#and by god I truly love that gruffness wrapped in love/kindness

[teafiend]

Episode 3 of “Sohn: The Guest” 😍🤩🥰☺️😌 That combination of sweet kindness and uncompromising threat of violence is so HOT 😳🥵🫢🤭 Only KANG GIL YOUNG ❤️‍🔥

(GIFs credited to @Nungchae, Twitter/X)

[grapementos]

redamancy

(v.) the act of loving someone in return.

a/n: the final part of the cheating triology.

kirishima and midoriya’s part.

bakugo x gn reader

warnings: cheating, panic attack (kinda), suggestive, crying

pro-hero dynamight didn't have the best rep with the press, if his exhausted pr team was anything to go by. seldom were there headlines about him without outburst or, the media's favorite little play on words, explosive following suit.

then, suddenly, his brash behavior had stopped. it was so abrupt that no one even noticed at first.

once they did, the questions came flooding in. many of them were speculations of anger management classes or something of that nature. in the end, they were all denied until the big question came:

'are you in a relationship?'

it was confirmed, and the crowd went wild. within days there were tabloids of 'pro-hero dynamight's secret lover: who could it be?'

it was innocent at first; just plain curiosity about a public figure.

but then it got deeper. talk shows got psychologists to give professional insight as to how a relationship with someone like dynamight would be.

as expected, it wasn't positive. and soon enough, everyone on the internet was bashing dynamight for being dangerous or violent, specifically towards his lover, whom they knew nothing about.

you'd rub the tension out of his shoulders at the end of the day, reminding him that he was good, no matter what the media had to say. they didn't know him like you did.

your comfort and reassurance usually calmed him down and left him grumbling, "i didn't even care anyways."

so he took the criticism. and he took the bashing, the false speculation—and he kept moving forward.

that is, until someone thought it'd be fun to make a 'top ten pro-heroes who'd cheat' blog post that went absolutely viral. it reached every corner of the internet, even getting mentioned in the news as outraged heroes demanded the website be removed.

the number one spot, the one bakugo had yearned for, was his.

but not in the way he wanted.

being ranked most likely to cheat did a number on his behavior, both in public and private. he was more distant and less explosive, which somehow spurred the press on more.

they concluded that he cleaned up his act because the blog was right and he wanted to create a better image for himself. that wasn't true at all—he was just tired.

so tired, in fact, that he proved the rumors right.

denki was draped over your couch, watching some game show on tv when you found out. the two of you had planned to hang out for a bit and watch a movie at the cinema, but nothing good was showing, so you ultimately decided to head back to your place.

your shared place. with bakugo.

you assumed it was one of his late nights since he wasn't home, so you started cooking dinner, making small talk with denki.

"so you can go swimming, then?" you quirked a brow, poking your head into the living room.

"yeah, just as long as i don't activate my quirk, you know?" denki opened his mouth to explain further, but the front door messily slammed open, beating him to it.

and there he was. bakugo katsuki.

with someone else in his arms, his face nearly being eaten as they pushed back and forth against each other.

everything stopped the moment he made eye contact with you. the kissing stopped, your brain stopped—it even felt like the tv was muted.

even worse was that his eyes held no remorse. just a little surprise, like finding your old charger after buying a new one.

"thought you were hanging out with dunce face," his voice was gruff, low and sultry as his gazed burned into you with... impatience?

"katsuki, what're you.." you mumbled out, brain still trying to process the sight before you, "why're you.."

"didn't think you'd be back already." he shrugged, gaze shifting back to the person he was with. and only then did his brows relax, lips tugging up into a smile. "now, if you'll excuse us.."

he tried to walk past you, but you shoved his chest, "what the hell are you doing?" you nearly screamed, eyes red and burning with tears.

"haven't you heard the rumors, y/n? i'm a cheater. you don't need to be with someone like me."

you saw the flash of hurt in his eyes, but even that couldn't overpower the utter devastation pooling all the way from your chest to your toes. oh, it hurt.

"kami," you whispered desperately once they were gone—in the room that you used to sleep in—head starting to swim, "kami, help me, please."

you didn't even know what you wanted him to help you with. you just wanted everything to stop.

he rushed to your side, finally snapping out of his shocked daze. his arms were around you in an instant, chin on top of your head, "you're okay, y/n, i'm here. it's okay."

you were shaking and sobbing into his shirt, grip tight on his unzipped jacket.

"it hurts. oh god, it hurts. kami, make it stop, please." you shuddered, and everything was suddenly too loud.

he held you tightly, letting you cry for what felt like hours.

and then he got you out of there.

BONUS:

the healing process was long and still incomplete. some days you still felt so empty, only able to complete the bare necessities to get through your day, but denki was by your side when he could be.

you'd since moved out of your shared home with bakugo and into a place of your own, which was a difficult adjustment. but with denki calling you twice a day—literally—you didn't have a chance to be lonely.

most nights he spent at your house, claiming it was because he loved your cooking.

you weren't dumb; denki flirted with you all the time. he was truly unashamed every time he greeted you with a 'hey, hottie', and bid you goodbye with a 'love you, sweetcheeks'.

it made you cringe, but it was denki, so you had to love him.

after a year of being closer than ever, he’d asked you on a date numerous times, receiving a playful 'no, you know i'm not ready for that.'

but, one time was special. one time was heartfelt and so genuine that you shed real tears. denki laid his heart bare for you, every ounce of emotions spilling out of him and onto your shirt.

"i know you're not ready, y/n, but i love you so much. i'll wait for you, i swear it!"

and after all those no's, you finally said yes.

i like to think that bakugo did it for you. obviously this wasn’t the right way to go about it, but he just.. kind of got so tired of being accused of something terrible. he became the monster they swore he was. and you got caught in the crossfire. also i bolded dynamight instead of bakugo because i feel like this focuses on that part of his persona. his hero-self got too wrapped up in the media. also! kirishima was originally gonna be the new lover, but i feel like it’d be too similar to the other bakugo one i wrote.

reblogs are appreciated.

[angeli-marco-writes]

Tom Felton - Baby on the Brain

A/N - First request! I hope this is what you wanted, I really like this idea. I don’t know Tom, nor do I claim to, and the other characters are fictional figments. To celebrate 100 followers, I'm uploading this early. Thank you!

Warnings - overloads of fluff, mentions of baby sick, mild language, slight angst, hints to a breeding kink whoops, lightly implied smut.

Summary - Visiting Tom’s brother and his new baby should be a walk in the park, really, but some unwitting truths come to ahead that you can’t refute. You’ve always wanted a family, but does Tom? (Request for Tom Felton: you guys meet his brother's new baby and then decide to have your own.)

Tom’s bruised knuckles rap thrice against the oak wood of his brother's front door, squeezing your smaller, trembling hand in his, running his fingers over the band of the ring in pride of place. Taking a deep breath in sync with yours, he turns his twinkling blue eyes towards you, lending you a twitch of a reassuring smile.

“Why are you so nervous? It’s only my brother,” he says, his voice gruff following the cigarette he smoked in the car.

“It’s the baby I wanna see,” you breathe, “less nervous, more jittery.”

“Maybe you should’ve gone for tea this morning instead of a double shot coffee.”

You nudge his ribs with your elbow, and then his overly sensitive hip bone with yours, coaxing a gentle chuckle from his lips, “Maybe I wouldn’t have needed it if you hadn’t kept me up so late.”

The devilish, shit-eating grin creeping onto his lips tells you that he feels no remorse, but then again, you’d take tiredness and a night like that over anything. His fingers twine tighter around yours as footsteps begin to shuffle behind the door, followed by an ear-piercing, blood-curdling screech, absolutely unholy.

“See he’s having fun with the kid, then?” you begin to whisper, but your words trail off as Tom’s very exhausted looking brother appears in the doorway, feeding bottle in hand, burping rag over his shoulder, deep purple bags beneath his eyes.

“Alright mate?” Tom greets, stepping one loafer-clad foot over the threshold, offering his brother a man hug.

“Tired, yeah. How you doing, man?” he responds warmly, patting Tom’s back.

“I’m good, I’m good, Jon.” Tom says, though you can feel him almost imperceptibly tense beside you.

Turning ever so slightly, all eyes are cast on you. Naturally, you offer Tom’s brother your warmest smile, teeth and all, sympathy welling both in your eyes and your heart. Kids must be tough if he looks like this with a three-week old.

“And who’s this?” Jonathan asks, sweetly, inquisitive more than anything, though he does look at you a bit peculiarly, scrutinising you, perhaps your outfit, the mom jeans you paired with a cropped cardigan perhaps not his style.

“This is my fiancée, Y/N.” Tom says, his words holding an inflection or pride perhaps, but whatever it is, it sends a pang of excitement shooting down your spine, a smirk creeping its way onto your lips, one you have to bite back, “I’m sorry I haven’t bought her over before, but you know what it’s like.”

“Yeah, course. Nice to meet you.”

“And you! Where’s the baby?”

Tom chuckles softly, and he curls his arm around your body, hip to hip. “She loves kids.”

Jonathan stands aside, a welcoming hand to beckon you into his home, the laminate floors covered in baby commodities, pastel blankets strewn everywhere, but other than, surprisingly clean considering Tom mentioned his brother was a hoarder and was always the most untidy of the bunch all throughout their youth. Considering how bad Tom is and how often you’re stuck cleaning away his dirty dishes and putting his laundry on, you were expecting far worse, but maybe Tom was the worst of them all along.

He tickles between your ribs as you wander through the halls, greeted in the back room by a tiny blonde headed baby, cradled in two arms of a just as exhausted looking lady donning a kind smile, stars dancing in her eyes as she stares down at her temporarily placated child. Tufts of blonde hair pair with enamoured hazel eyes to compliment the soft yellow of their clothes and the rosiness of their chubby cheeks. The hair, the nose, the tiny dimples; this baby looks just like Tom - and all his brothers - did when they were little dots themselves. The same little treasures. You, however, were an unattractive baby compared to this ball of sunshine.

“This is Ainsley.” Tom’s sister in law says lazily, her words falling off as she gapes in adoration at the gurgling blob of joy in her embrace. “And I’m Zara.”

“I’m Y/N.” you smile widely.

Should he not know better, Tom would quite possibly think you’re going to either collapse of hyperventilate, judging by the flush of your cheeks, your elevated pulse, heart beating out of your chest, the tiny, delightful, desperate whimpering noises from the back of your throat, elicited from a single glance into the babies eyes.

Said baby begins to make some indistinguishable noises and flails its arms around faintly, feebly, in your general direction. You’d be lying if your heart didn’t do a somersault in your chest.

“M- may I hold Ainsley?” you stammer out, extending your covered arms in a similar cradle to that of Ainsley’s mother.

“God, you’d be doing me a right favour,” she retorts, her accent broad, Geordie.

She shuffles softly down the pale green sofa, so perfectly complimenting the oak floors, to make a room for you that you take gratefully, and position yourself astutely against the back of the sofa. Before retrieving the baby, though, Tom grasps for a muslin cloth and affectionately drapes it over you, affectionate in the manner that he does it with such care, grazing his thumbs over your collarbones as he goes, ever so gently, barely even a touch, but enough to let you know he’s there. He holds your gaze for a moment, his lips twitching into a smile. This alone sends butterflies to your stomach and sets a sheen of fog about your head, taking you even more by surprise when the baby is laid in your arms, writhing and smiling and blinking so sweetly.

“Hiya darling,” you coo, “aren’t you just the most precious thing.”

“Gender neutral name and clothing...” Tom interjects, sidling up on the arm of the sofa beside you, “may I ask their sex and the pronouns you’re using?”

“Male, but we’re trying to be as gender neutral as possible so they can grow up not feeling pressured.”

You can’t wipe the beam from your face, or prevent the small ‘awwh!’ from escaping under your breath, curling the cloth slightly around the child, “That’s a wonderful attitude. Tommy, would you fetch my bag from the car, please?”

In a second, he’s bouncing up, his hand thrust deep in his chinos to fish for the car key. “You asked me to grab it before we got out as well, sorry sweetheart. Back in a minute.” With a nod to his brother, he’s racing out the door, his footsteps thundering through the house. Your attention, however, remains glued to the baby.

“Would you like me to set them down for tummy time afterwards, or is he going back to sleep?” You ponder aloud, eyes glued to the wry tufts of hair so soft and silky between your fingers.

“If he falls asleep in your arms, that’s fab. We’re just livin’ minute by minute.”

You release a small laugh, “Fair enough.”

Jon sits beside you tentatively, between yourself and his wife, his arm wrapping around her as she leans her body weight against him, her hair--held in a bun before, now just kind of flopping into her eyeline--tickling her shoulder and causing him to wince a little.

“How do you know so much about babies?”

The sigh you don’t mean to release is wistful at best, plain pining at worst--and probably most obvious. “I’ve always wanted them, kids, but Tommy’s the first guy I’ve settled down with, but despite being engaged, we’re still taking things slowly.”-- You shrug, as best as you can with the baby in hold, and cock your head to the side to peer down better at every tiny freckle on Ainsley’s skin.--“I love him to bits, but he wants to wait, and I’m still young, a good chunk younger than he is.”

“If it helps,” he starts, “I’ve never seen Tom as in love with someone as he is you. He’s besotted. You say the word, he’ll do it.”

“I know. I just don’t want to make him do anything unless he’s 100% sure.”

“And that’s what makes you his perfect girl.”

Your heart swells. There’s a beat, a pause of silence, filled only with the zapping of the car outside, no more than a couple of seconds before Jon’s wife speaks again.

“Enough of that. Show us the ring!”

If they’re all this excitable at something as simple as your engagement ring, perhaps you’ll fit in with his family better than you anticipated. ** Certainly, if their amiable gasps are anything to go by as you display your hand to them, your ring finger held out, supporting Ainsley’s head in the crook of your elbow as they gawk at the diamond glistening in the sunlight streaming in from their floor-to-ceiling patio doors. You have to admit it’s a pretty damn beautiful ring, the one you always dreamed of. An oval cut 0.5ct diamond held in place by a delicate split-shank 18ct gold band. It glows ethereally in whatever light there is, but most spectacularly in Tom’s eyes.

“It’s the most gorgeous ring,” she gushes, “apart from mine.”

