#and *tells him* that repeatedly to his face instead of not addressing it

[obstinatecondolement]

I have a lot of fondness for clunky Hallmark Christmas romance movies with rock bottom production values, vaguely established and extremely contrived plots, dodgy dialgoue, often questionable line readings, and child actors playing a kid who seems either three years younger or older than themselves. Hallmark have not undermined themselves with glib, self aware irony or attempted to "elevate" the delightful low artform that they excel in. Refreshing, honestly.

[erwinsvow]

please do bsf rafe flirting with reader while he’s drunk and she’s trying to put him to bed but he just cuddles her and tells her how much he has feelings for her

this with kook trio readerrr omg <3 in my head, rafe's version of admitting feelings is being aggressively posessive. when they finally start dating shes like why didnt you say something sooner? and hes like wym ive been claiming you since the start

you were so used to rafe taking care of you—bringing you home to tannyhill with him, making sure you took a tylenol before you fell asleep on his bed, a clean frat shirt of his waiting for you in the bathroom.

he was such a good friend to you. when times like this came along, you tried your best to repay the favor.

you think rafe's got it easier, though. he alway manhandles you into position, can carry you up the stairs when you're stumbling and force the pill and water down your throat when you're resisting. you're usually too drunk to remember rafe's hand on your jaw, opening your mouth for you and trying to coax you into taking it, telling you repeatedly you'll be grateful he did it in the morning.

"you are such a dick," you mutter, staring at the bottle of tylenol in your hand and the empty cup of water on the nightstand. he's just spilled the water all over his floor in a drunken stupor, and you suddenly hate that he ever made you feel bad about how much he has to take care of you when you're the drunk one.

rafe is ten times worse than you could ever be.

"thinkin 'bout my dick, are'ya?" he slurs back at you, and then laughs at his own joke. he's laying flat on his bed now, still in the same clothes he wore to the party, shoes and watch still on. getting him into the house and up the stairs was hard enough, even with top and kelce's help, but they'd jumped ship the second you got rafe into bed.

"all yours now, princess," kelce said, grabbing the keys to his car.

"yeah, good luck. i've never seen him so drunk," top adds.

"you're both just leaving me with him?" you cry out, but the hallway is empty when you finally get your wrist out of rafe's grip. rafe had mumbled something from his position, but you hadn't heard it.

twenty minutes later, you still hadn't gotten rafe to drink any water or change his clothes. all his energy seemed to be focused on getting you to curl up next to him.

"c'mon! just get into bed, m'fuckin tired-" he grumbles again, latching onto your arm while you try to at least get his shoes off.

"you can't sleep with your sneakers on, rafe-"

"who cares? i like my sneakers-"

"that's great, but your sheets-"

"but not as much as i like you. hah. that's fuckin' cheesy." you turn to look at your drunken best friend, his flushed cheeks and the way his eyes are closed while talking to you. you laugh, unable to hold it back.

"thanks, rafe. i like you too. enough to get your shoes off because you will so regret this tomorrow morning."

"don't regret anything." his eyes open, staring at you while you stare at his shoes. "shit. you're pretty."

you don't even address his comment—he's drunk beyond belief and you know you're pretty. after you untie his laces for him, he kicks off his shoes. you sigh a breath of relief.

"okay, rafe, do you want to sleep in these clothes or should i find pajamas?"

"how 'bout we sleep naked? there's an idea."

"stop being a perv. otherwise i'm gonna go cuddle with kelce instead." you laugh to yourself—the whole thing is a joke. you and rafe don't cuddle, at least not on purpose. you go to bed facing him but somehow always wake up with your limbs tangled and your hair in his face.

"sure. if you want me to kill kelce."

"oh my god, dramatic much?" you turn back to rafe to see if he's laughing, but he's not, looking right at you and sitting up.

"m'not kidding. don't joke about that. you're fuckin' mine, don't forget it."

he lays back down. you pause, eyebrows knitting while you think about the sentence rafe just said. he's drunk, so he must be joking. right?

"c'mon wanna sleep. get into bed." he grumbles again, and you comply, still a little shellshocked. you turn off the lamp and get into bed, and you don't even feel surprised when rafe pulls you in. you rest your head against his chest, and you don't stop thinking about what he said until you fall asleep.

[lingeriae]

I've been up thinkin about bartender! armin... warning - smutttt (minors dni), backshots, mentions alcohol, cursing,reader is BLACK and a female, not proofread!

Bartender! Armin who you meet when your homegirls decide to drag you out of your house, wearing his tight black uniform that fits him in all the right places.

Bartender! Armin who's immediately drawn to you, tongue coming out to lick his pink pouty lips as they take you in, curling as your eyes linger on his forearms when he leans aross the counter to "hear you better".

Bartender! Armin who mutters a "coming right up, pretty girl." as he moves away, the way you flutter you lashes at him after not going unnoticed by him.

Bartender! Armin who keeps his eyes on you all night, your pretty face had him mesmorized just as much as his had you. He watched the way you sway your hips to the beat of the music, and the way you grind your ass against your friend who cheered you on, he imagined that instead of them being behind you it was him.

Bartender! Armin who you make eye-contact with as a particular song comes on. Whining your waist against your friend, making sure to do it slowly so he can take in the way your body moves you smile at the blush on his cheeks and the way his eyes seem to darken under the lights.

Bartender! Armin who watches as you walk up to the bar, re-adjusting his pants as he moves to take your order only for you to ask him when his shift is over with a pretty pout on your two toned lips and a sparkle in your eyes.

Bartender! Armin who has you spread out on the backseat of his car, his hips moving in out of you at a fast pace and his dick hiting you in all the right places as he pushes your legs up to fuck you harder.

His gold chain glistening against his chest as he moves, he almost looks god-like above you. Low lidded blue eyes looking down on you, with his pink lips parted moving down to kiss you and tell you how pretty you look underneath him, his pretty face scrunches up as the grip your pussy has on him tightens and he hisses out 'shit' gripping your thighs harder, your sure you'll see a mark later

Bartender!Armin who turns you over so quickly, you almost get whiplash by how fast he moved you, your now face down with your ass up a moan falling from your lips as he grips your hip and pushes down on your lower back, making you arch your pretty ass on him. Licking his lips at the way your pretty brown skin glistened with sweat and the way your ass moved as he fucks you, he brings a hand down to squeeze at the flesh grinning at the way you squeal. He continues fucking you until you cum, repeatedly hitting your g-spot even after you cum until he comes down from his high.

Bartender!Armin uses wet wipes he keeps in his car for "emergencies" to wipe you off before helping you into your dress, asking for your address so he can take you home.

Bartender!Armin who watches how your ass moves in the dress as you walk out of the car, a smirk on his lips at how funny you were walking. You're walking away before turning back and asking for his phone number, giving him a breathtaking smile as he types it in your phone.

Bartender! Armin who gets cussed out by jean for leaving unannounced but pays no attention to him as he smiles at the notfication on his phone.

1 (888) ********

Thanks for the ride, mind giving me me another some othertime, maybe? 🤕

[dilfluvrr10]

Joost x music journalist!reader where joost invites them for a show and they thinks its for work but actually he did it bc he likes them 🤭

Guysss I just wrote thisss. This is my first fanfiction I've ever written, pls pls pls feel free to send through any feedback good and bad. I really hope I managed to satisfy your request. Thank you <3

Lmk if you're interested in a Part 2

╭── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╮ The Interview ╰── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──╯

I looked through my closet unsure of what to wear, do I go concert or casual tonight? This was going to be huge for my career, interviewing THE Joost Klein, so of course I was stressing over every detail. I settled on a classic little black dress, nothing too much, enough to make a good first impression. I glanced at the time repeatedly while doing my makeup, the closer it crept to 7:00pm, the more anxiety started eating at me. I packed my bag and drove to the venue, practicing each and every question, my facial expressions, my laugh, my smile, every detail. I admit, Joost was an attractive man, a confident man, and a great musician, maybe that’s why I was so worked up. That’s definitely why I was so worked up. I’d been following Joost’s career before his stardom reached an all time high after Eurovision, I had to remind myself to keep my composure and leave any fangirling behind.

When I received the invitation I was absolutely thrilled, jumping up and down like I was a teenage girl again. However, it was different from the usual press releases I’ve received, addressed to me specifically instead of my publication. Despite my usual professional demeanour, I couldn’t help but feel a flutter of excitement. When I finally arrived at the venue my anticipation only intensified. I glanced in the rear view mirror one last time, ensuring every hair was in place, took a deep breath and stepped out of the car. I had been instructed to enter through the same way production entered and meet Joost in the green room before he was expected on stage. Backstage was buzzing, ensuring everything for tonight’s performance was perfect. I navigated through the organized chaos, my heart pounding with each step closer to the green room.

There he was sitting around a table laughing and joking with his friends in Dutch. “Heyyy you’re here! I’m so happy you came”, his signature smile plastered on his face causing one of my own in response. He told his friends we were doing an interview and to so kindly leave, each one greeting me with that European charm before exiting the room. He gestured for me to sit down where comfortable. He sat loosely on the couch, adorned in black jeans, a white button up paired with a black tie and his signature thick rimmed glasses and gloves to tie it all together. God black was his colour. His cuffs rolled up, revealing a scatter of tattoos on his forearms and biceps. I sat on the chair closest to him but not on the couch next to him, trying to keep it as professional as possible. I really wanted to squeal, ask him for a photo and tell him all about how much his music resonated with me.

“Thank you so much for the invitation, I really appreciate this Joost”, my nerves slipped away as we began talking, his energy warm and inviting. “No, no, I’ve wanted to meet you for a while now actually…” his words hung in the air, his eyes darted around my face as if he was unsure how I would react. “Really, you know me?” I was stunned by the idea of Joost being aware of my work. A soft smile played at the corners of his lips as he nodded. “You’re works amazing, you have this way of talking to people that just…opens them up, you know?”, the sincerity of his words hit me hard. My heart fluttered and I felt my professionalism slowly decay. He shifted in his seat adjusting his pants and clearing his throat. He was feeling the change of mood too. As I thought of something to say to change the subject I noticed his gaze kept falling to my lap. My dress had lifted a bit, my thighs exposed a little. I began to feel hot and bothered, my cheeks burning red, his subtle smirk didn’t escape my notice, only adding to my discomfort. He clocked on to my embarrassment, shamefully, it fed him with confidence. “I used to watch your videos on YouTube, when you were working independently. Seeing you now here in front of me…you’ve really, grown up” he cooed with a meaning I couldn’t quite grasp. I cleared my throat, trying to shake off the rush of heat that grew in my body. “Thank you Joost, that means a lot coming from you,” I replied, hoping to steer the conversation back to professional grounds. “So, how are you feeling about tonight’s concert? Any pre-show rituals?”

He chuckled, the sound sultry and pleasant. “Just hanging out with my friends, like you saw. We try to keep it light and fun. Music is about connecting with people, so I try to keep that spirit alive before I go on stage.” I nodded, jotting down notes even though I recorded interviews on my phone. It was more to keep my hands busy and give me something to focus on other than his heavy gaze. Our conversation flowed easily after that, and the interview wrapped up nicely. He stood up, offering his hand to help me up from the chair. His touch was warm, lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “I’m glad we finally got to meet,” his eyes held mine for a heartbeat longer before he glanced away, a hint of shyness creeping into his demeanour.

Just then, one of his crew members popped their head into the room, announcing that it was time for Joost to get ready. He turned to me, his smile back in full force. “Enjoy the show. I’ll make sure you have a great view.”

I smiled back, my heart fluttering again. “I’m sure I will.”

[springgirlshowers]

Hi love! what do you think about joost x reader where joost is jealous of some guy who is flirting with y/n, then joost becomes possesive and they have a fight which results in angry sex and in the end they make up????

Can’t Help It

Pairing: Joost x Fem!Reader

CW: MDNI. arguing, miscommunication, oral (f recieving), angry sex, p in v, pwp, unprotected sex wrap it before you tap it!!!!, teasing, praise, degradation if you squint, aftercare <3

WC: 2555

A/N: tbh i didn’t know how to transition into arguing to sex so i just used the classic kissing to shut the other person up, hope you like it anyways 😚

Joost had a white knuckle grasp on his drink and a clenched jaw so hard it seemed like he could crack his teeth.

“You good bro?” Apson spoke out, Joost didn’t answer, still too focused on you and the random guy at the bar. “Dude.” Apson shoved his shoulder a bit, then repeating his question.

“No. That guy over there’s being way too flirty with Y/N.” He muttered out.

“Don’t just stand there, do something about it if you don’t like it.” Apson shrugged.

Joost didn’t wanna seem like a possessive, way too overprotective boyfriend.

You were absolutely breathtaking, he knew there would be guys who would try their luck with you, only to be rejected in the end. He knew because it’s happened before. You were able to shut down multiple of them before.

But he really didn’t like the way this guy was getting close, leaning in and saying something that made you throw your head back and laugh. His blood boiled when he saw the man graze your arm with your hand, still noticing the way you moved it away a bit.

“What, like punch him out?” Joost scoffed. Apson rolled his eyes.

“Alright he didn’t say that, just show him that she’s already got someone and that he should back off.” Stuntje added in.

“Yeah.” Joost sighed, putting his beer down on the table and getting up from the booth. Walking over to you with an aggressive stride.

“Hey, having fun?” Joost said in a sweet voice, immediately wrapping his arm around your shoulder.

“Oh, yeah! I’m doing great!” You grinned at him. Usually the sight of your joyful face would calm Joost down in a second, but tonight he was way too pissed for it to work.

