#So he just gives them instructions on how to reach safety and says to himself “We don't have time to unpack all of this!”

[one-in-a-million-fishsticks]

SOTN boss fight, but Alucard's old friends more or less come back to life after being freed from the dark influence controlling them.

They're just kinda there now and Alucard has to process it.

[avocado-writing]

Hi Avo! Could you please consider writing a protective poly logan and wade x reader? Maybe something happens they weren’t there but when they show up deadpool is distracting/comforting the reader and logan is going ham on the enemy. ploy or separate is up to you!

Just a thought! Enjoying your work as always! ✨anon

deadpool: look how I spell it “grey” because the writer is english! Crazy logan: what?

It’s Logan who sweeps you up. You know it is, because he’s a solid wall of a man under your hands where you’ve buried into him. His chest is warm and reassuring; you focus on it, trying to ground yourself even though you can taste your pulse thrumming in terror.

“It’s okay, baby. We’ve got you,” he mutters under his breath, a growl in your ear, a tender little secret of his softness shared between the two of you. 

It had all been so sudden. You’d been taking the shortcut home after going shopping for tonight’s dinner when you’d felt someone grab you. Tomatoes had rolled across the ground, cans denting loudly as they fell, and you’d been dragged towards the back of the van as your captors loudly discussed if they had the right person. They said something about you fucking two mutants, and the bile with which they had spat it chilled you. 

You’d been certain you were going to die. Cold fear flooded you, your eyes squeezed closed tight. Please, don’t let Logan and Wade find my body. They won’t be able to take it. If these guys are gonna kill me, let me just disappear. 

Then again, that was before the claws came through the metal of the roof and all hell had broken loose. Guns went off and you screamed, unsure if they were Wade’s or not - but strong arms had picked you up and hauled you to safety. 

You feel yourself being passed to someone else, Logan pushing you into Wade’s grip and giving him strict instructions to look after you, then he’s gone. The sounds of violence continue and, without thinking, you turn to look. 

“Oh, no, honey, you don't need to see that. That’s just… plain disgusting,” says Wade, grimacing, “even looking at this mess is better than seeing what Peanut’s doing to those guys.”

Upon the word ‘mess’, he gestures to himself. Despite your heart hammering against your ribs, you reach up to press your hand against his cheek. 

“Don’t talk about yourself like that, Wade. You came to save me.”

A flit of confusion crosses his face, knocking his usual bravado. 

“You thought we’d just let them bundle you into their ‘not allowed within five hundred feet of schools’ van and disappear? Give us some credit. We’re not white knights, but we’re at least, y’know, morally grey knights.”

He says this to make you laugh, and it works. You’re distracted as the sounds of screams literally die out and Logan stalks back over. You see him removing his jacket to hide the blood on it from you. It’s still spread across his knuckles, though, a masterpiece of the revenge he just enacted. 

“Don’t worry about them. They won’t be bothering you again,” he says with an air of finality. His hand raises to cup your face, so gentle with you, such a contrast to moments before. His voice is laced with a tenderness when he asks, “you doing okay?”

You nod. Yeah. With them here, you are doing okay. 

“Thanks,” you manage, shakily, adrenaline leaving your body to give way to fat, rolling tears of relief. Not missing a beat, Wade looks Logan up and down. 

“Hey, there’s still some viscera on your shirt, Peanut. Maybe you should take that off, too?”

“Watch it, bub,” he growls, but you can tell his heart isn’t really in it. They’re both just thankful that you’re safe. 

Your heroes, both of them. Morally grey or otherwise.

[ponderingmoonlight]

How JJK men react when (y/n) gets injured

Pairing: Nanami x reader; Megumi x reader; Toji x reader; Geto x reader

Word Count: 2,4k

Warnings: injury (lol), listen I know Geto's one isn't that realistic, I just needed something with a lot of fluff, don't come at me okay, also might be shitty because my sick head isn't funcional at the moment so have mercy How Gojo reacts when (y/n) gets injured can be found here Aaaaand Choso with a injured (y/n) who has blood phobia here

Nanami Kento

You weren’t fast enough. The second the bullet enters your skin, you know you fucked up.

“(y/n)!”, Nanami’s distant voice calls out your name.

You clench your teeth, blood pumping in your ears while a stabbing pain spreads in your guts. This is bad. Very very bad. This is a mission you have to complete together, Nanami and Yuji both rely on you. Fuck, you’re a jujutsu sorcerer, even a grade 1. And then you get hit by a bullet this easily?

How pathetic.

It seems like the weight of your own body forces you to your knees, warmth spreading from your stomach over your lower body. Slowly but surely, the stabbing pain in your guts gets less noticeable, you have to fight desperately to keep your eyes from shutting.

Nanami…It’s not fair that you let him hang like this, hit by a random bullet on that random Wednesday. After all, you still had so much to tell him, experiences to share. What about the plans you’ve made earlier about finally asking him out? The words slip off your tongue with every passing second. No matter how hard every fiber of your being fights against the darkness, it proceeds to consume you.

“Goddamnit (y/n)”, Nanami hisses through gritted teeth when he finally reaches you.

“Yuji, take care of that man with the gun!”

“Hey, you can’t die on me today. Keep your eyes open for me, yeah? Don’t close them. Are you able to stand up?”

So much blood. The whole floor underneath you is covered in crimson, making it hard to breathe for Nanami. This shouldn’t have happened, he is fucking responsible for this, he should have kept his eyes open, he-

“I’m so sorry about leaving you hanging, Nanami”, you breathe out.

His heart sinks, hand frantically pressing against your gaping wound while his shaky fingers try to dial Shoko’s number on his phone.

“You won’t leave me today. I’m taking care of you. You’re safe with me.”

A weak smile forms itself on your tired lips as he speaks to Shoko on the phone in hushed tones. While everyone around him thinks he’s harsh and cold-hearted, you know that Nanami is in fact a tender man that puts the safety of others over himself without blinking. You always admired him for how he carries himself with so much class, looking cool while doing the most banal tasks.

“How is your pain level? Do you need anything? Shoko will be here in a minute, I promise”, he speaks to you in a calm but shaky voice.

“I don’t feel any pain. I just feel really really tired.”

Your eyes threaten to flutter shut again when Nanami’s thumb begins to caress your cheek gently.

“Everything will be alright, I promise (y/n)”, he softly murmurs.

You can tell by the way he looks down at you that he means what he says, the way his calm orbs glister making you tear up.

“I really wanted…to ask you out…tonight…”

Every word rolls off your tongue like a heavy stone while your mind seems to let you down.

“I would love that. Just stay with me, okay? Then I’ll invite you to dinner, I’ll even cook your favorite meal for you.”

“That sounds…wonderful…”

“But to do that, you’ll need to hold on for me a little longer, sweetheart. Focus on my voice, breathe with me”, he instructs you.

“Can you…hold me for a while?”

“Of course”, he replies without thinking, firm arms wrapping themselves around your shivering body instantly.

Megumi Fushiguro

Even though you feel like fainting, you don’t stop running behind him. Damn, that curse did really hit you where it hurts, your stabbed thigh feeling like it’s going to give up on you with every step you take.

“Did that curse hurt you?”, he shouts in your direction.

You should really tell him, you know you need help as soon as possible. But something inside you is too proud to open up. After all, the boy in front of you is none other Megumi Fushiguro. You can’t show him weakness, not in a million lifetimes.

“No”, you lie.

Just in time, you make it out of the building that collapses into itself behind you, a wave of rubble and ashes blowing over your head while you lay down, trying desperately not to groan. You press your hand against your thigh to somehow stop the pain, only to get greeted by the sickening sight of blood all over your hands. You swallow heavy, blood running between your fingertips.

“(y/n)? (y/n), where are you, oh, there you-“

Megumi stops in his tracks, eyes widen in horror when is gaze meets the flood of crimson that now covers the floor underneath you.

“You idiot, why did you lie to me?”, he hisses, instantly rushing to your side.

Oh god, there’s a gaping hole in your thigh – a gaping hole that runs like a waterfall. While you’re not that critically injured, the attack might have hit a crucial vein or artery. And that means you could in fact bleed out within the next few minutes if he doesn’t act right now.

Your toe-curling cry echoes through the barracks when Megumi presses his hand against your thigh with full force, making you see stars while a big lump forms in your throat.

“Serves you right. You should have told me that you’re hurt, you know that right? How many fingers?”

He holds up his other hand so close to your face that you can see nothing but his fingertips, a silent laughter escaping your blue colored lips.

“I’m serious (y/n)! Stop laughing and answer the question”, he grumbles.

“5”, you reply weakly.

 “It’s two”, he murmurs, eyes scanning over your so worn-out looking face.

“You look rather pale.”

“Oh, I’m not feeling that great to be honest”, you mutter, ice cold sweat clamming to your skin.

He lets out his breath, gaze fixated on you. It seems like his anger fades away the more he looks at you, shivering uncontrollably while your eyes flutter open and shut all the time. Urgh, even though you’re suborn as hell, you absolutely don’t deserve to feel like this.

“Come on, stop acting up. You’ve had worse.”

You don’t reply. Instead, your hand grabs his arm, holding onto him for what feels like dear life as a single tear runs down your face. You hate to admit it, but you’re scared as hell. If feels like life is slipping through your fingers, seconds play before your eyes like a movie. This is the first time you’ve ever got injured like that. And even if Megumi tries to play it cool, you can tell by the way he scrunches his forehead that it’s looking anything but great.

“I just didn’t want you to think I’m weak”, you admit quietly.

His heart skips a beat, his features soften in an instant.

“Are you kidding? I’d never think you’re weak, (y/n). To be honest I’m surprised you haven’t fainted yet”, he remarks dryly.

To be honest he is surprised that he himself hasn’t fainted, considering all the flood that spills through his fingertips. But he has to be strong, he has to get through this with you.

“Pinky promise?”, you croak, holding up your shaky hand with all the strength that’s left in your body.

“Pinky promise”, Megumi whispers, intertwining his finger with your little one.

Toji Fushiguro

“Oooops my bad, that one should have normally killed you”, the man in front of you mumbles, a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

You shake in pure horror, pain rushing through your shoulder as you hold onto the gaping wound his bullet left in your sensitive skin.

“Please don’t kill me”, you weep, crawling backwards until your back hits the ice cold wall.

Spilling tears take your sight completely, you can’t help but burst into weeping without any mercy. Toji stares down at you, cold eyes surprised by your sight.

“I think I’ve never seen someone bawling this much. Did it really hurt that bad, huh?”

You stare at him through wet lashes, whole body on fire when his frame comes closer and closer. No, you need to run as fast as you can, away from this wicked place, out of his sight.

But instead, you sit still, glazed eyes fixated on his stunning features.

Roughly, he grabs your face, making you weep all over again.

“You’re actually quite cute…Maybe too cute to die…”

“Oh, come on sweet thing, stop crying for me will you?”

His thumb traces over your puffy cheeks, wipes away the trail of tears his bullet and the promise of death that’s threatening in his eyes left on your porcelain skin.

You can’t catch your breath, gasping for air like a fish on land with your hand still pressed against your aching shoulder.

“Sorry ‘bout that”, he mumbles, other hand reaching for your shoulder.

“Please don’t hurt me”, you cry out, flinching under his surprisingly gentle touch.

“I’m a man of honor, I’d never hurt you”, he replies with casual voice.

“Ahh, nothing too bad. A few kisses and you’re fine.”

You blink against the swell of tears, urgently trying to calm yourself down. Aching, fear and insecurity simply take your breath away. But the man in front of you…Despite looking so dangerous, it’s almost as if his face softened, as if he really means what he said.

“Now stop cryin’, ‘kay? I’m sorry ‘bout that shoulder of yours, thought you’re here to kill me or something.”

“I would never kill anyone”, you reply with shaky voice.

Why would you come here to kill him? All of this makes no sense to you. You just walked home from work, ready to take a bath and watch Netflix when all of the sudden, all this men came out of nowhere, dragging you along with him until the man in front of you killed them and shoot you.

“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t princess. Just a misunderstanding.”

“It hurts”, you press out, a shocking wave of pain throbbing through your arm when you try to shift your weight.

“Wouldn’t do that if I was you. Let’s make a deal: I’ll get someone to stitch you up and you’ll spend the night with me, huh?”

Your doe eyes stare up at him in nothing but innocence. Oh, you truly know nothing about the cruel world around you, probably not even able to see curses. What a cute little thing you are, too good for the world around you and especially Toji himself. But he just can’t resist.

“And you’re really not going to kill me?”, you whine into his hand.

Gently, he wraps his fingertips around your chin.

“Of course not, princess. You’re way too precious to die”, he purrs.

Geto Suguru

You know that it’s stupid, that Geto is more than capable to look after himself. But the second a curse rushes his direction, you sprint forwards, shielding his body with your own.

Resulting in not only the teeth of the curse scratching your skin, but one of Geto’s curses hitting your head with full force.

You fall to the hard ground immediately, soul leaving your body behind. Instead of pain, you just feel numb, staring into the sound while the only thing that reminds you that you’re still alive is the growing ringing in your ears.

Geto’s heart drops the second you fall to the ground in front of him, naked fear crawling up his spine. No, no, no. This can’t be true. He didn’t just hit you full force, right? Instinctively, he falls to his knees besides you, grabbing your shoulders.

“Please tell be you’re alright, (y/n)”, he repeats over and over, hands holding onto you for dear life.

He knows you are tuff, that you can take a lot. But this…

Please don’t let it be too much.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you”, he mumbles, fingertips now gently stroking over your hair.

All you can do is stare into his brown eyes above you, body refusing its service completely. God, how absolutely stunning this man looks. Yes, it should be forbidden to look this good. Maybe you should ask him out when your mouth is working again, a nice date in a park or something. His facial features look so delicious that you want to let your hands glide along his jawline, just the way the other hand is doing right now.

“I would love to lick that”, you mutter so suffocated that Geto almost misses it.

Almost. Along with your fingertips that move up and down his jaw, his face reddens in an instant. What has gotten into you? Since when are you this flirty, this straightforward? You must’ve hit your head pretty badly.

“(y/n), I think you should see a doctor”, he suggests while awkwardly scratching the back of his head.

“I think I should see more of you, handsome”, you babble out.

“You hit your head pretty badly.”

“And your head is pretty.”

He signs. Although your sugary words make his heart hammer against his ribcage, he has to remind himself that you’re probably having a concussion - at least. At the moment, he can’t take your words seriously, no matter how hard he wants them to be true.

“Okay, I’ll call Shoko now. Do you feel alright? Does your head hurt? Does something else hurt? Please talk to me, (y/n).”

You smile at him widely, too mesmerized by the way that one strand of hair falls so effortlessly on his striking face.

“What a shame I never told you how beautiful you are”, you blurt out, fingertips grabbing nothing but air in an attempt to get a hold of his hair.

He can’t hold a small grin back. God, how are you doing that? Looking so fine with your arm ripped open by a curse and your eyes roaming around without an aim?

“Look, I’m not the brightest tool in the…toolbox.”

Geto raises an eyebrow in amusement at your creative phrase.

“But I…I mean it…Suguru…”, you mutter out his name.

“Let’s talk about this again when your head wasn’t hit by a curse shaped like a huge dragon, okay?”, he softly whispers, hand still stroking through your messy hair.