A smile creeps its way in. You’re not entirely sure what the hell you’ve done right in your life to deserve this incredible, expensive ring, or even Tom for that reason. This is the life you’ve always dreamed of, the one that Tom’s brother has, and if you’re even half as happy as they are after being married for 5 years then you’ll consider your life to be a great success. You always wanted the quiet family life in the suburbs, with a lovely house and a nice garden and a couple of kids, working a part time job that pays well and allows you time for your children and your husband… then you fell in love with him. Loving Tom, though, that’s the true gift in your life, and you’d take him over that life any day. He’s the best, truly.

Speak of the devil and he shall arrive, since Tom comes puffing into the room, his heavy footsteps coming to a halt in the doorway as he hands over your abnormally large handbag.

“Here,” he gasps, but turns his gaze upon your hand, witnessing their marvelling at the rock he put there, “it is a pretty boss ring, isn’t it? Worth every penny.”

He bends down to ghost a kiss over your lips, his slightly long dark-blonde hair tickling your cheeks, smiling warmly down at you before deciding to sidle up next to you in the small gap between you and the arm of the sofa. However, half way down, his hip bones are digging in, and he winces up like he’s just been shocked. You know how sensitive his hip bones are, a fat you use against him incredibly often for all the best reasons, but today, he’s been so good, and you shan’t make him sit uncomfortably.

Keeping your hold on Ainsley--who’s almost asleep already, quieter than he was before with only faint gurgles escaping, their eyes droopy--steady, you begin to stand, and shuffle yourself up a bit, allowing Tom to take your previous seat, before placing yourself back down with as little ‘umph’ as you can manage, hooking your thigh over tom’s in the process. He knows what to do, it’s always been your calling card at home or at a party: as soon as you sling your leg over his, he pulls you into his lap eerie time, and today is no different. Well, perhaps it is, as he furrows his dark eyebrows inquisitively, gazing adoringly at you and the child in your arms, waiting for your nod okay before he hitches his arms around your waist and tugs you, as gently as he possibly can with his delicate grip, into his lap, giving you both ample space.

“Babe,” you whisper, “can you fetch the gift out of my bag?”

He’s instantly ferreting around until he finds the presents you neatly wrapped in polka dot paper, and hands them to Jonathan. Eagerly, they're unwrapped, and it seems that your many arguments over what to get Tom’s niece or nephew were worth it, considering the fact their eyes begin to brim with tears.

A soft grey elephant plush, holding a yellow heart, embellished with ‘Ainsley Felton, love Uncle Tom’, and a Peter Rabbit china crockery set for when they’re older.

“Thank you,” Zara exclaims, the way only a mother can, in gracious relief, “they’re adorable, so perfect.”

And before you know it, both you and Tom are being embraced wholeheartedly, as though you’re already their family. It’s been a life since anyone besides Tom hugged you, but this, this is nice.

“Well, lunch?”

Said lunch is a tumultuous affair, with a delivery pizza being ordered from the local dominoes, but with Ainsley so comfortable and calm in your arms, it was an elected decision not to move him, and instead, Tom fed you your pizza. It isn’t the first time, his love language seems to be feeding you things, but normally it's strawberries or chocolate truffles. Never before have you covered an entire medium pizza being fed to you while trying to avoid dropping any toppings or tomato sauce onto a peaceful baby, but that is just an indicator for the rest of the afternoon, Tom’s hands or eyes never once leaving you.

Completely accidentally, Jonathan and his wife drift off to sleep. You smile sadly at the sight, unable to blame them, they must be knackered, the problem simply lies in the fact that Ainsley begins to stir just as they drift off.

“See if there’s any milk in the fridge, please, I think they’re using formula.” you hiss to Tom, standing up cautiously.

Aghast, he grapples for words, “I-I’m sorry, what?!”

“Forget it,” you sigh, “take the baby and change him, please.”

“Change him?!” Again, that same tone of staggered surprise. “I don’t know how!”

“You have four nieces and nephews already, yes you do. He’s going to start screaming in a minute and wake your very tired, very groggy brother. Change the baby.”

When your eyes begin to thin, nostrils flaring, eyebrows raising, he knows not to mess with you, so he swallows thickly, his throat bobbing up and down, and scoops a crying Ainsley from your arms. As he treads upstairs, you find your way back into the kitchen, and find on the counter the bottles done with their sterilisation. This is okay, this is great, you know how to do this, and years of babysitting taught you exactly how to do this. It’s almost like that scene from Outnumbered, assembling the bottle with your eyes closed, muscle memory taking over from your brain. When your eyes flutter open, you almost let out a little squeal at your achievement. If only you could learn this all over again, have this life with a little child of your own, with Tom being as good a dad as he’s acting right now. When you handed him the baby, though, you couldn’t help but notice the fear that flashed over his face, paling him a shade, his pupils dilating to erase the blue. You wish he wasn’t so scared…

A few minutes later, with the kettle boiled and the formula made, you appear in the front room where Tom is swaddling Ainsley, holding the bean against his beating heart, making only the very slightest movements to entertain them.

“Give him a bit of tummy time while the milk cools, do you want to feed him?” you offer, stepping over the threshold .

“N-no,” he exhales slowly, “I think you’d best do that. Can I just put them down?”

“I’ll grab the mat from the corner”--you spied it as you walked in, a colourful crinkle mat rolled up and tucked away from view against the cream walls, behind the flat-screen on its grand stand--“and then yeah.”

Even as he puts Ainsley down, stomach first, onto the playmat, he looks petrified. Taking a seat on the floor to watch over them, you tug on Tom’s tan trouser leg. Indecisiveness gnaws at him, tugging him away from you, but he concedes to your widened puppy eyes, and tumbles onto the shag pile rug next to you, his arm wrapping around your shoulders like its second nature.

“You okay?” you whisper.

“Yeah, course. You?”

“Yeah.”

You let your head fall to his arm, a blissful smile creeping its way onto your lips when Ainsley looks you dead in the eye, hazel orbs twinkling, full of hope.

“I love you.”

“I know,” he hums, “I love you too.”

“Then why are you being so… prickly with me today?”

He shifts away from you the most miniscule amount, “I’m not.”

“We’ve been together for years, Tom. I know when you’re bloody lying.” you lower your voice for the final words, “now tell me why you’re being such a pouty puss.”

You mimic his frown, knowing full well that he hates it when you do so. He hates seeing you sad, even if it's just pretend, so makes a swooping move to kiss the frown away.

“Would you leave me if I said I didn’t want kids?” his voice breaks on the final word, little more than a whisper, but his next move is so animated that it almost startles you with the bottle in hand. “I mean, you know I want them. I love kids, I want us to have a family, but…”

“Nothing would ever make me leave you, Tom. You couldn’t do anything that’d cause me to fall out of love with you.”

The pain in your statement sends a shock through you, singing your heart, poisoning your mind, sending a sour bile running up your throat. No matter how many daggers shoot at your heart, it remains to be true. You’d do anything for him. If, tomorrow, he turned around and said he wanted the two of you to stay together but never marry and never have children, you wouldn’t back down without a fight, but you’d accept it. Despite all your lifelong hopes, nothing trumps Tom.

“I’m gonna feed Ainsley now.”

Picking the baby up from the rug, you put a bib around his neck, and throw another cloth around you, taking a seat in the corner chair to feed him.

“I’m going to the bathroom.” he says, and walks out, shoulders slumped.

You watch him wistfully as he leaves the room, and even when he returns--refusing to look at you--your gaze is still trained on his every move, slumping into the shag pile rug to watch the TV on a low volume. You can feel his eyes on you, that burning pair of eyes that follow you everywhere, your every movement, his ears honed, trained to your every shift and whisper. The second you turn upon him though, he’s looking away.

“I’ll put Ainsley down now,” you announce after burping him, “we need to leave soon if we want to make it home before dark.”

He doesn’t even bat an eye as you sashay past him, Ainsley’s cries muffled by a dummy, but the second he hears your footsteps heading back downstairs, his own begin to thunder, pounding against the stairs to meet you halfway.

“Wait,” he whispers, “come on, sit down, talk to me. I love you.”

A sigh heaves your chest, “I love you too. Talk about what?”

“You’re being arsey with me.”

“Because you said you don’t want kids!”

“Well I didn’t mean it, I’m just”--he pinches the bridge of his nose, and ushers you up on the stairs, your calves hitting the carpet--“there’s a lot to think about. We just met the kid, and I saw how your face lit up when you held him.”

“You know I want kids, Tom.”

“I know, but can we not talk about kids for a second? I want to talk about you. You’re my fiancée, I want to make you my wife. I’m just scared.”

“What of? You have nothing to be scared of. I’ll be here no matter what.”

“That’s why I’m scared!” he exasperates, flailing his arms about, “I don’t want you to senselessly follow me and love me if I can’t give you what you want. I’m scared of fucking this up, fucking you up. I’m scared of this going wrong, with children or marriage or saying something wrong, because I can’t lose you.”

“Tom,” you murmur.

Your hand flies up to cup his jaw, grazing your thumb over the stubble growing there, the faintest shadow.

“I love you. I- I need you. Y/N, sweetheart, please. I just wanna stay how we are, just stay this way for a bit, slow down because the world is moving too fast, and I’m gonna fall, but I can’t drag you down with me.” he croaks, cradling your neck with trembling, callused hands. “Can we stay how we are? Just us? Just you and me?”

“Babe you aren’t gonna lose me. Everything else off the table, we’ve got this, we’ve got us. We can stop the world and get off if that's what you want. Nothing is immediate, everything can wait.” you promise, your eyes boring into his.

All at once, his lips come crashing down onto yours, swallowing any inhibitions with his lavishing tongue, his hot breath slanting and fanning over your lips, leaving innocent adoration in their wake. Until a piercing scream resounds.

“Except maybe that.”

You duck from his grip skilfully, and slip into Ainsley’s room, two fingers reaching out to tickle their stomach, causing the scream to hiccup in their throat momentarily. Then, as if wondering what to do next, he just stares up at you imploringly, questioningly.

“Come on Ainsley, I just set you down to sleep. Be good and let mummy and daddy sleep too, okay?” you coo, tucking his blanket back up to his neck, slipping his cuddly toy closer, “go back to sleep.”

This child is already one with an attitude, you can tell that by the vehemence with which he yells out. You don’t even have to think twice before you’re stooping into the cot, swathing him in blankets, and lifting him to your bosom, where his screams fall to mere gurgles.

“Do you think he’s sleeping in the bed with them?” you ask Tom, keeping your voice at a steady whisper even with the slight bounces you’re offering the baby, “because I think that causes parental problems above all else because they’re being kicked in the back all night. Still, decreases the risk of SIDS. Why do they have a cot up if they are? He can’t sleep without contact…”

You don’t even realise you’re thinking aloud until Tom presses his thumbs into your shoulders, buckling your whole body. It’s the instant tension reliever, truly, and your shoulders do seem tighter today, perhaps from all the baby wrangling.

“Lets just sit, shall we?”

You do, taking up refuge in the front room once again, with an extra blanket of his, as well as a supply of cuddly toys, rattles, and dummies. Tom watches you with fascination for the rest of the afternoon, everything you do drawing his full attention; enticing, entrapping. His heart swells at the sight of you bouncing Ainsley around to make him laugh, cooing and giggling with him to coax a smile back after a wail that you hushed down, holding him so closely as he sleeps. He’s finally seeing it, after all these years, you, in your true home habitat, caring for a child, so kindly, so motherly, so naturally. Everything you do instantly seems to set the infant at ease. He knows it should be him, Ainsley is his nephew, but… you’re just better.

In fact, before he even realises it, he’s craving what he doesn’t have. Not that he can’t have it -- you’ve been together for a long time, you’ve discussed a future with children more times than he can count, and of course he wants it. Tom, he’s always wanted to be a dad, to read his kids books and sing them lullabies and show them what daddy did for work… but it's always been a pipe dream. Your wishes of a family have never come to fruition, and all because of his selfish fears.

The world can’t stop turning just because he’s getting cold feet and wants to climb off for a minute to catch his breath. That’s not how life works. If you want something, you’ve gotta grab it by the balls, because the opportunity will be gone before you know it. And with Tom? He won’t lose you because he won’t take a chance to make you happy and give you what you want. If anything, seeing the crestfallen look that settles between your brows when you actually have to give Ainsley back to their parents just further instils and confirms the idea in his head. There’s his future, in his mind's eye, as clear as day. This is what he needs to do, but better still, this is what he wants.

The drive back to your home is spent in relative silence, and a pensive one at that. You know like instinct that Tom is replaying your final conversation with Jonathan and his wife the same way you are. After all, the simple words did put a dampener on your reconciliation. Your hand is on the gearstick the whole way, though, your fingers entwined with his, the simple contact enough for you. You were right at lunch: all day it's been his hands or his eyes on you: you like it when it's both simultaneously, the way it was when you said your goodbyes.

Tom’s hands settled on your hips, his chin atop your head, and you just fell into his enveloping warmth, smiling lazily at the couple you rescued for the afternoon.

“Thanks so much, we owe you one.” Jonathan said, giving Tom another one of those manly hugs as you stand in the dusk-darkened wooden porch.

“Really,” Zara chimed in, her feet shuffling on the tiled floor as she held her husband's hand, “you’re welcome to have him any time. That is, of course, if you don’t have a little one of your own by the time you’ve recovered from that blighter.”

You forced a dry chuckle at her words, an awkward sound, but you seemed to recover well enough, “Well Ainsley’s been a pleasure, and I’m glad we could give you some respite. Take care.”

“And you. Drive safe.”

“We will,” Tom said, offering them a smile, flashing his keys, keeping his grip on you resolute, “thanks for having us.”

Their words still loom over you like a dark cloud. It was a throwaway comment, one they’d have thought nothing of, and most people, and even you on a good day, but you’d had that… spat earlier on that changed everything. Dredging it up would just put an even further dampener on your mood, though, and with a drive home in the semi-darkness already hanging over you like a massive impending storm cloud of fear, that’s definitely not ideal.

“Nice baby, Ainsley,” Tom mentions, turning his indicator on to pull off the dual carriageway.

“Yeah, and he’s cute.”

“Nice eyes.”

And a couple more comments like those are the only conversation you share as the journey goes by, but soon enough, you’re on the home stretch, and your street rolls into view. With your head comfortably rolled back against the headrest, your eyes shut from a tiring day of exertion and childminding , you don’t notice Tom stepping out the car and unravelling his grip from you. Only does it become apparent when he opens your door and unclips your seat belt, kissing your lips tenderly, the chapped skin arising you from whatever zoned out, thoughtful state you were in before.