“Oh, hey. I’m Adriaan-“

“Yeah, that’s great.” Joost cut the brown haired guy off. He pressed a sweet kiss to the side of your head, staring down Adriaan across from you. Oblivious to it, you only giggled and scrunched your nose.

“I just came over to let you know we should head home soon. We gotta get up early in the morning, remember?” He rubbed your arm.

“What? What’s happening in the morning?” You had no idea what he was talking about. From what you knew, there were no plans tomorrow at all.

“We gotta go.” Joost masked over his anger with a soft voice, trying so hard not to shove Adriaan away.

“It was nice meeting you, Y/N.” Joost so badly wanted to cause a scene at the way he said your name in such a sultry tone.

“Yeah.” Joost only said in response, turning you away and took you with him before you could respond.

You said Joosts name repeatedly as he took you outside, noticing the awkward stares from his friends on the other side of the bar.

“Joost, what’s going on?” You asked once you were outside.

He didn’t respond, instead he waved down a cab.

“Are you alright? Did something happen?” You asked worriedly, waiting for the car to arrive in front of you.

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s nothing. We can talk about it when we get home.” He said stoically. The cab stopped and he opened the door for you, though confused by how he was acting, you still got in.

“If it’s nothing, why don’t you just tell me now?” You questioned once he hopped in the car, slamming the door, and giving the driver the address.

He was silent. He didn’t want to be another couple arguing in the back of this random drivers car. You stared at him, jaw ajar, waiting for a reaction. Nothing.

“God, fine, if you wanna act like an asshole go ahead.” You scoffed, crossing your arms and slumping back in your seat.

The ride back to your shared house was dead silent, the driver put on the radio eventually. Most likely feeling the thick tension between you too.

Neither of you spoke until the apartment door shut behind you.

“Okay, now do you wanna tell me what’s got you so pissed off?” You threw your bag on the coffee table, standing with crossed arms.

“I’m just frustrated, I didn’t like the way that guy was flirting with you at the bar.” He muttered, kicking his shoes off.

“Flirting? He was just being friendly!” You scoffed in disbelief.

“He was practically eyefucking you.” He stared at you.

“Oh my god! Is that all you think about when you see a guy look at me?”

“No! It was the way he was all over you! Did you not notice the way he was touching you?” He gestured, then walking down the hallway into the bedroom. You followed.

“He grazed my arm once. You’re being overdramatic, Joost.”

“Do you not realize how he was staring you down? He obviously wanted something bigger than being friendly.” He took off his glasses, setting them down and moving to unbutton his shirt.

“He was just being nice! I was just being nice!” You threw your arms up, “I’m allowed to have guy friends!”

“I never said you weren’t.” Joost shook his head, sliding his shirt off now, his chest fully bare and him turning to you.

“Not every single guy that comes up to me wants to fuck me! Get your mind out the of gutter.” You continued on, but before you could get another angry word out, Joost grabbed the sides of your face and pulled you into a heated kiss.

When you pulled away, you looked at him shocked and confused.

“What was-“

“Shut up, please, just shut up.” He said breathlessly, the anger in his voice was now replaced with passion and wanting.

You leaned back into the kiss, basically devouring each other as you moved your hands up his neck and into his hair.

The back of your legs hit the bed and you both fell back onto it, letting out a small giggle against his lips once your back touched the mattress.

Joost moved his mouth down to your jaw then neck, you could feel his smirk against your skin when you let out a shaky breath.

His hands moved underneath your shirt, rubbing up and down your sides, then lifting up the hem a bit.

“Please.” You nodded as he looked up at you, giving him your approval.

He removed your shirt, throwing it somewhere on the floor, then moving his lips to your chest. Soon your bra landed in the same spot as your shirt.

He gripped your breast in his palm, squeezing and playing with your nipple as he pressed open mouthed kisses to your other one. You squirmed slightly at the way his breath tickled.

“I’m still angry at you.” You groaned out.

“Yeah? I can fix that for you.” He teased, mouth going farther and farther down.

Before you could get a snarky response out, he swiftly pulled down your shorts, along with your underwear, causing you to let out a loud gasp.

He spread apart your legs and licked a stripe up your cunt, not wasting any time to please you.

His tongue got to work quickly, licking circles all around your bundle of nerves, causing you to arch your back.

He pushed at your entrance with the tip of his tongue before going back to your clit, sucking on it.

You were withering around, Joost wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to him and keeping you in place.

Your legs began to shake and he knew you were close, so close, almost there.

Then he pulled away, and you were left with nothing.

“No, no, no!” You cried out involuntarily, now just sexually frustrated.

“Calm down, I’ll give what you want.” He said, chin glistening with your wetness, sliding his index and middle finger through your slick folds.

He smoothly slid his fingers inside you, letting out another moan, shutting your eyes as he curled them.

He leaned his head down to kiss you, you tried your best to kiss him back, but with the state of bliss he was putting you in, you were barely able to close yours around his.

He found it adorable.

“Open your eyes, come on, look at me.” He tapped at your face, your eyes fluttered. “I know you can do it.” He encouraged, you were able to but your eyelids were still droopy.

“You gonna cum, schatje?” He teased.

“No.” You shook your head, locking your gaze with his.

“No?” He tilted his head, staring at you with a mocking expression.

“No- oh!” You whimpered as his fingers began to move faster, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly and causing you to clench around his fingers.

You didn’t want him to stop, God, you prayed he wouldn’t stop. But your reflexes and not knowing what to do with your hands made you grab onto his wrist, but he didn’t slow down, only grinning at.

The way he smiled and kept his gaze on you helped push you over the edge, you let out a string of moans and came all over his fingers, he let you ride out your orgasm as long as he could.

Slowing down and stopping once your legs began to twitch. He removed his fingers from you and you clenched around nothing.

“Do you wanna continue?” He asked, his sweetness peeking through his dominant attitude.

“Please, yes please.” You said breathlessly, Joost gave you that cute smile where his eyes squint.

“Flip over for me, please.” He already had his hands on your waist, helping you turn over.

You got on your hands and knees, back arched and ass up.

The noise of his belt un-clicking and hitting the floor along with his jeans made you bite your bottom lip in excitement.

Joost slipped off his boxers, using the precum on his tip and giving his cock a few rubs with his hand and then against your wetness.

As he pushed in slowly, your fingers gripped the sheets on the bed, digging into the comforter.

Once his cock was fit snug all the way inside you, he peppered kisses all along your back.

He pulled out and pushed in slowly at first, letting you get used to the feeling. Soon beginning to speed up, slow thrusts turning into fast ones, deeper and a bit rougher.

His cock hitting your sweet spot over and over, you slid off your hands and laid face first into the bed, already unraveling and unable to hold yourself up.

Joost pulled you up, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other placed at the top of your chest.

“No one can fuck you like I can.” He whispered in your ear. You shook your head in agreement. “Say it. Tell me yourself.” The power trip was showing in this moment, you didn’t care, it was hot.

“No one can- oh god, can fuck me like you do.” You cried out.

“Not even that fucker from the bar.”

“Not even him. Never him. Never anyone.” You said through your moans. He shifted his hand down to your clit, rubbing quick circles.

“Exactly.” He grinned as he felt you clenching tightly around him, knowing you were about to be pushed over the edge. You tried your best to keep from orgasming so soon.

“It’s okay, don’t hold back, you can let go.” His words were the cherry on top. You let out an embarrassingly loud moan as you came, going limp in his arms, becoming a puddle.

Joost let go and let you fall against the bed, a blissed out smile on your face against the mattress.

“You’re not gonna quit on me yet, right?” He scattered kisses all along your spine. You shook your head.

“Good, now come here, schat.” He said, sitting on the bed and shifting up until his back hit the wall.

You crawled over, stopping when your face was in front of his dick, you grabbed it and began to move your fist up and down around it. He cupped your face, making you look at him.

“You don’t have to do that, liefje, just sit on it.” He rubbed your cheek. You did as he said, sitting up and hovering above him. Holding onto his shoulders as you sinked down onto his cock, letting out small squeaks and whimpers the entire time.

You began to lift and lower your hips, he placed his hands on your sides, helping you move at a steady pace.

“You’re doing so good, so good for me.” He praised, looking at your watery eyes. “You’re doing perfect.” He said through a whisper.

He thrusted up as you rolled your hips, making you let out another loud gasp at the feeling.

“Still angry at me, liefje?” He tilted his head, you shook your head, biting your lip.

“I love you.” You moaned out.

“Ja? You do?”

“Mhm.” You couldn’t keep up with his pace, you slumped against his chest, hiding your face in the crook of his neck.

“I thought you were mad at me? Huh?” There was still that mocking tone in his voice.

“Mm-mm.” Your eyes began to water from the overstimulation.

“Oh, fuck, I love you too liefje. So much.” He turned, kissing the side of your head.

“I love you, I love you, love you, love you, love you.” You were an absolute babbling mess, completely fucked dumb.

Tears began to fall from your eyes, the overstimulation from your two previous orgasms making you nearly see stars as you approached your third.

“Oh god, oh fuck, I’m close.” You sobbed.

“Shh, I know, I know.” He began to quicken his pace, cock hitting deeper inside you.

You let out a loud squeal into his shoulder as you came undone for the third time tonight.

“There you go, there you go.” Joost kissed, your face fell against his shoulder as you let out small strangled moans.

“Hold on for just a few more seconds, schat, I know you can.” He kissed your shoulder, his hips began to stutter and his pace became faster. With one final hard thrust he came, a warmth spreading inside you.

The both of you were now both sweaty and out of breath against each other, the room silent, the only sound being your heartbeats and heavy breaths.

Joost moved his hands to your face, cupping it gently and pulling it up to have you looking at him.

“I’m sorry I got so mad. I didn’t mean to get so jealous.” He spoke out, rubbing away the tears that had fell with his thumbs.

“No, it’s okay. I understand it now, I didn’t mean to be so stupid.” You sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck. He frowned at the negative self talk.

“You’re not stupid schatje, you were just trying to be friendly.” He leaned in to give you a kiss on your forehead. “I know not to get so angry at you next time, it wasn’t your fault.” He whispered.

“It wasn’t yours either.”

“You sure you’re not frustrated with me still?”

“No, I can’t hate you after you made me cum three times.” You bit back your smile, playing with his hair. “You’re perfect.”

“I’m sweaty.” He let out a tired breath.

“Go take a shower, freak.”

“Take one with me?”

[moronkombat]

Can you write MK men doing a fatality on someone in front of their s/o and they get a little scared at the sight. (Not scared of the men btw) I think realistically seeing someone die like that wouldn’t be easy to witness at first

Reiko is proud to kill someone in kombat in front of his lover. He would also like if his partner joined him in delivering the final blow

If his partner were to become frightened, he would be confused. Reiko would have a hard time understanding someone who is not fond of the thrill of the kill

Kenshi has been saturated with the sight of death and he forgets that. When he kills in front of his partner, he doesn't even think about what he's done

When his lover is just staring at the corpse of someone who was breathing moments ago he finds himself feeling quite guilty. He'd ask if you're alright and tell you that he shouldn't have made you see something like that so casually

He kills someone in front of his lover out of necessity. He would prefer to avoid doing so otherwise as he often kills foes while in his true form

Tells you to look away, not to watch what's going to happen. He's honestly more worried you'll be scared of his appearance over anything else. Once the deed is done, he is unsure how to comfort the reader. He worries hugging you, while covered in the blood of someone else, will only haunt you

Havik is not one to comfort his partner when it concerns the death of another by his hand. If he notices his lover is shaken up he will get them used to it

He'll cover his hands in the blood of the fallen and drench his partner in it, bathing them in death while wildly proclaiming just how beautiful it all is

Rain is initially very proud of showing off his prowess in front of his lover. However, he would quickly notice that his lover looks a bit stunned

He's quiet for a moment before telling them that the sight of this will get easier even though right now it feels like it wont. He'll squeeze your hand in reassurance and offer you a nod

Shang Tsung isn't a fan of hard work and killing someone can be quite the daunting task so he makes sure to kill them in...exciting ways

He thinks you would enjoy the view but seeing you so stunned makes him realize just how far his mind has gone to think killing is so casual. He pauses and knows he should address the issue. But he can't, he won't. Shang Tsung, instead, ushers you away quickly

Quan Chi likes to get a bit fanciful in how he kills someone and doesn't really see killing anyone as anything heavy. He's seen many people die before

If his partner were to be unsettled he would struggle in how to comfort them. No one had comforted him when he witnessed someone being killed. He'd...try but it comes off as awkward and stiff

Tomas has killed many people before. It's part of being the Lin Kuei. He's grown accustomed to such tasks but recognizes that his partner has not

He is comforting to his lover. Doesn't want them to see him commit the act but he knows it can't be helped. Tomas would tell them that it's okay to be scared and to feel frightened. He knows what it's like to witness the death of others before his eyes

Raiden is still not completely accustomed to killing someone. It's a relatively new concept for him so he is empathic with his partner

He is very tender with them, gentle and kind. He knows they probably need space and time to process what they've seen so he will not pressure them to talk about until they are ready

Kung Lao gets a bit absorbed in the moment and almost forgets that his partner is there until he looks back at them and sees their face

He rushes to them and asks if they are okay without even realizing that he's bloodstained. He repeatedly asks if you're doing alright and that you don't need to worry anymore because it's all over now. Very talkative as trying to reassure you

Never would he want his lover to see the gore that is to take a life. Bi-Han would actively try to avoid exposing his partner to anything like that but he cannot