“Yeah…S-sure…” _____________________________________________________________ Now that you've made it this far

[ssahotchnerr]

heyyy! i was wondering if you could write something where the reader is part of the bau, and their favourite bracelet breaks on a case so aaron offers to fix it for them on the plane? love love love your stuff btw!!! 🫶🏻🫶🏻

the small things

instead of a bracelet i went with a necklace i hope that's alright <3 cw; nothing but fluff, aaron is down bad hehe

every day you took the chance, and you knew it was stupid.

your favorite necklace. your most prized possession. deep down you knew you shouldn't wear it in the field, but the need to have it overruled your caution.

despite being hidden behind the safety of your vest, the chain had given out, snapping amidst the rush of chasing an unsub. you were lucky your vest was so tightly pressed against your body; while it's sole purpose was to protect you from the imminent threat of danger, it's snugness prevented the necklace from slipping onto the ground unnoticed. instead, it had noticeably dropped onto the floor of the suv as you were freeing yourself afterwards.

you felt partially silly for feeling upset over it, it being such a small thing, but it held a lot of sentimental value. a day literally hadn’t gone by where you haven’t worn it.

it helped you think- rolling it between your fingers as you pondered over a difficult profile, or found yourself doing the same in times of stress. most importantly, it made you feel safe. and given your job title, you would take as much of that as you could get.

and aaron noticed.

he noticed it as you became accustomed to the team in the very beginning, every day after that, every time he talked to you. so as you all were packing up to leave the department, it wasn't hard to miss- it's absence was loud. so was the sadness in your eyes, and the strain in your voice as you casually talked to jj, trying to act as if nothing were troubling you.

it was a part of you, familiar. so he could only imagine how you currently felt.

"so," aaron started, taking the open seat to your left. you had secluded yourself from the others, giving yourself the opportunity to wallow alone on the jet ride home. "i know- it's not much, but. do you still have it? your necklace?"

you gave him an almost questionable look, but nodded a yes.

aaron's eyes were soft, trusting as always, but he still asked- needing the permission to handle something that held so much meaning to you. "may i?"

you sat up slightly from your slouched position, granting you the room to fish the necklace from your jean pocket. the broken sight of it caught you off guard again, just as the initial discovery of it's broken state did earlier in the day. you felt a tad sick to your stomach, the object being on your person, for years- more than you could count- brought down to nothing but a scrap piece of jewelry.

nonetheless, you still dropped it into his open palm.

"i thought this could work, for the meantime." aaron narrated as he reached into his suit pocket himself, obtaining a small safety pin. very carefully, he threaded the small needle through the chain, before doing the same on the opposite end. he gestured for you to turn, and you twisted in your seat upon his instruction.

his breath was warm on the back of your neck as he spoke, fastening the safety pin to a close. "again, i know it's not mu-"

"no." you shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. the necklace now hung lower on your chest than you were used to, but it was secure. and right back where it belonged.

to say the least, you were extremely touched, turning back around to face him. you were nearly speechless, finding it hard to form words. "it's perfect. thank you."

the corners of aaron's lips twitched, pulling into a smile. "i know of a good jeweler. he was haley's go-to back in the day, and i still have the number somewhere in one of her old phone books. he's an old friend, so he'll do this as a favor. you won't need to worry about a cost or anything."

your eyes softened more if it were possible. "no, hotch. i-"

"no." he threw your word right back at you, nothing but kindness in his eyes. "trust me. it's the small things, right?"

his words took you by surprise, a soft breath leaving you. suddenly, the world didn't seem as dark. "yeah, it is."

he nodded, his mouth drawing into another small smile as his eyes left yours.

"i'm sorry it broke." his words left him in a mumble, and from the solemn, regretful tone present, one would think he was at fault for your necklace breaking.

sweet man.

you clasped onto his hand, giving it a tight squeeze and causing his brown eyes to meet yours yet again. you held onto the eye contact, not allowing him to tear his gaze away. "thank you for fixing it, aaron. really."

[rumbelleshowdown]

-

Author: sourcherryjam Group: E Prompts:  Feverish dreams.  "At your service, Milady."  Renew.

-

Fever Dreams

A passive sense of worry for her master lived under Belle’s skin at all times. Worry for his safety, worry for his soul, worry for whatever it was that kept him spinning to forget—the usual anxieties from caring about a person who went off to do dangerous things. She’d worried over Gaston, and she didn’t even have the blush of feeling for him that had grown for Rumpelstiltskin. 

When he came home one evening, limped to his tower, and locked himself in, nothing changed—Rumpelstiltskin could heal, after all—but when a note appeared on the tea tray as she prepared it, she froze.

Rumpelstiltskin did not send notes from his tower.

Nearly chipping the rest of the cups, she snatched up the note. Instead of his looping calligraphy, it contained four hastily scratched words: Belle, renew the candles.

“Renew the candles?” She spun around, no idea which candles he might mean. The castle had candles everywhere. Did he want fresh candles in his tower? 

Hoping this was not some magical instruction she’d never understand, she filled a basket with every candle she could find and raced up the stairs. Maybe if she brought a variety, one of them would be correct.

She knocked on the door. “Rumpelstiltskin! I have your candles!”

No answer. Had he disappeared? 

“Rumpelstiltskin!”

She called his name and banged on the door three more times and then, gathering her skirts and her courage, she threw it open. 

The tower was empty save for a ring of five burning candles. She stepped closer. Perhaps those were what she was meant to renew? But how? And none of the candles she’d brought matched the purple wax. No other candles in the dark castle smelled like rosemary.

“Candles,” croaked a voice, and Belle screamed, dropping her basket. Rumpelstiltskin lay in the corner, propped up like a rag doll—now with one eye half-open in bleary annoyance.

“Rumpelstiltskin!” Belle pressed a hand to her fluttering heart.

“Are you daft?” 

Belle pursed her lips. He had no voice, but he was still himself. That, if nothing else, was a relief. 

“What’s happened?” she asked. 

“Renew. Candles. Hurry up.”

She could have wept. “What does that mean, you insufferable man?” she muttered, blushing when he chortled. He didn’t give any further instruction, though, so she headed to examine the candles. They burned evenly, and as Belle moved closer to determine the order in which they’d been lit, she was drawn into the glow. Hardly knowing what had come over her, she reached toward the closest flame, flickering a brilliant rainbow of oranges and blues, and touched it.

She hissed at the burn, but couldn’t stop herself reaching for it again, sure that if she could get past the heat, she would find a gem.

“Belle!” 

She snapped out of it, seeing now the ring of candles, her two burnt fingertips, the normal flames.

“Sorry, I don’t—” The flames enticed her again, and she burnt a third finger before she closed her eyes, shaking her head. 

What did he mean by renew? He didn’t say to change them. What did one do when one renewed something? A renewed vow meant to vow again, the same. Maybe she was meant to light them again? 

But if she opened her eyes, she’d surely be hypnotized. 

“Hurry, he’s almost gone!”

She opened her eyes, spinning around to avoid the flames. “Who?”

“Bae, damn you!”

What did any of this mean? What had she done to deserve his damnation? She strode over to him, and he didn’t acknowledge her, just jerked his head like a string had pulled it. She touched a hand to his forehead, then yanked it away. He was burning up.

“You have a fever, you fool,” she said. “Are these candles even important, or have you sent me on a wild goose chase?” 

“Belle, please.” He cracked an eye again. “The candles.” 

“What about the candles?” Had his damn you even been for her? Who else was he seeing? 

“Candles?” His eyes snapped open, and this time, she could see he was alert. She had been so startled to hear him before, she hadn’t even stopped to consider whether he knew what he was saying or not. 

His eyes narrowed, zeroing in on the candles, and then he lost focus again. She wanted to shake him, and then decided that this wasn’t the worst idea, so she did, surprised at how it didn’t scare her to grab the Dark One by the shoulders and rough him up. As long as he knew what was going on, he wouldn’t hurt her.

She hoped he knew what was going on.

“Rumpelstiltskin!”

Another flash of right-mindedness, and Rumpelstiltskin grabbed her wrist, yanking her down, nearly nose to nose. “Blow them out, Belle.”

Her breath caught, but this was not the time for that blush of feeling or any breath catching at the proximity of his mouth. She nodded and hurried back to the candles.

All she had to do was blow them out. Simple. Easy. 

She opened her mouth to do just that and then she was burning her other index finger, searching for something in the flame that was just out of reach. 

“Not her too,” Rumpelstiltskin moaned. “Please, anything else.”

Belle was too enthralled by the firelight to wonder who this “her” was. The flames danced higher, high enough that she could see people in them—her father, Gaston, even Rumpelstiltskin. If she looked enough at one, the others faded, and as she focused on Rumpelstiltskin’s flame, another emerged. 

The man in this one had Rumpelstiltskin’s face, his little smirk, but he was just a man. He filled Belle’s vision, reaching a hand out to her. 

“Rumpelstiltskin?” 

“At your service, milady,” the man-Rumpel said, ducking into a bow.

She reached for his hand, awed at this version of the man she loved with no trappings of darkness, and burnt her palm. 

“Shit!” she yelped, too far gone to notice she’d cursed. The man-Rumpelstiltskin disappeared, and she clapped a hand over her eyes. 

“Belle, no!” Rumpelstiltskin cried, and she didn’t know if he was talking to her in real life or a dream, so she ignored him, took a mighty breath, blew out the candles, and collapsed on the floor.

She woke in the pile of dropped candles, Rumpelstiltskin standing over her. There was no question of whether he was himself now, just whether he was angry or not. 

Also, had she thought of him as the man she loved? Oops.

“What happened?” She braced her palm on the floor to stand and yelped at the pain.

“I hate to say it, dearie, but you saved our skins.” He knelt down and took her hand, twisting it so he could examine her burnt palm. He waved a hand and the burn healed. “Any more?”

She offered her other hand, the one with all the burnt fingers, and as he examined them, she had the strangest idea he might kiss them. 

He didn’t. He just healed them again.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

“Never better, dearie.” He dropped her hand like it had been the burning object.

“What would have happened if I hadn’t blown the candles out?” She sat herself up again, then reached for his hand to pull her up. A flash of the vision of him as a man filled her eyes, and then it was gone.

“I’d have survived long enough for them to burn out, but you’d have been burned alive most likely.”

“Rumpelstiltskin! You called me up here knowing you’d be okay but I could die?”

He pressed a hand to his heart, but it held none of his usual drama. “I didn’t call you up here, you barged in throwing candles!”

“You didn’t—yes you did!” She fished the note out of her basket and thrust it at him. He snatched it, scanned it, then frowned.

“Well.” He shifted as if his boots had suddenly shrunk. “It appears I did call you up here.” 

She raised an eyebrow, fists on her hips. “Well? Do you have anything you’d like to say to me?”

He waved a hand and all the spilled candles returned themselves to her basket. “I’ll take tea in half an hour.”

Shaking her head, she couldn’t hide her affectionate grin at the way he wouldn’t meet her eyes, and after picking up her basket, she laid a hand on his shoulder. He eyed it like it might attack.

“Thank you for healing me, Rumpelstiltskin.” She squeezed his shoulder, then let go. Even after her hand was gone, Rumpelstiltskin still stared at the space it had been.

“It’s no matter,” he said and then, with no warning, disappeared. 

Left alone in his tower for the first time, Belle grinned, pleased with herself. It was a good thing no one knew that laying a kind hand on the Dark One’s shoulder was all it took to best him.

-

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

I love the dynamic mean Konig has with reader and I had a fun idea about it. Reader knows they can't outmatch Konig in any form, since he's taller, stronger and more experienced in combat.

But one day they have military training using guns with fake bullets for safety of course and reader tries to intimate (take a piece of his own medicine), Konig by targeting only him to lose every round with their sniper skills. They know he's bitter for not being a sniper so outmatching him finally in something they are good at feels amazing.

Although they know how Konig will react to them after the match...

Eeee, I love this 😈🥰 He would be soooooo mad, the consequences would be wild.

cw: throat grabbing, spanking, exhibitionism as a threat

-✨-

"Did you think I wouldn't find out? Hm? Did you think you were safe coming to your room straight after?"

You looked up at König, trying to avoid direct contact through those ominously shadowed eye holes, smile fading from your lips as you regarded him from your doorway. Everything had seemed so low risk earlier. You figured since you'd been subbed in for the other unit's sniper in the training exercise that he'd never know it was you that was repeatedly targeting him...

How had he found out? It wasn’t like he was one for gossip.

You’d laughed so much earlier. Had enjoyed telling everyone in the unit that it was you that was hidden away and taking shot after shot on him. You weren’t laughing now. 

"Oh poor little rookie, I bet you thought you were so clever, as well" König rumbled, shoving right past you and into your room. "I'm sure you thought I'd never work out that it was you sitting in that little corner, all covered up in that balaclava. Well unfortunately for you, your teammates enjoyed laughing at my misfortune a little too much. They were howling about it so loudly I couldn't help but catch who it was in their reverie. Imagine my surprise when I learned that it was you that was targeting me so cruelly."

König's tone had completely shifted. He had forced your door closed and backed you up into it, pinning you against it like the perfect victim. You swore you could feel his breath escaping the hood, hot on your flesh with all the fire of his rage. You swallowed and looked down, practically trying to pick up an excuse from the floor.

"I was just following the instructions they gave us. We were to target your team after all," you said weakly.

He laughed at that, a haunting sound that came throatily out from his hood. His eyes seemed crystalline then, like they were alight with the challenge you'd presented.

"Do you think I'm stupid?"

"No," you said quickly, knowing well enough that you didn't want to make this worse for yourself.

"Then why are you making stupid excuses, Schatz?" he purred.

You breathed out, every bone in your body freezing. You didn't know what to say next. There was no excuse that would be good enough to satiate him now, not now that he had known you'd crossed him and made him look a fool. No one had ever managed to land that many direct hits on him before, no one had even dared, but you'd gone and landed round after round into him, spitting many a fake bullet into his ass.

You had nothing.

Not that König even wanted to hear from you. He proved that much with his next move, reaching his hand up and grabbing your throat. He traced his thumb over one of the hollows of your neck and kept a firm grip with the rest of his fingers, keeping you stuck still like a deer in the headlights.

"What a silly question to ask," he hummed to himself, "how can I expect someone stupid not to give me stupid excuses? More fool me."

With that said he dragged you from the doorway and shoved you toward your bed, pushing you down face first like a heap of laundry. You tumbled onto the sheets with flailing arms, struggling to try and get a grip of the wrinkled folds. It was no use, you were being pinned down before you knew it, one of his hands pressing harshly on your lower back while the other busied itself with undoing your trouser button and rucking them down your legs.

"König! What are you doing?" you gasped, still struggling against his shifting hold.

Once your trousers and underwear were down he'd let you surge up only to send you sprawling again when he manoeuvred himself onto your mattress and forced you across his lap. You huffed and whined, slapping both your hands against his thighs and struggling to push yourself off with all your might. Even with all the huffing and puffing and strength in the world, there was no getting away from König. You were stuck there, legs covered in goosebumps from the cool air. 

“König let me go! What are you doing?” you whined, still all too focused on trying to get away.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m going to give you a taste of your own medicine, silly thing. Lets see how you like getting hit on the ass. Lets see exactly how much you can take.”

You widened your eyes and redoubled your efforts to struggle away, but König rebuked your efforts with a sharp smack, your ass stinging wildly with the force of his gloved hand. You cried out, throat straining with the effort to try to keep silent, not that it worked.

“König please!”

“No, Schatz. You’re going to learn that actions have consequences. Make a fool out of me again and you can bet for certain that I’ll not be so nice as to do this in your room! I will take you in front of the whole army and show them exactly what happens to those that cross me. Would you like that, hm? Would you like me to spank you in front of them all? Would that drive the lesson home?”

He spanked you again and again and with every strike that landed you thrashed and whined and cried out, ass feeling like it was burning as time went on. His hands stoked flames across your skin, but even still he didn’t let up. Not until you were a broken blubbering mess, lying still against his thick thighs without any help from his iron grip. 

All of a sudden it was like the end of battle. All the noise of his unforgiving hand raining down hell on your sensitive skin grew silent and finally the only noise left was your little whimpers as you cried out in full remorse of your actions. Hot tears dripped down your cheeks, and before too many could fall and flood the ground like a children's story, you were hoisted up to face him. 

His eyes were warmer now, a new shine returning to them as the little creases in the corners made an appearance through his thick eye black. You pursed your lips and held back a little sputtering sob, trying to look strong in front of him. Not that that was of any use after the performance you’d given, your lungs were still burning from all the screaming. 