“Come on, let's get you inside sweetheart.” he murmurs, taking your hands in his as he helps you out the car, His chivalry never fails to astound you--he even carries your bag.

“Thanks darlin’.”

You follow him inside, kicking off your shoes routinely, shrugging off your coat to hang on the peg with your name etched above it. What happens next, though, is what shocks you the most: this isn’t part of your normal ‘returning home’ routine, not if you’ve had a day as tiring as this one. You’re neither complaining nor disappointed, though. How can you be when Tom’s lips latch onto your pulse point and he has you writhing in seconds, only his arm around the small of your back there to support you.

In one fell swoop, he has you spun around and pinned to the wall, his figure with lust-blown eyes hovering above you, every line in his face so loving, even the subtle part of his lips. They only do that when he’s so desperate to kiss you he can barely breathe, when he’s so eager to confess his love again and again that all other words are inconsequential. This is your Tom.

“Let’s try for a baby.” he says, completely resolutely, no trace of hesitation anywhere in his perfectly, delectably gruff tone. “I want one, I want us, and I don’t wanna wait to build a family with you.”

You can feel tears begin to form in the corners of your shock-widened eyes. This… this is- What changed his mind? Just hours ago, he was hell bent against the idea, but now? His cheeks are glowing at the mere prospect. Courtesy and patience be damned, that is if you can get the words out with how choked up you are…

“Really? Y-you mean it?”

His faint smile widens into a full blown grin, one that confirms everything for you. This is it, this is the Tom you agreed to marry, the happy Tom, the smiley Tom, the one who can barely contain his excitement even as he nods, a stray lock of dark blonde hair falling into his eyes as he does so.

Reasonably, you can’t be expected to hold back, and when his hair gets long enough that it falls into his eyeline? That’s your main weakness, so who can blame you when you catapult yourself up onto him, your legs joining around his wait, your arms settling around his neck. He holds you right back, catches you like he was already waiting, and pins you against the wall again. Perhaps the serotonin is too much as you both grin into a searing kiss, the every press of his lips against yours holding more passion than you can fathom a cohesive thought about. He’s… incredible.

And besides, with this enthusiasm, his kiss alone leaving you gasping and clutching onto his hair for some kind of grounding, perhaps it’ll be the first time lucky…

[echo-of-sounds]

daddy dom

Headcanons on the types of Daddy Dom Aizawa, Gang Orca, and Hound Dog are. 

I was going to include all six guys in this but it got so much longer than I initially planned. Toshi, Hizashi, and Fatgum are coming tomorrow!

Warnings: Daddy Dom relationship, (the rest is only mentioned, there’s no real detail) punishments, choking, slapping, spanking, spitting, hair pulling, and rough sex

Aizawa Shouta

Shouta had an inkling he was interested in dominance when he started having sex. The Daddy Dom surfaced after a one-night stand happened to moan ‘Daddy.’ He enjoyed it, looked into the subject deeper, and realized that’s exactly what he wanted, needed. However, he hasn’t had a relationship where he’s felt comfortable enough or been in one long enough to practice it. 

As your relationship develops, it is something he brings up because he isn’t shy about it. He wants to be your Daddy. He wants to be his girl’s protector and her anchor. He praises you when you’re doing well. He says how proud he is. He loves and cuddles you on your bad days. When you’re crying and scared, he’s right beside you, huddling you to his chest, protecting you from whatever you fear. 

Pet names are a rarity. On the odd occasion a good girl slips out, it’s a telltale sign he’s in a highly dominant mood. You’re expected to listen, do what you’re told, and say, ‘please and thank you.’ To make you feel fluttery and happy, he’ll call himself Daddy as he’s helping you.

Kitten is even more limited. He uses it when you dress up in the pink lingerie he bought you. It has a little collar with a bell, a cat-eared headband, garter bands, and cute, frilly panties and bra. There’s also a cat tail butt plug you can play with. But there’s a catch- there’s depreciation. If you use it too much, he isn’t as excited and it’s clear to see. You need to keep the lingerie away until you’re in dire need of your Daddy and a good fucking.

He takes pride and joy in seeing your smile at a new, fancy bracelet or an adorable teddy bear. But he’s uncertain when buying. He knows what you like, yet he just can’t decide on which dress you’d prefer. Despite his self-doubts, his presents are usually excellent, especially any soft, thigh-high stockings or cute, striped panties he brings home.

Though you won’t ever be able to tell, sometimes it is hard for Shouta to discipline you. He enjoys your bratty moods and how you ignore his commands to sit still. Your whimpers and whines and facial expression are incredibly cute. But at the end of the day, he is your Daddy and it’s his responsibility to keep you on track and provide stability. His go-to punishment is no orgasming… for a long time. You can’t touch yourself or grind on a pillow. If you beg, it’ll only extend the punishment. Occasionally, spanking is also used, particularly when you’re riding him and not listening.

Highly dominant doesn’t always mean rough. Yes, he is that most of the time. But he has periodic moods where he won’t use discipline. It’s when he’s in a coddling mood. Daddy becomes gentle, erotic, intent, and intimate. Don’t hold back your moans. Please, whine and whimper and fuss and mewl. Your soft cries and little wriggles please him so. 

When he is rough, you’ll be leaving red streaks down his back. He loves seeing them in the mirror the next morning, so he strives to get you that aroused and pleasured every time. And nothing is truly off the books for him. Whatever you wish, he’ll command: slapping, spanking, choking, hair pulling, and spitting.

Shouta is more of a nonverbal Daddy. Both of you know he’s dominant and it’s your job to behave, so he doesn’t feel the need to command you as much as others may. He just yanks your body around as he pleases, slaps and chokes you when you don’t listen or get off-topic, and spits on your tongue to get you to quiet down. Now that doesn’t mean he won’t talk. At your misdoings, his steeled voice is gruff and guttural, commanding, punishing, and asking what you did wrong. 

Daddy gets even more domineering when you cum without permission. That’s the one rule you should never break. If he’s feeling charitable (which is rarer than a blue moon), he’ll let you cum. Other times, he’s deepthroating you, cumming down your throat, and making you swallow it. And that’s all you’ll get. Again, don’t beg. That’ll worsen the punishment. All you can do is be a good girl and hope he lets you cum in the next few days.

Gang Orca

Kugo never considered himself a Daddy or any sort of dominant man in general. The few times he’s had sex, he was more on the submissive side, letting his partner lead and ride him as they wished. His fear of hurting his partner really held him back. However, the instant he hears you softly, weakly whine Daddy, gently pawing his chest, pining for him to make you feel good, the switch is flicked and there’s no going back.

Before he fully engages in the Daddy Dom relationship, he does a lot of reading and asks you question after question. If he ever hurt you or pushed past your limits, he’d all but die inside. You need to ease into it. Let him become accustomed to the power dynamics, the dirty talking, what’s expected from him, and the lifestyle.

In the beginning, he’s as sweet as can be. You’re his little one whom he loves to spoil. He buys you dainty panties, comfy sweaters, and dresses for every occasion. You should always model clothing for Daddy. He’ll appreciate your appreciation. As you turn around in a cute, lace nightgown, his fingers flow up your thighs, caressing between them, gently brushing along your new panties, making sure everything fits perfectly. 

He gradually leans into the discipline aspect as the relationship grows. Once comfortable with himself and you, the punishments come frequently. They depend on the severity of your bad behavior. If you don't listen, you don’t get sweets. If you didn’t listen twice, you have extra chores to do. If you didn’t listen three times, no sexual gratification of any kind for however long Daddy deems necessary. 

In spite of that, he is a weak Daddy when it comes to his little one. Your puppy-dog eyes burrow into his heart. Your wiggling thighs get him heated. Your little mewls for your Daddy’s attention haunt him. But he doesn’t give in all the time. He still has structure, stability, and dominance to uphold.

Kugo is truly a safe Daddy. He’s your secret place where your every thought, desire, emotion, and fear will always be heard, understood, and respected. Whatever you tell Daddy when you’re curled up on his chest, snuggled in his arms, stays with Daddy. He guides you through the crowded mall, nurses the cuts on your legs, acts as an anchor through depression and anxiety, and protects you from the rumbling thunder. And by God, is he protective. 

Protectiveness is his main characteristic. He wants you to wear his T-shirt and sweatshirts. When he cums, he seats himself fully insides, letting him empty out completely. His hands rub your lower stomach like he’s feeling his property. Even as he falls flaccid, he stays inside. He needs to make sure everything has drained. If he could, he’d keep you filled with his seed forever.

Tender, slow sex involves you riding Daddy. He squeezes your thighs and tummy as you bounce. He praises every movement, every part, every itty-bitty sound. Your passion is so important to him. Seeing your body seek out its pleasure and rapture in the safety of your own little world fills his heart with love.

Dominant Daddy is less common yet so fulfilling. His thick, wet tongue washes deep. Fingers spread you wide. His erection spreads you further. You’ll be thrown on the bed, stuck under him for multiple beautiful orgasms. As you cum, moan ‘thank you’ again and again. Your gratitude encourages him. He’ll keep you moaning into the morning. 

Hound Dog

The second Ryo entered that seriously horny stage of puberty, he knew his dominance. As he started having sex, it only flourished. He’s rough, fast, controlling, and one-hundred percent, hands down a brat tamer. Your whines and protests are cute, but he always wins. Hearing his rasping, growling voice is enough to get you to concede to his demands.

Aftercare and any delicate aspects will take time and learning on his part. He wants to be so gentle, caring, and sweet with you. His natural rough nature gets in the way. As any good Daddy is patient with his little girl, a good girl needs to be patient with him. And when he gets there, he gets there. You’ll be swaddled in a warm blanket, given candy and drinks, and your favorite bed-time Tv will play while you wind down. His warm, smooth tongue laps over bruises and scratches.

There’s one big thing about this Daddy: God, he just loves to watch you suck: him (specifically his foreskin), his fingers, your fingers, a lollipop, a pacifier, whatever. Lay on his chest, wrapped in a blanket, and nurse on a binkie as you fall asleep. The most common way sex starts is with a blowjob. It commonly ends that way as well. He either makes you finish him with no pleasure for you or, after you’re finished, he lays you down and deepthroats you.

Right off the bat, punishments are a main part. There’s a written list on the fridge you must obey. Though he doesn’t spank. You might act up just to get spanked, and he won’t have that. The discipline always matches the offense. Are you back talking? You’re eating something you don’t like. Is your temper too hot? You’re taking an ice-cold shower for five minutes. Are you ignoring him? Daddy’s going to rile you up then leave you hanging and whining, showing you what it’s like to be neglected.

After the punishment is complete, Ryo transitions right into aftercare. Daddy loves you enough to punish you. That love is strengthened after by his licks and kisses. Besides, Daddies who don’t show their little girl compassion and care afterward, aren’t good Daddies. He loves and respects you and wants you to know, see, and feel that.

And the punishments never push past your boundaries. You’re never put in danger. In any way. The safe word is always available. He won’t give you food you truly can’t handle for whatever reason. He’s right beside you as you shower just in case something goes wrong. The moment the water’s shut off, you’re immediately swathed in a cozy towel.

During one of his more… inflamed moods, you’re fastened in a collar. It’s pink with little flowers. The heart decoration on the front is a padlock. Only he has the key. It has ‘Daddy’s Girl’ inscribed on the back. It goes on as soon as you get home. And it stays on until you leave. There is a leash he’ll use if you aren’t behaving, holding, leading, and controlling all your movements.

There are times when he goes into (sort of) a heat. It could be a quirk side effect. It could just be him. Either way, you’re going to get completely dominated. Your hair will be pulled. Your throat will be choked and fucked. Your cheeks, both sets, will be red and raw. Scratch marks and dark bruises will stain your neck, legs, and back.

His favorite is any doggy-style position. It’s carnal and crude. Daddy has total authority since his weight bears down, caging you to the bed. Use your voice. Let him hear every gasp and cry. Beg for him. Plead for more. Pray for just one more orgasm as your hair’s tugged and clit’s smack sore. The harder you crave, the harder he thrusts.

Sweet sex is a rare time when he kisses and cuddles. Heat surrounds you. Muscled thighs and callused hands direct your weak, longing body. His tongue never leaves your mouth, licking over yours, causing drivel to drip down your chin. It may not be rough, but the sincerity and intimacy provide more than enough pleasure for an amazing orgasm. And Daddy passionately walks you through it.

[waywardimpalawriter]

Hi love! Can I get Smut prompt 126 with Bucky Barnes? I love James 🥵

Well hello doll, wow I’m very honored to have you send in this prompt and a little nervous lol. I agree with ya there James is so yummy and fun to write for to. I hope you like it hun.

Smut prompt #126 “You don’t have to be gentle with me, I don’t break easily.” (In bold)

NSFW +18 no minor’s please

Warnings = smut, unprotected sex (wrap if your gonna tap)

James, “Bucky” Barnes x Plus size reader

Okay so this got a way from me and is longer than I intended it to be lol (sorry, not sorry)

Smut Prompt list here

Three months that’s how long you’ve been dating, you haven’t pushed to much. Knowing this whole relationship thing hasn’t come back to him yet. Uncertain how to brooch the subject without it becoming weird. You didn’t want to scare him off that should’ve already happened given the fact that your not a size two. But Bucky chose you over everyone else he could’ve dated. Treating you like a china doll, gentle, fragile four words that make you growl low. Spitting curses under your breath while heading back to your apartment. Having seen the smirk on Nat’s face knowing better than to have spoken to her about the problem. Only getting a smile ‘Talk to him Y/N’ making you roll your eyes and stock out.

Nearing your door, placing a hand on the cool wood body thumping with need from watching Bucky and Steve work out. The play of muscles on that man’s back, his delicious arm flexing and the veins in his human arm Gods don’t even get you started. Seeing the way his black t-shirt clung to his form, ass hugging sweat pants that had you rolling. You wanted to jump his bones right then but turned and left missing the confused look in the cerulean eyes. Having caught the sight of you entering, he misses the next punch that lands him on his ass with a deep chuckle from Steve.

“Should’ve been paying attention Buck instead of watching Y/N’s ass,” extending his hand to help Bucky up getting a groan vibrating from the other man’s chest.

“Fuck you Punk,” getting to his feet and moving to grab up the towel, wiping the sweat from his brow. His focus being shit for the last few days, his thoughts straying to you.