The only time he'd kill in front of his lover was if he absolutely had to and he is not very tidy about it. He's rageful and consumed by wrath as he murders them and you are only left to watch life cease to be. He feels incredibly guilty afterwards but struggles to find words. In actually, you would end up comforting him because he feels so lowly about exposing you to something like that

Johnny is a showoff and is always doing the absolute most with everything. This includes taking someone out

He thinks he is impressing you and turns to you expecting a big reaction and cheering but he doesn't you just look...zoned out. He asks you what's wrong and didn't you see how high the dude's head went up in air? It takes him a bit to realize that witnessing someone die can be heavy and then he will awkwardly start to comfort you and apologize

Shao is not a comforting lover. To kill someone is show that he is better than them in every way. He enjoys taking down his opponents

If his partner was stunned to see someone die he would tell them that they will quickly get used to see the death of thousands because he will no one standing who gets in his way

Would prefer his partner not having to witness someone die as he knows it can be extremely difficult for someone to witness. Geras is unbothered by the death of others but he is mindful of his partner

He would try to shield your eyes from it. If you saw it he would apologize to you and validate all of the feelings you are experiencing while also promising to help you through them

Liu Kang has been accustomed to killing for many years now and yet he still knows that it will have an impact on you. You are not like him. You haven't been alive for thousand upon thousands of years to adjust to this life style

Killing in front of you is not easy for him but he knows it's much worse for you having to witness it the first time. He is kind and gentle with you and tells you that it is alright and to let him take your worries away

The last thing Kuai Liang wants is to bring his lover discomfort but he knows that is unrealistic to shield you from everything

That is why when he kills someone in front of you, he is quick to be by your side but also give you the space you need. Kuai Liang says that it is okay to not be okay in this moment or even for awhile after that. He speaks on how he will be your strength just as you are to him

Baraka's kills are often brutal and messy even when he doesn't intend them to be but Tarkat cannot be helped

He wants to comfort you, take you into his arms and tell you he is sorry but he can't. Not when he is covered in blood and still feeling the itch from taking a life. It's a difficult thing for him to do but he tries to comfort you as best he can but Baraka struggles with saying the right words that will help

[luimagines]

Yess request are open!? I'd wanna request a scenario where Reader gets comforted by Time, Life just has been shitty recently and I crave some comfort

I apologize in advance for how long this would take to come out. I hope things got better for you, my friend. <3

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

You sighed and stared at your reflection in the water below your feet. Your heart felt heavy and your shoulders were slumped. You had stepped away from the group to not ruin their good day with your sour mood.

It's not like they had anything to do with it.

It was just a bunch of little things that kept piling up and you hadn't been able to mentally or emotionally sort through them all until they were all short of crushing you.

You toe the water, watching the ripples move away from your disturbance. A little voice tells you that someone is no doubt to check up on you, but you're not sure if you'll be able t hold yourself back from snapping at them.

Just as soon as you thought it you can hear quiet footsteps come in your general direction. They're deliberate. Smooth but heavy.

It's Time.

You curse internally. He's the last person you want to address this. You don't think he'll take kindly to being snapped at and you respect him too much to want to risk any damage to your small and fragile friendship. You repeatedly chant for him to leave and send someone else in your head.

It can't be him. It can't be him. It can't be him.

"Hey." You greet him before you have the chance to cringe and cry. You're going to try and be normal. You're not going to take out your frustrations at him.

He sits next to you, letting his feet dangle into the water, much like you are. "Hey."

You feel like biting the inside of your cheek. Can't he just go away and let you mope in solitude?

"Do you want to talk about it?" He says softly. It's tender and soft, you would have missed it if there was literally any other noise around you.

Your breath hitches and tear finally pool in your eyes at the thought of release. You shake your head.

Time hums, not liking your answer but accepting it. You honestly thought he'd push more.

"Come here." He says instead, holding out his arm.

You hesitate but finds yourself crawling over and into the side hug. Time wraps his arm around you and holds you firmly into his side. He keeps his other arm behind him, putting most of his weight into that one instead of putting his whole force into crushing you against him.

The thought causes the first tears to escape out of you even as you try to stifle the sound that threatens to leave as well. Time rubs your shoulder in a comforting way, not saying anything as you finally let out all the emotions that you've been holding to yourself.

The Old Man says nothing and lets you cry until there's nothing let for you to shed. You feel raw and tired. You pull away from Time to see the massive wet splotch you've left on his shirt but he doesn't seem the least of bit bother by it.

"I'm sorry." You mutter. Your voice sounds weak even to your own ears. "...I got your shirt dirty."

"Soap and water exist." He mutters just as tenderly as before and brushes your hair out of your face. "Feel better?"

Do you?

You take a moment to take stock of your emotions. And the answer... is a little gray. "No." You answer. "But I'm tired now."

Time hums once more and pulls you back to his side. "We don't have to go back yet."

"Time?" You say, but then think better of it. "Link?"

"Yes?"

"...Thank you." It feels better to say that than to apologize again.

"You're welcome." He looks over to you and kisses your forehead. "Some days are harder than others. It's impressive how long you've been able to keep this to yourself."

"I didn't want to be mean to anyone when it was just a 'me problem'." You admit, feeling emotionally wrung out and ready for a nap. "Did I worry the others?"

"Yes." He doesn't try to sugar coat it. "But they're understanding boys. No one is going to hold it against you."

You nod and let yourself be held by him. "I'll be ok."

You're not sure if you're trying to convince yourself or him.

But he smiles and hugs you a little tighter.

"Yes, you will be."

[cuculine-nelipot]

One way in which OFMD exceeded expectations this season is the emphasis they placed on the need for personal growth, especially in the pursuit of relationships - all relationships, not just romantic . Buttons laid it all out for Ed, and then turned into a bird just to prove that it is possible if you believe enough. They repeatedly drew attention to Ed's and Stede's flaws, and why they need to work on them in order to become better people not only for each other, but for everyone around them

Lucius told Stede that he was selfish and self-centred, that despite his self-proclaimed love, respect, and kindness, his actions made him anything but. He and the other crew members told him that he was wilfully ignoring reality so that he could believe in the fantasy of Ed/Blackbeard that he had constructed for himself. These are all things that prevent him from being both the captain and the romantic partner he wants to be. The main thing he needs to do to change is listen actively. This has been true since season 1, when we saw him refusing to engage in an honest dialogue with Mary, and several times when he ignored his crew. However, throughout season 2 he is given ample opportunities to listen, to grow as a person, to become a better leader and partner, but he doesn't. At all. He tells Lucius that he can talk to him about his bad experiences, only to quickly tell him that it's too much, talk to Pete instead. He lets the crew vote as to whether Ed should be allowed to stay, only to invite him back shortly after they decide against. After much arguing, he begrudgingly accepts that the crew believes his red suit is cursed, but he does not get rid of the shirt. He agrees when Ed tells him that he needs their relationship to progress slowly, only to initiate sex with him soon after. When Ed expresses his anger about that, he does not understand, and he does not take responsibility. He murders Ned Low even though he knows how desperate Ed is to leave violence behind. In the final episode when everyone tells him that his plan is terrible, he does not listen and insists that they do it anyway, and Izzy dies because of it. He does not take responsibility for that either. In fact, throughout the season he happily comments on the fact that despite his staggering incompetence, things always seem to work out for him specifically, not acknowledging that the same is not true for anyone else. He has remained just as self-centred and self-serving as he was in the very beginning.

Ed too experiences a similar state of arrested development. His core motivation is still to be a different person, and like in the first season he swings from one persona to the next, never reconciling the disparate parts of himself. The closet he gets to reckoning with himself is when he admits that he does not think he is worthy or capable of being loved, but that he wishes he was. However after being "reborn" every attempt he makes to that end is at best superficial and half-hearted. When he addresses the crew he does not say he's sorry, and the only thing he does that could be framed as an attempt at reparations is when he gives them money to throw themselves a party. At that same party he (at Stede's encouragement) congratulates himself for dispelling the poison, disregarding the fact that it was the crew's idea, and the crew who put all the effort into it.

Like in season 1, each of his personas comes with a costume change. There's the kohl smeared face of the Kraken, the cleaner crisper Blackbeard, and the neutrals of Ed - a blank canvas. He does not know who Ed is yet, and he is prevented from finding out by his unwillingness to accept that he is the Kraken and Blackbeard, to sit alone with himself. Fang points this out to him, but instead of anything meaningful coming from it, we get two separate scenes of Ed thinking about being quiet, about being present. Just for a laugh. Because, like with Stede, it's funnier (apparently) for him to stay exactly the way he is.

So he does not grow, because despite the writers putting him in positions to do so, their idea of comedy is for him not to. His brief stint as a fisherman is shockingly reminiscent of the end of season 1, where he's so focused on being zen and chill and being a totally new person that he neglects the basic functions of his job. Unlike then, he does not have the excuse of being burnt out. There is no commentary on toxic masculinity here. It was just 'funnier' to show him being incompetent, and apparently the only way the writers could think to get him back to the main narrative. By which, of course, I mean Stede. Because despite it's ensemble cast and the seamlessly integrated character-driven storylines on season 1, this is the Stede Bonnet show, right?

In spite of his very real, and understandable frustration with Stede a) initiating sex despite his explicitly saying he wasn't ready and b) killing Ned Low right when he was trying to leave violence behind, he makes a beeline for him. He rows back to the Republic of Pirates, sees it on fire, and immediately thinks of Stede. Not the crew (because despite Izzy's quite frankly insane last words he has not done anything to build a relationship with them) and not either of the two men he's sailed with for years. Only Stede. For Stede all of his development (as little as it was) is undone. He kills some naval officers despite his previously established desire to avoid violence. he dives to retrieve his Blackbeard outfit, simultaneously completely undermining the significance of him tossing them in the first place, and of his swimming upward towards a new life.

In season 1 he left Blackbeard for Stede and in season 2 he reclaims him for the same reason. But that's not growth. That's not character development. In both instances he is simply being reinvented in the context someone else. He pursues Stede simply because Stede enables him to imagine that he is a different person, he becomes the version of himself that exists in Stede's mind. If this were real life, it would be an extremely unhealthy way to live. In terms of fictional media, it's just lazy writing. Putting him next to Stede is the easiest, least meaningful way for Ed to change. Despite insights into his interiority, he is not being written as a character with agency.

This becomes especially obvious when we look at Izzy's dying words, and at David Jenkins own thoughts about their relationship. Jenkins says that Izzy fed Edward poison and ended up eating it too. Izzy says that he fed Edward darkness because he needed Blackbeard. There is exactly one instance where this is true. That one instance does not in anyway serve as evidence that Izzy was responsible for every violent thing Ed had ever done. Izzy was not responsible for Ed killing his dad, Izzy was not responsible for the joy Ed admitted he took in maiming people, and it certainly does not in anyway justify the violence Ed enacted on him. That one instance also does not change the fact that Ed very clearly had all the power in his and Izzy's relationship. He ignores Izzy continuously. His reaction to Izzy's anger is violence - he chokes him, he maims him. Izzy has no power. Ed chose violence - for a myriad of complex reasons, yes, but it was his choice. But the writers are framing it so that Ed is simply a puppet - he can either be filled with "Izzy's" poison, or Stede's "goodness." He has no agency, because it's too hard. It's too complicated. It would be too much for Ed to be a complex, morally flawed character who grows and changes for the better, and it would be so hard to write him having his happy rom-com story. So it's better to just simplify all that complexity, right? Forget the trauma Ed endured, forget the trauma he inflicted, forget his depression and his mania. Izzy fed him poison. Izzy made him Blackbeard. Let's just leave it at that. Except that's not the story they wrote, is it. If Izzy made him Blackbeard, fed Blackbeard, wanted Blackbeard, needed Blackbeard, then why does he almost never call him Blackbeard? Consistently, since episode 2, it's a constant stream of "Edward", "Ed" and "Eddie" and we're supposed to believe it was Blackbeard he was after? Speaking of Izzy, his arc is the cruelest of all. And no, I'm not salty that he died. I am beyond disappointed that he died in the arms of his abuser, that his last act was to not only absolve his abuser of all responsibility, but to take it on as his own, and that David Jenkins seems to think that this is a good end to his story.

At this juncture it's important to say that Izzy Hands is very clearly a victim of abuse - physical and emotional. It has however become abundantly clear David Jenkins and many fans of the show do not see it that way. Why? Is it because he's a man? Because he does not act like some preconceived notion of an abuse victim acts? Because it's possible that he "brought him on himself"? Is it really possible for anyone to bring that level of violence on themselves? He experiences the most growth of this season, yes, but as we've established the bar is very low, and he was not given the chance to flourish like it first seems. He does not remove himself from the abusive situation. He is confronted about it, he lashes out in panic, and he is consoled, but he still cannot admit to it. That one moment of care allows him to distance himself from Edward - just a little bit. It allows him to stop enabling Ed, and to stand up for the crew. Not himself, the crew. He is just as selfless and as blind to his own needs as ever.