“Oh, my poor little dove. Look at you, it looks like it hurts sitting like that against my thigh - all that hard muscle must be digging into that poor sensitive skin right now, yeah?”

“Y-yeah,” you repeated, blinking furiously.

“What a shame,” he cooed, voice thick with his pleasure. “Perhaps we can distract you from some of the pain, hm? Why don’t you ride my thigh and turn some of that pain into pleasure?”

You gasped at the thought and felt your cheeks heat up, already trying to think of some way out of that. For one, you knew it would be painful putting so much pressure on your delicate skin right at that moment, and for another the whole idea was so embarrassing to you. The last thing you wanted was to get off on his thigh, that seemed so juvenile.

“Can I just lie down instead?” you asked, voice coming out high and breathy. 

“Oh, can you just lie down instead? Hm? You want to lie down instead? What kind of a soldier are you? You’re such a weak little thing. Come on now, rookie. Do as I say. Ride. My. Thigh,” he growled, looking thoroughly displeased as he had to ask you again.

You gasped at the sound, feeling a familiar coiling feeling at the base of your belly. Feeling that oh so pleasant tinglign feeling pool within you, even while you were still whining from your punishment. Even while you were sure that you were going to be struggling to sit down for the next week, and you were sure that he was going to make this a horribly embarrassing experience for you, you were certain of one other thing. He was going to make you feel oh so good. 

It was what kept you coming back to him. Driving you to open your door for him every time he swanned his way over to your quarters. 

“Good. Very good,” he crooned, feeling the way your hips began to buck against him. “But make sure you keep your eyes on me, Schatz, ok? Let me see just how well my little lesson worked. Those little winces you’re doing are so adorable. And don’t make me ask again, alright? Or I’ll have you back over my knee.”

[themurphyzone]

Honestly I think an evil Pinky counterpart would be a good change of pace (and no, I mean a separate character from Dark Pinky). Like, imagine a rodent so fanatically devoted to Brain’s cause that they literally don’t care about anything else except for whatever Brain wants. And the one thing standing in their way of being close to Brain is Pinky himself, and they get so jealous that they try to get rid of, or even kill Pinky and replace him as Brain’s loyal assistant. 

For the angst: Pinky misunderstood Brain’s instructions during a plan, and that mistake costs Brain the world again. Brain is furious, though his quiet disappointment and distance is somehow worse than if he’d just yelled at Pinky. Pinky starts to question if he’s blocking Brain’s progress while trying to help, and this is made even worse when another lab mouse approaches Brain while he’s working and asks to help. 

Though Brain isn’t interested at first and tells the mouse to go away, the mouse manages to connect several wires and attach several parts together. Brain snaps at the mouse, telling him to leave his invention alone, but as he snatches the metal piece out of the mouse’s hand, he realizes that the mouse had put everything together flawlessly without any instructions whatsoever. The mouse reveals that he’s been watching Brain work in the lab and picked up some mechanical knowledge from him. 

Brain is thoroughly impressed. Pinky can’t help but feel jealous of how quickly the mouse has befriended Brain, who realizes that this particular mouse can follow all his instructions perfectly without messing up once.  Pinky wants to befriend the mouse, he really does, but he can’t help but feel that something feels...off. Even though the mouse is perfectly polite to him. 

The mouse is happy at the praise, and Brain invites him along for a world domination plan. 

Pinky is shocked that Brain would even put that idea out. “But trying to take over the world is supposed to be our thing!” he protests.

“We’ve had plenty of assistance from third parties before, Pinky. But I must admit, none of them have quite listened to me as much as this one,” Brain says. “And besides, you’re still coming along so you can watch my ascension to power.” 

Pinky catches a strange look of disgust from the mouse. That same feeling is back, like the mouse is hiding something. But Pinky can’t put it into words, and he feels like a third wheel as Brain and his new friend implement the plan. 

Still, Pinky tries to be helpful. But maybe he’s being too helpful, and he only gets dirty looks when he misunderstands a piece of machinery and nearly throws a wrench into the scheme.

Despite that, the mouse is able to fix everything Pinky messed up. Everything else goes off without a hitch. 

And finally, they’ve reached a critical point in the plan. The world is almost theirs...with just one catch. 

Someone must descend into a very dangerous canyon to plant a piece of equipment onto the cliffside. At this point, it’s so dangerous that even Brain has second thoughts about this plan. 

Desiring to finally prove himself helpful, Pinky volunteers to make the descent. The mouse is fully supportive of this decision. Brain protests, but the mouse tells him that if Pinky is willing to do it, why stop him? 

Brain is silent, but since he’s outnumbered two-to-one, he reluctantly gives in. He spends a lot longer than necessary on making sure the climbing ropes are fully secured to Pinky’s body, and provides him with a headlamp, and gives a long-winded safety lecture to Pinky that kinda goes in through one ear and out the other with him. Pinky is just happy to be getting Brain’s attention. 

Finally, Pinky descends into the canyon. A nervous Brain attentively watches the ropes, calling out to Pinky every few minutes to make sure he’s okay. 

“Why do you even bother with him? He’s gonna mess this one up too,” the mouse says. “Just like all your other plans.” 

Brain gets defensive instantly, though his attention is split between manning the ropes and the mouse. “He doesn’t mess up every plan,” he says. 

“That’s one plan too many. You need a better assistant. You need...someone like me.” 

And the mouse bites through the ropes, the only thing tethering Pinky to the surface world. Brain instantly attacks the mouse for that action, punching him in the face for endangering Pinky. Despite that, the mouse doesn’t seem angry that he was punched, just disappointed. 

Even though Brain is furious that the mouse has endangered Pinky, he also feels oddly betrayed too. He genuinely thought this mouse shared plenty of interests in machinery too, and while he was blinded by this brand new friendship, he’d failed to recognize the hints that the mouse could’ve possibly wanted Pinky gone. 

Though Pinky can’t see what’s going on, he feels a pressure leave his back. Something is very, very wrong. He calls out for help. 

Brain instantly abandons his attack and the only thing on his mind is getting Pinky out of there. 

The mouse calls out to Brain. “I followed every instruction without fail! I put your machines together perfectly! Do you really think that idiot would’ve done such a thing? What does he have that I don’t?”

“A heart,” is the only thing Brain says before descending. 

He finds Pinky, they escape the canyon, but by the time they reach the top, they realize that the mouse is gone. Unbeknownst to them, the mouse has developed a seething hatred for Pinky for having Brain’s attention. 

Quietly, Pinky and Brain head back to the lab in defeat. Over thimbles of lemon and honey, they make their confessions. 

Pinky wants to be helpful while Brain is inventing his cool machines, and Brain had been blindsided to the mouse’s ulterior motives because he believed he’d made a friend outside of Pinky. 

 The night ends with cuddles. And the following night, Brain reveals his next world domination scheme, with just him and Pinky this time. Tonight, he’s going to steal the shoes and socks of the entire US Congress, then trap them in an enormous box made of LEGOS. And without shoes and socks protecting their feet, they’ll develop painful blisters because the floor is made of LEGOS. They’ll be trapped in there until they agree to recognize Brain as the one true leader of the world. 

There’s just one catch. Brain has ordered all these LEGOS and needs Pinky’s help to assemble the giant box to fit the entire US Congress inside.

Pinky happily accepts the offer, realizing that his dream to build something with Brain has finally come true. 

[rea-grimm]

Ghosts of Crimson peak - 2

Your second night in the house was spent doing little more than making the rounds of the hallways, your main target being the forgotten camera in the living room. On the way back, you passed the study where you first saw the ghost. Even now it was open and lit. 

You cautiously walked over to the door and peeked inside. At the desk stood the ghost of the man you guessed must be the ghost of Thomas Sharpe, for no other man had died there. You watched him for a moment and had to admit that he was handsome for a ghost. 

The ghost turned over his shoulder after a moment, as if he thought you were watching him. Your gazes met for a moment before he vanished, and with him the light in the room. After that, you returned to the safety of the room where you spent the rest of the night.

You spent that morning documenting while gathering survival ideas from your fans. Some of them had particularly good ideas. Some of them were pretty questionable, but you decided to try them out anyway and make an episode about whether or not it worked.

One idea you had to avoid the ghosts was to set up traps around the house for the entities to get caught in. You probably believed that the least of all. But you still set about five traps randomly around the house.

The next idea was to cleanse the rooms of all evil and therefore ghosts. You followed the instructions step by step. Whether you succeeded or not, you thought you'd find out later.

In the evening you decided to go explore the house again, to find the ghosts and see if the ideas from the fans worked. For the trip you equipped yourself with a camera and an iron poker, which you used as a weapon against evil spirits. You had to admit, that worked pretty well. 

You found the first evil spirit in the hallway after you left the safe room. It just levitated there for a moment before heading towards you. You reached out and hit it with the poker. As soon as the iron touched the ghost, it dissolved. 

It caught you off guard, but it was a pleasant surprise. With this weapon, you were much more eager to start searching the house. You already felt safer. Though you had to admit that the grave silence that now reigned in the house was unusually eerie. 

Before, the house had been filled with the sound of the floor cracking, the occasional breeze, the occasional haunting piano that started a tune, and so on. You walked on, and on the way you encountered several evil spirits. Nothing your new weapon couldn't handle.

On your way back to the hideout, you decided to check the traps. To see if you'd caught anything or not. Two of the traps were empty, and you expected the next one to be empty as well. Except you could clearly see a figure in the circle trying to leave, but an invisible barrier prevented him from doing so.

"What a pretty butterfly I caught," you said, pointing your flashlight at the ghost, who automatically shaded his eyes. You therefore bent the torch light more towards his feet.

You introduced yourself to him and waited to see what he would do. You knew he was the one who was helping you here, so you hoped he could answer a few questions.

Thomas seemed willing to interact with you and had a few questions for you himself. Mostly about what you wanted there and why you were staying despite all the dangers. No one else has lived there since he died.

You let him out of the trap and you sat on the bed together in the safe room. There you talked long into the morning. You took turns asking questions. When you asked, and then he asked.

You had a good conversation with him, but you got the impression that he regretted what had happened here and that he believed he didn't deserve forgiveness. You wanted to help him. You wanted him to move on and forgive himself. But he stubbornly refused, saying he was a monster who didn't deserve to move on.

In the middle of the night, when you started to yawn more, the ghost said goodbye. He saw how tired you were and wanted to give you a peaceful rest. But you didn't want that. You didn't want him to disappear and you never saw him again. That's why Thomas promised to wait for you.

He did as he said and as soon as you opened the door from the safe room, he was waiting for you. He was even more handsome in the daylight.

You both had your mission. As you tried to explain to him that it wasn't his fault and that you wanted to help him, he tried to convince you that he was the real monster. He made up something different for you every day.

The first day, he showed you Edith's arrival at Allerdale Hall. Even how she tasted the poisoned tea on the first day. You watched it with interest because it was like standing in a movie with no one to see you except your guide.

Thomas brought the tea first to Edith and then handed it to you. You took the cup from him and hesitantly watched the light brown liquid in it.

The next day he showed you his plans and meetings with his sister as they searched for a potential victim to become his wife.

A day later, he showed you again the murders of each woman. It was always too late when they realized what was about to happen to them.

As he showed you all this, you realized one thing. You were right he wasn't at either crime and he was always trying to convince Lucille to stop. Unfortunately, his sister was a strong manipulator and could easily sway him. 

And while that should have discouraged you, it only made you believe that he wasn't responsible. It also led to some pretty ugly exchanges where you both stood your ground. As the days went by, those arguments lessened and eventually Thomas stopped trying to reason with you. Instead, you found him looking at you with eyes you couldn't say no to.

You'd been at Crimson Peak longer than the agreed-upon week. It just took you a while to get all the materials together. You were posting videos regularly, but you still didn't want to leave.

1, 2, 3, 4

[cainluvr69]

A Dream Of Helio Upon The Glinting Blade Chapter 7

Previous Chapter

Owen: ...Haha. You're all pathetic...

Owen was murmuring under his breath, his low voice full of disappointment as he scornfully looked at the panicking knights. His lips were twisted as if he had more to say about them.

Cain: ...

But before he could, Cain closed his eyes and took a deep breath to calm himself. He opened his eyes. His hair, the color of a gentle flame, fluttered in the breeze--like lamplight guiding his people through a blinding blizzard.

Cain: You should already know what you need to do. Do what you must do as a knight. Save those in trouble, and protect your comrades.

Owen: ...

Cain: First priority is to safeguard the spectators! Lead them inside the building before anyone gets hurt in their panic. As soon as you're done with that, ask one of us for further instructions. Understand?

Knight: U...understood! Let's go, everyone. It's time to split up and guide them to safety!

Page: Yes!

Cain's prompt commands had wiped away their fear. They quickly dispersed through the panic on the grounds.

Cain: Chloe, Mitile. Would you mind helping those guys out? The rest of us will figure out what to do about Hector.

Chloe: Got it! Let's go, Mitile!

Mitile: B--but, I'm also worried about Hector...

Lennox: If anyone's been hurt, your medicine will be helpful. Just as there's something only I can do, and there's something only you can do, Mitile.

Mitile: ...Alright! I'll get going!

Akira: Be safe, you two!

Faust: Alright. It looks like things are under control for now.

Akira: Are...are you sure about that? There's swords flying everywhere, and people being puppeted...

Murr: Take a deep breath, Master Sage! The swords aren't going out of their way to attack anyone, and the puppets aren't really trying to kill each other, right?

I made myself take a deep breath like Murr told me to. At the very least, I could take a moment to take another look at the flying swords and the people being controlled. It was true--when I looked closely, I saw that the blades were clashing in places even Lennox couldn't reach by jumping, and they weren't targeting people. The people being controlled were moving robotically. Though they were brandishing swords at one another, it looked like they were more frightened by the fact that their bodies were moving on their own than the fighting itself.

Oz: ...What the blade wants is not blood nor tears, but victory. It is as immature and childish as that page's heart.

Akira: ...Hector...

Cain: ...Yeah. It's exactly because he's that kind of person that he always straightforwardly pursued his dream of becoming a knight.

Cain stared at Oz, reflecting on what he’d said.

Cain: Oz. Is there any way to pacify Hector's sword?

Oz: Force it to experience a loss. It was his desire for victory and his fear of losing that warped it. Therefore, if it loses, it should give up on that desire, and its obsession should wane as well.

Cain: So basically, someone needs to win against him while he's using that sword. I've got this.

Cain lifted the blade that was his magical tool. In all the chaos, this sword was the only one unaffected.

Cain: It's a dream Hector's been pursuing for who knows how many years. I can't let it all fall apart here just because of the Calamity's influence driving things nuts this year.

Murr: Saying things just went nuts this year is a heck of a thing to say! But you're right!

Faust: Because of the chaos that sword's causing, I'm having trouble sensing Hector's presence at the moment. We'll need to search for him as we try to suppress its influence.

Oz: Stay close to me, Sage.

Akira: Understood!

Cain: Owen. Would you mind...

Owen: ...Huh? Obviously I'm not going to.

Owen had been staying silent, but now he turned his back on us. He looked back over his shoulder at Cain. And then he smiled. His irritation was plain on his face, which was odd for him.

Owen: I love panic and mayhem. You should know that better than anyone by now. Bye.

Lennox: He's gone...

Cain: Well, there's no helping it. Let's just do what we can. Time to move!

Akira: Alright!

✦✧☾✧✦

Puppeted Knight: My body's wielding my sword on its own...! Someone stop me!

Cain: Lennox, there's one over there!

Lennox: Got it. <Forsettao Meiuvat>

Puppeted Knight: Th--thank y... Uwah, my sword is flying back this way!

Faust: <Salliuqnart Mullcredo>

Lennox: Thank you, Lord Faust.

Faust: No problem. ...Are you not using your martial arts today?

Lennox: Well, I--

Puppeted Knight: Dammit, I can't let go...! You lot need to run!

Faust: <Salli...>

Lennox: Haaaah! ...Hmph. My apologies, Lord Faust. I think I will be sticking with martial arts.