Shaking his sandy blonde head, “Go, we ain’t gonna get anything else done today with your brain focused on her.”

“Little brain don’t you mean Steve,” gruff laughter echoing through the gym as Sam comes over, mirth dancing in those deep ochre eyes. “What’s the matter Buck you can’t satisfy my girl anymore?”

Fire dancing as his eyes landing on the Falcon who keeps the smirk spread across his lips. Knowing he’s hit or so he thinks, a little to close to home. “She ain’t your girl Wilson leave off,” heading for the door determined to find out just why you’ve been ducking him for the last several days.

Which brings us back to you leaning against your door eyes closed tightly memories cycling through your mind of all the times you and Bucky made love. Soft whimpers leaving your lips chased by a heavy dose of frustration and need. Hand slamming palm flat against the door, you didn’t want to worry Bucky but you needed more, wanted more. You also knew the way you’ve handled the situation isn’t the best especially when you hear a throat clear behind you.

Tensing up, forehead still resting against the door that you turn to see Bucky, tight black t-shirt clinging to that scalped chest. Sweat beading along his forehead to slide down his cheek lower to tip toe the lovely expanse of his neck you want to place your lips against. Swallowing you straighten and turn to face him, “Hey Buck what brings you by?”

“We need to talk,” voice flat, keeping his emotions closed off so he doesn’t show you how worried he truly is.

Nodding, reaching for the door handle as Bucky nears unconsciously pressing his chest against your back. The contact makes you stiffen and try to stifle a moan with having him so close. Hand shaking so that you barely can get it pulled down and pushed open. Knowing you needed a clear head for this talk yet how can you when Bucky is looking like a fucking status come to life. You’re all but drooling when you turn to face him and that lethal stance he’s taken up. Arms crossed over his chest making his muscles look ever bigger, one leg stepped to the side while the other remains straight. He’s such a fucking tease to you but totally unaware of the effects he causes you.  

“Fuck no one should look that sexy,” thinking you’ve said the words to yourself but the rambling groan from the man opposite you tells a different story. Swallowing you eyes raise to catch his, this time you can see the heat and desire coloring those lovely eyes pitch.

Stepping towards you, hands fisting at his side the soft whirl of his vibranium plate’s the only sound besides the deep breathing of you both. “If that’s what you think doll then way have you been ducking me?”

Chewing your bottom lip, arms crossing just under your heavy breasts pushing them up. Gaining his attention and the slow slide of his tongue over his lips. Mesmerized by the sight no words form in your mind till that smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. Snapping you from the stupor you found yourself in for a moment.

“I haven’t been ducking you Buck,” to prove his point you turn to head towards the little kitchenette for a bottle of water. Finding yourself thirsty but for more than water. Parched to the point you maybe ready to beg the man who you turned your back on to just take you right here.

Something you knew better than to do with his light footsteps he’s behind you again, pressing his chest against your back. Hands on either side on the fridge, sandwiching you in with his super solider body. Regretting choosing the thin workout shorts and tank top, feeling the heat radiate from him making you pant with need.

“Don’t believe you baby girl, you did it just now,” voice smooth as silk against your ear. Minty breath fanning over the shell with his cheek pressed lightly against your head. Taking in the soft scent of your hair and skin the scent shooting straight to his harden cock making him throb with need.

Knowing all you have to do is turn and his lips would be on yours in a hot second. You hold out trying to form some kind of coherent thought which is almost fucking impossible with Bucky pressing into you. “I didn’t,” bitting your bottom lip to keep the whine from leaving you lips. Feeling the cool metal of his fingers slide down your bare shoulder to wrap lightly around your wrist. That’s when you snap turning quickly in his embrace, fire snapping in your eyes that makes him pause and take a step back.

“Y/N?” confusion making the pupil retract just as his body does. “Did I do something…”

Growling in frustration to slap at his chest, “Yes you did that’s the problem Barnes, you’ve done it to fucking well in fact.” Watching him recoil a step, makes your eyes close to reign yourself in. “Why do you have to be so damn gentlemanly? Treating me like a fucking piece of glass.”

“Y/N I’m not following you,” even more confused than before yet its mixed with desire. That coats his veins, making his cock twitch at your aggressiveness. Trying to bring. himself under control, not wanting to hurt or scare you.

“Ugh,” tossing your hands up, slapping his chest again. “You don’t have to be gentle with me, I don’t break easily James.” Praying he get’s what your meaning seeing his brow dip makes you angry and you step forward roughly pulling him against you. Crashing your lips into his, nipping at the plush bottom lip demanding entry. When he remains unmovable your heart sinks and you pull back. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have…”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” words whispered from tingling lips, body stiff against the island, hands balled tight to keep from roughly pulling you back to him.

Rolling your eyes to look up at him, soft gasp parting your lips at the return of those lust blown black eyes. “You won’t James I know you won’t but sometimes…” sighing shaking your head then look away taking a step.  

“Sometimes what?” vibranuim hand shooting out to grab your bicep to keep you from bolting. “What do you need Y/N tell me.” Gods his voice is deep and gravelly, it takes all your power to keep from flinging yourself back into his arms and demand he fuck you now. Thick thighs rubbing together with one simple possessive hold on your body.

Stealing yourself to look up at him, “I need you to fuck me Sergeant, I need no want to feel you tomorrow when I’m working remembering the way you made me feel the way you took me.” Swallowing harshly hoping you’ve gotten through to him.

“Strip,” single word leaves his lips, eyes flashing dangerously as he pulls you back against him. Hands one cool, the other warm grip your shoulders. “If you want those clothes you’ll take them off doll because God knows I won’t be able to keep from ripping them off your fucking body.”

A shutter licks down your spine at his tone, heat pooling in your core, watching for a moment the tick in his jaw. Hypnotized by the slow bob of his Adams apple that you don’t heed his warning till the sound of fabric ripping meets your ears and your chest is partly bare to his gaze.

“James,” soft gasp leaving your lips, eyes darting between him and your own body. Watching as his vibranium fingers trace between your the soft swells of your breasts setting your skin on fire with the simple touch, coming to pause between the generous globes. Catching the edges of your black bra, ripping the fabric pulling it from your body to join your ruined tank top. As another gasp is wrenched from your lips this time with a tiny squawk of anger. “You’ll pay for those Barnes,” finally breaking from the lustful haze. Wanting to be angry but finding it hard to maintain the heat behind your words with how his touch is firing off tingles and shivers up and down your body.

Full blown smirk crosses his lips, “I warned you sweetheart,” glancing down to catch how your body moves, knowing from the subtle rub your needing release. “About those shorts and panties which I’m betting are soaked right now. Am I right doll? You know I can smell you right, know when your aroused,” brow lifting when no words meet his ears. He takes a step forward you take one back body bumping against the cold refrigerator door. Some how his voice drops another octave as he leans forward caging you in, mouth dangerously close to your ear. “You forgot to say please by the way doll, remember your manners.”

Watching him pull back to capture your gaze, teeth making an indentation in your bottom lip. He groans capturing your mouth with no gentleness. Demandingly thrusting his hot tongue into your mouth, licking into the warm cavern, to tango with your tongue in a dance that leaves you both gasping. His forehead resting against yours when he breaks.  Breathlessly, “Please James fuck me, make me feel it tomorrow, please.”

Deep groan leaves his lip and before you can do anything he’s tossed you over his shoulder, slapping your ass hard enough you know a bruise will be there tomorrow. Only serving to make you squirm in his hold, feeling your clit throb, a moan at being manhandled leaves your lips. Long strides eat up the steps to your shared bed that his tosses you on. Watching you bounce, nipples peaked in the air condition cooled room. Licking his lips, he places one knee on the bed looking the part of a wild man stalking his prey as you move u p the bed to the top. Knowing he has you in his sights, making your body hum with need and reach down to tug your shorts and panties off. Tossing them to the floor, watching his shirt join and shortly after by his tented sweatpants and boxer briefs. Staring for a moment as his thick cock juts from his groin, little pearl drops begging to be licked up sit perfectly on the slit. Til his hand wraps around coating his palm and sliding down the shaft. Desire flaring in his eyes while he watches you watch him. Deep growl rambling from his chest as you tease him.

Spreading your thick thighs for him, fingers tracing your body all sense of modesty nonexistent with the heated look he’s giving you. Plucking your nipples, giving them both a hard pinch that makes your back arch a needy gasp leaving you. Air sucked in through your nose, exiting from your mouth his name riding along on a breathless whimper. “James,” and he’s there slotting between your thighs, one hand wrapped around his shaft stroking twice before running the tip through your folds before slotting at your entrance and start to slide inside you.

Smirking when a huff leaves your lip only to turn into a gasp when he fills you quickly, seating himself deep between your quivering walls. Mouth coming to ghost over your ear, “Hang on doll it’s gonna be a rough hard ride.”

[alinastracker]

malina week day 5 — free choice

false saint

a smutty one-shot inspired by taylor swift’s “false god” (ao3)

Alina Starkov had been one of the most powerful Grisha alive once, a saint —though a false one — to most of Ravka.

Maybe it was time to step into a different kind of power.

ruin and rising spoilers!

For the first time since they opened Keramzin up to Ravka’s orphaned children six months ago, the halls were quiet. Gone were the sounds of running feet and squealing laughter. Even though they only had four children, not including Misha, currently staying at the orphanage, happy children were often loud children, and it was the young couple’s top priority that the kids they took in were happy — as happy as any child who’s lost everything could be. 

The quiet was oddly startling, even though Alina knew that the children were perfectly fine, out on a trip into town with their teacher, Karine, and the orphanage’s gruff cook, Stasia. 

“Children should learn about their food early,” the woman had insisted, and so the little field trip into town had been planned. Karine went with, partly because five children were a handful for one woman, and partly because some of the children were still rather intimidated by Stasia. 

The children were safe, and Alina was enjoying the quiet. But every now and then, caught off guard by the stillness, came a flicker of panic, and she had to remind herself once more. The children are safe. The Darkling is dead. 

And though the home was quiet, she was not alone.

Alina pressed her forehead against one of the full length windows of the upstairs reading nook. They had wanted this room to be comfy and bright, and the large windows that faced the back of the property certainly assured that. She could see Mal down there, tending to the garden, his hands deep inside of the dirt. For a moment, she let all of her worries float away and pictured his fingers deep inside of her instead. She had to squeeze her thighs together as heat rushed to her center, demanding friction. 

The sun was shining brightly through the window, and so she angled herself to stand fully in its rays. Alina brought her hand up, letting her fingers play in the light, forcing her sinful thoughts away. She couldn’t say how long she stayed that way, lost in her longing, but it was long enough that Mal had finished in the garden and had come to sneak up behind her. 

“Playing with the light again?” he murmured as his arms wrapped around her. 

Alina nodded, leaning back against his chest.

Mal pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Want to talk about it?”

It was what they always asked each other when they got into these moods, when she became entranced with the sunlight, and he found himself stuck silent and still in the woods. Sometimes the longing hurt, and sometimes it was just the pull to be in the element again — welcoming an old friend, rather than feeling the hole left in its absence. 

“I was just thinking that I miss the feeling sometimes,” Alina sighed. “When I summoned, it was like every inch of my skin was brushed with the softest warmth. I can feel something close to it sometimes, standing in the light like this. Just not as . . . wholly.” 

Mal was quiet for a moment, and she knew if she looked over her shoulder, she’d find the small pinch between his brows that indicated he was thinking. She knew the exact moment when his mind had come to a conclusion, feeling the way his body relaxed. 

“Perhaps,” he murmured, angling himself so his lips just brushed her ear as his hands moved to grip her hips, “it would help if the sun could hit every inch of you.” 

Desire returned thick between her thighs, if it had ever truly gone away. “What are you implying?”

“I think you know.”

He was right, she knew exactly what he meant. But they were out in the open, standing right in front of a window. The children were gone, though. The staff, too. There would always be the chance that someone came stumbling into their backyard and looked up, but maybe the risk made it all the better. 

She had been one of the most powerful Grisha alive once, a saint —though a false one — to most of Ravka.

Maybe it was time to step into a different kind of power.

She took one slow, steady breath, channeling her confidence. 

“Then undress me, Malyen.” 

Mal tensed for a singular breath, then brought his hands around her again, feeling his way up her chest until his fingers found the first button of her shirt. He took his time undoing each one, letting their skin brush each time more of her was bared. When he had the last button undone, the shirt was tossed lazily away. Mal’s hands continued their journey down her body, though her skirt took considerably less time to remove. 

Standing in nothing but her under clothes, Alina closed her eyes, soaking in the feeling of the sunlight brushing new parts of her. She thought for a moment that Mal might stop here. It could be enough, even if she still craved more. 

But he didn’t stop.

Mal hooked his fingers into the band of her underwear, and when she didn’t object, tugged them down. Alina stepped carefully out of the fabric, brushing it away with her foot. His fingers crawled up her backside then, and a moment later, her bra fell to the floor, letting the light consume her whole. 

Alina let her head fall back against Mal’s shoulder, bringing her hands up just as she used to when using her power. It wasn’t quite the same warmth that summoning had brought her, but it was something. 

Mal pressed his lips to the side of her neck and whispered, “Sankta.” 

Encompassed in the light, she almost felt like one. Mal had always had blind faith in her, had died for her. But saints had to prove they were worth the title. 

Alina turned, meeting his eyes. Mal could’ve sworn some of the light had stayed twinkling in her brown orbs. 

“Let me give you something to worship,” she said, and dropped to her knees.

Mal sucked in a sharp breath, but made no move to stop her as she worked to undo his trousers, dragging them down. His underwear came next, his half-hard cock happy to spring free. 

“You don’t have to—” he started. Alina shushed him. She spit into her hand — rather unceremonious for a saint, but alas — and gripped him. Any lingering words of Mal’s fell to the wayside as he moaned. 

It took very little time for him to harden fully with her stroking him. Still, she waited until he couldn’t possibly throb more for her, his cock hard as steel and bulging, before she brought him to her lips and sucked the tip of him into her mouth. 

Mal cursed fervently, his hand forming a fist in the tangles of her silky, pale hair.

Alina swirled her tongue around him, dipping into the place where his desire gathered for her, only encouraged by his curses and the almost painful pull on her scalp. His words were like a prayer, and he only got louder as she took in more of him, swallowing him down her throat even as her body protested. 