When Edward shoots him in the leg he screams for death. When Edward confronts him again, he surrenders to the fact that he is not loved, or wanted, and he tries to kill himself. He does not survive for himself, or of his own volition. He survives because the crew makes him survive - they try to hide him, they cut off his festering leg, they make him a wooden one, they allow him to lean on them (physically and implicitly emotionally) for support. He begins to heal, but he does not fully get there. He still loves Edward. We see it in his desperation to know what Ed told Stede about him. We see it in the way he approaches Ed, hoping for a moment of his time. He never reckons with the fact of his own abuse. He tells himself a shark took his leg. His dying act is to apologise to his abuser, to blame himself. He lets Edward go not for his own sake, but Edwards'. He lets go of Edward, and he says he wants to die, just like he did when Edward shot him, just like he did when Edward talked to him after that. He hasn't healed. While Ed's and Stede's fatal flaw is their selfishness, Izzy's has always been his selflessness, and that is still true. He still loves the man who hurt him beyond comprehension, he still gives his life - takes away his guilt and gives him the family he earned for himself - so that man can be happy without him. He literally dies for Edward's sins. He is denied the opportunity to ever live for himself. He was given the beginnings of healing, a home and, a family; one party and a swan song.

[artemis32]

also the first person to come to mind when you said someone stubborn enough to ignore aizawa’s glare was bakugo, I feel like that would stress aizawa out so bad

platonic yandere aizawa shouta iii

Fun fact my top three favourite characters (in no specific order) in bnha are Aizawa, Bakugo and Shigaraki, so this is perfect

Also I finished this before any of the other subjugation drabbles as requested, but I'm clearing out my drafts, so hopefully I'll be able to post a few more this week

platonic aizawa masterlist

bnha masterlist

Class 1a was up to something. Aizawa knew they were.

They weren’t good at being sneaky, and for the past two weeks, they’d been behaving strangely.

Ever since the class had seen you, he’d been slightly on edge, waiting for something to go wrong. And he knew that it would sooner or later.

Class 1a were disruptive and oftentimes insubordinate. They couldn’t follow the rules and they got into trouble more often than Aizawa could keep count of.

They were troublemakers.

Aizawa knew that.

Which is why he was so suspicious of them.

They had been perfectly behaved in lessons, quiet and diligent, completing every assignment he’d given to them. They hadn’t spoken out of turn or argued once within the past two weeks. Most suspiciously though, must have been the fact that they hadn’t once brought up the question of who you were again.

It made him uneasy.

It made him annoyed.

But instead of addressing the matter as he probably should have, he kept quiet, curious to see what exactly they were up to.

He found out by the end of that week.

****

“Okay sweetheart, I’m leaving now. Are you sure you don’t want to come with me? You’re more than welcome to, it won’t be long.”

You huff out a laugh. Aizawa was running errands and had been repeatedly questioning whether you wanted to come with him. You were sure he was trying to guilt trip you into joining him.

It might have worked.

It was working.

But you were a model student, as so, your homework and assignments had to come first - much to your father’s displeasure.

The only respite was that you’d be staying safely within the walls of UA, specifically in the apartment, which made your father feel much better about leaving you by yourself.

Sometimes you think he forgets that you’re a teenager – old enough to be home alone for a few hours.

“Yes, I’m sure dad. I’ll call you or Mr Yamada if there’s an emergency. I’ll see you later.”

He huffs, accepting that you wouldn’t change your mind.

The hug he draws you into is crushing and he presses your face into his chest. You feel his chest rumble as he lets out a laugh.

“Don’t let Hizashi hear you call him that, you know how much he hates it.”

You scowl slightly. The eclectic blond often insisted that you call him by his first name, or the ever-endearing title of 'Uncle Zashi', making a habit of reminding you every time you happened to accidentally ‘forget’. You enjoyed his company, but his persistent attitude grated on your nerves sometimes.

“Don’t you dare tell him.”

Aizawa laughs again before reminding you to stay safe and call him in the case of an emergency.

You bid him one last farewell before shutting and locking the door. Paranoia seemed to be one of your father’s defining traits when it came to you.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re set up in the living room, surrounded by snacks, stationary, and papers scattered over the floor and coffee table.

****

Three hours later, you decide to call it quits for the day, packing up your belongings and returning to the living room to flop down on to the couch.

You’d been laying on the couch, watching a rerun of some old movie your father enjoyed, when there was a knock at the door.

Thinking nothing of it, you haul yourself up and make your way to the door.

It could have been anyone - Midnight or Present Mic, here to keep you company or watch over you at your father’s request, or it could have been another teacher, here to drop off paperwork for your father. Perhaps it was your father himself, having forgotten his keys.

Living amongst a group of heroes and heroes-in-training makes you comfortable, and you don’t bother checking who is at the door before flinging it wide open.

Two boys and a girl, all around your own age stand before you. One of the boys and the girl look surprised, eyebrows rising, creasing their foreheads. The second boy remains impassive, his dual-coloured eyes trailing over you, head to toe.

“Can I help you?”

They continue to stare at you for a moment before the pink-skinned girl harshly elbows the blond boy next to her.

He exclaims in pain before clearing his throat and smiling widely. 

“Hi there. I was wondering if Aizawa sensei is home?”

If your father had passed one trait on to you, it had to be his suspicious nature. You straighten slightly, nudging the door closed a few centimeters.

“Aizawa sensei is out running a few errands. He should be back soon - would you like to leave a message?”

The boy with the dual-coloured eyes leans forward slightly, his upper body now crossing over the threshold into your apartment.

“May we come in?”

Though he poses it as a question, he doesn’t wait for an answer, already pushing past you and into the hallway behind you.

Your protests fall on deaf ears, and the boy and girl still in the doorway seem to panic alongside you, scrambling in after him.

“Todoroki, you can’t just barge in like that!”

The dual-haired boy - Todoroki - ignores them and chooses to look around the apartment instead, taking in his surroundings with an air of disinterest.

“I have a question. Answer truthfully and we’ll leave.”

His two friends, still panickedly trying to urge him out of your house, still as he speaks. They stare at one another, then at Todoroki, before nodding and looking at you.

By now, you’re anxious and wary, eager to get them out. You take a deep, calming breath.

Doing as they say seems to be the best decision. You didn’t want to stir up trouble, and you definitely didn’t want your father or another teacher stumbling upon the scene.

“Fine, one question and then you’re gone.”

You cross your arms and press your mouth into a hard line, attempting to cover up your anxieties with an air of anger.

The three agree to your terms, Todoroki humming lightly before speaking.

“Is Mr Aizawa your father?”

It’s a loaded question, one you aren’t sure you want to answer. 

While you and your father hadn’t tried to cover up the fact that you were his daughter, you also hadn’t gone out of your way to announce it. The fact that the three standing before you were so curious that they went as far as to basically break into your house to get an answer made you concerned. 

Their eagerness made you believe that it would be best to lie. Then again, what would you tell them - being honest may be the only way to get them to leave without a fuss.

You nod slowly, hesitantly.

“Yes, he is.”

While the boy and girl let out noises of disbelief, Todoroki doesn’t seem to be surprised.

“See guys, told you.”

The blonde boy splutters for a moment, shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Is that all?” You ask apprehensively, still tense and nervous.

An unspoken question lingers in the air.

Will you leave now?

Todoroki nods, thanking you before calling for his two companions.

At the door, he pauses, turning to you one last time.

“Can I ask that you keep this visit a secret, just for a while. Don’t tell Aizawa sensei that we were here. Please.”

His demeanour is serious, though it seems like more of a demand than a request.

You’re already nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, sure.”

Regardless of whether he asked you or not, you wouldn’t have told your father of their visit. The last thing you needed was for his paranoia to be proven correct. 

What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and he definitely didn’t need to know that three students - three of his students - had been to his home to see you while he was away. Worse, that they knew you were his daughter.

If he found out, you’d never hear the end of it. In fact, you were slightly afraid he may never let you leave the house again.

No, you definitely would not be telling him about their visit.

By the time your father returns home hours later, you’ve scrubbed the memory of the three students from your mind, and he seems none the wiser.

The two of you have dinner and talk for a bit before going to bed.

You make no mention of the day’s events, and he doesn’t ask.

****

For the first time in what could have been years, you were in trouble. Big trouble.

From the moment you entered the apartment, it had seemed eerily still, too quiet to be natural.

When you first entered the living room, you saw your father sitting with his back towards you, posture straight and still. He didn’t turn to greet you and you feel a growing sense of unease when he tells you to sit down.

“How was your day?”

You’ve known your father long enough to recognize his tone, to know that he’s not asking because he’s actually interested.

Right now, your father, the ever stoic Shouta Aizawa, was furious.

“Answer me.”

“It was fine, classes were good.”

“Hmm. How about yesterday? What did you do yesterday?”

You’re wringing your hands now, fingers gripping at each other in a feeble attempt to mask how obviously your hands are shaking.

“Y-Yesterday was good, same as today, classes and whatnot...”

You trail off awkwardly, unsure of what exactly he wants to hear. You don’t ask though, some sense of self preservation telling you to keep your mouth shut.

“And the past weekend? How was your day on Saturday. You had some time alone, what exactly did you get up to then?”

Staring down at the floor, you clear your throat and try to think of an excuse.

“Ah, well, I got a few assignments done and made dinner.”

His hand on your shoulder almost makes you jump.

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

You don’t want to.

You don’t want to look at him, you don’t want to see his anger or disappointment or whatever other negative emotion lays there at the moment.

But his grip tightens slightly on your shoulder, not enough to hurt, just enough to grab your attention. So you close your eyes and take a deep breath before looking up and meeting your father’s gaze.

He’s angry. Angry and disappointed and everything that you feared he would be. But most of all he looks concerned, worry pinching at the juncture between his eyebrows and at the corners of his mouth.

“What happened while I was out?”

You weren’t often emotional, and you definitely didn’t cry. Crying was pointless, it didn’t change anything.

But you had to bite your bottom lip and press your nails into your palms to stop yourself from bursting into tears in that moment.

It rarely happened that you kept anything from your father. You told him everything, no matter how big or small.

Truthfully, keeping a secret this big for as long as you had had been weighing you down. You felt guilty. Granted, you weren’t exactly lying to him, but it pained you to hide something like this from your father.

And so you cracked.

A few hot tears rolled down your cheeks as you sniffled, wiping at your nose with the sleeve of your jacket.

“Three of your students came to the apartment. They asked to see you but I said you were out.”

Aizawa’s grip on your shoulder had lessened, his arm wrapping around you, shifting you closer to him.

“Is that all?”

You debated lying to him, only for a moment. It technically wouldn’t be lying, you just wouldn’t be telling the whole truth.

The idea deflated quickly once his hand came up to brush away a few tears, his thumb gently rubbing at the soft skin under your eye.

“T-They just asked if I’m your daughter or not, they left after that.”

He hums again, staring at you for a few seconds longer. It feels as if he’s pining you in place, pressuring you into talking. Evidently, you have nothing else to say.

“Can you tell me what they looked like sweetie?”

****

You imagined that this is how criminals felt.

Under any other circumstances, it might have been funny.

Before you, lined up in somewhat of an identity parade, were a the three students from your father’s class, along with a few other guilty-looking students.

Three girls, five boys, all standing pin straight, facing forward. 

In the room next door stood the rest of the class, the remaining twelve students standing in silence.

Your father’s fury, evidently, had not been aimed at you. 

Well, not fully.

He was admittedly quite upset with you for not being truthful with him, but his anger was mainly aimed at his students for interfering with his personal life. With his family.

“Sweetheart, I’ve seen how high strung you’ve been over the past few days. I was concerned, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you so I gave you some space. But today one of my students let something slip and I put together the fact that they must have had something to do with the way you’ve been acting recently.”

You didn’t want to outwardly expose the three students who had come to see you that day, but your father had threatened to punish the entire class, so you’d caved and described them as best you could.

So here they stood, not once making eye contact with you.

"Go on," your father said, staring them down with a harsh glare, one like you'd never seen before. You knew your father could be strict with his students, but this was something else.

They all bowed forward at the hip, staring straight at the ground as they spoke in sync.

"We're sorry."

You stand in stunned silence for a few short moments, before shaking your head.

"Oh, um, it's fine. Thank you for the apology. And I'm sorry too."

The blond-haired student from before tries to raise his head, a wide smile on his face before your father's hand meets his neck, holding his head down.

"Did I say you could look up?"

"Sorry sensei."

Aizawa hums, glancing at you.

"Sweetheart, you can leave now. I'll see you later."

As much as you'd like to argue, you don't. Instead, you nod and bow to the eight students before you, bidding them goodbye before making for the door.

****

Aizawa couldn't find you.

He'd stayed behind to have a little chat with a few of his students, intent on returning home to you afterwards, but now, fifteen minutes later, you were gone.

You weren't in the 1A dorms and you weren't at home.

There was nowhere else that you could be, so where had you gone?

He begrudgingly made his way back to the dorms, resigning himself to spending his afternoon with the troublesome students of class 1A.

Only, he didn't have to go very far to find you.

Not with the small crowd of students trying, and failing to hide in the bushes next to the dorms.

He sighs heavily, walking up behind them silently.

Crouching down, he whispers, "What are you looking at?"

The yelps Denki and Sero let out are both panicked and silent, though they quickly scramble back to where they were, shushing Aizawa with flapping hands.

He quirks an eyebrow. Whatever they were spying on had to be interesting if they were brave enough to shush him.

Aizawa shrugs and cranes his neck to see what has them and their friends so intruiged, and-

Absolutely not.

There, sat on a bench in the hidden garden next to 1A's dorm room, was Bakugo Katsuki.

Accompanied by you, his daughter.

And unless his eyes deceived him - was he blushing?

Having seen enough, Aizawa stands and pushes between the students clustered behind the bushes.

He calls your name, and you look up with a start, eyes wide and dazed, your cheeks strangely flushed.

"Dad?"

You and Bakugo both jump up, and you head towards Aizawa while Bakugo slips away.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were going straight home? And why were you with Bakugo?"

You laugh awkwardly, deflecting his questions as you grab his arm and head towards your own apartment, away from the 1A dorms.