Faust: ...Heh. It suits you.

Murr: <Eanul Lambru>!

Puppeted Knight: I can finally let go of my sword! Thank god...!

Akira: Thank you so much, Murr!

Murr: Of course! Troublesome things are fun! How about you, Oz? Do you like troublesome things? Since one's happening right now.

Akira: Huh?

Murr pointed over Oz's head. I looked up, only to see a nearby sword swinging down on Oz.

Akira: Uwah?!

Oz: <Vox Nox>

Oz gripped his staff and uttered his spell, his expression not moving even a bit. The swords whirling about in the air instantly froze in place. And then, like a silent, silver rain, they fell to the ground.

Akira: Stopping them so easily... You really are amazing, Oz.

Murr: Aww. Looks like it wasn't that troublesome after all?

Oz: I am used to being challenged by those drawn to my magic. Even in situations like this.

Oz turned towards Cain, who was knocking a sword out of a page's hands and narrowed his eyes, just a little.

Oz: ...However, for Cain, there is meaning in bringing this to a close by his own hand.

Knight: Sir Cain!

Some knights ran over from inside the building.

Knight: All spectators have been evacuated. Please allow us to assist here!

Cain: Yes, thank you! Use your sword sheaths or whatever else you have to get those swords away from the people being controlled.

Faust: Do not touch the swords. Touching them will immediately overtake a human.

Page: Understood!

Lennox: How are the spectators? How are Mitile and Chloe... How are the brown-haired and red-haired wizards that went with you?

Page: Everyone's okay! A few people were injured in the panic, but nothing too serious. They're receiving treatment from people who know first aid, and that bright wizard boy.

✦✧☾✧✦

Mitile: Apply the painkillers, and... How's that? Does it still hurt?

Injured Woman: No, it feels much better. Thank you.

Mitile: Thank goodness! Take care of yourself, okay?

Injured Boy: Sniff, sob...

Chloe: Mitile, can you help treat this kid, too? He fell and cut his knee while he was evacuating.

Mitile: Got it!

Injured Boy: Uuu... It hurts...

Mitile: You're gonna be just fine! Here, this is some medicine that'll make you feel all better.

Injured Boy: Sniff... Okay... Thank you, Mr. Wizard.

Knight Instructor: Thank you for assisting with treatment. Thanks to you wizards, it looks like everyone's calmed down now.

Mitile: Ehehe, I learned first aid from my teacher. I'm glad I had extra medicine on me today!

Chloe: Thank you so much, Mitile. I always relied on Rustica's magic, so I don't really know what to do here...

Mitile: Don't worry about it. This is something only I can do, so I'm sure there's something only you can do too, Chloe. To be honest, I really wanted to fight alongside Leno and the others, but...right now, I'm glad I came here instead.

Chloe: ...Something I can do...

Instructor Knight: Is there anyone available to do another check of the main grounds? We need to ensure no one got left behind!

Chloe: ...Alright. Um, if it's okay, I can go! I'll be able to use magic to protect anyone who got left behind while bringing them back here.

Instructor Knight: Really?! Please do! Thank you, Sage's wizard.

Mitile: Take care, Chloe!

Chloe: Yep, leave it to me! I'm on my way!

✦✧☾✧✦

Puppeted Knight: Uurgh...! I don't want to fight...!!

Knight: Hold on! I'll save you right now!

Owen: ...Haha, what a nice view. Screaming and crying and chaos everywhere. It's like we've fallen right into hell.

Well-dressed Knight: Just stop! You can't win against me with only a sheath!

Young Knight: I can't just run away! Dammit, this sword's a bastard...!

Well-dressed Knight: Watch your language!

Young Knight: Is that really what you should be worried about right now?!

Owen: ...

Young Knight: Damn, it's hard to fight with nothing but my sheath... ...Wagh!!

Well-dressed Knight: Ahh, it's useless! This sword can't be stopped...

Owen: <Quare Morito>

Well-dressed Knight: Ugh?!

Young Knight: Lord Marshal?! Hey, you, wizard! Why did you just knock Lord Marshall away like that?!

Owen: Just for fun. He's just getting swung around by his own sword, all confused and chaotic. Your superior's pretty pathetic, huh?

Young Knight: How dare you...!

Well-dressed Knight: Urgh... S--stop. He knocked the sword away from me. I'm just fine. You’re from a rural area, so you may not know the particulars, but surely you can see he's one of the Sage's wizards. Thank you very kindly for saving me.

Next Chapter

[singledarkshade]

Infiltration

Part Two

(Part One found here)

Jack O’Neill stepped out of Cheyenne Mountain for the first time in three days and took a deep breath of the clean crisp air. It had been a long few months, setting up the base but it felt like finally they were there.

Hammond was up to speed on everything, Jack had sorted out the first few teams who would be going through the Gate, Carter had her science teams up and Jackson had his translation team ready to go.

“Sorry,” Sha’re said as she appeared at his side, “I was finishing work Dan’iel asked me to pick up while he is off.”

Jack nodded, “No problem. Let’s get out of here and let Sara remember what we look like.”

She gave him a smile and they headed to his jeep. While he drove, Sha’re sat staring out the window and he was sure he had an idea what she was thinking about.

From the moment Daniel Jackson had joined them, Sha’re had brought his name up in just about every conversation they had. Sara had threatened him with sleeping in the garden if he dared say anything to the younger woman. If Sha’re had a small crush then it was a good thing, considering what had happened to her in the past nine months. Jackson seemed like a nice guy, technically older than her but considering a year on Sha’re’s planet was longer than Earth’s it equalled out. He wasn’t sure if Jackson had any interest in her, only because he hadn’t seen them in a room together, but did know that he’d insisted on learning how to speak Abydonian as well as Goa’uld.

Outside of that, Jackson was good at his job. Despite being young, he knew his own mind and Jack had already witnessed him putting older scientists in their place when they tried to take over meetings.

The one thing that Jack discovered accidentally was that the other man had been living at the base since he’d joined them, he had thrown himself into setting things up as well as going over everything they already had, not taking any time to find a place to live.

When Jack mentioned this to her, Catherine arranged an apartment for him, then Jack banished him from the base for three days to move in and sort it the way he liked. It also got the younger man to spend some time in the fresh air.

Reaching the house, Jack swung the jeep into the driveway. They had a few days off themselves before he started leading his team, SG1, off-world.

~

Daniel looked around his new apartment Catherine had found for him. It was a very nice place. Quite big, with a balcony off the living room and kitchen. It did only have one bedroom, but it wasn’t like he expected guests.

He’d been sent out of the base for the next three days to get settled in, and because someone felt he was working too hard. In reality, Daniel was enjoying himself because this was the work he’d wanted to do when he was a child, when his parents had been alive it was his dream to work by their side.

Being an agent who had to change his identity constantly as he moved around was not something he had ever expected and sometimes he wanted to just be him.

With so little belongings, Daniel was moved in within the first few hours. Since he was being himself then he was able to display the photograph of his parents that he normally kept hidden in a safety deposit box along with their diaries and wedding rings. Now he had to find something to keep himself occupied for the next few days before he was allowed back to work.

As he was about to make himself something to drink, his phone buzzed.

You have time off, the message read, report to provide update.

Sighing in annoyance, Daniel grabbed his wallet and keys before heading down to his car. He checked the address on his phone before pulling out the parking space, annoyed that he wasn’t getting at least a day of peace, but he knew he had no choice.

Reaching the address he’d been given, he parked the car, and another message appeared giving him further instructions.

Why did everything have to be so complicated?

After a ten-minute walk, Daniel found an office building and walked in. The receptionist looked at him expectantly.

“I have an appointment with Mr Smith,” Daniel stated.

“Name?”

Forcing himself not to roll his eyes, Daniel replied, “Mark Jones.”

She looked at the screen and nodded before handing him a pass, “Take the elevator on the left and go to floor ten. Conference room, Applewood.”

Daniel took the pass and followed the instructions, finding the conference room and took a seat waiting. After a minute the door opened, and Smith walked in.

“Report.”

“There’s not much,” Daniel told him, “I’ve been working on setting up the department as per the job I was hired for.”

Smith grimaced, “So, you’ve not ingratiated yourself in with the people you are there to ‘befriend’?”

“I’ve barely met Carter, we work in different areas, O’Neill is rarely outside his office or the General’s other than to eat and doesn’t like scientists,” Daniel explained.

Smith mused for a few seconds before asking, “Which of the women have you decided is best for a seduction play?”

“Sha’re,” he replied shortly.

Smith frowned, “Who?”

“The one you called Cheri, her name is pronounced Sha’re,” Daniel explained, “She’s been assigned to me as my aide, so we have plenty of time together.”

Smith motioned him to continue, “And?”

“And nothing has happened yet,” Daniel told him.

“Really?” Smith looked confused, “You normally don’t take this much time. I remember on one mission it took you less than thirty-five minutes to charm one of your marks.”

“Sha’re is not only young, but inexperienced. She’s also from a culture where her father would arrange her marriage,” Daniel explained, “She’s not going to just fall into bed with me, no matter how charming I am.”

“Then your plan is?”

“You told me I’ll be there for months, likely years,” Daniel stated, “She’s not the bored wife of a diplomat who can be easily swayed by someone simply paying attention to her. This works better slowly.”

Smith grimaced before nodding, “Fine. Next, you need to get on one of the off-world teams.”

“What?”

Smith stared at him.

Daniel sighed, “I was sent in as an academic, I would have acted differently if I’d known you wanted that.”

“Work it out,” Smith told him, “Dismissed.”

As Smith left the room, Daniel groaned. Now he had to think of some way to get himself onto an SG team.

That was not going to be easy, especially as O’Neill hated scientists.

                             *********************************************

“Can I help you, Dr Jackson?”

Jack leaned back in his chair looking at the head of the archaeology department standing in the doorway to his office.

“I…” Jackson said hesitantly, bouncing slightly nervously before straightening himself and stating, “I’ve been thinking that the off-world teams should include someone not only able to speak, but also learn other languages that may be encountered, and who can determine the cultural significance of any ruins or artefacts found.”

Jack frowned, “Yeah, not my main priority.”

“It should be,” Jackson stated stubbornly, “You can’t just start running around pointing guns at people, because you don’t understand them. I know the customs of multiple cultures who likely will have been transplanted from Earth, I also speak over twenty languages which will soon include two more since I’m learning Abydonian and Goa’uld.”

Grimacing, Jack knew he had no choice, “Fine, I will speak to General Hammond about this. But you will need to be fit enough to keep up with us and learn how to protect yourself as well as your team.”

Jackson gave a slight amused smile, “When I was at school, in order to pass the class, I ran track. I still do. Plus, I had to be able to use a gun on dig sites for protection.”

“Good to know,” Jack replied.

Jackson nodded and left the room again. Jack grimaced, he did not want a civilian on his team, but knew if he didn’t speak to Hammond about it, Jackson would. He’d learned through Sha’re’s almost constant chatter about the guy, that he was tenacious and would not let this go.

~

Daniel let out a slow breath once he left O’Neill’s office, he was annoyed that Smith hadn’t given him this information at the beginning of the assignment. This was not the straightforward job he expected. He had no real way of getting in with Carter, their specialities were far too different for it to be easy to start talking to her while O’Neill was too military and didn’t care about Daniel’s work.

But if he was put on SG1 then he would be able to work his way into their lives as a colleague they had to spend time with.

Reaching his office, Daniel smiled to himself to see Sha’re sitting in her small section studying one of his books.

He was stunned by how beautiful she was and wished that he didn’t have to get close to her because he was ordered to. She was someone who he wanted to get to know better for himself. A feeling he’d never had before around any woman he’d known.

But he also knew he had no choice. He knew that Smith would have sent more than just him into the SGC who would report back if he didn’t follow orders.

“Dan’iel,” Sha’re said, seeing him standing there, “How did it go?”

He shrugged, “I’m not sure, but I think O’Neill will talk to General Hammond.”

“Of course he will,” she smiled.

Grabbing some coffee from the fresh pot that Sha’re must have made between him going to see O’Neill and returning, Daniel settled down to do some work.

He hated how much he loved working here because not only was he spying on people he was working close with, but he would have to leave at some point.

It was almost two hours later that Daniel became aware of someone else entering his office.

“Colonel,” Daniel said when he saw the man standing there, “What can I do for you?”

“I spoke with Hammond,” O’Neill said, “And he agrees with you.”

Unbidden the smile touched his lips, “He does?”

“Don’t be smug,” O’Neill stated, “Especially since you’ve been assigned to SG1, so it means I expect you to be able to keep up with the rest of us.”

Daniel grimaced.

“Be nice, Jack,” Sha’re spoke up from her desk.

Daniel watched as the older man turned and gave her an innocent shrug. It was the first interaction he’d seen between them and the clear affection for Sha’re that O’Neill held was intriguing.

“I’m just here to let Dr Jackson know that our mission has been postponed until Friday so I can be sure he is not only fit enough to keep up with us, but is also prepped with all weapons,” Jack grinned at Daniel, “Oh nine hundred tomorrow morning in the gym.”

“I’ll be there,” Daniel told him.

O’Neill left the office and Sha’re moved to him, “I told you they would agree.”

“You were right,” Daniel smiled at her.

She touched his hand, “And do not worry, I will speak to Sara tonight to ensure he is not too hard on you.”

Daniel smiled, gently touching her cheek, “I don’t think I’ll need that, but thank you.”

~

Jack stood just outside Jackson’s office watching the small interplay between him and Sha’re. He knew Sha’re had a crush on Jackson, but from the few moments he’d witnessed it seemed that Jackson was taken with her. Knowing the culture Sha’re came from, this was something that was probably outside her experience and Jack had promised to look after her when her family had died, so he would get Sara to talk to her. Make sure she wasn’t being pressured into something she wasn’t ready for.

Not that he didn’t trust Jackson, from what he’d seen the guy didn’t seem the type who would do that to her, but Jack had always been overprotective of his people and Sha’re was now his family.

He was looking forward to seeing what Jackson could do and kept thinking of having Teal’c put him through his paces, it would be fun for him to watch anyway.

                             *********************************************

Daniel sighed in relief to be back in the SGC.

It had been a hard day traipsing around in the mud, trying to find where the signal they’d detected was coming from only to find a downed ship that was almost completely destroyed giving off a dying signal. Carter had found some things that she felt might be useful, but it had been a total waste of time from a cultural point of view.

However, for Daniel it had been useful for him to get to know the other members of his ‘team’ and start on getting them to trust him. Carter was easy, they had different specialities, but he found someone who he could bounce ideas off of and who he could work through theories with. Despite being military, she was quite an open person, who Daniel found was happy to talk with him about anything.

O’Neill was a little harder, but using the knowledge about his son and the fact Daniel himself was an orphan helped soften the man’s attitude towards him. He ensured he added a few mannerisms whenever he talked to the older man that would remind him of his lost son, which would subconsciously bond him to Daniel.

Teal’c was the hardest to get to know. The former First Prime of Apophis was very closed off, and getting anything out him was like trying to get blood out of a stone. Daniel was still musing how to ingratiate himself in with the Jaffa and had an idea hearing about the meditation that Teal’c did each night but just had to get it firm in his mind first.

“Welcome home, SG1,” Hammond stated, “How did things go?”

“It was wet, muddy and a complete waste of time,” Jack stated before conceding, “Well, Carter picked up a few toys but other than that nothing that would help us fighting the Gould.”

“Dr Jackson?” Hammond asked.

Daniel grimaced, “As much as I hate to agree, Colonel O’Neill is right. There was nothing of any cultural significance there.”

“Report to the infirmary,” Hammond told them.

Since the age of fourteen, Daniel had been trained to survive on little sleep, but there were days after missions when he felt utterly exhausted. And he’d only been on the team for a month so far.

“Welcome home, SG1,” Dr Fraiser said as they trudged into the room, “Grab a bed.”

As they all took a seat, Daniel could see the staff were running about and there seemed to be a quarantine set up.