She still didn’t know if his size was a blessing or a curse. 

Mal was on the edge from the sight of her alone, those pretty lips he had spent years dreaming about perfectly parted around his cock. He saw the tears in her eyes, though, and so he began to pull back, only for Alina to grip his ass, nails digging into the skin of his backside. Let me, her eyes said, determined. And fuck if it didn’t make his hips thrust against her mouth. 

“Alina,” he moaned.

Her response was a brief, but not gentle, scrape of her teeth against him. Mal hissed, but he didn’t need to look at her to know where he had gone wrong

“Sankta,” he moaned instead, and it felt right. 

Even if she was a false saint, their love — and everything that came with it — was like their own personal religion, blind and eternal. Though the moan that ripped from Mal’s throat as his release hit was anything but holy. 

And this was what Alina had wanted more than anything — to bring him to the edge and push him over. It was a different kind of power, and she let the evidence of it dribble down her chin, droplets landing on her breasts and chest. Different than the blood a saint usually ended up covered in. Different, and much better. 

When she finished milking his release out of him, Alina stood. Backlit by the sun, she looked as saintly as she ever had. Mal licked his lips as he greedily took in the sight of her. She had, undoubtedly, given him something to worship. 

As any righteous man of faith would do before his saint, Mal dropped to his knees. It was not the first time Alina had driven men to kneel before her, and it would not be the last.

“Sankta Alina,” he whispered, bringing his lips to the altar between her thighs, his tongue forming a prayer that felt better than Alina thought possible. 

But it wasn’t just a prayer, it was a whole sermon — every lick, suck, and plunge a promise of his allegiance. He had her mewling and trembling above him in minutes, barely able to keep herself standing as he pushed her past her limits. And she thought, as he rose with his lips glistening from her cunt, that service was over. But Mal only turned her over and pressed her naked body against the window. The glass chilled her bare skin even as the sunlight warmed it.

Mal had his lips at her ear again. “I’m not done worshipping you yet,” he murmured, and smoothly thrust his hard-again cock inside of her. 

If anyone walked by outside or came into the reading nook, there would be no hiding their heavenly sinful act. To her surprise, Alina found the slightest thrill at a stranger discovering such a display. And as Mal fucked her with relentless devotion, she sent a prayer to the true saints that the glass held true. 

This time, they jumped over the edge together, in the way that only the faithful could. Screams on their lips, sweat dripping down their necks, pleasure so intense that it could only be called a religious experience. 

After, Mal scooped her into his arms and brought them to their room. He sat Alina on the bed, leaving briefly to gather wet rags for them. With a gentleness quite opposite from their frantic fucking, Mal cleaned the spend from her body, then his own, before taking the spot beside her, curling his body around hers. 

Though she may be a false saint, Alina could still feel the warmth of the sun on her skin as the peaceful call of sleep pulled her under, a smile on her face.

[katsukithme]

Soft

~moved from old account ~

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x Reader

Warnings: none! Literally all fluff

Summary: Aizawa gets home after a long day and spends time with the one he loves most-you!

Word count: 1.4k :)

A/N: This was entirely self indulgent. I love Shouta Aizawa so very much IT IS ALL FLUFF !!

~♡~

It was raining outside. The sound of droplets hitting the windows quietly, pattering on the roof providing a good background for you to relax and read a book for once. Wind down, have a nice end to such a long day.

The apartment was dark save for the lamp next to the couch you were seated on, legs folded up neatly beneath you, book perched on your lap. The book had sat neglected on the side table for a month now, and today was the day you finally began to read it. With the rain, and the calm evening, and the small candle you lit on the coffee table, it was the perfect setting. Except for one thing.

Your boyfriend still wasn't home.

You didn't blame him nor did you worry, considering he had both told you the night before and texted a reminder that he'd be working later tonight. Always so considerate to you, even when you didn't deserve it. And sometimes, you truly didn't.

You tilt your head back against the couch and sigh quietly. The warm flickering glow of the candle cast delicate shadows against the wall, making the room feel so soft and cozy. Even with the cold rainstorm outside.

Your mind wasn't quite as focused on your book as you would have liked to be. You tried, you really did, but Shouta was the subject of your thoughts at the moment. Having him here would really make the moment special.

The two of you hardly got to have peace like this. Sure, you slept next to eachother every night, shared an apartment, but it was up and go quite often for the two of you. Him teaching classes and mentoring students, you at your high paced job further into the city. By the time one of you got home to the other, they were oftentimes asleep.

You two tried to make time for eachother as much as you could, bit you also both understood that this was what it would be like. Stealing away those little moments in between life, finding ways to surprise eachother and make eachother smile amongst the chaos.

That's kind of what you loved about it all. It made the small moments last all that much more.

Your ears perk up to the sound of a key turning and a door being pushed open, and your book is suddenly forgotten. You close it with a bookmark, being mindful of the pages, and watch as you boyfriend trudged into the room. Your heart skips a little.

He looked dog tired, hair mussed and eyes a little more red than usual. He was moving as if he weighed a ton, and on top of that, he was wet from the rain outside. But nonetheless, you were still happy to see him.

You perch up on your knees and lean over the back of the couch, giving him a warm smile as he takes off his shoes, walking further into the room. God, he looked exhausted... more than usual.

"Rough day, love?" You ask, and he lets out a quiet groan of agreement, but there was something warm to it too. He had a little bit of a smile on his face. You always made him smile.

He stands in front of you on the other side of the couch, wraps his arms around you and just stands there a moment, forehead resting against the top of your head. You wrap your arms around his waist happily, not even caring that he was wet from the rain outside.

"Missed you." He mumbles into your hair, voice quiet and a little gruff, and it was your turn to smile.

"Missed you too... haven't seen you since last night." You hum, almost a soft whine in complaint and he chuckles. The sound was deep, rumbled through his chest and you could melt.

"Had to get up early... didn't wanna leave you though. You wore my shirt to bed." He points out, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and you giggle.

"They're comfy." You admit, hands fisting lightly in the material of his hero suit against his sides.

"Speaking of comfy, stay a while. Saved a spot just for you on the couch, right next to me." You continue, pulling away just enough to tip your chin up and smile at him.

"Just for me?" He muses, cupping your cheek with a surprisingly warm palm. You lean into his touch happily -you always do- and he leans down slowly, kissing your forehead. His lips linger there just a little longer than usual, and you enjoy it thoroughly. Every kiss had been rushed as of late, everything in a rush. But right now, all you had was time.

"Just for you." You confirm, running your hands lightly along his shoulders then wrinkling your nose as your hands come back wet.

"But get changed first, yeah? Gonna get the couch all wet." You offer and you could see the teasing flicker in his eyes, retort on the edge of his tongue about how it wouldn't be the first time, but you smack his arm lightly.

"Go on now. Before I decide there's no more room for you." You tease, and he holds his hands up in surrender.

"I'm going, don't worry..." he chuckles, pulling away from you reluctantly to go into your shared bedroom.

He emerges in a black pair of sweatpants and a black t-shirt to match, hair tied back out of hid face in a loose bun on the back of his neck. He looked so tired still... but you had to admit, there something about when he tied his hair back like that that made you hot under the collar. He knew it too.

"That spot still open for me, baby?" He asks, drawling out the words with hints of a smile on his face. Your legs were stretched out over the spot, and you tap your chin in mock contemplation.

"Mm, I dunno... might have to pay a fee." You answer, and he scoffs good naturedly, rounding the couch to stand in front of you.

"Yeah? And what would that be?" He asks, crossing his arms over his chest, and he doesn't miss the way your eyes scan over his arms. You were a sucker for the man's arms. You giggle at his expression and grin up at him.

"A kiss. Right here." You inform, tapping your lips with your index finger. He smirks and takes a few steps closer.

"A kiss, eh? Just to take my seat on the couch?" He muses, and you nod your head.

"A small price to pay to sit next to me. Now c'mere and pay the toll." You giggle, and god if he wasn't weak for you.

"Fine. But only because I love you." He relents, sighing softly before he leans over your reclining form, hand resting beside your head. A few stray hairs fall into his face, but he makes no move to fix them. He was too focused on you, and the warm orange glow the candlelight cast over your face. You were grinning at him, like he was the moon to your sun. And he was.

"Aww, you love me, Sho?" You tease, and he rolls his eyes, just centimeters away from you. You could see the small scar across his cheek in greater detail, smell him when he was this close. He smelled like coffee and something earthy. You loved it to no end.

He doesn't answer right away, instead choosing to press his lips to yours, giving a kiss that was slow and deliberate. The hand that wasn't holding him up over you cupped your jaw, tilting your head upward to angle you into him, effectively stealing your breath. His lips slant against yours, warm and soft yet just barely urgent all at once.

Kissing Shouta was never dull. As tired as he was, he was always a little bit of a tease, biting your lip before gently running his tongue over it. His lips would press to yours so innocently, but with the swipe of a tongue or a touch of a hand or even a little breathless gasp, his kiss could turn bruising, passionate and all consuming. Like a wildfire.

Just like that he pulled away to catch breath, and you were lanting quietly into the small space between the both of you. His touch was still at your jaw, thumb brushing against your cheek, soft as ever.

"I do love you. More than you'll ever know."

[queen--kenobi]

Honor Among Criminals VIII

Pairings: Crime Boss!/Dark!Din Djarin x AFAB reader, crime boss!/Dark!Boba Fett x AFAB reader

Summary: Your job is to broker alliances between criminals and the major company you work for. You help the company get what they want without getting their hands dirty, and you provide the criminals with protection. At least, that was your job until a better offer came along. Up and coming crime boss Din Djarin needs someone to play diplomat for him. You might be the right person for the job.

This is a modern AU!

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

Chapter Summary: The three of you discuss the future and your partnership. You come up with a plan.

No warnings for this one, other than some light angst

You wake up with an arm wrapped around your waist. You aren’t sure when Boba came to bed. Despite your better judgement, you shuffle back further into his embrace. You close your eyes. You try not to think about how you’re going to feel about this later. You just want to focus on the fact that he’s here right now with you.

“You think too much.” Boba’s gruff voice is made even thicker with sleep. You huff.

“Sorry.” You murmur. You go to pull away, but he tightens his grip around you. You don’t fight back. Instead, you let the comforting weight push you into the mattress. God. You’ve missed him. You both hate yourself for it and understand why you feel this. It would be strange if you didn’t feel this conflicted. His life and yours were intertwined for so long. Being with him feels as if you found a missing piece of yourself, one that you thought you had lost for good.

“Do you remember the night you came home after catching Han?” Your voice is soft. Boba huffs out a quiet laugh.

“Of course.” He confirms. The way he says those two words tells you that he remembers it fondly.

“I- God. This is going to sound so silly.” You look towards the far wall. You don’t bother to try and stop the tears that escape. They’re not from sadness. You’re not sure exactly what emotion causes them. “I knew that I loved you. I’m not sure when I realized it, but I knew. I just- I don’t know. I was so afraid of rejection. But I was so worried about you. Not because I thought Han could hurt you but because I knew that it would be awful if you didn’t deliver in a timely manner, and what they considered timely was always changing.” Your voice gets smaller and smaller as you speak. “I just. It was out of my mouth before I even thought about it.”

You look at the covers. Boba is silent for a long moment. You wonder if you’ve ruined the moment and are about to say something to fill in the silence.

“I remember.” His voice is low. He moves so that his hand is closer to yours. It takes you a moment to realize that he doesn’t want to take your hand in case he’s overstepping a boundary but is also giving you the option if you want. You hesitate before taking a hold of his hand, threading your finger through his. He presses himself closer to you, nearly draping himself over you. “I could never forget.”

You press yourself back some, nestling closer to him. He doesn’t have to say much more; you know what he means. You vaguely wonder if he’s not saying more because he has a hard time expressing his emotions verbally or if it’s out of respect for you. You close your eyes. Why did everything have to be so complicated? It would be so much easier on you if you could either hate him or love him outright, but you couldn’t do either. You know that you could never hate him entirely; you can be angry and furious but never truly hate him. On the other hand, you can’t forgive him easily for the past five years. Not to mention, things with Din makes it even more complicated. 

“Cyar’ika.” Boba’s gravel tone brings you back to yourself. You turn slightly so you can look better at him. “I am not a good man. I’m certainly not a kind man. I’ve never wanted to be. That night changed that.”

You reach out with your free hand. You make sure to telegraph the movement. He watches you wearily. You place a hand on his face. The scarring is thick under your fingers. You look him in the eyes.

“I know.”

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

The meeting is held at an abandoned ranch not too far from where Boba’s current hideout is. You wish you could have travelled by yourself; it would have made a much more grand entrance. You spent a good bit of the day getting ready, not thinking about the fact that Boba would see you before Din, and thus the surprise would be ruined for him. You wanted to make it clear that you were a partner in this as well, and the easiest way to do that was from the way you dressed. Boba had merely nodded his head the slightest bit when he saw your outfit, so you knew he approved.

Din is already waiting on the porch when you and Boba get there. Grogu is in his arms. When you step out of the Slave I, Grogu about loses his tiny little mind. He lets out a louder cheer and toddles towards you as fast as he can. You grin and make your way over to him, sweeping him up.

“Hi!” You grin. You smooth some of his hair back. Din makes his way over to the two of you. Grogu smiles at you. “Have you been good for your dad?”

Grogu pauses and looks at you before shaking his head.

“You haven’t been good for your Dad?” He giggles and shakes his head again. “What did you do?”

“I put a fake gear shift in the sidecar. The cover of it is loose, and he kept on popping it off to play with it.” Din sounds both exhausted and amused. Grogu giggles and shakes his head a third time. His little grin tells the truth. You level him with your best look, and that makes him laugh.

“What is your dad going to do with you, huh?” You ask conversationally. “You’re such a handful.” He nods at that. You huff. You look to Din with a ‘can you believe it?’ expression. All the while, you can feel the weight of Boba’s gaze on you. You wonder what he’s thinking. You imagine seeing you holding a kid awoke something in him, but it also has to hurt for it to be another man’s kid. You gently set Grogu down. He instantly goes over to Din and does grabby hands. Din bends over and picks him up before turning to Boba Fett.

“Fett.” He nods.

“Djarin.” Boba inclines his head the slightest bit. Something strange passes between them. You feel like they’ve had an entire conversation within that small interaction. Grogu looks at Boba and tilts his head. 

“His name is Grogu.” Din offers.