"Sorry dad, I got a bit caught up. Hey, how'd the interrogation go?"

You were trying to distract him. Aizawa knew that.

But your father was nothing if not willing, so he let you get away with it, making a mental note to look into what you were doing with Bakugo Katsuki of all people later.

****

Of all the students in your father's class, Bakugo was the one he thought would stay away from you. Far away.

Unfortunately, nothing seemed to be going his way lately, and Aizawa was infuriated to learn that Bakugo had taken a liking to you.

While he may have his own strong suits, he was definitely not the type of person your father would want you to end up with. Honestly, if he had it his way, you would remain happily single and by his side until both of you died.

But those plans were put on the back burner for now.

He learnt, from a collection of camera feeds and fearful student reports, that you had indeed been on your way back home after your father's intervention, but you'd gotten caught up exploring the grounds around the dorm area.

No one could fault you for that - it was Aizawa's fault really, he never let you out on your own, especially not to explore.

It was something he'd have to work on at a later date.

While on your little adventure, you'd run into a feisty blond.

Bakugo had been tasked with clearing away the autumn leaves around the 1A dorms, a minor punishment for some or other misdemeanour, and he'd caught your attention.

That wasn't unusual - you were curious when you wanted to be. It was a trait that your father both loved and loathed.

What was unusual was that Bakugo had played along.

Aizawa knew that Bakugo knew you were his daughter. That meant that he knew not to snap at you or treat you with his usual brutish attitude as he did with his classmates.

He knew that, but he couldn't understand why Bakugo had taken such a liking to you. Aizawa knew you were perfect, but he also knew that he was biased when it came to his opinion of you.

Well, he thought, I'll just have to ask him myself.

****

For the first time in all his years as a teacher, Shouta Aizawa was stunned to the point of silence.

He never imagined the conversation would take a turn like this.

"Sensei?"

He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the heavy fog over his mind as he throws the quizzical blond a hard look.

"No."

"No?"

He'd never felt any genuine anger or violence towards any of his students, but this-

"Well sensei, we met a while ago. She- I knew she was your daughter, so I tried to keep my distance but, well..."

"I'm sure you understand what I mean."

"We've known each other for a while. "

"If you'll allow it-"

The conversation replayed in his head as a series of broken sentences and snapshots.

He felt off-kilter, unsure of himself in the worst way possible.

The only thing he knew was that, at this moment, someone was threatening to come between you and him - threatening to take you away from him, to steal you from him.

"No," he said sharply, "Stay away from my daughter."

It was Bakugo's turn to look shocked, though he was faster to calm himself than Aizawa was.

"Sensei, is this to keep her safe, or because you don't want to share her?"

It's a strangely phrased question, one that would puzzle anyone. Anyone but Aizawa.

He understood exactly what the hotheaded child in front of him meant by the word 'share'.

It spelt trouble in more ways than one.

"No. You asked and that's my answer. Now go back to your dorm," he says, waving him out without another word.

Bakugo nods and leaves without further argument, not once looking back.

Aizawa slumped back in his seat.

Bakugo knew what you meant to his teacher, beyond what most people thought they knew - he understood the lengths he'd go to to keep you safe and happy. The fact that he'd left without a fight proved as much.

More concerning than that though, had to be the fact that Bakugo was the same as him. He had the same unsettling urge to be with you, to be the only source of your attention.

Aizawa had seen it in his eyes, but heard it moreso in his words.

Share.

No, he wouldn't share you. Not with anyone.

[rishiguro]

HONOURABLE MAN - N. KENTO

warnings: set during jjk0. major character death. weapons. heavily implied past lovers. no happy ending (but are we even surprised). swearing. reader is on getou's side and believes in his cause. 4k words.

a/n: happy halloween! and thank you for sticking with me all though angstober, i hope you enjoy this last fic <3

angstober event

you clenched your jaw, fingers tightening around the weapon in your hands as you stared at the blonde man in front of you. “get out of my way,” the words came out pressed through your teeth.

nanami however didn’t move, instead lifting his chin as he stared right back at you, shaking his head slightly, just enough for you to notice. “no”

you pressed your lips together to a thin line, quickly looking over his shoulder before looking over yours, realizing that there was no one around you. “please,” you whispered, more to yourself than actually addressing him.

please get out of my way. i don’t want to hurt you.

“i can’t,“ he replied.

you however couldn’t concentrate on him, instead focusing on your surroundings, quickly scanning the surrounding alleyways, streets and even rooftops for sorcerers and curses, friends and foes alike.

was there somebody, anybody near you? somebody that could hear you, observe you, rat you out?

rat you out for talking to your enemy, for even just as much as hesitating to confront him, fight him and ultimately kill him.

rat you out for acting like a traitor. 

lucky for you, you couldn’t detect anybody, barely managing to suppress a relieved sigh. yet when your eyes found nanami again, you analyzed his posture, taking in how his jaw was still clenched, his fingers right around his cleaver, staring you down with determined eyes behind his glasses.

yet he looked different from how he usually looked when facing curses, his breathing was deeper and you noticed how he swallowed repeatedly, like he had a lump in his throat. 

for a moment you bit your lip, glancing at your weapon before restoring eye contact with the man in the suit. “i don’t want to do this,” you stated calmly, gripping your fingers tighter shortly, “please, just go”

he shut his eyes defeated. “i’m afraid you have to,” nanami retorted, raising his cleaver, shifting his stance. “i can’t let you go”

you let me go just fine the last time. you didn’t even attempt to follow me, make me stay.

‘you have to’, you wanted to whisper, ‘it wasn’t hard to let me go before, so why should it be any different now?’

but it seemed like you didn’t even have to say anything, as nanami immediately replied to you thoughts. “you’re dangerous, a threat,” he claimed, his free hand reaching up to loosen his tie a little, pulling at the knot.

you wanted to laugh at his claim.

a threat? you? why would you be? you hadn’t changed, your abilities hadn’t changed. and you weren’t ‘dangerous’ before. not to him. or to anybody else.

“now i am?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows, thinking back to your time at jujutsu high.

“your friends didn’t even look at me back at jujutsu high” “saying that i was weak. useless” 

“you always had potential,” he stated, reminiscing the time when the two of you would brawl together at school, familiarizing yourselves with each other’s techniques and fighting patterns.

and while nanami might have never thought of you as weak, that didn’t stop him from dismissing your seniors and sometimes even your juniors poking fun at you, claiming that your place at jujutsu high was wasted, that there were more people around that deserved your place, effectively poisoning your mind with insecurities and doubts, until you grew to hate being around them.

“and they didn’t even have the guts to tell me directly what they thought,” you remembered, a part of you still hurting as you recounted the subtle jabs thrown your way. you scoffed, smiling. “can you imagine their faces now?” 

“you always had it in you,” nanami repeated in a matter-of-factly tone. 

“shut up,” you spat, shaking your head, trying to get his words out of your head.

potential. 

“i wish you could’ve seen that sooner”

“i said shut the fuck up!” you demanded loudly, groaning in frustration. as if he had any idea how it has been for you. as if he knew how you had to live with the constant feeling of not being enough, of being a waste of space at jujutsu high, of always living in fear of failing and proving everybody right. “stop with this pseudo-motivational coach shit. you have no idea what you’re talking about”

“i do,” he stated. how could he still be so calm and collected? did he even understand you? did he even try to understand how this had gnawed at you during your entire time you were at jujutsu high, even after you graduated and went on missions, dutifully carrying out the orders you were given, no matter what? does he even understand how it had only stopped when you decided to leave?

when you decided to look out for yourself?

nanami took a step towards you, to which you immediately took one back. “i tried to tell you” 

you clenched your jaw.

you knew he was right. he did try to make you feel at least reassured and confident in your abilities, instead of weak and helpless.

instead of what you were convinced you should feel like. instead of what you felt like every time you failed to save somebody, every time you lost a friend.

he however was unable to rescue you from this darkness, instead letting you be dragged deeper and deeper down into it, his hand never quite reaching yours to pull you out. 

and you stayed there, surrounded by darkness until you found somebody else in the same pit. a familiar face that took your hand and found a way out, saving you.

and in this moment you decided to forever be grateful for it.

“you could have stayed, you know?” nanami proposed, again taking a step towards you. this time hoever, you didn’t move, only looking at him, carefully analyzing every move, fingers itching around the hilt of your weapon. he gave you a small, almost hopeful smile. “you could come back”

hopeful, like everything would be okay again. like everything that had happened would be forgotten.

you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

why would you come back? “don’t be ridiculous” 

he took another step towards you. “i’m not”

you shook your head, turning your face away from him. “i don’t want to,” you pressed though clenched teeth. how could he even suggest this? “i despise your jujutsu society, the elders, the school,” you listed before looking back at him, clenching your jaw, before continuing. “i despise you”

the blonde man smiled sadly, shaking his head softly. “you don’t”

“you stand for everything i hate,” you reasoned, trying to sound as objective and emotionless as possible, “you’re a slave, kento” you took a step closer to him, the tip of your blade slightly touching his chest. nanami immediately pushed it to the side to which you drew it back to yourself. “a slave, protecting people that won’t even take a glance at you” you looked around, noticing that every building around you was practically empty, the streets abandoned. “people that are too ignorant to even care that you risk your life for them. they’re weak. pathetic,” you spat out, not being able to stop your face from contorting in disgust. you pointed at him. “and you know that”

“they’re worth being protected,” nanami claimed simply, “they need to be. it’s our job, our calling. protect the ones that can’t protect themselves. you used to believe in that too” he smiled sadly at you.

he was right. you used to believe it. but things had changed.

you changed.

you breathed out, almost wanting to start laughing hysterically. “why should i? why should we risk our lives every day and not even get a fucking thank you?” you ranted loudly, vividly gesturing around you. 

this wasn’t fair. 

“why should we give our lives for them when they never learn, never change? why do we have to see our friends, our comrades die every day and still protect the ones that kill them?” you continued, feeling your heart ache as you thought all the friends you had to bury.

even your best friend.

your opponent grew agitated and visibly shaky, clenching his jaw. “because it’s the right thing to do,” he spat out loudly. 

“how honourable of you, kento” you scoffed, shaking your head as you brought your free arm out, like you inviting people to join in and look at him, listen to him, just to mock him. “look at you, the righteous man, protecting the helpless” 

“it’s what i do. that’s what we do,” he pressed out, a lonely vein protruding on his neck. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy this, questioning his world view, poking fun at him and his beliefs.

even if he would never be by your side again.

“we die, that’s what we do! every day more and more of us die because of some scum that’s way too arrogant to control themselves and their emotions,” you yelled out in frustration, feeling your own throat get dry in the process. “how can you still fight for them when they take away everyone we care about?”

tears welled up in your eyes and at the moment you couldn’t bring yourself to care, your hand instead grabbing your top, fisting the fabric in front of your chest. “how can you stand in front of me, telling me what’s right when they killed yu?” your voice broke, tears falling down your cheeks in little rivers. “they killed him and you act like it’s normal!”

“don’t you dare bring him up” nanami sounded appalled, angry even, like he was convinced that you had no right to even mention his former best friend’s name.

did he really forget that he used to be your best friend too? 

“open your eyes, kento!” you demanded loudly.

his words were stuck in his throat as he remembered the day his friend left him – dying right in front of him. “yu died because i couldn’t protect him!”

how could he still be so blind? how could he shoulder all the blame of him dying when the only reason he did were human-made curses? 

and how could he just spit on his memory, still fighting for non-sorcerers?

“yu died because of them! he was so bright. always so fucking cheerful and i never understood that. and now he’s gone” you forced yourself to take a breath, trying to calm your racing heart and tremblings hands. “we will never see him again because of them! how dare you protect the ones that took him away from us?”

“we knew what we were getting ourselves into, so why are you acting so surprised? sorcerers die daily. but so do regular people. and countless more would die if we weren’t here to protect them”

was he serious?

how dare he? how could he?

“it’s about doing what’s right, not about what we want,” nanami finished, his teary voice from just a moment ago nowhere to be found, instead sounding disconnected and apathetic.

like he never even cared in the first place.

you scoffed before letting out a shocked laugh, throwing your hands up, slightly pulling at your hair with your free hand. “how can letting your friends die be right? do you even hear yourself?”

he raised his voice again, shaking his head in disappointment. “how can you stand against your friends? against the people you claimed you loved?” nanami’s voice broke as he said that, pressing the words out between his teeth.

love.you loved him. so how could you turn your back on him?

he swallowed thickly, his voice still cracking as he spoke. “how is that any better? how are you not betraying yourself? or everybody else? how can you only think about yourself?”

“who else will think about me?” you yelled, your hand pointing at your own chest.

“i did!” nanami screamed back, his voice cracking slightly. in heat he raised his cleaver again, pointing it at you as he yelled. shortly after he sighed, shaking his own head before speaking again, this time noticeably quieter, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “i always did”

you vaguely pointed at him and the weapons in his hand, shrugging. “and yet you stand here now” your voice got quieter, softer. “don’t act so high and mighty”

“you left! i haven’t turned my back on the jujutsu society ever since i realized what it meant to be a sorcerer. you did” he pointed at you, fingers trembling as he spoke, practically spitting the words at you. “you’re selfish”

“and you’re an idiot,” you shot back harshly, spitting right back at him. “they will never care about you. you’re nothing more than an asset to them. it doesn’t matter how much of a loyal dog you are to them, they don’t care about you licking their boots, they will kick you, kill you, just like they always do” you stopped for a moment, sighing to yourself.

why was he so blind? why didn’t he even care enough to see?