“What’s happening?” he asked the nurse who passed them their scrubs.

She glanced over at the section before replying, “SG3 came back from their last mission and have developed some kind of illness. We’ve set up a quarantine, no need to worry just now.”

“It’s the ‘just now’ that worries me,” O’Neill noted.

They each closed the curtain to change into their scrubs, and Daniel sat wondering what was happening.

~

Daniel chewed on the end of his pen as he studied the statue in front of him, suddenly aware that Sha’re was in the office as well. He could hear her shifting around which confused him because she was normally as focussed as he was when working. Daniel looked round surprised to find her standing right in front of him.

“Are you alright?” Daniel asked, seeing she seemed to be perspiring slightly and breathing heavily, “Sha’re?”

He was stunned as her lips were suddenly on his and she climbed into his lap. Catching her so she didn’t fall off him, Daniel tried to end the kiss without hurting her, except he was trapped between her and the desk. He felt Sha’re’s hand slide under his t-shirt and knew he had no choice, otherwise something would happen that once she was in her right mind would embarrass her.

Daniel shoved himself forward, standing and managed to pull away from her. Pushing Sha’re off him, he grimaced when she dropped to the floor then let out a growl and he could see her face was changing. She charged at him suddenly, grabbing him and Daniel let out an oomph as he landed on the ground with her on top of him. Feeling her lips on his neck, Daniel rolled them. He stood and caught her hand, pulling her up, throwing her over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift before starting to the infirmary.

~

Jack grimaced as he watched Carter squirming on the bed, wincing at the scratches on his neck from her. That was going to be an interesting conversation with his wife.

“Medic,” Jackson’s voice came as he appeared with Sha’re slung over his shoulder who was struggling to get away.

“What happened?” Jack demanded, helping him move her to a bed and seeing she was infected with whatever this was as well.

Jackson grimaced, “She attacked me, from what I can tell she was trying to mate with me.”

Jack frowned.

“I didn’t do anything,” Jackson assured him before asking, “What happened to you?”

“Carter,” Jack explained, getting a nod as Fraiser appeared, “Doc?”

She shook her head, “I don’t know. I am working on it but right now I only have theories.”

Daniel looked at where Sha’re was struggling against the restraints they’d put on her, “What can we do to help?”

“I need to check everyone’s blood,” she told them, “You’re going to give a sample.”

“And?” Jack asked.

She sighed, “Stay out of the way.”

They nodded before Daniel caught the doctor’s arm, “Can I sit with Sha’re?”

Fraiser nodded, “Of course. Just be careful.”

Jack smiled slightly as he watched the younger man sit at Sha’re’s side, concern on his face while Jack headed to talk to Hammond.

                             *********************************************

“How you feeling?”

Daniel looked up to see O’Neill standing at the foot of the infirmary bed he was forced to stay in, “Still a slight headache and a little bruised, but I’m okay. How is everyone else doing?”

“Trying to get their heads round what happened, while Carter is avoiding me,” he shrugged, “I’m about to head home for the first time in a week to tell my wife what happened, with a large bunch of flowers.”

“How does that work?” Daniel asked before clarifying, “How much does she know about what we do here?”

O’Neill gave a slight smirk, “The basics, but she knows enough. Since I had Sha’re staying with me when we got back together, I had to explain that. She has been given clearance so we can let her know what’s going on. It was one of the things I insisted on when I took the job.”

“Must be nice,” Daniel sighed, “Having someone to share the chaos we see with.”

The older man nodded.

“What about you?” O’Neill asked, “You managed to make some friends outside the base since you got here?”

“I don’t exactly spend much time outside the base,” Daniel shrugged, “If I’m not on missions, or training, I have a lot of work to do.”

A frown developed on the other man’s face, “Look, I like that you’re invested but the last thing I need is you burning out. When did you last have a day off?”

Daniel grimaced; he liked being in the base because there was less chance that someone in the agency was watching him. He knew there were other agents in the base, but considering how much he had to work at the job he’d been hired to do, it was doubtful they could watch him without drawing attention to themselves.

“You’ve been talking to Fraiser,” Daniel finally said.

Shrugging O’Neill admitted, “She’s worried you’re overworking and will burn yourself out.”

“This is how I always work,” Daniel replied, knowing it wasn’t the best answer he could give.

“The deal is,” Jack told him, “That you will have the next week off. Go fishing or something. From now on when SG1 is stood down, then you leave the base. I will be checking on you and I will recruit Sha’re to spy for me.”

Daniel chuckled softly, before he sighed. Not what he wanted but it meant the colonel did care that Daniel was healthy.

It was a start.”

“Okay,” Daniel said, “Once the doctor releases me, then I will take a week off.”

~

Entering his office so he could set things up for his week off, Daniel frowned when Sha’re jumped at his presence.

“I didn’t think you would be here,” she whispered, eyes down and he could see the blush on her cheeks.

Daniel stayed back from her and replied, “I’m just sending a few things to Dr Ellis to pick up in my absence.” He paused before asking, “Are you okay?”

She glanced up at him, “I feel fine. I…” she hesitated before taking a deep breath and rushing through, “I am so sorry about what happened.”

“Hey,” Daniel moved to her and gently touched her chin so she would look up him, “That was not your fault. The disease tapped into primal urges,” he gave her a smile, “I’m actually really flattered you chose me as your mate.”

Her blush deepened.

“And…” he lowered his voice and gave her a smile, “It was a nice kiss.”

She bit her lip, “I am glad you are not angry.”

“Why would I be angry that a smart, beautiful woman kissed me?” Daniel stepped back and changed the subject, “Look, I’m being forced to take some time off, so I’ve decided to explore the city a bit, and I know you moved here not that long ago either.  Would you like to join me one day?”

“I would like that,” Sha’re said.

Daniel beamed, loving she said yes and hating that he was doing this on orders.

[hqmillioncorn]

Lalapril 4/2:  Guild

It had been only a few months since Babycorn had first heard Cherrypit speak more than one word at a time. Since then he’d been running around excitedly pointing out and telling his sister all sorts of things he could say in at least five words or less.

Babycorn was happy to listen until the day he spoke the words-

“I wanna fish!”

Cherrypit held the just-little-too-big-for-him fishing rod in his small hands and kicked his legs happily. The water under him splished and splashed, a sure sign that what he was fishing for was down there.

“Fishy~! Fishy~! Fishy!!” he sang to himself and any other fishies in the ocean that would care to listen.

He was finally doing the exact thing that he had been begging Babycorn to do since they came back to Limsa Lominsa, and that incredibly specific thing was fishing!!!!!!!!! YEAH!!!!

He was so happy about finally getting to fish that he composed an original song all about how excited he was to go fishing. 

The melody was repetitive and it only consisted of one lyric so far but the people around him seemed to enjoy it, and none more than Babycorn who was listening to him from a safe six fulms away.

From behind a barrel.

As Cherrypit’s song reached the chorus he took a second to look back at his sister. “Bebe! Fish! Look! Look!” He wiggled the fishing rod in his hands and the line wiggled in place like one of the worms Babycorn had eaten.

Babycorn’s fearful gaze finally peeked through from behind the safety of her barrel. “D-Did you catch one?” Babycorn had already told him that when he caught the fish he needed to run over to the fisher’s guild and quickly turn it in.

It wouldn’t be too hard for him to do, given that they were right outside it and the distance wasn’t enough to sever their life thread. 

Babycorn gave them these specific instructions because she knew the first thing he would do was run to show the fish to her. Because of her aversion to fish Babycorn also knew that the first thing she would do once she set her eyes on the monstrosity was let out a loud scream.

The last thing she wanted to do was attract any unwanted attention.

It was better that she observe and watch him from a distance for now. Until she actually worked up the bravery to even walk into the fisher’s guild.

Cherrypit wiggled the fishing rod some more and shook his head. “Not yet!” He just wanted to make sure Babycorn knew that the fishies were coming. Sooner or later.

For a while that’s where they stayed.

Every few minutes or so Sisipu would walk out just to check if Cherrypit was still fishing on the same part of the dock as before. She had to admit, it was a bit of a shock to have a two-year-old waddle into the guild and ask to join. Especially a two-year-old that seemed so strangely familiar.

But she figured it wouldn’t hurt to give him the ‘Baby’s First Fishing-Rod’ they had in the back for some reason.

Maybe it had been fished out at the harbor at some point?

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

As the sun began to set on Limsa Lominsa Cherrypit was no closer to catching a fish as he had been that morning. That, however, did not deter his enthusiasm to catch a fish nor did it decrease Babycorn’s fear of being near a wriggling, disgusting fish.*

*Babycorn’s opinions on fish are hers and hers alone.

Alongside the many other people that walked past him was a happy couple. He turned to give them a little wave, not noticing as the fishing rod started to slip out of his hand. The couple increased their walking speed once an extra helping hand to hold the fishing rod emerged from Cherrypit’s mouth.

Just then-! A shake! A wriggle! Coming from Cherrypit’s fishing rod!

Babycorn shrieked despite the actual presence of a fish. “Cherry! Cherryyyy!!!” She danced around in a panic and tried her best to point at him while averting her gaze, “Cherry! The fish! The fish is there! Hurry up and catch it and get it over with! Please pleasepleaseplease uwuauwabuwbaubuwuuu” She crouched down and covered her eyes.

Cherrypit’s extra arm retracted back into his mouth and he put total concentration on catching the fish foolish enough to take his bait.

“Fishie! Fishie trapped!!” He taunted.

Cherrypit’s strength was nothing to be laughed at so reeling in a fish was literal child’s play to him. The problem came when just a simple pull caused the fish to be propelled high into the air.

“Ack?!” Babycorn watched as the fish looked to almost reach airship levels of height and start to come back down. To Babycorn’s horror the dreaded fish looked like it was going to land right on her precious baby brother. 

“NOOOO!!! Cherry! Watch out!” Babycorn emerged from her hiding place and leapt to cover Cherrypit from the horrors of a fish landing on him.

“Bebe?” He was a little confused. Try as he might, he was unable to pull her off.

Then the fish landed on Babycorn’s head.

This caused Babycorn to faint immediately.

“Cherryyy…T-The fish…Wa..a..a...” Were her last words before she lost consciousness.

Cherrypit was confused at his sister’s sudden nap but he also couldn’t have been any happier. “Bebe! Bebe look!” Now that Babycorn had fallen back on the pier Cherrypit could move around and go pick up the fish that had plopped back to the ground. He grabbed it and held it up for the world to see.

“Fishie! Fishie! Look Bebe loooook!” Cherrypit had no idea what kind of fish he just caught. He also didn’t know that it was not the fish he was tasked to catch. “Mama! Papa! Look! Fishie!” Cherrypit held the fish in all sorts of different directions so their mama and papa could see from wherever they were.

Then Cherrypit grabbed the fish with his mouth and picked Babycorn up from the ground with both his hands. Something he was very used to doing by now. 

“Go Bebe!” he started his waddle back to the Fisher’s guild.

[meownotgood]

family life / hayakawa aki

raising a family with your husband, aki.

pairing: hayakawa aki x gn!reader

genre: headcanons / fluff / domestic

note: this post is sfw, but this account contains nsfw content. please do not follow if you are a minor.

❥ Aki, would you ever consider starting a family with me? — When Aki first heard you ask him this, the two of you sat quietly at the dinner table, his face promptly flushed a warm shade of red. He hesitated for a moment, tapping his silverware idly against the table. You stare up at him expectantly, and with a deep breath, then a trip and stumble over his own words, Aki replies, I- I'd... Yeah. I'd consider it, yes, definitely. I would love to.

❥ Honestly, he's already considered the idea numerous times, he just never assumed it would actually end up coming to fruition. From the day he married you, and from the moment you took his last name, he thought he'd love to settle down with you, to raise a family and grow old alongside you. But, he assumed it was just wishful thinking, just a pleasant dream to fantasize of from time to time; how would someone like him ever be lucky enough to live that kind of life? 

❥ Well, it seems like he is that lucky, and when it comes to raising a family with his beloved, with you, he couldn't be any happier. 

❥ Aki would be lying if he tried to say he wasn't nervous — Actually, he tries his hardest to make you believe that he isn't, but you can see through him better than he thinks you can. In reality, he's terrified. He has no idea how he's supposed to raise a child, hell, he was hardly raised himself. What if he screws this up? What if he was never cut out for this, to be a father? 

❥ Thankfully, you're there to reassure him, to let him know that you're a team. The both of you can do this, together, and even if you mess up, everything will work out in the end. You know it will. And when he knows that you're there to help him, Aki feels a whole lot better. 

❥ Aki spends his free time reading parenting books to make sure he's prepared. He checked out every single one he could get his hands on at the library. During your late night conversations, he tells you some of the useful things he learned from them, too. You're not sure if they're all that necessary, but you can't help but admire his enthusiasm. 

❥ He quits smoking. Aki has been wanting to quit forever, honestly, but this was the final push he needed to never smoke another cigarette again.

❥ When it comes time, Aki helps you decorate your spare bedroom to perfection. You paint the walls together, Aki reaching up to get the spots you can't reach. You smear some paint on this focused face when he isn't paying attention. The both of you get distracted, until your faces, hands, and clothes end up covered in more paint than what you were able to get on the walls. Aki tugs you in by the waist, placing a deep, tender kiss on your lips, before softly whispering, I'm so excited, sweetheart. We're gonna make the best parents, I know it. 

❥ You and Aki pick out everything you need — A crib, blankets, stuffed animals, pacifiers. In the time since you've been married, you've become familiar with Aki's softer side, how his stoic act is just a facade. Nowhere else is it displayed more than here, when he helps you choose the absolute cutest items. Hey, sweetheart, which do you think they'll like more, the duckie or the kitty? 

❥ He spends hours putting together the crib, powering through the complicated set of instructions. He's so proud when he shows you how he finally managed to put it together, and when you fling your arms around him and tell him, It looks perfect, I love you, he's certain the struggle was worth it. 

❥ Aki also spends hours baby-proofing the entire house, to a degree so meticulous that you can't help but giggle. He hunts down every single outlet in the house and gives it a safety cover, he puts locks on each doorknob (even the cabinets), and he tests all the furniture in the house to make sure nothing will fall. You find his carefulness to be sweet, but after he's spent hours rearranging and stressing, you wrap your arms around his shoulders, place a quick kiss on his cheek, and tell him it's alright to take a break for now. 

❥ And when the day finally comes, when the two of you finally bring your baby home, Aki is sure he hasn't cried more than this in his entire life. His eyes are red and puffy, his cheeks tear-stained; he sticks to you like glue, adamantly refusing to leave you or his son's side, not even for a single second. 

❥ He's so damn happy, he can't even believe this is happening. Aki stares at your son like he holds the world in his itty bitty hands, like if Aki stops looking for even a moment, he'll wake up to discover this was all just a dream. Just one of his many fantasies that he replays in his head as he falls asleep holding you close. But, no, it's real, and it won't change, no matter how much he worries that it will. When Aki remembers this, he feels a huge wave of solace, and a steady, love-sick ache settled in his heart.

❥ You haven't stopped holding your baby since you've left, so when you're finally home and able to lower him into his crib, Aki is immediately wrapping his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. His tears soak your shoulder, his hands ball up your shirt, his little sniffles and sobs muffled as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. I'm so happy. I'm so, so happy for us. Aki pulls apart from you then, and his hand trembles when he brings it to your cheek. I think this is the best day of my life. 

❥ Things are a little rough at first, as the two of you struggle to get a handle on things. Truth is, despite the numerous parenting books and hours spent preparing, neither of you have any idea what you're doing. For the first week, Aki thinks he got a full five hours of sleep in total, or no, maybe four hours? He was so exhausted he could hardly remember. 

❥ The baby won't eat, then he won't sleep, then he cries and cries and neither of you have a clue why — Aki begins to think maybe he really isn't cut out for this. When the two of you lay in bed, the baby finally quieting for what feels like the first time in ages, Aki holds you close to himself. His voice is shaky and weak when he tells you how he's worried, how he's so scared because he has no idea what to do, and no-one to tell him. Do you think I'm doing something wrong? I really… I really don't wanna mess this up. I'm sorry. 