“I was told.” Boba seems impassive. Something tells you he isn’t. He looks at Grogu who looks right back at him. The stare-off lasts for all of two seconds before Grogu is burying his face in Din’s suit to hide his face. Boba lets out a sharp, surprised laugh. It’s not malicious at all. It’s clearly that he wasn’t expecting that kind of reaction.

“We should probably go inside.” There’s no houses out here for miles, but you can’t shake the feeling that you’re being watched. Both men nod, and the three of you make your way into the ranch. It turns out that the abandoned look is just for show. The interior has been kept clean. None of the decay you would expect from an abandoned building is there. The three of you end up in what must have been a dining room. 

“How do you keep teenagers away from this place?” You scoff. Din takes a seat at one end of the table, Boba at the other. You opt to remain standing, positioning yourself somewhere between the two of them.

“We keep it off the maps and make it hard to find.” Din sets Grogu down. The child makes his way over to the seat across from your side of the table. It makes it feel like a strange sort of family meeting. A very tense, strange family meeting. Boba and Din are staring at each other from across the table. You watch both of them. For all that they seem to be allies, the moment is incredibly tense, as if one of them is liable to start a fight. You’re not sure who would start it.

“We need to figure out what to do about Agent Gideon.” Din is the first to speak. He doesn’t look away from Boba, though. He keeps his visor firmly trained on the other man. Boba inclines his head.

“I agree.”

“What Mayfield gave me didn’t help much.” Din’s frustration bleeds into his voice. “It’s just a ledger, but none of the transactions made sense.”

“Do you have a copy of the ledger?” Both men turn to look at you. “I had to write entries for practically every transaction, and almost all of them were encrypted or encoded. I can see what I can decode, and whatever I can’t, we’ll just have to steal the software.”

“And if they changed the codes?” Boba’s gravelly voice is serious. You know that he’s bringing this up as a precaution, but the remark still stings. You cross your arms over your chest. You have to remind yourself that it isn’t personal; it’s a practical question.

“They wouldn’t have been able to yet.” You scoff. “The company is too damn big for them to be able to do something like that quickly. Besides, these are probably old entries.”

“I’ll get them to you.” Din promises. He sounds almost relieved. You imagine that he has to be. You know that this whole ordeal is weighing on him. If you can crack the codes, that means you’re one step closer to coming back home. You try to ignore the implications behind that thought. Boba looks at the two of you. You swear, you see something in his gaze, the briefest flicker of jealousy. It’s gone before you can say for certain that’s what it was. 

Grogu makes a noise. It’s one that indicates he’s upset that he’s being left out of the conversation. Din’s shoulders drop, but you can tell he’s not mad at the kid. It’s more fond exasperation than actual annoyance. He gets up from his seat and picks up Grogu. The toddler smiles widely at his dad. You place a hand over your chest without even thinking about it as your expression goes soft. You don’t see the way Boba’s jaw seems to unclench. You also miss the way his eyes dart to you.

“I want all of us to be on the same page.” Din speaks after a moment. Grogu seems content now that he’s being held. Din’s visor shifts, going from your direction to Boba’s direction. “Agent Gideon seems like the sort of man who will use everything he can against us.”

“Us not being on the same page means that it’s easy to drive a wedge in-between all of us.” You nod, making sure you don’t look at Boba. You don’t want him to think that the comment is targeted at him. He knows what he did already. It’s hard because you want to drive your point home, but you also know that might do more harm than good. Boba’s nostrils flare. You wonder if the irritation is at you or at Din. Din clearly isn’t overjoyed to see the older man. Boba seems as if he’s on the verge of becoming outright hostile at any minute. 

“Agreed.” He finally speaks. It’s one word, but Boba was the master of loading a single sentence with all kinds of implications. You close your eyes and try to focus. Now was not the time to get into an argument. 

Silence reigns for several seconds. The atmosphere in the room suddenly becomes tense. It takes you a moment to realize why. All of you are in agreement that there should be no more secrets between the three of you. The problem is that all three of you are very clearly keeping secrets from at least one other party, if not both. None of you want to vocalize the secret. You look up to the ceiling for a moment. Perhaps the answer is up there, although you highly doubt it. Din’s visor is trained on Boba. Boba stares evenly back at the other man.

You think. You think about all of the things that the two men should know, and your throat constricts. You’ve been far more honest with them than they have with you. The problem is that you admitting you’ve been keeping things from them makes you seem guilty. You huff.

“I owe you an apology.” Din’s tone is hesitant yet soft and earnest. You look at him, unsure which of the two of you the apology is meant for. He’s looking at you. He lets out a sigh. “I should have let you know that Boba was still alive. I saw how much you were hurting, and I didn’t... I should have told you, and I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted. I forgive you.” Your murmur. Your throat feels tight. You blink away sudden tears. You’ve had people apologize for shitty things they’ve done to you before, but this one was different. Din clearly means it. It’s not a performative act of contrition; it’s a genuine one. Din turns his head to look at Boba.

“I owe you one as well.” Din’s voice is even softer but his tone is more grave. “I didn’t keep her as safe as I should have. I had given you my word she would be safe no matter what, but I didn’t keep it.”

“No need for that. You couldn’t have foreseen some of these situations. Fennec was merely there as a precaution.” His tone makes it clear that arguing with him wouldn’t be a wise move. Din stares at Boba for a moment before nodding. You watch the interaction. It feels less like two equal talking and more like a well-regarded employee and his boss having a conversation. The thought makes your eyes narrow. It raises all kinds of questions in your head, ones you aren’t sure if you want to know the answer to or not.

You sigh and close your eyes. This is probably the appropriate time to voice your concerns, but you don’t want to. You can feel three pairs of eyes on you. You open your eyes and take a deep breath. It was now or never.

“How long have you two been working together?” You try to keep your voice even and neutral. “I know that Din’s been watching me since...” You swallow hard.

“A little over five years.” Din supplies. You nod. You look at Boba. You wonder where his head is at right now. Boba leans back in his chair, arms crossed over his broad chest. His face is impassive. You frown. He could potentially be mulling something over, or it could be his tried and true strategy of not letting anyone see his hand. You look back at Din. It’s clear the poor man is uncomfortable. His shoulders are high up his neck, and he keeps on shifting his weight. 

“We have another matter to discuss.” Boba finally speaks. He shifts so he’s sitting more upright and uncross his arms. He turns to look at you. “Companies won’t take kindly to you being in control of the contracts.”

“I’ve been thinking about that.” You resist the urge to bite the inside of your cheek. “I’m not sure how many of my old contacts are out there, but I figure they’ll be a good place to start. I’m sure I can also usurp a lot of people who’ve had to work with Lamtur. They can’t be happy with his work at all.”

“Greef can help you.” Din sits back down. Grogu turns his head to look at you and then to Boba. “He’s been keeping tabs on who is working with which company, if any.”

You nod. That makes sense. The company you used to work for liked to ensure that certain bail bondsmen got the contract for certain people.  It would be a good starting point. You take a seat as well. The atmosphere changes somehow, and you aren’t sure how to describe it. Things feel a little more even now that all of you are sitting. You still feel the need to assert yourself, to let both of them know that they can’t walk all over you, but it isn’t as strong. You look at Din and then at Boba.

“We should address Bo-Katan as well.” Din speaks. He looks between you and Boba. Boba makes a dismissive noise. It’s clear that she’s barely on his radar.

“I feel like I should deal with her.” You lean back in your chair, resisting the urge to throw your arm over the back of it. “Boba can’t if he’s still laying low. And you need to be focusing all of your energy on Gideon.”

You see Boba give the briefest of nods out of the corner of your eye. Din stares at you for a moment.

“No.” You open your mouth to argue, but Din holds up a hand. “You’re laying low. I can’t risk it.”

“Okay, but this isn’t your decision to make.” You snap. The venom in your tone even surprises you for a second. Din quite literally recoils, moving back slightly in surprise. Boba merely shifts to look better at you. Even Grogu’s expression changes, getting an almost worried look on his face. You sigh. You take a deep breath and try to fight off the urge to rub your temples.

“I’m tired of both of you making my decisions for me.” You eventually say after taking a moment to collect your thoughts. “I know I don’t know as much about this as the two of you, and I know that you both worry. But I. I can still make informed decisions.”

Din sits up straighter.

“I’m not trying to do that. I would never do something like that to you. But I also ca-”

“I wouldn’t if I were you.” Boba stops Din dead in his tracks. To your surprise, he sounds darkly amused. You glare at him, unsure of what exactly could be so funny to him. Boba’s lips twitch ever-so slightly. Din considers the statement for a second. He seems to deflate some. His shoulders drop, and he looks at the table. He lets out a sigh of his own, one that betrays how tired he is. The visor turns so it’s trained on you.

“I don’t know what I would do if you were hurt.” Din’s tone is thick with sadness. It sounds as if the thought alone tears him apart. Your jaw relaxes, and your shoulders drop slightly at that.

“I know. But you can’t just make my decisions for me.” You counter. The earlier anger is gone, but your tone is still firm. The visor doesn’t move. It’s strange, having a staring contest with a helmet. After a long moment of silence, Din’s shoulders slump all the way down. He turns to look at Boba, as if he’s asking for help. Boba merely raises his brow, the amused smirk from earlier threatening to come back on his face. Din’s head drops. You’re surprised he doesn’t let his forehead hit the table.

As you watch him, you run over his words in your head. You can feel something beginning to take shape, but you aren’t sure what. Whatever it is seems like it might be a good idea. You can feel Boba looking at you. Your lips part ever-so slightly as you think, and you blink several times. Your eyes narrow as you consider the idea that’s taking shape in your brain. It would be risky, so very risky, but it might be worth it. Slowly, your lips curve into a dark smile. Din lifts his head up slightly. The visor is once again trained on your face.

“Boba.” You begin. “Does Gideon know you’re still alive?”

“No. I plan on keeping it that way.” Boba looks at you expectantly. Something in his eyes lets you know he’s interested in whatever it is you have planned. You look at Din.

“How good of an actor are you?”

You can practically hear him wrinkle his face in confusion. He sits up slowly and stares at you. The wheels in his head are turning as he tries to figure out why you would ask that. He looks to Boba and then back at you.

“Depends on what it is.” He states after several seconds. “I’m not following.”

You look at Boba. He stares back at you. His eyes flick to Din and then back to you. He regards both of you for a minute. You tilt your head ever-so slightly so Din can’t see your face. You raise both of your eyebrows in question. Din’s helmet turns as he looks at the two of you, clearly trying to figure out your silent conversation. Grogu moves his head like he’s watching a tennis match, eyes wide as he does so. Boba eventually nods. It’s a small movement, but you see it. You turn to face Din.

“I have a plan.”

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

Thank God Din drove his motorcycle to the meeting. That meant that the two of you couldn’t talk on the way back home. Even now, you can feel how unhappy he is with this plan. At least Grogu is happy that you’re coming home. As soon as Din parks the motorcycle and you get off of it, Grogu makes grabby hands, demanding that you pick him up. You easily pick him up, and he giggles. That makes you laugh in return. The happy sounds do little to deter Din’s foul mood. He practically stomps ahead of you to unlock the door. Grogu looks at his dad.

“I’m okay, buddy.” Din sighs after a moment. He reaches out and ruffles his son’s hair fondly. “Nothing bad is happening.”

Grogu stares at him and makes a noise. He then looks at you with the most accusatory look a toddler has ever given you. You gasp.

“Hey, I didn’t do it!” Grogu eyes you warily. You let out a sigh. “It’s complicated. Your dad and I are going to talk about it, and then everything will be better. Do you trust me?”

His expression doesn’t change. For a moment, you think that he doesn’t trust you until he looks at Din. Din nods.

“We need to talk about it, but it’s okay. You can trust her.”

The toddler looks back at you. He regards you for a long moment before snuggling into your hold. Din opens the door to his house, and you slip in silently behind him. He closes it after you. You place Grogu down on the floor. He looks at the two of you.

“Go get your toys. You can play in the living room.” Grogu nods before scampering off to his room. You take a seat on the couch. 

Din stands for a moment and then begins pacing. He doesn’t say a word. He just puts his hands in front of his helmet. Grogu toddles back in a couple minutes later, dragging a stuffed rhino plushie behind him. He makes his way over to you. He regards the couch for a moment before climbing onto it. You watch him with a smile. He has to let go of his rhino plushie to do so, and once he’s up, you hand him the toy. He shakes his head.

“Oh? You want me to have it?” The child giggles and shakes his head. “What do you want, then?”

“He wants you to play as the rhino.” Din settles himself in his chair. He watches the two of you intently. You turn to Grogu.

“Since you asked so nicely...”

You spend some time playing with Grogu. Din gets dragged into the fun as well. You don’t pay attention to the time. You simply enjoy the moment. It’s domestic and soft, and it’s oddly what you need. You catch yourself looking at Din a lot. You wonder what it would be like if things were simple. If it was just you and him and Grogu. Of course, the minute you think about that, you begin to think about what life could have been like had the Sarlaac explosion never happened. What would domestic life with Boba have been like? What would your child have been like? Do you want what you had with Boba back or do you want your new life with Din? That question isn’t one you want to dwell on for too long.

You know what you want. The truth of the matter is that you don’t think you could choose between the two men. Even if you were forced to do so, you don’t know which one you would pick. You would always wonder what life was like with the other man. You don’t even think that a life without either of them in your life would be much of a life at all. You couldn’t lose Boba, not again. Even though you’re furious with him, the thought of losing him tears you apart. 

You sneak a glance at Din. You don’t think that you could live without Din either. You hadn’t known him for long, but he had made a home for himself in your heart. Din had become a rock, a constant in your life, in such a short span of time. You don’t know how he managed, but it was like Din knew you better than anyone else. Boba knew you well, knew you better than anyone else, but somehow. Din seems to know just as well. 

You almost felt like a complex jigsaw puzzle, a strange dual kind. You had one side of the puzzle together with Boba. The picture there was complete, identical to the one on the box. You had simply assumed that the other side would fill in as your life did. Din was that other side. He fit with you in a different way but one that still completed a picture. The ways in which he fit were different than the ways Boba did, but that didn’t matter. Neither picture would be complete without the other one.

That’s the problem. Your life would be incomplete without the other. Neither of them has asked you to choose one over the other, but you keep on waiting. One of them will surely ask, and you’ll have to make a choice that you simply can’t make. The worst part is that you feel guilty for not making that choice. If you don’t make it now, then you’ll unintentionally end up leading the other one on, and that would be just cruel. Yet you can’t make that choice, not without being forced. 

