptly with a leaden Sett stumbling mid-lake in his skis, trying and failing to correct himself, going feet-over-head, and sinking like an anchor to the agitated silt of the riverbed below. 

Ulrick, though he jumped with concern at the first hint of a misstep, expected a brief swim back, perhaps slowed a bit - but not much - by Sett's stoney limbs. He’d been the star diver of his local swimming hole as a teen and still maintained some of the underwater dexterity, though nowadays tended to lurk the floors of bodies of water like a carnivorous bottom-feeder; eating habits included.

But then a few minutes passed, and nothing. A lifeguard and two of the more experienced swimmers among the guests plunged into the river and searched for fifteen minutes, cracking the surface now and again for a gulp of air, all to no avail. The water was too cloudy with sediment to see past a certain depth, and the orange-purples of dusk were beginning to settle in. They'd need to return in the morning with a diving team.

It'd now been forty-five minutes, and three of the resort’s other guests were consoling Ulrick, one herself on the verge of waterworks. They'd just witnessed a man - someone's significant other - torn tragically from life's teat, and in front of the man he loved, no less. 

Ulrick, for his part, was positively miffed. 

"When I get my hands on him..." Ulrick started, before one of the grievers tossed him a teary-eyed questioning look. "Er, that is... would that I could only put my hands on him... again..." he corrected. 

Just as Ulrick had begun mentally reviewing the basics of the Arts of Throttling, a movement, barely noticeable, shook the surface of the lake. Then bubbles, then the full break of the water as a head rose into view. Then the screams of onlookers as, in the fading light, a ghastly lake monster began its murderous approach. Then screams of a different kind as people began to make the connection proper. Then there was weeping, fainting, more than one declaration of faith renewed. It was a miracle!

Later, after insistences for medical attention were politely but firmly refused and the religious stragglers begging for just a smell of Sett’s waterlogged clothes were shooed away, Ulrick asked why he waited so long to resurface, to which Sett said, "GrrrrRRrr. <Well, at first I was just sort of embarrassed.> RrrrrrrGrrrRrrr? <Then I thought, "How often do these people see miracles?>"

"Oh, sure," groaned Ulrick. "A man comes out of a lake after half an hour and it's a miracle. A man comes out of a grave after a few months and it's "Grab the torches and pitchforks, everyone!""

"Rrrr. <Babe.>"

Ulrick gave a pouty grumble. "I'm just saying. One's a little more miraculous, is all." 

Sett pulled Ulrick's head into his chest and stroked his hair. "GrrrRrrrRrrr. <Shh, I know, dude, I know.>" His heavy, soaked clothes and lack of body heat didn't chill Ulrick as much as they should have, and though a fine coating of sand covering him from head to toe gritted against Ulrick's cheek, it only made Ulrick rub his face in rebelliously. 

"Okay," Ulrick said, resting his fists on Sett's chest and gazing up into his eyes. "What's the next activity? I think we’re... due-au for a luau?" The moment the words left his lips, his face collapsed into disgusted regret.

“Rgrrr... <Actually…>” Sett said, wrenching off his mask and shaking the excess water from his hair, teasing a blush out of Ulrick. “GgrrrRrrrr? <Doesn’t watching the stars by the lake sound pretty relaxing?>”

Ulrick grinned and took a seat on the shoreline, running his hands through the tufts of ryegrass stretching out in waves around him. He tapped a spot to his right and Sett, half-cocked smile in tow, came lumbering over to take it. 

Hours flurried past, changing nothing about the image of the intimately silent pair but the number of stark white pinpricks in the sky they beheld. 

They threatened to sit silently basking in each other forever. 

And then Sett said, “GRrrrrgrrr, rrgrrr, graargrr. <So, Diane and Jen gave me their number, and they want to plan an outing.>” 

Unease shot through Ulrick’s veins, but he held his tongue in search of the correct words. “O-oh?” 

“Grrr? Rrgrrrrr. <Isn’t that cool? People want to spend time with us,>” said Sett, ensorcelled with the twinkle of every new star. “Rrrrr. <With me.>”

“That might be…” began Ulrick, before noticing the glimmer in Sett’s eyes and faint lift at the corners of his mouth as he stared up towards a great unknown. He sighed. “It’s going to be great.” 

Sett rested his hand on Ulrick’s, their fingers interlocking. He smiled, and the two gazed into an ever-darkening firmament, speckled with a thousand stars and a thousand futures.