❥ He feels the stress melt from his shoulders when you rub his back with your palms, muttering sweet words of reassurance into his ear. Just the sound of your voice, the way you promise him that you'll be here with him every step of the way, I know the two of us can do this, Aki, it'll be okay — He didn't realize how tired he was until now, so it isn't long before your peaceful words lull him to sleep. 

❥ As things go on, everything gets easier and easier. Aki starts to get the hang of it, becoming more and more comfortable, learning techniques for every situation. He's figured out how to handle things on his own, so you can head to work while he stays home. You were a little nervous for him at first, but when you came home from work to see Aki sleeping peacefully with the baby in his arms, you felt all of your worries wash away. 

❥ There was one time, though, not too long after you took your baby home, where he happened to fall ill. The doctors told you it was nothing to worry about, that this is rather normal, and he should get better soon, but that didn't stop Aki from worrying his head off, nor from sleeping beside the crib every single night. 

❥ Your heart feels warm to see your husband fretting so much over your baby boy, but all of his worrying built up a bit of a bad habit. Your child started requiring that Aki sleep beside his crib every night if he's ever going to get any rest. 

❥ Aki keeps his hand stuck in between the bars, so your son can wrap his small hands around Aki's thumb. Allowing him to fall asleep like this seems to be the only way to get him to sleep soundly all night, so Aki props up a chair and makes himself comfortable. You can't remember how many times you came into the spare bedroom and wrapped a blanket around your sleeping husband's shoulders before your son was finally able to break the habit. 

❥ The two of you debated profusely over what your kid's first words would end up being, until one day, when you came home from work; Aki didn't even give you a chance to kick off your shoes, swiftly grabbing your hand and leading you into the hallway. He drags you to the spare bedroom, and with a warm grin tugging at his cheeks, he says, Look, sweetheart. Look at what I taught him to do. 

❥ Aki goes on to show you how he taught your kid to say his name — Your son reaches up, gesturing grabby hands at Aki before babbling his name, Aki!, until Aki finally picks him up. You give your husband a playful shove, pretending to be annoyed that it was his name your son ended up saying first, but honestly, the way he says it is so cute that you don't have the heart to be at all disappointed. 

❥ Although… Aki's teachings did end up causing one repercussion. Now, your son thinks Aki is synonymous with getting what he wants, so he tends to say it whenever and where-ever. Even when Aki isn't present, your son is gurgling his name, saying it when you give him his favorite toy, or crying it when he wants you to hold him. It's a little endearing, sure, but it takes longer than you expected for him to finally learn your name. 

❥ Aki has no problem taking care of your son by himself if you've had a long day and need to relax. He greets you with a kiss at the door, gently pulling your coat from your arms, massaging the tension from your shoulders beneath his hands. Long day, baby? I know, I ran you a hot bath, it should be ready in a few minutes. I'll take care of making dinner tonight, you just relax. 

❥ As your child grows, Aki mellows out, seeming to ditch any semblance of his old, stern persona in favor of a much sweeter one. You notice how he's a lot calmer, a lot more relaxed. However, even if he's a lot gentler now, he still speaks to his son a lot softer than he speaks to everyone else, his voice taking on a particular comforting tone, no matter the situation. Hm, you said you broke something? Oh, don't cry, it's alright. It was an accident, I'm not mad at you. We can clean it up together, okay? 

❥ Your son's particular sort of endearment with his father is probably because Aki tends to spoil him to high heaven, buying him anything and everything he could ever want, making him whatever his little heart desires for dinner, and taking him to wherever he says he wants to go. You don't even know what excursions they're taking at this point, you just come home from work to Aki and your son playing with manta ray stuffed animals, and Aki has to explain, Oh, we went to the aquarium today, sweetheart. I think rays are his favorite animal now, he seems to really like them.

❥ Aki always makes sure to carry around plenty of packages of candy and sticks of gum in his pocket to keep your son satisfied. His car is filled with coloring books, stickers, toys, and pretty much anything your son could ever ask for or need. 

❥ Although Aki is prepared for every situation, he's a worrier at heart, so he still tends to stress about anything related to your son — Is he gonna be okay to sleepover at his friend's house? I told him to call me if he needs me and I'll come pick him up right away. He has my number, he won't forget it, right? — You frequently have to remind Aki that it's okay, your son is capable of handling himself, so there's no need for him to fret so much. Just relax. 

❥ When you and Aki realize you haven't been able to get much time alone, you'll hire a babysitter, so that the two of you can go out and spend a nice date night together. And if your son ever happens to go to a friend's house, you can bet that you and Aki are going to make good use of the time you're able to spend home alone (well, if the two of you end up spending all that time just napping or doing chores, that's fine, too). 

❥ At first, Aki is extra worried when it comes time for your son's first day at school, but when he comes home with a huge smile on his face, excited to tell you and Aki about all the fun he had, Aki seems to loosen up rather quickly. 

❥ Aki makes packed lunches for your son every day, and puts his backpack on his shoulders before he walks out the door. When he comes home, Aki is seated beside him at the dinner table, helping him with his homework. Your son is always telling you about how his classmates are all jealous of his fancy lunches, how he always brags to them about how amazing of a dad Aki is. You laugh, ruffling his hair, before leaning down to say, You better make sure you tell your dad that. 

❥ Aki thinks he's always gonna love when his son calls him dad — He never imagined he'd get the opportunity to be a father, and to such an amazing son, at that. You and Aki are the most doting parents, bragging about how much you love your son to the point where other people might even find it annoying. Aki hardly cares, he feels so happy and unbelievably lucky, and he wants anyone and everyone to know it. 

❥ Whenever your kid brings home an art project from school, or a worksheet he did, Aki saves it. He saves literally everything to the point where your attic is overflowing from every sketch and every project your son has ever completed. And when your son draws a messy stick figure drawing of you, Aki, and him, Aki keeps it stuck to the fridge forever. 

❥ Mornings spent with your husband quickly become your favorite part of every day. You wake up to a soft kiss on the forehead, to Aki's arms wrapped snugly around you, and to him whispering into your ear, Good morning, love. Did you sleep well? 

❥ The two of you enjoy your time alone early in the morning, before your son has woken up for school. Aki brews you both some coffee, sipping it out of his "World's Best Dad mug" that your son bought him for his birthday. He makes sure to sneak in as many kisses to your lips as he can before it's finally time to fully start the morning. I'm gonna go wake him up, you can go back to bed if you'd like. I'll join you in just a bit, I promise. 

❥ Your nights together are a close contender for second favorite, though. You get some time to talk to Aki about your day, or just reminisce on things, like the way two nostalgic lovers always do. Aki absently runs his fingers through your hair, his voice heavy and tired as he teeters on the edge of falling asleep. I still remember when he couldn't even walk, and now he's running miles for his sports team every day. Mmm, it's been so long… Can you believe it, sweetheart?… Oh, are you asleep already? 

❥ Sometimes though, your son will tiptoe to you and Aki's shared bedroom, asking if he can sleep with you since he had a bad dream, and those nights, those nights are the best. Cuddled up with your whole family, enveloped in warmth and comfort — You can't help but savor this moment, and Aki can't help but wish it would never end.

❥ Aki takes holidays extremely seriously, always trying to make sure each one is the best it can be. He bakes homemade cakes for every birthday, decorating the top with frosting and numbered candles. He stays up until 2am wrapping presents from "Santa", but getting to eat the cookies you baked as a family the night before, and seeing the excited look on your son's face when he comes to the present-filled living room on Christmas morning makes it all worth it. 

❥ When your son has his baseball games, Aki is always screaming the loudest, cheering for him until his throat aches every time he hits a home run, before turning to you with an excited smile. Did you see that? He's doing so good, wow. I'm… I'm so proud. 

❥ And when he has his piano recitals, you and Aki are dressing up fancy, stopping at the store to buy a bouquet of flowers, and making sure you get seats in the very front row. You're sure at the end, you heard Aki clapping the loudest, too. 

❥ Aki feels fortunate to call you his family, and even if he worries sometimes, or even if he struggles, he's certain this life is how everything was meant to be. Everything flies by so fast, until days turn into months turn into years, and every day, Aki still thinks he's going to wake up from some sort of dream. Well, if this is a dream, it's certainly the best one he's ever had, and he hopes from the bottom of his heart to never awake from it.

❥ When you, Aki, and your son visit his families gravestone together, Aki has a bit of a somber expression on his face, his brows furrowed, as if he's lost in thought; you ask him if he's alright, and your son chimes in, saying something about how he seems like he's sad. Aki simply shakes his head, turning to you both with a faint, but warm smile. His cheeks are red from the cold, and wisps of icy breath are expelled from his mouth when he deeply sighs. I'm alright. I'm so, so grateful for you both, you know. You two are the only family I could ever need. 

[kingsholomon]

A real idiot. That was what Lucifer believed himself to be. Not all the time, but at the moment he might as well be wearing clown makeup and that ridiculous rainbow afro.

“Lucifer, I need to talk to you. It’s about your brothers, I’d like to express my concerns with you so we could work it out.”

The tense memory of Diavolo’s stern voice played again and again in Lucifers thick skull. How could he be so stupid?

“I know you’re trying your best to keep your brothers in line, but so far, it’s almost like… and I regret that I must put this harshly— it’s almost like you’ve done nothing.”

Lucifer cringed. His mind running with regret, stress and anger. He’s finally slipped up— He’d finally commited the act he’s feared the most: Disappooint Diavolo.

The pride demon had been minding his own business, sorting misplaced files in Lord Diavolo’s study, as requested. He always knew that Diavolo was like a ticking time bomb, a man could only have so much patience. He’s tried very hard to keep his brothers in check, yes, but it looks like he’s run out of time. Fire only reaches you quicker if you don’t move.

Lucifer felt as if he was going insane. Every time he laid eyes on one of his younger brothers he wanted to claw them into bits because of their treaterous misbehavior, but at the same time he just wanted to grab them by the wrist and run far, far away.

He couldn’t do that though.

He debated whether to tell them about it so that they see the sour fruitage of their foul actions… At the same time, they’d probably say something snarky towards him, not taking it seriously.

They never took anything seriously, really.

Wether it be each others feeling or even schoolwork. They never really… cared.

“Your brothers don’t understand that there is a time and place for some things, and I kind of… need you to drill it into their heads.”

“I’ve been trying to do that but they won’t—“ Lucifer slightly raised his voice.

“Lucifer.” Diavolo’s voice was steady, and collected. A calm but assertive call that made the avatar of pride shut his lips.

“Your brothers came over a week ago to come and clean as you ordered them to for punishment. Which, yes, fair enough. However, they were intsructed to be quiet, since a noble family was coming over on that same day.”

Lucifer swallowed nervously. He knew this story.

“I think you could guess that they didn’t follow any instruction.” Diavolo’s voice suddenly shifted. It became dark, and his gaze more piercing. He was getting angry.

“They even went as far as to tear the very large—“ Lucifer braced himself for what he was about to hear. ”Very expensive—“ Lucifer felt like he was about to cry. ”—and very rare painting of my father in the treasure room.”

“That crosses every line.” Lucifer nodded. His brothers didn’t tell him this part of the story. “I won’t hold you accountable for it, though. I’ll give you some more time to figure out your family problems. If you fail, however.”

“I’m going to have to… condition your brothers myself.” The larger demons voice was terrifying. Lucifer almost felt the need to drop down to his knees in pain. Diavolo was not even trying to make it sound nice anymore.

Those were the last words that Diavolo spat before turning on his heel towards the door. Barbatos was supposedly waiting outside. due to Lucifer’s recollection of hearing the butlers vouce before his senses blanked out.

His heart was violently beating against his ribs.

He wanted to die, right then and there.

He feared his own, and the safety of his family.

He needed to do something, and fast.

Lord Diavolo’s use of the word conditioning was nothing to take light-heartedly.

The avatar of pride finally admits something he thought he’d never;

He was scared.

[dinogoose]

so, baby, can we dance?

“Dance with me.” A hand outstretched, palm facing up, inviting Buck to dance. He hesitates.

“Eddie- we can’t just dance.” He says, having no better argument.

The soft smile on Eddie’s face goes nowhere, in fact it grows even more fond. He nudges his hand forward again.

(or, buck and eddie dance.)

“Dance with me.” A hand outstretched, palm facing up, inviting Buck to dance. He hesitates.

“Eddie- we can’t just dance.” He says, having no better argument.

The soft smile on Eddie’s face goes nowhere, in fact it grows even more fond. He nudges his hand forward again.

“Come on! It’ll be fun. You may be uncoordinated but I’m sure you can keep up.” The brunet teases, causing Buck to scoff.

Eddie’s house is dark, the sun having set long ago. The crescent moon offers zero illumination, their only source of light coming from the TV.

On screen the credits roll steadily, a soft love song playing through Eddie’s speakers. Eddie had turned to Buck when the song began playing, saying, ‘My sisters taught me how to dance with this song.’

The imagery of that made Buck’s head feel fuzzy and warm, his heart gushing with feelings he’s no longer pushing down.

Then the older man sprang up, just as the chorus played, reaching out to bring Buck to his feet with him.

“Fine.” He takes Eddie’s hand, allowing him to help him up. Even once he stands, Eddie doesn’t let go, instead holding tighter.

His hand is warm and callused. Rough edges, and scars connected to safety and comfort. Hands of someone who has fought, and struggled his way through life. Buck wants to study Eddie’s hands. He wants to study every part of him.

“I’ve got two left feet, so you may break a toe or three.” Buck tells him, Eddie laughs, bright, the noise a gorgeous melody to Buck’s ears. Eddie places his other hand on the blonde’s waist.

Warmth seeps through the fabric of his shirt, burning Buck. He has half a mind to check and see if Eddie’s hands are actually on fire.

“It will have been worth it.” Eddie’s eyes crinkle up happily, and Buck feels himself flush.

Buck raises a stiff arm, resting his hand on Eddie’s shoulder. Their hands are clasped together, lifted into the air to get into formation.

“Relax. It’s just us.” The older man breathes out, close enough that Buck can feel his breath, warm on his face.

He’s right, it’s just them, Buck and Eddie. He’s being stupid. If he’s with Eddie then he’s fine.

Sighing, he melts under Eddie’s touch, finally allowing himself to enjoy this.

The song repeats the chorus once more, and Eddie begins swaying them back and forth. A gentle rocking. Buck finds himself following him, just as he does everyday, in everything.

They are partners in every sense of the word and Buck would do anything so long as Eddie was there with him.

“Follow my steps.” Eddie instructs, before slowly stepping.

Eddie’s left foot moves forward, his right one going diagonally. Then he brings his left foot to his right, before stepping back with his right. His left foot goes behind him to the side. Finally his right foot joins his left, in the same spot he began.

“Simple enough right?” Buck’s head is spinning, but he nods anyway. Like, come on he’s a big strong firefighter how hard could dancing be-

“Oh fuck! I’m sorry.” He steps right on Eddie’s foot. Buck cringes as Eddie just shakes his head. He moves again, Buck watching attentively.

Eventually Buck gets it down, moving gracefully with the man he loves, even as the movie ends, the only sound in the room being their breathing.

His heart no longer aches with love- now it sings, harmonizing with his soul, giving his entire being to the man before him.

Despite being the taller of the two, Buck leans down so he can rest his head on Eddie’s shoulder. The other man strokes his sides up and down in a soothing motion.

“This is nice.” He whispers, muffled by Eddie’s sweater. Eddie hums in agreement.

“The song’s over.” Eddie says after a moment, he doesn’t stop swaying however. Buck just nods, aware of the quiet, aware of the only light in the room being the oven light.

A kiss is planted on his hair, lips lingering just a beat too long, but also not long enough.

“I’m pretty sure you’re falling asleep on me.” The brunet tells him the words close to Buck's ear.