These thoughts swirl throughout your brain as you play with Din and Grogu. They continue as the three of you eat dinner, and you see no sign of them stopping once you put Grogu to bed.

“You’re thinking too much.” Din’s voice brings you back to yourself.  You’re settled on the couch, Din beside you. He managed to get you to lay down and has placed your legs in his lap. Grogu is curled up in the arm chair. A rerun of some show plays on the tv, but you haven’t been watching. You shake your head. 

“Sorry.” You respond quietly. You’re acutely aware of how this unintentionally mirrors this morning. Din shakes his head.

“Don’t apologize.” He runs his hands along your calves. “I should be the one apologizing.” 

You shift, sitting up and looking at him.

“You’re right. I can’t stop you from doing things.” His voice is low. You can barely hear him over the noise from the tv. The helmet turns to look at you. “I meant what I said. I can’t lose you, but. I also can’t stop you. That’s not fair to you.”

“Din.” You breathe. You’re unsure of what to say. 

“These past few days have been rough.” He admits. “I... I worried about your safety, but I also. I worried that once you saw him again that...” He lets out a long breath.

“I wouldn’t. I can’t.” You swallow hard. You look away. “That’s. That’s what I’ve been in my head about. I wouldn’t leave you. I can’t leave you, but. I can’t leave him either. And I know that’s selfish of me, and that I should make a choice because one of you is going to ask me to ma-”

You didn’t hear Din take off his helmet. You didn’t see him do it through the tears that were threatening to spill. He must have been he turns your head, and his lips are on your faster than you would have thought possible. Your eyes flutter closed naturally, so you didn’t get a look at him. Your hands go to the side of his face, and you return the kiss with the same intensity. When he pulls away, he doesn’t go far. He simply rests his forehead against yours. You keep your eyes closed.

“I’m not asking you to make that choice.” Din’s voice is soft. “I don’t want you to feel as if you have to.”

“Boba might ask me too.” You point out. 

“Maybe. But he hasn’t yet.”

Tag list: @yamaktaria @revolution-starter​ @whatismylife00

[raiiningforever2ice]

Yandere!Light x Reader [Death Note]

Requested on Quotev: https://www.quotev.com/story/12466031/Oneshot-book

(Y/N)= Your Name

(Y/L/N)= Your Last Name

You walk out of school and start making your way home. You usually didn't take the bus since the distance was quite small. Whistling along to the time of a song you recently heard, you felt something cold on the top of your head. You stopped and looked up. The sky was now gray and it was drizzling.

Letting out a sigh, you search your bag for your umbrella only to realize you forgot to take it with you. That's when it started pouring, your hair and clothes immediately getting soaked.

"Ugh! Of all the things I could forget..." Seeing as you had no choice, you started running.

Now fully soaked, you approach the bus stop as you squeeze the water out of your hair. Standing under the cover something catches your attention from the corner of your eye. Looking towards the alleyway right next to you, you see something lying on the floor. Being the curious person that you are, you dismiss the bus closing up and go to find out what that was. 

"A notebook?" You squat down and take it. 

You flip through the pages in case you could find the name of the owner, but it was completely empty. You close it and notice big white letters on the cover.

"Death Note... What? Is this some kind of merch?"

"No. It is what it says it is." A gruff voice spoke out behind you.

Surprise painted on your face you turn around to face the person. The moment your eyes land on them, you let out a loud gasp, the mysterious notebook falling from your hands as they flew up to cover your mouth.

A large being, thin as a skeleton holding what looked like a scythe, a huge grin on its face which was almost fully covered by a grayish white mask. Black hair standing up from the top of its head defying the rules of gravity and bandages wrapping around its body.

"Now now deary, I suggest you don't get anyone's attention. Hehe after all, you're the only one who can see me. You wouldn't want people to think you're crazy huh?" It chuckled.

"W-who are you?!" 

"Oh me? Heh I'm Deridovely! A Shinigami, at your service.... or not! Heheh"

"Shinigami? They actually exist?" 

"As you can see! And you're the only one who can see!" The Shinigami burst out in full on laughter.

"W-why am I the only one? And what is this notebook?" You questioned.

"Well you touched my Death Note! The moment you did, I became visible to you alone! As for the book... I did tell you, it is what it says." The grin on its face widened more if possible.

Confused and a bit annoyed that you still didn't get the full truth, you open the book again. This time you notice on the inside of the cover what seemed to be a list. Scanning your eyes over it, you quickly come to realize that in front of you are a set of rules on how to properly use the Death Note.

"I can...kill with this?" You whispered as the Shinigami smirked.

Afraid of the power this notebook holds, after taking one last look at Deridovely you place it in your bag, determination now evident in your eyes. You once again started making your way home, the Shinigami trailing close behind you and chuckling. 

...

About a month has passed, and you managed to use the Death Note without making anyone suspicious. You used it to kill only the worst of criminals. Deridovely had taken a liking to calling you the 'Timid assassin' as you always refused his suggestions of going a bit more wild with the power he had given you. You refused to toy with people's lives unless they truly deserved it.

"Did you know that another Death Note was dropped in this world?"

Not taking your eyes off your homework you motioned for Deridovely to continue.

"Hehe apparently a boy your age has found it. Said something about being 'Justice' and 'God of the new world'. Seems like a reach heh?" The creature who you had come to be somewhat of a friend to you cackled.

"God of the new world? Yeah, it does sound a bit weird... Doesn't he sound dangerous?"

"Hmm how so?"

"I mean, a new world? That’s a big promise. What is he planing to do?"

"Hehe from what Ryuk tells me, this boy is you but in a nutshell, as you humans like to say."

"So, killing criminals?" You asked throwing an apple his way.

The God of death who had become kind of addicted to them, quickly caught it and devoured the fruit in one bite letting out a sigh of satisfaction.

"Well, yes. But he said that he won't hesitate killing anyone who dares to cross him."

"Hm... I don't really like this… Who is he anyway? Though I have a few suspicions..."

"You do?"

"Well yes... This one boy from my class. He's been acting really weird lately. I don't think he noticed but a few days ago I caught him mumbling to himself something about checking out the news for any new criminals and that all of them deserve death... Do you think it's him?"

"That, I can't tell you deary!"

"I'll buy you as many apples as you want!"

"Tempting, but no!"

"Oh come-" you were interrupted by your mother's voice coming from the living room.

Confused, you exit your room and make your way over to her. She was standing in front of the TV, hand up to her mouth as her widened eyes stared at the screen.

"Mom?" You looked at the television and gasped.

Criminals being reported dead, one after the other across the whole country. 

"That must be him. Heh he's going crazy with that book isn't he?" Deridovely chimed from next to you.

Your mom, unaware of the third presence in the room, clicked her tongue in semi-annoyance.

"I can't believe this!" she exclaimed "How is that even possible? Every criminal just...just drops dead!" 

"Yeah... Weird." you mumbled and went back to your room. 

As you walk in you notice your phone lighting up with a notification. Seeing that it was a text from an unknown number you decide to find out who that person is. 

'Hello...who is this?' 

'I'm Yagami Light. I found your number from one of our classmates. There's something important I have to tell you.' 

'Oh! Hello. What would you like to tell me?' 

'I need you to come over to my house. It's important.'

'Is everything okay? When would you like to meet?' You bite on your nail in anticipation as Deridovely peers above your shoulder and chuckles. 

"What are you laughing at?" You turn around and glare at the Shinigami. 

"At your face hehe. Your feelings for this boy are very obvious with how red your cheeks are hehe!"

"No more apples for you." You hold back a laugh as Deridovely dramatically falls down to the floor. 

"You're cruel!" 

"Not really!" You giggle but get interrupted as another message pops up on your phone screen. 

'It's very urgent so, when the rain clears up a little. Is that okay with you?' You gulp staring at the text for a moment before you respond.

'Okay sure. Could you send me your address?'

"So, you're going?" 

"Well yes, he said it's important so..." 

"And if it is a trap?"

"Aw Deri! That's why you're coming with me!" 

"As much as I don't hate you and love the apples you give me, you know I can't kill someone who's not supposed to die yet. Right?" He said tilting his head to the side.

His sudden seriousness surprising you, you stop gathering your things, you hide your Death Note well, making sure your mother won't see it and look at him.

"Of course I do. And I don't want you to. But, if needed you can get us out of there somehow right? Make a distraction or something?" 

"What a prankster you've become! Of course I can hehe!" 

"Great then!" You smile and toss another apple at your bizarre friend. 

As time passed and the weather got better, you got less and less determined about your visit. 

After all it isn't very encouraging knowing that you may be walking right into a serial killer's hiding spot...

...

You thank Light's mother as she takes your jacket and umbrella from you. Giving you a sweet smile, she guided you to her son's room. You thanked her once again and walked up the stairs with the Shinigami following behind you. 

You clear your throat as you knock on his door. He immediately opened and greeted you with a huge grin. 

"(Y/N)! Thank you for coming! Step inside!" He moved to the side to let you in. 

"Thank you, Light." You said sitting on his desk chair as he motioned you to. 

As he goes to sit on his bed, you hear Deri speak. 

"Well Ryuk I wasnt expecting you to be here!" 

Discreetly looking towards him you quickly realize that Ryuk must be the other Shinigami Deri mentioned earlier.

So that means-

"(Y/N). I wanted to tell you that I know what you are." Light walks up to his desk and grabs a notebook which was hidden among his homework. 

"And I...am Kira." 

"W-what... What are you talking about, Light?" Your grip on your bag gets tighter as he got closer to you. 

"You know exactly what I'm saying. One day, as you were walking home I noticed you talking to yourself... At least that's what it looked like to others. But I, being in the same boat as you, knew better." He towers over you, his breath fanning on your face.

"I've had the book for a while now. And I was as discreet as you were while using it. But I couldn't just tell you I knew the truth. No, I had to make you suspicious before just confirming it. So you see, me returning all those lingering glances to you during class isn't just because I like you as much as you like me..." His face gets even closer to yours. 

"T-then what else?" You ask completely disregarding the mutual confession of feelings. 

"Well... I want us to be rulers of the new world. God and Goddess of a clean, rid of crime place... And all it takes is me being yours and well, you being mine." He whispered and placed his lips upon your in a slow kiss. 

Pulling back, he brought the Death Note up to eye level. 

"This right here, will be both our weapon and shield as we fight crime on our way to true salvation. We are this world's hope!" He said, opening his arms as in to lure you and hold you in them. 

"I've killed so many people to stand here in front you. To be worthy of you! And I will kill many more to protect us. To protect you. So please consider this!" He grabs both of your hands and stares in to your eyes. 

Dizzied by his kiss and very passionate speech, you gulp down the lump stuck in your throat. He sounded... Crazy. Obsessed. Obsessed with power and obsessed with you. 

But how can I say yes to this? This is completely nuts! 

Knowing you have to say something, you took a deep breath thinking over your words.

"Light I-" You were interrupted by a loud knock in the door.

You both stepped away from each other as his mom looked apologetically at you two.

"I'm very sorry but something important has come up. We need to go visit your father at the hospital." 

"Mother! What happened?" Light asked and walked towards her.

"Well he collapsed during work. It's not bad, he probably overly exerted himself again but they took him in just in case. We should go see him..." 

"Yes-yes right away." He grabs his jacket and hands you your bag which had fallen to the ground. 

You quickly thank him as you all go downstairs. Grabbing the rest of your things, you say goodbye to Light's mother and head to the door. 

"(Y/N)." Light stops you. 

He comes up to you and leans down just a bit to whisper to your ear. 

"I'd do everything for us to be together. Everything... Now be safe on the way back!" He grins at you. 

"Y-yes right... Goodnight Light." 

Walking away from Light's house, you feel the presence of your Shinigami companion next to you. 

"Where did you ran off to Deri?" 

"Well hehe I had to make a distraction for you, right?" 

"Wh-what! Deri!" 

"Well deary don't you worry. I just made that brat's father feel a bit under the weather. He will better after some good sleep!" 

Sighing in relief you smile in his direction. 

"Well, thank you! You really helped me back there..."

"So what are you gonna do now? Will you accept?"

"I don't think so... It's too intense for me..."

"Sound choice deary!"

"I hope so... Hey that grocery store is still open! Let's get you some apples!" You laugh and run towards the market, the Shinigami rushing excitedly after you.

[thatonegreyghost]

Mini fic!

Sober After Midnight

"Alex!" The gruff voice cuts through the haze of alcohol and bad decisions, rousing Alex who is, at present, blinking blearily at the ceiling in mild confusion. At some undefined point during the day's revelry, the pleasant buzz slipped into full on drunkenness, and Alex, now thoroughly inebriated and either about to pass out or throw up, is lying on the floor with his shirt wrapped aroundhis left arm and the tips of his hair dyed bright pink. There's a pain in his lower leg, the bad one, and Alex has a sneaking suspicion he knows what the voice is after.

"Whuuuattttttt?" Alez slurs in response, his view of the ceiling now replaced by a rather pissed off Lasat. Zeb's ear flicks impatiently as Alex stares blankly up at him.

"Risha said you missed your appointment." Zeb growls, irritated but not truly upset. Nearby, one of Alex's bunkmates giggles, slurring out "ooooooh, you're in trouble" before rolling over and knocking over a bottle in a desperate grab for more booze.

"I didn't wanna goooooooo." Alex moans, reaching behind him for where he put his bottle and accidently knocking it in his head instead. "Eughhhhh. Gross".

"Alright, you've had enough. C'mon, up." Zeb gets behind Alex, half pushing and half pulling him into the sitting position. Alex whines the whole time, and does his damn best to stay on the floor, but eventually Zeb gets him on his feet.

Alex staggers and sways, the floor jumping around beneath him. He's lost track of how much he's drunk, which is usually a sign he should stop for the night anyway, but when a single sneeze threatens to plant him back on the floor he knows he's in trouble. Zeb catches him, his claws digging into Alex's chest ever so slightly, the pressure of his hands on Alex's body temporarily distracting him entirely.

Little gods, the things those hands could do to him; Alex feels the blood rush into his face, the flush spreading into his body and dispersing into his skin. He looks up at Zeb, drunken adoration sparkling in his eyes. Zeb glances down at him, and suddenly those ears which were pushed down in annoyance prick up in surprise.