“you’re nothing special. to them, you’re nothing” you clenched your jaw, hesitating for a second before continuing, voice cold and almost sounding apathetic. “you will die as nothing”

nanami paused for a few moments, eyes darting down to the cleaver, following it’s direction back to your chest. “when i die, i will die for what i believe in,” he spoke calmly and confidently, his eyes wandering up to face yours again. “i will die peacefully, knowing that i did what i could to protect others” he scanned your form, nodding at you. “not for my own selfish reasons”

you raised your eyebrows. “are you calling me selfish?” nanami simply shrugged. “you’re only looking after yourself, not caring about others. that’s the definition of being selfish,” he pointed out.

so now you were selfish?

because what– because you didn’t want to die for people that would never appreciate you? because you weren’t willing to be just another body in an unmarked grave? 

you scoffed. “i look out for myself because no one else would!”

“i always looked out for you”

you couldn’t help but let out a laugh, your gaze pointing to his cleaver still pointed at you. “i didn’t know that threatening me with your weapon counts as looking out for me” his fingers gripped it tighter, his knuckles turning white. a small smile appeared on your face as you noticed it, feeling affirmed in your suspicion. “you gave me no other choice”

“you always have a choice! and you chose to stand here and you chose to fight me” you swallowed, hoping to get rid of the lump in your throat and blinked a couple of times, hoping to calm yourself down.

why were you getting so emotional?

“you chose to betray me”

nanami scoffed, a small but mocking smile appeared on his lips. he leaned back, staring up at the sly before turning his attention back to you. “i never betrayed anyone. you left. you turned your back on us”

so you betrayed him?

you betrayed him when everything you were doing was for a better world for all of you, even for him?

you betrayed him when you were fighting for a world where he didn’t have to die? for a world where his death wouldn’t be meaningless? 

you betrayed him when you were fighting for all of you to be more than just mindless soldiers?

“because i see how unfair this is. because i see how we all die for nothing! yu died for nothing!”

“he died for us!” nanami yelled out, his voice sounding strained.

“he died for a world that would never change! that’s why we have to force it to change!” you shouted back immediately, pointing your blade at him.

nanami sighed before flexing and relaxing the fingers on his free hand. “mass murder isn’t change” a sad smile appeared on your face. “it’s better than not doing anything,” you claimed. 

better than just stand on the sidelines as everybody you cared about died for a lost cause.

“now get out of my way,” you demanded, head pointing in a random direction.

go away. live your life. do what yu wanted you to do. do what we always wanted to do. 

much to your dismay, he shook his head, speaking with a firm voice. “no” 

“kento, leave,” you begged him one last time, raising your weapon and preparing yourself to charge at him, willing to attack him since it seemed like you truly had no other choice. “you can’t stop us”

“maybe not all of you” he took a deep breath, assuming a fighting stance as he sharpened his eyes, carefully examining every move you made. “but i can stop you”

what followed was a brutal match between the two of you, ruthlessly attacking each other with your weapons and cursed energy alike, desperate to knock the other one down.

you barely had any time to breath as you returned the blonde man’s slashes, pushing him back a few meters only to be forced back by him immediately after. during the entire fight the two of you were silent, too occupied to defend yourselves against the other to even try to taunt your opponent.

from an outside perspective it almost looked like you were dancing with each other, deeply familiar with the other’s movements and strategies. no matter which one of you decided to attack, most of the time the efforts were fruitless, either being blocked by a weapon like it was only waiting to clash with the other one or simply slashing through the air, like you hadn’t been there in the first place. 

you were too familiar with each other, so you knew that your fight was nothing more than a stamina match – whoever slowed down first would lose. whoever would lose focus for the smallest fraction of a second would lose. 

a few years back this match could’ve ended either way. nanami and you typically teamed up, your strengths and weaknesses balancing each other out and your skill level being about the same.

but things have changed.

when you left, you lost your strongest training partner, you lost the person that pointed out your mistakes when you lost a brawl, you lost the one person that always strived you to be better. you would think that the same thing applied to him too.

yet it didn’t. you could tell that he became stronger, more agile, more durable when you noticed how he didn’t even flinch at the injuries he retained, instead retaliating with twice the force behind his strikes, almost taunting you with how he seemed to disappear from your field of vision, only to appear behind you to injure you even further, until it was clear that he would emerge victorious as he managed to bring you down with one final strike, your weak body falling onto the hard concrete, knocking the air out of your lungs. 

“go ahead,” you breathed out, staring up at nanami as he towered over you. he looked down, his shoulders rising and falling rapidly while he tried to catch his breath.  “finish it,” you demanded weakly.

“do you have any last words?” he asked stoically, clenching his cleaver. 

you couldn’t help but laugh out, only to cough immediately after, face constricting in pain.

last words? you didn’t need such thing. 

not from him.

“i die for my cause,” you claimed weakly, forcing your eyes to keep focused on the blonde man,  “i don’t need any pity from a traitor”

he shook his head slightly. “i don’t pity you. you chose this path,” he stated coldly, pausing for a moment. nanami seemed to think about something, furrowing his eyebrows slightly, just like he always did whenever something was bothering him. he sighed, mumbling something to himself before he crouched down beside you. a faint, pained smile appeared on his face. “i’m not asking as a sorcerer, i’m asking as a friend. as someone who loved you”

“love? would you really kill someone you loved?” you huffed, feeling your own heart crack at his words.

love.

nanami swallowed thickly, blinking rapidly, like he was trying to get rid of tears welling up in his eyes. his voice cracked. “if i had to” 

it was over.

you lost. you failed. 

you clenched your eyes shut in pain, groaning weakly. you couldn’t escape from this anymore. you couldn’t escape from the pain in your entire body, you couldn’t escape from your imminent death and probably the worst of all, you couldn’t escape from him.

but a part of you didn’t want to, instead finding comfort in the fact that he’s right here at your side as you were drawing your last few breaths. 

who else would be more comforting than the person that you loved? 

yet your heart broke when you realized how this wouldn’t change anything for him. he would move on, live his life, be sent on one deadly mission after the next before he would die during one of them. 

you didn’t want him to die.

you had dreamed of a long life with nanami by your side, where the two of you would leave the jujutsu world just like he had done before, grow old together and simply be happy together.

but you couldn’t anymore. 

and while you knew that it was too late, that nothing you would say could ever convince him, you still had to try.

because wherever you’d be going after this, if there even was anything, you didn’t want him to join you soon.

“you will never be free,” you breathed out, “you will always be bound by jujutsu society”

you knew your efforts would be fruitless.

he defeated you. he won. he wouldn’t listen to you, he had no reason to.

and yet you couldn’t deny how your heart ached when you thought about him returning, living the same life he did before, the same life you chose to leave behind, the life he left behind before.

your heart ached because you knew his path could only end in death. and nobody would bat an eye, he would be one fallen sorcerer among all the others, his name soon to be forgotten by everybody else.

and you didn’t want that for him.

“nothing more than a soldier carrying out orders. never your own person” 

nanami sighed, like you had this conversation a million times before, like you weren’t currently laying on the floor, clinging on to the rest of your life force and almost pathetically trying to make him see your side, trying to get him to change his mind. 

like it would change anything now.

and while you knew it wouldn’t change anything for you anymore, while it was too late to change your fate, you knew he could still change his.

you hoped he would change his.

he could still live a long and happy life, free of curses and sorcerers alike. he could just be a normal person, like so many others, living his life and not worry about anything else.

“i chose this life”

you shook your head. “other people chose for you,” you whispered, turning your head, trying to stop him from seeing the few stray tears in your eyes. “and apparently it makes us villains for choosing for ourselves”

you felt a warm hand engulf yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. 

nanami knew just as well as you did that you didn’t have for much longer, that soon you’d leave.

he won and you lost. 

you failed.

and yet you didn’t want to leave him. you wanted to stay with him, live with him.

but you failed. 

“you know, we could’ve run away together. leave everything behind,” you smiled weakly at him, squeezing his hand with the last strength you had left in your body. “no sorcerers, no school, no elders” 

he nodded, pressing a kiss on the back of your hand, lips lingering on your skin. “we could have. but it’s too late” 

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[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for reprimanding someone else's kid?

I brought my friend's 2 foster kids to the park so she could have some time to work on adoption paperwork. The kid this pertains to is the two year old, he's super social and charismatic, both adults and kids are drawn to him, I'll refer to him as K. A little white boy was playing with a soccer ball, he must have been around 7 or 8 years old. K fucking loves soccer and eagerly ran over to the other kid, and they started playing together.

The older kid's guardian was there and asked about K, we exchanged small talk and I praised how gentle and patient her kid was with K. I learned her kid's name, we'll call him T. At some point K got distracted and stopped playing, following his foster sister around. T began playing on the playground with 2 other boys in the generally same age group as T, both were white.

K once again was drawn to T, and now his friends, as they were playing something like cops and robbers. T's guardian and I observed from a distance. T seemed perturbed by K's presence, though K was just watching them and not doing anything in particular. T informed his peers of K's name, then proceeded with, "but he's a poop. A stinky brown poop!" his peers weren't paying much attention and were arguing over where the jail should be. T continued insisting that K was a stinky brown poop. K was becoming upset, he could definitely tell this was an insult and not in jest. K isn't particularly good at communicating yet, he's only 2 after all, but he did manage a proper, "it makes me feel bad when you say that!" as his foster momma has been very good at encouraging her kids to express emotions through sentences with one another like this. What I'm supposed to do with the 2 foster kids, if one uses their words appropriately like this, and the other one fails to stop, I'm supposed to intervene to get the other one to respect their request.

T's guardian was simply observing. I think the social situation was a bit loaded (I was presently the white guardian of a black kid, she was the black guardian of a white kid, I don't know if she was his mom or babysitting like I was, addressing the situation was tricky either way). I don't know if T's comments were necessarily a learned racism thing, or if it was related to K being younger. At any rate, he didn't seem to want to be seen with K by his peers.

I made eye contact with T, and said loudly and sternly, "T, be kind to K or hush up." T looked shocked that an adult stranger addressed him by name. The 2 other kids heard and, as children do, started making fun of T with, "oooo you're in trouble!" and, "yeah, hush up T!" K joined in as well, though he was definitely just parroting the others. T became flustered, his face got bright red and he began shouting that he wasn't in trouble, telling them to stop. I noticed It's guardian watching me, but she didn't say anything, and I didn't either.

T backed away, his two friends then started paying attention to K and were amused by K parroting them, they then resumed playing cops and robbers with K this time. K went back to smiles and being his typical charismatic self, while T kind of stayed away, repeatedly glancing at me. After a bit K veered away from the other 2 and made finger guns at T and pretended to shoot him, leading T's 2 friends back over to include T once again. All 4 boys were then playing together, as though nothing had happened.

I feel like I may have been TA because really, what happened was T was requesting space from K, just going about it wrong. Kids who don't learn to say things like, "I need space," usually use insults or hitting instead. But I do feel that T began insulting the little guy because he's got weird feelings about race, that are triggered when he's with his friends. I have no way of knowing. When we left, T's guardian waved at me and smiled, I returned the gesture and told her to have a good night. I told K's foster mom about it afterwards, and she said it's tricky and thinks what I did was fine, but I dunno. Additionally I may be TA for not stepping in when the other 2 and K berraded T.

AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[thyandrawrites]

I feel like one thing that helps make more sense of Reo's overattachment for Nagi (and his subsequent devastation at the thought of having lost him as well) is that Nagi isn't simply Reo's best friend, but up until their separation in the 3v3, Nagi was also Reo's only friend. No, no, hear me out, I'm serious.

Chigiri and Kunigami? They only get friendly with him after Nagi leaves. His weird dynamic with Shidou happens later down the line, and his reevaluation of Isagi is only during the third selection. But if we're talking strictly about second selection!Reo, then he doesn't have any other friends. Not yet.

If you're thinking of Zantetsu, then let me remind you that Reo never stops being condescending and rude to him, despite how the latter repeatedly makes his discomfort at the way Reo addresses him known. That lack of respect isn't friendship. At most, Zantetsu tolerates his attitude, but only begins cooperating with him because he's friends with Nagi, not Reo himself. Even after they reach an agreement of sorts, Zantetsu tells Reo to his face that he still doesn't like him.

Then there's the rest of team V, which Reo had under his thumb, but wasn't particularly friendly to. Unless you count manipulating people into not being jealous of you as friendly behavior. His Hakuho soccer team? Same thing. He made himself likeable enough for them to accept him and get him what he wanted, but he has no relationship with them outside of that. Nagi's the only player Reo consistently did extra practice with. Reo even implies he considers the other teammates as deadweight while his and Nagi's combo carries the club on their shoulders.

What about his fangirls, then? Reo is undoubtedly popular. Definitely admired. But none of his fangirls understands or even cares about his passion for soccer, giving me the feeling that Reo didn't know these girls too well, either. His popularity seems more based on his looks & money than anything about Reo himself.

All in all, Reo strikes me as the kind of person who doesn't have enemies cause he's good at tailoring himself into whatever public face he needs to wear to be liked, but also as the kind of person who doesn't have many real bonds because of it, only shallow, business-like ones.

High school me wasn't popular at all, but even I had a best friend I hung out with during breaks, and took the bus home with. Reo goes to school either by limo or with his bike, and Nagi is the only other passenger that we see. Despite his huge popularity and friendly attitude, he's shown to be wandering the school alone when he first bumps into Nagi, and again being alone when he follows Nagi around to learn more about him. We know that he tried other sport clubs before soccer so he must have made acquaintances, but it would seem that none of them stuck. None of them spends time with him in between classes.