“You’re the one who wanted to dance this late.” Buck scolds, his voice too happy for it to work.

“Mmm. Sorry, next time I’ll remember that you’re old now. Can’t have you staying up past your bedtime.” Buck scoffs, kicking Eddie in the shin. Eddie laughs, biting his lip to keep from being too loud.

Buck pulls back to look at him, to stare at this ridiculous man who wanted to dance ‘just cause’.

In this peaceful house that has become Buck’s home over the years, Buck feels brave. He wants to spill his heart, his brain out, for Eddie.

Wants to tell him that he began falling in love after the earthquake, never admitting it to himself, until Eddie was trapped in a well, leaving Buck to desperately claw through the ground to him.

He wants to tell him how he feels incomplete without him. A person missing a fundamental part of themself.

He wants to tell Eddie everything, but for now, he will start simple.

“I love you.” The words a confession, a fact, the truth. Always the truth.

“I know.” Eddie says, his teeth poking out. Buck pokes him in the ribs.

“I love you too. Although I’d love you more if you stopped stepping on my toes, and went to bed with me.” Buck stares, admiring Eddie in the darkness. Even though he can’t see much, Eddie is still the most beautiful person Buck has ever met.

“I warned you!” Buck whisper-yells, Eddie just huffs out a laugh shaking his head. Unspoken words are communicated through looks. They know one another, they know what’s coming next. Even if it’s terrifying, and difficult, they will always have each other.

Eddie drags them both to his bedroom. His hand never leaving Buck's.

(the song they’re dancing to is the readers choice :] )

[twentytworoses]

SOUKOKU HOGWARTS AU

Chuuya Nakahara

Gryffindor but the Hat very nearly sent him to Hufflepuff (Chuuya overheard someone in the train say that Hufflepuff is a house for ppl who aren't special and he tried to change the Sorting Hat's decision bcs he wants to look cool lmao)

He's good at Defense but someone constantly needs to remind him to use his wand, not his fists.

He doesn't care about his grades, until he met Dazai and suddenly everything became a competition.

He's got a black cat named Arahabaki and he's a little demon (Baki hates Dazai and thats why Chuuya loves him)

His rivalry with Dazai is widespread and professors have to keep them away from each other to avoid stirring fights.

He doesn't give a shit about house rivalry because Kouyou is a Slytherin, he'll beat up anyone who annoys him no matter their house.

Chuuya is a half-blood

Chuuya's housemates are confused with his relationship with Dazai; they say they hate each other but most times, you'll find them hanging out even in their free time. (this is mostly bcs of Dazai who goes out of his way to find Chuuya and annoy him and suddenly they spent the whole day together)

He's amazing in Quidditch, and has a talent for Charms. He later becomes the Captain.

Tachihara, a gryffindor and his teammate, is Chuuya's best friend (I LOVE THEIR RELATIONSHIP DONT @ me)

Nobody mentions his height. NOBODY.

Dazai Osamu

Before the Sorting Hat could fully reach his head, it screamed "Slytherin!" almost immediately.

Dazai hates green, and complains about how the colors don't match his fashion sense

Dazai's background remains a mystery to everyone. He has qualities that make up a high-class pureblood and his clothes are all tailored expensively, and yet no one knows who the fuck he is or where he came from. When someone asks, he bullshits his answer every time.

In big parties, people has seen Dazai interact with Mori Ougai (the Minister of Magic) in multiple occasions and people suspect that he might be Mori's ward or son he's kept hidden all this time.

Dazai mostly fools around, doesn't take anything too seriously and yet his housemates are fucking terrified of him. Students from other houses don't understand the fear considering they only see him as a "goofy" slacker.

Dazai isnt friends with anyone in his house, and if he isn't seen with Chuuya, he's with Oda, a Hufflepuff student who's two years older than him. They have an inseparable friendship and Dazai grows to respect him.

Oda is the only person Dazai is willing to listen to.

In potion making, Dazai is kept in a seperate table, alone, where he just sits there, not doing anything until all of the students finished with theirs. He's only allowed to do his potion when he has a supervisor watching him bcs he's drank or exploded his cauldron so many times that he's a safety hazard to his classmates and himself.

He's shit at Potions and following basic instructions.

He could score all of his subjects perfect, but he doesn't want to.

Yes, Dazai threw himself into the Black Lake. And jumped from the Gryffindor tower. And broke curfew to explore in the Forbidden Forest where he met a giant spider. And drank a highly dangerous potion before getting disappointed that he grabbed the wrong one. And—

Dazai broke every rule there is and somehow, for some ungodly reason, he isn't expelled yet.

Once a slytherin student was curious about what's under Dazai's bandages and snuck in his room to peak while he was dressing. He never came back the same again.

Professors rarely call Dazai out for recitation, because he'd always add an unnecessary comment and most of the times its directed to Chuuya and given the redhead's fiery attitude, Chuuya responds back and Dazai eggs him on until it ends with an inevitable brawl.

Someone spread rumors about Dazai had killed someone in the past; the fact that Dazai can see Thestrals and never denied anything doesn't help at all.

Dazai is incapable of producing a Patronus.

MORE SOUKOKU:

Chuuya knows something about Dazai's past considering when they first met, there was an instant resentment and familiarity. These two clearly had history together before they attended Hogwarts.

Dazai's grades are higher than average, but not like impressive. The only time he's ever shown a bit of seriousness in his grades is when Chuuya challenged him, and suddenly, his grades are all O's (except for his Potions LMAO). Chuuya loses.

No one's sure what the losing punishment is but Dazai now calls Chuuya his "dog" and Chuuya's face explodes into color but interestingly, the redhead doesn't oblige.

Dazai bemoans about the Quidditch matches as tacky and boring but he never shows up late when Gryffindor's team is playing.

Chuuya's Patronus turns out to be a dog and he threatens bodily harm on anyone who'd tell on Dazai. Everyone wants to keep their heads so they agreed to keep their mouths shut.

When Oda graduated on his last year, Chuuya and Dazai's relationship changes. They still argue, still claim to hate each other, but they appear closer.

Dazai becomes touchy and Chuuya doesn't brush it off like he used to. Their arguments are less heated, and more playful banter.

"We're not dating!" a voice booms at the gryffindor table once, when heads are turn to Chuuya, his face is all red and Tachihara seems tired about something.

A ravenclaw student sent a love letter to Chuuya, and a week later, a Troll invaded the girl's dorm (no one knows how it even got in) and she nearly got stuck with it. In the same week, someone pointed out marks on Chuuya's neck

"It's a mosquito," Chuuya answers venomously. "An overgrown, annoying mosquito."

Dazai seems to find his answer so hilarious.

Here's the link for the Shin Soukoku Hogwarts AU

[shoutogepi]

Entertainment

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𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮 𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 5.3k

[ ☁︎, ✘ (nsfw 18+!) ] angst, smut

𝐛𝐢𝐨 : Much to your chagrin, you realize you have feelings for your explosive coworker with benefits... (continuation of FYIJM/Orange Lambo)

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : ahaha whaaa i bet you had thought this series was abandoned! well, surprise update. i realized the other day that i hadn’t updated this series in a year oops so... have this haha. for those of you who foresaw the angst... great job hehe. also please beware this is unedited... and for that i apologize~

𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : once again, reader is meant to be a fellow pro hero working at the same agency as Bakugou! so Y/H/N is meant to be read as “your hero name”.

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   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

🄳ark shadows stretch along the tiled floor of the office, cast by the bright moon hanging high and proud in the sky. The fumes from the bustling city are strong challengers to the magnificent orb of light, but they only succeed in swallowing the stars twinkling across the planes of the sky— for the moon beams through them and illuminates the tears glittering down your cheeks.

Bakugou’s hand is firm around your throat as he presses your form against the glass of the floor-length window, your nipples dragging along the chilled surface. You sob in pleasure as his hips dig into your ass, his cock plunging into you. As soon as your mouth opens, his palm slides to cup around your cheek, shoving two thick fingers between your teeth and pressing down against the back of your tongue as far as they can reach. His movements are rough and ravenous, and flush with desire.

Just how you like it.

And he knows it.

Your teeth clamp around the digits and Bakugou releases an angry moan, hooking the fingers around your teeth and throwing your head to the side. “Fuckin brat,” he snarls, his other arm tightening around your stomach to press your back snug against his sturdy chest. “You’re gonna pay for bein’ bad, slut.”

His hips begin to slap mercilessly into you, his hard cock smashing deep into your core, again and again. Your disobedience withers as you’re overwhelmed with pleasure, body melting from his touch to curl into the curves of his instruction. Spine arching and feet sliding apart to welcome him even deeper inside, Bakugou grins at how easily you're broken, his hand leaving your waist to clap against your ass.

A moan decorates the glass with frosted white as you shuffle forward from the spank. Somehow his name tumbles from your lips in a winded cry, and his teeth sink into your neck as his growl vibrates across your heated skin. Your pussy clenches down on his thick length, and he moans even louder into your neck. His palm plants tiny explosions onto your ass as he slaps you another time, only prospering further as you clamp onto him again. “Fuck, you’re tight for a slut, y’know that?” He groans, tongue flicking along the fresh indents of his teeth on your throat.

“If anyone’s the slut here—“ you gasp as his fingers finally move out of your mouth to snag around your neck again. He squeezes the sides of your throat, daring you to finish your sentence. But you’ve already started your counter, and you aren’t backing down now. “— it’s you.”

Even if you had managed to snag a final breath as you finish talking, it’s stolen from you when a feral Bakugou roars behind you, ripping you from the glass and pivoting to shove you across the surface of his tidy desk. You whimper as his cock drags along your slick walls, his balls beginning to slap into your clit mercilessly and sending tingles through your skeleton. You swear and he laughs harshly, both hands gripping onto your hips as he hammers you into the desk. “I’m the slut?” He parrots, giving your non-reddened ass cheek a hard blow with his explosive palm. “When you’re the one who’s begging for me to fuck this sloppy little cunt? Look how wet you are,” he comments, a thumb trailing over your ass to touch the excess slick at the base of his cock. “Shit,” he grumbles as he moves the digit over your ass, dipping into your puckered hole easily with plethoric lubrication.

You whine at the stimulation, his thumb diving into you and rubbing inside. “Katsuki, a-ahh,” you gasp as his hips begin to pick up the pace again, an expletive falling from your lips after a moan.

“Y’like that, hah? See, you can’t even prove your case, Princess,” he chuckles, rolling his hips to grind against your sensitive walls. The action makes a purr of pleasure rumble from your throat, back bowing to offer your ass to him even further, meeting his circling hips. Your submission only spurs him on, his hands pushing your hips back into his in perfect synchronization. “Whose pussy is this?”

The question falls from his lips without thought, and his vermillion eyes widen as he realizes his mistake. Yet what horrifies him is that you don’t pause— you don’t even stray from your perfect speed to match his hips, not even a second out of line— you moan, and reply to him eagerly, “Yours, Katsuki— yours!”

And even though terror floods past the dam he’d so carefully constructed around his heart, his body crumbles at your answer, the spring in his stomach compressing as he nearly cums right there and then. He wants to choke out that he’s close, but somehow he croaks out a command instead. “Then cum for me. Cum on my cock— fuck...”

In your haze of lust you don’t notice how soft his voice has become. You let yourself topple over the edge, pussy squeezing him tight as your orgasm washes over your body. It’s sinfully encaptivating; a tiny morsel of what you can only imagine heaven must feel like. Bliss crashes through you like heavy tides on a rocky sea wall, drenching you completely in sweet, refreshing euphoria.

Bakugou’s tempo is swift and hard, but he relents after a few seconds with the way you milk him like a vise. He gasps as he nearly cums inside you, pulling out at the very last second and painting your back white with his load. He groans as his fist jerks around his cock, head thrown back in ecstasy as he empties his balls onto the canvas of your moonlit skin.

It’s quiet, save for the cocktail of ragged breaths huffing from the pair of you— coming down from your highs and minds clearing of the lust that so easily had dominated you just moments ago. Bakugou falls back into his desk chair, free hand opening a drawer to grab a package of wet wipes. He snags a sheet from the container, hissing as the cool wipe slides along his aching cock. A second towelette glides down the expanse of your spine as he cleanses you of his release, and you hum as he drags the other side of the  cloth between your thighs with care.

Cautiously you crawl off his desk, legs twitching as tiny, lingering shocks from your orgasm zip along your limbs. As the lascivious fog begins to clear, the air in the room becoming still and laden with perspiration from your passionate session, your stomach begins to turn. Your brain begins to work again, your heart seizing in your chest as you watch Bakugou tug up his pants. No part of you wants to follow his actions, and yet your body moves on its own, fingertips dragging your leotard up your legs. It’s his office you’re in this time— and he clearly wants you to leave if he’s dressing this quickly.

Bakugou doesn’t say a word, red eyes flicking over your hurried figure. He frowns, though that’s not unusual for him, and swallows back the lump in his throat. Would you stay if he asked you to? The answer surely must be no, and he growls at the thought of fucking this up— whatever this is— by asking stupid questions. What you said was in the heat of the moment, prompted by him himself; certainly you were just desperate to cum, desperate for your high. And yet he can’t stop himself from calling out to you just as you’re about to slip around the corner of his office door.

Bakugou looks just as surprised as you when your name slips from his lips. You stand there in the middle of the doorway, frozen with your doe eyes glued to him expectantly. He doesn’t know what to do— what to say— but somehow he manages to speak. “Grab your stuff and meet me in the garage in five.”

He wants to slap himself. Did he really say that?

You’re stunned, frozen to the spot and blinking at him blankly. Your lips part to respond to him, and yet nothing comes out. All other words failing you, the only thing you can think to say is—

“Okay!”

You blurt out like a buffoon, turning on your heel and making your escape down the hallway, away from the intensity of his gaze. Your heart pounds in your chest, and you try with all your might to squash down the giddy butterflies bursting in your stomach. Logically, it would be sound to assume he’s just taking you to your apartment. It’s late, and the city is dark and filled with all kinds of characters— not like you’re a fellow pro-hero who can protect yourself of anything.

You try your hardest not to let your imagination wander as you’re packing away a few folders from the safety of your office, but you just can’t help the warmth that rises to your cheeks. Perhaps he’s taking you somewhere else? But then again, at this hour, the only other place he could really be taking you is… his place.

No. No way that could be possible. Just— no! You shake your head, smoothing down the skin-tight material of your hero suit before grabbing your bag, jacket thrown over your shoulder as you rush to the elevator.

Bakugou is already in the garage, leaning against his sleek, orange sports-car with something akin to a grimace marring his handsome face. At the sight of you exiting the elevator doors, he pushes himself upright, bulging biceps uncrossing as he makes his way toward the driver’s side of the vehicle. “You sure take your time, Princess,” he comments, vermillion eyes twinkling with snarkiness. “No wonder you’re always playing catch-up on the agency leaderboard.”

Just like that, he’s back to being Bakugou.

“Playing mean to cover up being decent for once?” You retort as you swing the passenger door open, slinging your bag onto the ground before your legs follow, ass meeting the expensive leather seat.

All he gives you is a classic tch, in true Bakugou fashion, before the engine roars to life. You give him your address before he can ask, and he responds with a grunt before he shifts the vehicle into drive. The noise echoes off the cement walls of the garage, and the car’s purring continues as it exits the building. The lacquer shines glossy in the moonlight— the very same moonlight that had kissed your lewd face just ten minutes ago as the man beside you had ravaged you. The recollection makes your eyes move away from the blonde, instead opting to focus on the very interesting interior of the door.

The drive is quick and void of sound, save for the howl of the wind pouring in from the cracked windows. There’s no music, and no conversation, but still, you can’t help the content blooming in your chest. This is the first time that Bakugou has offered to drive you home. Well, besides that one incident that happened a few weeks ago when he took you to that park and… took you for a ride, so to speak. And in this very vehicle. The memory makes your heart race, your teeth taking your bottom lip prisoner.