Adding to this, Reo used money to create a soccer club at Hakuho, instead of going the more normal route of simply asking his friends/acquaintances. So conclusion: I don't think he had any. It must not be easy, when your father's wealth is the first thing everyone sees upon meeting you.

I think Nagi was the first person who grabbed Reo's attention so thoroughly, Reo wanted to cultivate his bond with him past the usual shallow relationships he seems to entertain with most of his peers. But if he only had admirers but not friends, that means Reo doesn't have much experience with... Being vulnerable around people, you know? If Reo was always the most talented, the most resourceful one around, it makes sense that he'd only learn to show his successful persona to others. I think second selection!Reo shows this well. He holds back from telling Nagi how he really feels and puts on a mask of nonchalance. He only cries after Nagi has left, so that he won't see how affected Reo truly is. He pretends to be fine when Kunigami checks on him, then tells kunigiri to go to the showers without him, so he can be vulnerable and "pathetic" alone, without witnesses.

Then again, that might just be his pride speaking. But there's also his skewed perspective on Nagi's feelings that adds to this, imho. If we go with the assumption that all his previous bonds were shallow, based on mutual gain (think of the "win-win" deal he offers to Zantetsu), then it also makes sense of why he assumes Nagi doesn't want to have anything to do with him anymore once he leaves with Isagi.

If Reo's relationships never went any deeper than tutoring partners or temporary teammates he grew bored of quickly, then Reo also doesn't have much of a frame of reference for people hanging out with him for him. Because they like him as a person, and not just because they are doing something together.

Because of this, I think, he sees his role in Nagi's life as something inherently replaceable, and assumes Nagi will grow bored with him in pretty much the same way Reo got bored with everything he mastered too easily.

He thinks "forgetting" about your best friend is as easy as simply meeting someone new. As if Reo is nothing but a temporary cure for Nagi's boredom. Cause after all, until he discovered soccer and then Nagi, Reo's interest in anything only lasted as long as his talent caught up with the challenge and made the thing easy for him. Given how he's always been acutely aware of the gap between himself and Nagi's talent, it would make sense if Reo rationalized Nagi leaving as Nagi's genius finally catching up with Reo's hard work, surpassing him in skills, and thus growing bored of him and seeking new challenges in other people.

It's not that he sees friendship as transactional, per se, because his actions around Nagi prove he values him as a person more than as a genius. But between that perceived inferiority and the fact Reo doesn't have much of a frame of reference for healthy friendships, I think that a lot of his communication issues with Nagi are due to the fact that Nagi's just. His first real friend. And Reo is still learning how to be around him. A feat that would be hard on its own, but which Nagi then complicates by adding his own lack of people skills and "how to person" to the mix.

In conclusion: I think it's good that they had time apart, and that during that time they expanded their world past each other. Making friends with other people definitely helped; for one, that distance alone is enough to make Reo understand he forced his dream on Nagi instead of sharing it with him the way he thought he had

[brucewaynehater101]

ok here's another wingfic au but taking it in the opposite direction from the last one. (different person from the original op btw)

what if tim and all of the bats did have wings but instead of the surgeon adding wings they actually removed them from tim?

now tim has to deal with the experience of losing his wings and not being able to fly anymore. maybe it took away his instincts so he can't reciprocate anymore despite once being able to do so with ease. or maybe he still has his instincts but the others find it hard to reach out to him now that he doesn't have wings anymore.

but tim is a stubborn fuck so what if we combined this with that one fake wing au where tim learns to build his own wings bc he refuses to never be able to fly again.

and maybe tim manages to pull it off to the point where no one even knows that tim ever lost his wings in the first place until it's revealed in a traumatizing manor idk.

the fake wing fic i was talking about is called "Loading and Aspect Ratio" by JUBE514

Oof. For some reason, I can't read fics where someone loses their wings. It's such an important part of their identity and being that losing it causes an insurmountable amount of grief. To me, I imagine it to be similar to a vital part of someone's culture being taken away from them (like forcibly cutting hair for some cultures or preventing someone from having access to an important part of their identity).

However, I would so be down for a fic where, after Tim loses his wings, he creates prosthetics. It would not be the same, but Tim could learn to find himself again in the pile of wires and metal he fashions into his ability to fly again.

I think this prospective fic could have many different themes it could address:

One, Tim would probably be pissed at people treating him as fragile or lesser because he lost his wings. This could be a great allegory to how people treat disabled individuals, especially after an incident that changes the person's ability. It could also address how folks interact with people who have gone through traumatic and life changing events.

Two, the experience is going to absolutely suck for Tim. Even when he creates new wings, it's not going to fix everything. They will probably cause him pain, the scars will hurt, he will be going through all the stages of grief rapidly and repeatedly, and they might malfunction. There will be days he destroys his wings in anger and despair. Sometimes, he won't leave his lab, won't get out of bed, or refuses to eat. He might get dysphoria or imposter syndrome, might lash out at loved ones, and will probably isolate. It will be a very rough transition for him.

Three, there might be social stigma against "fake" wings. Maybe it would ping the others' instincts wrong. They might struggle connecting with Tim before and after he gets the prosthetics. I would also imagine that Tim would need to implant a chip into his body/spine/brain (idk robotic prosthetic science) to have the wings work correctly. I doubt he would tell them before doing it.

Eventually, his family would rally to support Tim's choice for the fake wings. It's the dealer's choice on whether Timothy Drake is known for his fake wings or not. On one hand, Tim could be the face of WE's prosthetics department and providing support for people who have lost their wings (and he could address the lack of Cyborg rights currently in law [companies can reclaim prosthetics if you go bankrupt effectively taking a part of you]). On the other hand, it could address how people don't have to publicly embrace aspects of their identity. They are a person with unique experiences and don't need to fit themselves into boxes or become the poster child of a movement (it sucks, but sometimes embracing your identity means you get limited down to that subjective experience in how people see and identify you).

If the Waynes don't know about Tim getting his wings taken away and then replaced, that kind of reminds me of a fic I read where Tim's arm was replaced. He built it with YJ and his family didn't find out for years. I don't remember the name, but it was really good.

I haven't read that fic you mentioned, but now I'm excited to check it out ^^

[beauregardlionett]

kintsugi kid (what is there between us if not a little annihilation)

AO3 Link

NOTE: updated this because i decided i wasn't satisfied with it

Lord de Rolo and Lady Allura were—understandably—pissed. As were the rest of the hells, but the fractured decorum on the Lord and Lady’s faces was much more distinctly out of place.

After Fearne kicked Ashton in the face, the hells reigned in their upset long enough to be led back upstairs to Whitestone castle and guided to their rooms. They made it clear that the hells were in no condition to go to Ruidus, and would spend one more night in the castle. Ashton didn’t give a shit either way.

Ashton dragged his weary limbs into the bedroom he was in the night before and collapsed on the edge of the bed. His limbs ached and burned in tandem, as if his nerves didn't know which sensation to address first, so they just threw everything at Ashton in one go. He stretched out his new arm, hoping to alleviate even a fraction of the pain, waiting for the group to unleash their rage on him.

He only realized he was in for a truly unpleasant conversation when Laudna shut the door behind a reluctant Imogen, leaving them alone in the room.

She turned to face Ashton and crossed her arms over her chest, dark eyes glaring at them from across the room. Ashton looked away, focusing instead on his hand as he extended and curled his new molten fingers repeatedly, testing the sensation and range of motion. The energy inside was a thrilling zing through their veins.

Without looking up from their hand, Ashton asked Laudna, “how long are you going to stand there before you lay into me?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Laudna asked with emphasis.

“You want the list in chronological order or alphabetical?”

“This is not funny!” Laudna all but screeched, throwing her hands in the air. “Is your life really that much of a joke to you?”

“Have you been paying attention to anything I’ve said about my life? I think you already know the answer to that.”

“No,” Laudna exhaled, harsh and upset. “I don’t think I do. You contradict yourself at every fucking turn, Ashton. You're such a hypocrite, how would any of us know what you really think?”

Ashton finally looked up at her, their anger a kindling ember beneath their sternum. It felt different than before, less like something they could control and more like something controlling them.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

Laudna leveled an admittedly terrifying glare at Ashton, her lips pressed into a thin, upset line. “How many times are you going to literally shatter before you stop being so reckless?” “I wasn’t trying to die—” Ashton protested, shifting as if to get up and abandoned the idea halfway. He was still exhausted and aching, and moving didn't help. “I don’t believe you!” Laudna cut them off, the words exploding out of her with a fierce jerk of her arms. “Your words and your actions don’t line up, Ashton. You told F.C.G. no one wants a martyr, and then you pull this because you don’t want any of us to get hurt. You tell us you care about us, that you want to live, but you don’t trust us to have your back and you continuously pull reckless stunts. What is the truth, Ashton?”

Ashton clenched their teeth together, jaw cracking slightly with the force of it. He looked down at his lava rock arm again and figured the answer was pretty clear.

“I want to have a legacy. I want to be remembered for something—something I chose, instead of something that happened to me.”

“How were any of us supposed to know? You never said a damn thing to clue us into the fact we were supposed to care about this shard the way you do. We could have helped you, Ashton! And why does this legacy have to include risking your life alone? Are you that selfish? You didn’t tell us, and you had Fearne lie for you, too!”

“Don’t pretend like you all wouldn’t have tried to stop me,” Ashton scoffed.

“Of course we would have tried to stop you!” Laudna screamed, her eyes watering and furious. “The tree warned us about what would happen if you tried to take on that stupid shard. Is it so hard to believe we would have tried to stop you because we care about you? Because we don’t want you to die? For fuck’s sake, Ashton, why don’t you trust us?”

“I never said I didn’t trust you,” Ashton ground out, that burning ember growing hotter in their chest.

“You could have fooled me!” Laudna snapped. “Everything you do implies otherwise—you didn’t need to say anything. You said you wanted a family. Well, you have one here, trying to help you, but that means we have to trust each other—mutually. But you lied to us, Ashton. You took advantage of our trust to do this. You used Fearne's curiosity and her faith in you because you knew she wouldn't try to stop you—you took advantage of her. What if we hadn’t realized something was wrong?”

“I knew you would,” Ashton said casually, shrugging and trying to contain their anger for once. They were fine, so what did it matter how they got here? What did it matter that kissing Fearne only tasted like guilt? “I trusted you all to keep me alive. Besides, I’m fine. It worked.”

“You...” Laudna trailed off, voice faltering. Ashton looked up at her and blinked at the unadulterated rage he found there. “Your hubris almost got you killed, Ashton! And we had to stand by and watch that happen! You shattered—do you understand that? Ashton, you were gone—to where we would have had to ask someone else to bring you back.”

“We did that for you,” Ashton pointed out. They sat in the same castle they had brought Laudna back in. The irony was not lost on him.

“It’s different and you know it,” Laudna bit out. “I died in a battle by mistake, and I left a body behind. You were on the verge of dying because you think you’re better than the gods and the primordials—because you are convinced they owe you something. If you actually died the way you were about to down there...Ashton, there would have been nothing left of you.”

They stared at each other in the heavy silence left behind from Laudna’s rant. Ashton’s chest felt white hot, like they needed to cough around heartburn, like acid was pooling in their throat. He held it in stubbornly, determined to prove he could control this.

“I did this to take control of my situation,” Ashton ground out eventually. “You can’t tell me that if this was about Delilah, you would have done anything different.”

“I would have talked to you all,” Laudna said, unyielding. “I would have let everyone say their piece, and explained what I was doing and why. Maybe I would have ignored everyone and gone through with it, but at least I wouldn't have done it alone, or used someone's faith in me against them. That’s what I would have done differently.”

Ashton opened his mouth to argue, to tell Laudna she was wrong—that she was more like him than she thought. But one look at her expression and Ashton couldn’t find the words. This was where they diverged, where the line of distinction pulled them apart. Laudna knew her limitations, and Ashton refused to acknowledge his. She was figuring out how to be cared for, and Ashton assumed they were incapable of being loved in any way that mattered.

Ashton had never been cared for the way they wanted to be. No one ever stuck around long enough to do so. They didn't have a framework for accepting the simple fact that these assholes cared about him. So instead, Ashton held them at arms length and convinced himself he was unlovable—because it was easier to stay broken than it was to heal after decades of hurt.

He looked at Laudna across the room and stayed silent.

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” Laudna said, voice low and acidic. She stalked forward, approaching Ashton for the first time so she could glare down at them.

“How many more times are you going to shatter before you’re satisfied?”

Ashton stared up at her ink-colored eyes and smirked, small and self-deprecating.

“What if I said I’ll never be satisfied?”

Laudna’s face twisted, and for a long moment, Ashton thought she might hit them. But at the end of that moment, she took a step back and worked her jaw.

“If that’s the case,” she said, slow and measured. “Then don’t ask us to save you next time.”

Laudna turned away and went for the door. Ashton didn’t know how to call her back. This was expected, watching someone reach the threshold of how much they could care about him and his brokenness. It hurt more than he expected it to, because it was Laudna. They were supposed to be broken in the same ways. But Ashton never let his wounds heal, and Laudna had.

She opened the door and stopped halfway out.

“Apologize to Fearne,” Laudna said over her shoulder. "Or you're getting kicked again."

She started to shut the door behind her, and Ashton couldn't take it anymore.

"Fearne told me she didn't want it."

Laudna paused, turning back to look at him over her shoulder. Her brow was furrowed, but Ashton latched onto the fact that she was listening.

"I asked her if she wanted the shard, and she said that she thought it was meant for me," Ashton placed their lava rock hand over their chest and exhaled, weary. "Yes, I made her lie to all of you, and I scared her. But I don't regret it. I chose this."

Ashton lifted his new arm and stared at it, a mix of emotions swirling unpleasantly in his chest.

"I chose this. For once in my fucking life, I got to choose how I broke." Ashton's eyes slid from their fingers to Laudna's face. He wasn't sure what he was looking to find there, but he was desperate for someone—for her—to understand. "I did this."

Laudna didn't move for a long few moments. Ashton wondered if they really had exceeded the limits of Laudna's patience, if this was it. But then she sighed, long and weary, and shut the door. She walked over to Ashton and sat down on the bed beside them, reaching out for his new arm and hesitating, her fingers hovering over the lava rock. Ashton made no move to close the distance, waiting for Laudna to make that choice.

Eventually, she slid her fingers around Ashton's wrist, seeming surprised when the rock didn't immediately burn her.

"Does it still hurt?" Laudna asked, her voice warbled with emotion. Ashton was surprised at the sudden turned, but then realized he probably shouldn't be. He knew that she cared.

"You mean everything?" Ashton asked. Laudna nodded, her eyes stuck on his arm. "Not really, but I think it's because the new arm is so overwhelmed it's numb. Might change later."

"I..." Laudna paused, breath stuck audibly before she pushed out a heavy breath. "I didn't mean it, what I said. We're always going to try and save you—save each other. Unless you ask us not to. Even then, we'll probably fight you on it."

"I kind of deserved all that," Ashton laughed, curling his fingers again. "I could tell you were all pissed at me."

"We want to support you, Ashton," Laudna said with emphasis. "We know how important this is to you, figuring out who you are. But you have to understand how scary that was, and how much it hurt to realize you lied to us. Yes, we would have tried to stop you from doing something so reckless. But maybe we could have found another way, one that wouldn't have put your life at so much risk. You said yourself that we're supposed to be a family, right? So, include us. We want to help you."

Ashton clenched their jaw, trying to find the words to tell Laudna that the last time they had a family, it was the Nobodies. And they all knew how that had ended. As much as Ashton wanted a family again, it was terrifying.

"Ashton," Laudna said, tone firm. He looked up at her, surprised that his eyes were misty.

"We care about you. You know that, right?"

Ashton stared at her, and she held his gaze in return, unflinching. He wasn't sure how to accept this, but he knew better than to turn her away.

"Yeah," Ashton said, voice wobbling. "I do."

[bluemidnightmelody]

lover/fighter - my favorite moments

[Little snippets from my Finnick/OC longfic that are stuck in my head]

From Chapter 49 - (title)

As much as she has enjoyed today's outing, she is dreading the long walk back that still lies ahead of her. She could lie down on the hard stone right now and still fall asleep, she suddenly feels so tired, but in order not to embarrass herself she remains silent and tries to keep going, with the soft bed as her goal in her mind's eye.

She really does make every effort, but Finnick quickly notices how her already slow steps become increasingly sluggish. After he stops for the third time, only to realize that she can barely keep up with him, even though he is not walking very fast, he addresses her about it. "You're not quite as rested as you thought, are you, Princess?" he asks, slightly amused.

The look on Rhea's face shows that she has been caught out, but at the same time that she is definitely not ready to admit it. "I didn't expect it to be this far," she replies, panting, and finally catches up with him again.

Finnick looks at her with amusement but also feels sorry for her. He's probably overdone it a little today, especially after she's been pulling all-nighters because of him. So he turns around, but instead of walking on, he bends down on one knee and says with a playful look over his shoulder, "Come here, so we can get home before midnight."

Rhea raises her eyebrows and eyes him skeptically. "Definitely not. I'm not six anymore," she replies stubbornly. Is he seriously offering to give her a piggyback ride?

Finnick groans and rolls his eyes at her stubbornness, which drives her to always try to do everything on her own without help, even when she's about to pass out. When she doesn't respond to his second request and still stands rigidly in place, he announces, "I'm not going to kneel on the floor for you forever, so climb up now or I'll have to leave you here."

Rhea bites her cheek, which once again becomes noticeably warm, but then forces herself to follow his words. It's hard to say what she finds more embarrassing, his choice of words or being carried by him like a backpack. She is unsure about every part of her body and doesn't know where to put it as she holds on to his shoulders. The moment he stands up, she realizes that this way she'll end up on the floor again sooner than she'd like and she makes herself wrap her arms around his neck.

Finnick has the audacity to chuckle at her startled squeak and when he turns his grinning face to hers pressed into his right shoulder, he's just way too close. "See, it wasn't that hard after all," he jokes, moving her a little higher onto his back with his grip securely around her thighs and marching on as if he doesn't even notice the extra weight.

Rhea soon forgets her sense of shame as it is replaced by the returning tiredness. Now that she no longer has to concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other, it is even more overwhelming than before. Soon her eyes begin to fall shut repeatedly until she no longer really wants to fight it.

"You're not seriously falling asleep on me right now, are you?" comes Finnick's amused question from right next to her ear. Where her hands rest on his chest, she can feel his laughter as a dull rumble.

"It's your own fault for being comfortable enough to do that," she replies sleepily, without opening her eyes.

Finnick accepts it with another laugh. What else could he do, because to be honest, it's more than endearing when this side of her comes out from under the deliberately strengthened exterior. Apart from that, there is probably no one who is more aware of how much trust you need to have to put yourself in such a vulnerable position with someone else. He can tell by the slow, steady breathing right next to his ear that she is indeed sleeping peacefully, completely defenseless and left alone in his care in the middle of District 4.

If he were someone else, he could be dragging her off anywhere right now and doing whatever he wanted to her, but she seems to be carefree in the conviction that no harm will come to her in his company. That's by no means a given, which is why he hardly ever sleeps in the Capitol, especially not when he's not sure that he's completely alone.

Rhea only starts to wake up again when loud voices rouse her from sleep. With her face still buried in Finnick's shoulder, she blinks, confused and sleepy. It takes her a long time to realize that the loud voices belong to the market vendors, who are loudly advertising their wares, and that they are already back in the village, on their way to the Victors' Village. She suddenly comes to her senses as embarrassment takes hold of her again.

"Good morning, sweetheart, did you sleep well?" asks Finnick, chuckling as he continues on his way unmolested.

"You should have woken me up. Can you put me down please?" Rhea replies energetically, but in a whisper, so as not to draw any more attention to herself and the fact that she, as a grown woman, is being carried home piggyback, like a little girl who has over-exerted herself while playing.

She can't see Finnick's indulgent grin, but she can hear it in his voice as he replies, "Well, that sounded quite different not too long ago. Didn't you say that I was too comfortable?"

"Cut the crap Finnick, it's different when everyone is looking at us," she hisses back, hoping he won't torment her any longer.

But Finnick just laughs in amusement and replies, "I'm just good enough to use as a pillow, but you're suddenly ashamed of it now?"

"Just put me down Finnick."

"What if I don't want to?" he asks provocatively as they continue their walk through the streets of District 4.

"Finnick," she whines a little desperately. Two elderly ladies with their shopping baskets walk past them, giggling and holding their hands in front of their faces as they give them curious glances from the side. Finnick gives them a charming smile while Rhea buries her face in his neck and tries not to die of shame. "This is so embarrassing," she whimpers into his shirt.

"Because of them?" Finnick laughs, good-humored and not the least bit disturbed. "They're just giggling because this is probably the cutest thing they've seen in a while. Maybe they think we're young lovers, old ladies just love that sort of thing," he explains unperturbed.

An unreal thought. But if you took it further, you could ask yourself if this is what it would actually be like to have Finnick as a real lover. Not what the Capitolites fantasize about, but something genuine, not feigned or forced. And with someone as captivating as him, it's hard to think about what true affection from him would feel like without developing at least the slightest bit of longing for it.

Rhea can do nothing but give up and accept her situation, because Finnick really doesn't seem to be willing to let her escape. As often as he accuses her of being stubborn, he himself can't be persuaded to do anything when he's set his mind to something else and only ever does what he likes. At least whenever he is able to.

"You're so wicked," she mumbles sulkily.

Finnick just laughs again. "I'm carrying you all the way home. I think I'm the perfect gentleman."

Links to all the chapters: lover/fighter - Chapter Index

fanfiction on ao3 and wattpad

[360iris]

prompt: dad’s best friend!remus x rich girl!reader

You look over your shoulder with widened, doe-like eyes at the sudden call of your name and Remus watches as recognition immediately dawns over you. Apparent fondness softening your brows and coaxing your glossed lips into the familiar lopsided smile that seemed to be reserved for him alone.

“Remus! What are you doing here?” You ask, irises glinting as you spared a raking glance over his form. Although the execution isn’t as subtle and slick as you may have believed it to be, because he catches it. Ultimately choosing not to address your brief but rovering looks, as was custom with the two of you.

“Grabbing a few things for Ted.” He begins to explain as you abandon the shelf of clothing-based charm books you’d been perusing before he’d gained your attention. “Dora and I have read, and reread, his current collection of bedtime stories into the ground. Figured it’s time it gets refreshed.”

“If you’d like, I have a few childhood favorites laying around at home that I wouldn’t mind giving to him. They’re just collecting dust with me, and I suppose I could write to mum to send one or two by post as well.” You speak softly, pressing an odd assortment of goods closer to your bosom as you look away distractedly, deep in thought.

It was apparent that with or without a basket, you’d set half the shop down onto the cash wrap if you found it was all to your liking.

“But your eyes were too big for your arms, weren’t they?” He chuckled audibly, directly causing your cheeks, ears and the nape of your neck to burn in embarrassment.

Your breath particularly catches when he proceeds to stoop down and relieve you of the weight entirely. Scooping up the items into his larger hands with optimum ease, before he mutters, “I’ll hold these. Run and grab a basket now, dear.” and it very plainly is not a question, no matter how gently he says it.

You quickly skitter off and return to where he stood, his back to one of the many aged wooden shelves as he coolly surveyed his surroundings like a man seasoned at individually reading the intentions of an entire crowd. 

You’d always liked this about him, how he appeared to be aware of who was around him and what they had done, were doing and intended to do. It was a quality of his that never failed to make you feel safe no matter where you were or what time it was.

Bashfully flicking your eyes from his hands to his face repeatedly, he pretends not to notice, instead busying himself with setting your haul into the golden-coated wire basket before proceeding to take it from you.

“Were you planning on getting anything else on your mission to procure the entire shop?” He inquires teasingly, ignoring your puzzled stare at his silent insistence to continue carrying your things; nodding his head towards the shelf you’d previously been occupied with.

“Um, there wasn’t anything in particular I really needed, other than some parchment and ink.” You answer walking closer to the books containing a large variety of various pattern drawing, fabric cutting, figure draping and sewing charms for future magical seamstresses.

“Did Da tell you? I start my apprenticeship at Madam Malkin’s later this week. I thought I ought to busy myself with something that didn’t include worrying nonstop.” You turn to look back at him and he nods at the information which lined up with what he’d known.

“He may have mentioned something to that effect a mere half a dozen times, the last I saw him.” Remus says before laughing at the way you huff exasperatedly with a roll of your eyes. “He’s proud of you, pup. We all are. You’ll do well, that I’m certain.”

You nod quietly before releasing a great sigh and turning to look up at him, “Well! I’m all sorted. What about Teddy’s books?”

“I could use some help, if you don’t mind accompanying me to the kid’s section.” He answers with his usual polite smile.

It doesn’t take the two of you very long to pick out a nice array of children’s books suited for a four year old, and after half an hour, you’re both very pleased with your bounty. 

By the time you reach the queue however, Remus is still pointedly holding the handle of the basket, the bottom sagging under the weight of its contents.

“I can pay for my things, Rem.” You pluck up the courage to say as the last person ahead of you walks up to the register.

“Let me handle it this time, dear.” He answers kindly, but you’re still eyeing the heap rather worriedly. Going over the mental list of everything you’d feverishly grabbed: multiple hard cover books, handmade parchment and authentic feather quills…

He was by no means in a bad place financially, and hadn’t been since he got with Tonks, but you’d always been keenly aware of his condition and how great a strain it posed to his ability to work and conserve his strength and health.

Acknowledging your rather comical  expression of muted horror and nervous wringing hands, he attempts to reassure you yet again, “It’s my treat dear, I wholeheartedly insist.”

“No Rem, really.” You whine pleadingly, looking from the cashier beginning to finish with the customer ahead of you, and back to the stubbornly nice lycanthrope. “It’s a lot of things, it’d be selfish of me to let you-“ but he interrupts you with a harmless squeeze and yank of your nose, your fingers springing up to cup your face as your eyes water- more from the unusual sensation than from any real pain caused.

“Remus!” You protest, voice nasally and dampened through clasped palms.

“At your age, I wouldn’t want you to be anything other than spoiled rotten. Especially with how hard you work. Let this old man do his part, hm?” He arches a sandy blonde brow, lips still fixed in the same warm smile as you stare up at him with a pout.

“You’re not that old, Rem.” You mumble, finally looking away in acquiescence and dropping your hands in defeat. 

Seeming pleased, he briefly wraps a warm arm around your shoulders, pressing an overfond kiss into the baby hairs at your temple. “That’s a good girl.”

Feeling equal parts antagonized and flustered, you allow the need to get the last word in win. “And Siri always says that’s his and Da’s job.” To which he lets out a low chortle at the mention of your doting godfather.

“Trust me when I say I have no doubts that they perform the task dutifully.”

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