In no time, you’re pulling up in front of your apartment complex, and your breath hitches as the car comes to a stop. The air is heavy and full of tension, and you can’t help but steal a glance over at Bakugou. The blonde is sitting rigid in his seat, brow furrowed and frown evident on his lips. His hands are wound tight around the steering wheel, and it takes a moment for him to face you directly.

Before you can make a word— a sound, even— Bakugou’s hand cups your face. His touch is gentle, patient as he brings your face to his. When your lips meet, a whimper crawls from your throat. His mouth is warm, movements cautious as his lips brush against yours. The sweet, smoky, caramel-like smell of him twists around your senses, and you lean into his touch, enamored.

It’s unlike anything you’ve ever experienced with him...

And it’s over immediately.

Bakugou moves backwards, crimson eyes wide and watchful, wary of your every move. Your lips are still parted, and you blink at him as you take in his retreating face, dazed. There’s a pregnant pause as you take each other in, your fingers going to brush your lips in shock. His eyes trail over your lips before he looks at you again. Maybe you’re just imagining it, but there’s something in his gaze that looks a lot like longing.

“Goodnight, Princess.”

His deep voice rumbles in his throat, and goosebumps rise along your skin as his saccharine choice of words sinks in. Your brow furrows as you soak it in, lips parted but no sound coming out.

The look you give him is inquisitive.

But Bakugou only sees it as accusatory.

His demeanor hardens by the second— the brief softness that had just been exposed fleeting fast as his arms cross over his chest. “You gonna sit there all night, dumbass?” He hisses, beautiful red orbs turning into slits.

“Katsuki,” you whisper, reaching out to him. It’s the only thing that your body allows you to say, shellshocked at the vulnerability you’d just seen from him— a revelation as impressive as if you had discovered a new species.

Bakugou only glares at your outstretched fingers, jamming his finger into the side of the door to unlock your own. “Just get out,” he orders. And somehow seeing you flinch at his words, watching as the hurt flashes on your face for just a moment— it spurs him on. “I got someplace to be already.”

With a tight chest, you push your door open, grabbing your bag and casting one last, furtive glance at the explosive man. But his eyes are only on the steering wheel, so you sigh and pick up your jacket from the seat. “Goodnight, Boom-Boy,” you murmur as you retreat from the vehicle, allowing the door to shut.

Little do you know, his gaze follows you until your figure disappears through the heavy doors of the foyer, leaving him alone to the torments of his self-loathing and frustration.

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

Unsurprisingly, you don’t have a great night of sleep. You toss and turn in your sheets, rewinding and replaying every second of interaction in his outrageously-expensive car. Overthinking every word, every pause, every look. All he had wished you was an honest “goodnight”, so why did it feel like there was so much more?

This had been the first time you’d caught a glimpse of what lies beneath the hard, spiny exterior of the man, and yet, it had been but a speck of dust in the wind. You’d seen it for one second. One exhilarating, butterfly-inducing second, and then— it was gone. Vanished. By the time you’d gotten your bearings, it seemed like the man’s shell was even spikier— more abrasive than even his explosive locks, and far more capable of hurting you.

And perhaps you were a little hurt— you mean to say, you are. But that makes you question if you’re just picking up signals that he’s not even aware he’s sending. You’re second-guessing yourself in every sense at this point. All over one kiss, and one “goodnight”.

But it wasn’t just a “goodnight”. It was a “goodnight, princess”. As if that would make such a difference.

A part of you, probably the majority, to be honest, is being rational about this. The two of you haven’t really spoken much about your… relationship, if you even dare to call it that. One evening it had just sort of… happened, and since then, it’s been happening, without much pause. For months, this has been going on. And it was great, at first. The two of you were in exactly the same boat: pro hero, no time for a committed relationship— nor a want for a committed relationship, pent-up and needing some kind of release… and oh, there’s also that white-hot tension that pulls the two of you together every time you see each other. That intensity, that passion, rivalry, and desire— it’s no wonder the pair of you ended up in this seemingly-eternal rendezvous. It’s clear what you both want, what you need— it’s sex.

It’s just sex.

But of course, there’s this small part of you— well, maybe it’s larger than you’d like to admit— that hopes he feels something… more. That he could possibly want you, for more than your body. When you think about it like that, it sounds stupid, like you’re some lovesick preteen who fantasizes about the captain of the football team of something. Reality isn’t really that far though— instead, you’re a fool of an adult who fantasizes about snuggling with her sworn rival-slash-coworker.

Acknowledging it like that sounds rather pathetic, you know... yet you just don’t have the strength in you to squash that ember of hope burning bright in your heart. You don’t want to watch it extinguish, you don’t want to lose that— lose him.

Yet at the same time, you know you can’t keep doing this. Your despicable feelings for the hero only seem to be growing by the day, and you need to cut this thing off sooner rather than later if he’s not on the same page as you.

   ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

Somehow you find yourself at the door of his office, the bright sunlight of the early afternoon streaming in through the hallway windows and warming your skin. It’s shut, as usual, and it gives you the opportunity to take a deep breath before your fingers find courage to curl into a fist, and tap against the hardwood.

“Come in.” His tone is gruff and curt as always, and you quickly fix your hair before you turn the handle, slipping inside the room and letting the door shut with a quiet click.

Bakugou is sitting behind his desk, an open bento-box and a half-filled form on his tablet laying before his hulking frame. Slitted vermillion eyes land on you, quickly morphing into a curious, cautious gaze.

“Y/N,” he greets, a blonde brow rising to land higher than usual on the tan skin of his forehead. The mask of his hero suit sits limply in the corner of his desk, his handsome face on display for you to drink in.

Your eyes flicker all over him, gliding along his broad shoulders, tracing the lines of the firm muscles on his chest. You can’t help but check him out, knowing fully well what’s underneath that tight suit of his. Bakugou smirks at you, taking his time to inspect you just the same.

“I need to talk to you,” you say, the words spilling from you without much of a thought.

After a tense pause, the hero stands, capping his lunch and making his way around his desk to sit on the front of it. He motions for you to come to him, and your feet move instinctively forward, following his command as you’d done so many times before.

As soon as you’re within arm’s reach, he pulls you to him, and stands you between his legs. Even sitting perched on his desk, he’s still taller than you, and he leans his nose into your neck as his hands glide along your spine. “Yeah?” he purrs, fingers splaying to drag against your skin through your thin hero suit. “And what do we need to talk about, Princess?” His lips flutter on the flushed skin of your neck, taking the hem between his teeth and pulling it back to reveal the darkened evidence of your latest session. Seeing his mark on you excites him, and the heat from his palms bleeds through your suit into your skin.

You can’t help but lean into his caress. His sharp cologne mixes with the honeyed, sugary scent of his skin and envelops you whole, pulling you in like a riptide lurking beneath an innocuous wave. A fragment of a moan escapes you when his mouth lands on the skin at the base of your neck, sucking gently and laving his tongue along your flesh.

“S’a little early to be foolin’ around,” he admonishes teasingly, voice deep and like thunder in your ears, an omen of the approaching storm. But your body wants it— craves the heavy deluge and the fear of scorching lightning that might just strike along your skin. “You like the thought of gettin’ caught, hah?” Bakugou chuckles lowly, teeth grazing your jaw. “Dirty little girl…”

Your palms glide down his thick arms, lamely stiff as your mind is screaming at you to stop— that this isn’t what you came for. Yet his touch makes you woozy, your judgement clouded as you choke on a wanton moan. “N-No, Katsuki,” you whine, fingers curling into his shirt to steady yourself.

“No?” He moves back, an ash-blonde brow rising in mock. “You’re not a dirty girl? Hmm, my memory’s pretty good, Princess, and I’m recalling some pretty irrefutable evidence that’d suggest otherwise.”

His hands slide down to cup your ass, thick fingers crawling between your thighs and prying at your flesh. He fingers over your covered slit, grin widening as you stiffen in his hold, a moan lingering in your mouth.

“No, I meant… I mean, I actually want to talk,” you sigh as you step backwards, away from his muscular body. You move far back enough for his hands to drop from your figure, your arms crossing over your chest defensively as you look toward the ground.

Bakugou seems confused by your refusal, but he clears his throat and adjusts his pants before he shrugs, attempting to appear nonchalant. “Okay…” he sits up slightly, still half-sitting on the ledge of his desk.

There’s an awkward, heavy silence between the two of you as he waits for you to talk. You know he’s waiting, but with every second that passes, the pressure in the room intensifies and makes it more and more daunting for you to speak.

“Do you like me?”

Bakugou’s expression stays guarded, the only indication that he heard you being a raised, unimpressed brow. “Hah?”

You swallow, even though your throat is drier than ever. He’s really going to make this harder than it has to be, isn’t he? But you’ve already prepared to deal with him, in all respects, here and now. “I mean— what is this to you?”

He seems a little flustered now, his eyes darting away from you as his cheeks pinken just a shade. Letting out a scoff, he growls, “I don’t know what you mean by… this.”

His playing dumb doesn’t appease you— in fact, it infuriates you. How dare he act like there’s nothing to discuss between you two?! You’ve indulged this man with vigorous extra-curricular activities for months at this point, and he has the audacity to think he can give you the go-around?

“Fuck off Bakugou, you know what I mean.”

“Oi oi oi,” he moves his big hands, patting air toward you condescendingly. “Let’s not get all upset in the middle of the day. We can talk about this later.”

Bakugou can see immediately that he’s said the wrong thing. Your face screws up and your inquisitive gaze becomes a glare, squaring your stance and your arms sliding uncrossed so you can park your hands on your hips.

“No, fuck that, we’re talking about this now!”

Seeing you pissed off must’ve pissed him off too, because now he stands upright and his menacing gaze burns down on you. “What’s there to talk about? I thought the whole point of it all was to not have to talk about jack shit.”

“Well this isn’t just jack shit!” you snarl, frustration building at how thick of a skull this man has. God, you admire whatever hell of a woman pushed his fatass head out of the womb. “We need to establish what this thing is so we can act like adults for fucking once in our lives! We work together, for fuck’s sake, we need to be responsible about this!”

“Hah?” Bakugou seems more agitated than before, his lip curling as he brandishes his signature sneer. “We’re fucking around, shitty woman, isn’t that the most adult activity we can do?” As if he hasn’t lit your fuse enough, he throws up some patronizing finger quotes when he emphasizes the word.

“So that’s what we’re doing, Bakugou? For months, we’ve just been,” you squint at him, only serving to amplify your unrelenting glare as you throw some aggressive finger quotes back at the man in front of you, “fucking around? Making eyes at each other across the conference table, and spending our nights together, just ‘cuz?”

Bakugou growls in irritation, swiping a large hand over his face from top to bottom as he hisses out profanities. He mutters something under his breath, clearly not wanting to deal with the conversation you’re forcing on him right now.

After waiting for his response for a moment but only receiving radio silence, you continue. “I’m a person, Bakugou, and in case you haven’t noticed, so are you! You can’t just ignore your feelings and act like no one and nothing matters to you!”

“Feelings?!” he shouts with contempt burning in his scarlet eyes, as if some atrocious, vile flavor gushes onto his tongue merely from uttering the word. “Oi, the fuck do you get off talking about my feelings? You don’t know shit about me, Y/H/N.”

His use of your professional hero name makes you bristle in fury, anger flaring and rationality fleeting. Everything’s escalating too fast— this isn’t the way you wanted this conversation to go. Your heart leaping into your throat, you muster the courage to change the tides, to tell him how much you want him. “Fuck you Katsuki, I know you have feelings for me! Because I—”

“I don’t have fuckin’ feelings for you!”

An arrow to the heart— the first sign of damage appears on the thumping muscle in your chest. But still, you continue, too stubborn to back down at this point. “Oh really, Boom-Boy? Then why the fuck are you still here, stuck in this godforsaken tryst with me? What am I to you, huh?”

Your stupid nickname for him makes his fists clench, steam nearly visibly blowing from his ears. “I’m not fuckin’ stuck! You— You’re just—” he buffers, rage still broiling in his gaze as he tries to come up with the most fitting word. But he doesn’t have much time— you’re glaring him down with your hands on your hips, cornering him against his desk and he yells out the first word that comes to mind.

“— entertainment.”

…

The tension in the air thickens noticeably, and you put all your effort into forcing your face not to reveal the hurt that pours into your bones. So this is what it feels like to put your heart on your sleeve… it fucking sucks.

Bakugou seems just as surprised as you are, maybe even more— his jaw hangs open cartoonishly and those red eyes are fixed on you, no longer harsh slits but wide, round orbs.

No matter how hard you try not to show your true emotions, he can clearly see that his words have stung you. The silence that fills the growing void between you two is deafening, weighing down his body as if he’s drowning in his immediate regret. But he doesn’t say anything, he can’t— you’d poked and prodded the sleeping bear of his ego and what he’d said couldn’t just be brushed under the rug and overlooked.

Entertainment. You’re nothing more than that to him. Why did you ever think you could penetrate through the booby-trapped walls around this man’s heart? Of course he didn’t want you for anything other than your body. Of course he didn’t.

For that one moment, you let him see it. You don’t hide the pain that washes over you, and you look him straight in the eye.

Bakugou stifles, throat tightening as he examines your crushed expression. He feels like he’s trapped, a fly that’s landed on a sticky trap that he can’t escape, a sinking feeling weighing down his chest, screaming at him to do something— say something— anything to mitigate the wound he’d just blasted onto your heart. “Y/N…”

And just like that your defenses come back online. He watches as you square yourself off, the soft vulnerability you’d revealed disappearing as your eyes became vacant of emotion. If anything, it looks like understanding, and it squeezes Bakugou’s chest like you’ve pulled a string tight around his lungs.

“Okay,” you murmur, your voice calm and low.

Bakugou is frozen, body unwilling to suck it up and take back the word even though his heart is so desperately screaming at him to do so. But he just can’t, he can’t take it back because then he’d have to  admit it was a lie he only threw out in an attempt to save his own feelings from getting hurt. If only he knew that causing your pain would hurt a thousand times more.

You clear your throat awkwardly, taking a step back from him. Gaze dropping to the floor, your arms come out to cross atop your chest, a makeshift shield for your battered resolve. “I don’t think we should do this anymore,” you whisper, but Bakugou hears it clear as day. He can’t breathe— he’s stuck to his spot as if that damn Icyhot bastard had frozen him himself. “I just… I've worked too hard for my career to be derailed by... whatever this was…”

Somehow Bakugou nods, even though he doesn’t want to. His body moves on its own, on autopilot, as his own arms cross over his chest, and he sits back down on top of his desk. He’s still looking at you, chest heavy with bated breath.

“If the public were to find out about us fucking around, that would become my reputation as a hero, and… I just— I can’t, Katsuki.”

Your voice trembles as you whisper his name, and Bakugou’s heart feels like it’s being stabbed over and over again.

“From now on, we’re just Ground Zero and Y/H/N, okay? Back to normal…” you smile but it doesn’t reach your eyes. Not at all.

Bakugou finally gets some control of his body, lips parting as he desperately searches for the right words that could somehow reverse this mess. All that comes out is a rough “Fine.” He cringes, frustration with himself building now more than ever. What’s wrong with him? That’s the opposite of what he wants, why can’t he say anything?!

You avert your eyes once more, turning to leave. Halfway through the door, you look back at him and pause. “See you around, Boom-Boy,” you breathe, the click of the door following, and leaving Bakugou to sink into his own self-loathing and regret.

    ─── ・°* ﾟ✧:* • ｡ﾟ:*･☽･*: ｡ﾟ•*:✧ ﾟ*°・ ───

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AWAA so reader and blasty have finally realized their feelings for one another... unfortunately this is a bakugou fic so of course he sucks at communication. i’m sorry if he’s ooc, as i said in my notes i havent written for him in a year lmao RIP. anyways i intend to make a fourth and final part with the resolution sooo i hope that i will have enough motivation to make that happen soon! 

as always please let me know if you enjoyed! <3

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