"You're really strong." Alex slurs. "Do you think you could pick me up? If you wanted to?"

To Alex's surprise, Zeb's ears flop against the side of his head as his gaze skirts down; embarrassment. Zeb is embarrassed. Was it something he said?

"Let's find out, shall we?" Zeb grins maliciously, then hefts Alex up, catching him under his knees and armpits. Alex has to grab Zeb's shoulders to keep from falling, an undignified squeak escaping him as he does so. Zeb chuckles, then hefts Alex up a few more times, just to rile him up. "You're not too heavy... this'll do nicely".

"Zeb, put me down!" Alex whimpers, holding on to Zebs jumpsuit as tight as he can. Zeb does not, and as they exit his quarters, Alex suddenly thinks to ask where they're going.

"I'm taking you back to the Ghost, because apparently-" Zeb growls in the direction of one of Alex's bunkmates, "-your roommates aren't at all responsible. Plus, somebody has to make sure you'll go in for your appointment, which Risha was kind enough to reschedule. You WILL thank her".

"I didn't mean to miss it." Alex whines, burying his face in the exposed fur of Zeb's neck and taking a deep breath, and almost misses the stuttering gasp Zeb lets out in response. "My leg was bothering me".

Zeb frowns, Alex can feel it even from where he's sitting, and hums deeply.

"Isn't your leg hurting the whole reason you do physical therapy?"

"Well, yes, but it woke me up and I didn't feel like limping all the way over there and I had the day off anyway so I was just going to take it easy. Then my roommates all barged in and got drunk as hell so I figured if I was going to be miserable anyway I might as well be drunk".

Zeb hums again, pulling Alex closer to himself. Alex buries his face in Zeb's chest, drinking on the smell of him. He can't help but admit that he feels some sort of attraction to Zeb, something he's never felt before. But for as much as he wants to be near Zeb, as much as he wants to be held, he can't ever seem to ask for it. He knows if he asks, Zeb will give him what he wants; ever since Atollon, Alex has learned to accept the forgiveness given to him, and has let himself be "adopted" by the Ghost crew, as Bridger put it.

"This is nice." Alex murmurs, pulling himself as close to Zeb as he can get. Zeb shuffles him around some, then hoists him up so that Alex's legs are dangling, held up by Zeb's interlocked arms, his head resting on Zeb's shoulder. It almost feels like a hug.

"Better?" Zeb asks, and when Alex hums happily, Zeb nods, content. "Good. Lemme know if you're too uncomfortable, yea?"

"Like this." Alex slurs, his drunkenness sliding into drowsiness as he begins to relax, his eyes fluttering open with short gasps of shock in between longer and longer periods of quietly existing.

Alex has never felt more comfortable than in that moment; the touches as Zeb lowers him into the bunk, the pressure on his skin as Zeb pulls a blanket over him, even the feel of the bunk under him. All of it makes him feel safe, feel wanted.

Feel loved.

Alex feels loved.

(Ps if yall want me to tag you when I do stuff like this lemme know!)

[justauthoring]

something unexplained.

Request: hi could you write one about john shelby with a random lady that walked into the garrisons looking for a job? sounds weird but i'll like it any way you make it xx

Pairing: John Shelby x Reader Word Count: 2,535 Please don’t plagiarize my work!

Notes: Just a warning, I altered the request just a little. Same premise, but you know, a little different.

You caught his eye the second you walked through the doors.

Not many people caught John’s attention. He often ignored all and any around him, only really giving those he deemed worth his attention a damn. New faces he recognized but didn’t bother dwelling on.

Your face was one he couldn’t ignore.

Maybe it was the way you hid to hide from any and all attention and your cheeks warmed when nearly every pair of eyes occupying the Garrison turned towards you in curiosity. Maybe it was the way you hurried your way amongst the crowd, ignoring to your best ability the wandering eyes that followed your figure and took a seat at the first free table you could find. Or maybe it was the relief that flooded your gaze when people got bored and deemed you nothing of interest and went back to their cheering and yelling.

But John, he never looked away.

He couldn’t explain why. He just... couldn’t.

It took nearly twenty minutes before he gathered the courage to do anything about it. His brothers conversation faded to the back of his mind as he sat there for that twenty minutes, watching you peacefully go on, unaware of the heavy gaze on your back. You were nervous, John had deduced somewhere along the way. Why, he hadn’t had a clue. But you fidgeted, repeatedly, and your fingers ran through your curls almost on repeat, while your other hand tapped the wooden table beneath your nails. 

And on occasion you’d glance over your shoulder, in the direction of the doors, clearly waiting for someone.

John uses that fact as a excuse for why he takes him so long to gather the courage to even greet you.

No one ever made John nervous. And certainly not any pretty face. He was suave with his words and could charm a lady as easily as he could raise a gun and shoot someone who was bothering him. It was a gruesome and harsh comparison, but the truth. And yet, when he looked at you, the back of you no less, his chest tightened and his stomach felt loose; like butterflies were flying about. His words felt thick and caught in the back of his throat and for some reason, you just seemed to have that effect on him.

But then Arthur seems to notice his younger brothers never faltering gaze and he encourages him loudly as usual, patting John on the back and shushing him towards the pretty lady that seemed to have caught his younger brother’s attention.

And suddenly, John finds himself stood before you.

You jump, eyes flickering up to his own and lips parting when it’s clear someone you don’t recognize. Your voice is small as you utter “can I help you?” and John’s left sputtering for just a moment at the angelic sound of your voice. 

“I, um, I’m... uh, I’m John.” He mentally cringes at how silly he sounds, how pathetic, but he doesn’t have much time to dwell on it before he finds himself speaking again; the words suddenly spilling from his lips. “You’re a new face. I, um, wanted to introduce myself.”

You nod slowly, slightly suspicious but smile nonetheless. John notices the tightness of your lips and the way the smile doesn’t completely reach your eyes, but he waits patiently for you to speak up nonetheless. “Nice to meet you, John,” you greet, with a tilt of your chin and a drag of the cigarette head tightly between your fingers. “I’m Y/N.”

John takes a seat, after a nod of approval from you, and feels himself ease slightly. Just a little. But enough for him to fall back into himself.

“I...” And for some reason you hesitate there, just a moment, your eyes falling shut as if something else appears in your mind, but you shake it off and focus back in on John as if nothing was astray. “I just moved here a little bit ago, from London. Wanted to get out of the house for a little while.”

“Ah,” John nods, his lips curling into a smile. “Well, I must say, a new face is definitely welcomed. The company here is quite limited.”

You let a little laugh at that. Just a faint soft laugh but it nearly knocks John’s entire breath away. You seem to ease yourself as the conversation falls into a comfortable one and John doesn’t fail to notice the way your shoulders fall, relax and your smile seems a little less forced as your head tilts back at John’s shameless tease. “You’re not too bad company yourself, John.”

The conversation just drifts. John, by the minute, by each word you speak, finds himself more and more entranced. You’re like this beacon before him that he can’t tear his eyes away from and he seems to lose all bearings of himself as he feels his heart fall further and further for you. You’re beautiful, yes, but that wasn’t what had caught his eye. He doesn’t even really know what did, but he knows it’s not as shallow as simply.

But it’s the way you speak, the way your lips curl every time John makes a joke and the laugh that spills from your lips. It’s the way you articulate yourself and it makes John wonder why you’d seem so small, so afraid before you got comfortable with him, even if only a little. Because you’re smart, beyond that, and your mind is a wondrous thing to John because he truly doesn’t even properly understand half the things you say but he’s still trapped by them all the same.

And he doesn’t want to escape.

A hour passes by. An hour he doesn’t even fully realize does, and he can tell neither do you. And John’s sure, if there had been no interruption, the two of you would’ve continued to talk for hours without ever falling silent or out of conversation.

But then, a man walks in through the doors to the Garrison. He’s loud and boisterous, bangs the doors almost right off the hinges and it catches John’s attention -- how can it not? -- but not in the same way it does you. Because John doesn’t miss the way you jump. Doesn’t miss the way you curl into yourself like you had been when you walked through the same doors, nor does he miss the fear that threads through your irises as you turn your head over your shoulder and catch the attention of the man.

He perks up at the sight of you and John finds the need to stand, as do you apparently, as the man falls next to you. John doesn’t know how to describe the feeling, other then complete disappointment, when this man wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you flush against his side.

“I see you’re already making friends, then, dear.”

John’s eyes narrow at the tone of his voice. His thick, gruff voice that seems to startle you with ever word he articulates. He wants to say something, but doesn’t.

Not only is it not his business, he just... doesn’t know what to say.

“Robb, this is, um,  this is John,” you greet, your voice the same shell it had been when John had first approached you. You hold a shaky hand towards John and he doesn’t miss the way you meet his gaze before tearing it away and turning to the man. “John this is my husband, Robb.”

And suddenly that disappointment from before turns into heartbreak.

Somehow, he hadn’t noticed the wedding ring on your finger. He’s not sure how.

Blind naivety, maybe.

“Nice to meet you, John...?”

“Shelby,” John finishes tightly, watching for any kind of recognition in the mans eyes. There are none. He’s not surprised, the two of you were new; but it definitely meant the man had some learning to do. “John Shelby.”

“Well, Mr. Shelby. Thank you for keeping my wife company while I was busy, but, I think we’re good now.”

John has every intention to argue even if deep down he knows he has no right. His mind screams at him you’re a Peaky-fucking-Blinder -- but then, he catches your gaze and the way you seem to just plead with him, silently albeit, to just go and he rethinks everything. Because John doesn’t know why but you have an effect on him no other has.

So, he bids his farewell, and walks off, throwing one last glance over his shoulder with a heavy heart.

It’s not the last John sees of you however. In fact, he happens to see you two days later carrying a massive load of groceries all on your own and he doesn’t waste any time racing to help you. You beam up at the familiar face and to his surprise, you accept his offer to walk you home.

When John asks where your husband is, you just mutter a soft; “he’s busy at work” and John leaves it at that.

You offer him some tea when you get there and John hangs around for a little while longer before you’re ushering him out with a shaky apology and the excuse of “my husband doesn’t like unwanted company, Mr. Shelby. Terribly sorry.”

John doesn’t argue and simply leaves with a cheeky “call me John” and the promise that this isn’t the last time he’ll see you.

To John’s surprise and glee, you agree all too easily.

And it isn’t. John continues to see you quite regularly. He sees you when your husbands off doing God knows what -- John never really knows -- and you are in need of company. You meet his children and John’s never been more happy then he is when his kids accept you all too easily into their lives. And by the days, John finds himself falling deeper and deeper in love with you.

And you admit that you feel the same.

But it’s never more than that. Nothing more then uttered words that never reach anyone else’s ears but the two of yours.

You both know it’s wrong. Inappropriate. Your relationship, while never having kissed or anything further, is far from platonic. But, that doesn’t stop either of you.

However, John’s patience with it all fades. He doesn’t want to hide. He doesn’t want it to be like this forever. He wants to hold your hand and kiss you, to have you beneath him and calling his name out in night instead of your husbands. He wants you to be the mother of his children and for him to be able to call you his wife. He wants you to be his.

It takes him three months before his patience wears thin.

It the bruise he catches sight of on your left cheek that triggers it. It’s not like a part of him hadn’t been aware; or rather, suspicious. It was hard not to be. But you’re stubborn and he doesn’t press it because like the day he met you, you have this hold over him and to hurt you or make you afraid or pressured would surely break his own heart.

But the bruise is there. Like a beacon in his face, glowing on your cheek. It’s purple and blue and large and it makes John’s entire insides boil with rage. The fact that you pretend as if everything is normal does nothing to calm his anger and his mind seems to lose all sense as he says simply; “take off your dress.”

You blink, spinning to him with surprise; “I beg your--”

“Take it off,” he orders, voice firm, pushing himself up to his feet. “So I can see what else he’s done to you.”

You bite your bottom lip and your hand comes up to your cheeks, lips parting. “John...--” But that’s all that manages to leave your lips because truly, you don’t know what else to say.

“I knew it,” John growls, fist clenching, knuckles turning white. It’s an expression on his face you’ve never seen and John doesn’t notice the apprehension that fades into your gaze as you look up at him. “I fucking knew it! He’s fucking beating you!”

You flinching away from him knocks him back into his senses.

Suddenly, the anger just... dissipates. Like that. A blink of the eye and he turns to you with wide ones, afraid of himself as you hold your hands before yourself and stammer on your own feet, a shaky breath leaving your lips.

But then you seem to realize. “I’m sorry,” you utter, voice soft, scared, shaky. “I... I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

And then John is crossing the distance over to you. You don’t flinch away and you fall into him as his hands come up to cup your cheeks, firm but gentle and John just shakes his head at you, breath shaky, unsure, and he just breathes for a moment, gazing into your eyes before whispering; “I would never... never hurt you.”

“I know,” you nod within his grasp, “I know, I just...”

“I’m sorry,” John cuts in, licking his lips with a thick swallow as his thumbs caress your cheeks and his grip holds strong, never letting you disappear from his grasp. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I just...” And then he pauses for a long while, the silence echoing before he whispers; “I can make it all go away. I can protect you.”

“He’s my husband, John,” you utter, “I’m... I’m bound to him.”

“I can make it go away. I can make that go away, all of it.” John says, unaffected by your words. Because he can. He can get rid of Robb, in anyway you deem suitable. He wants to kill your husband but if that’s something you don’t want, which he assumes it won’t be, he’ll settle for a divorce. Force it on the man’s hands and set you free and never let anyone hurt you ever again. “You know I can.”

“I don’t want to be alone, John.” And your words choke, everything beginning to be too much as your eyes water and you try to blink your tears away without success. “It’s why I've stayed with him, despite everything. Because I can’t be alone.”

And John leans forward, pressing his forehead against your own, whispering with a shaky breath; “you have me. Me and the kids.” His eyes flutter shut for a moment before focusing back on your own, lips a breath away. “You’ll never have to be alone or afraid again.”

You’re silent for a long while, taking in the suggestion. The silence seems to last for eternity to John, afraid of what your answer might be. But then, you take a step forward and your hands drag up his own before gripping his wrists, letting out a heavy, shaky breath and nodding your head. 

But before John can speak, you’re pressing your lips against his own. It’s chaste and quick and doesn’t last long but it’s enough and when you’re pulling back, that smile of yours John loves so much curls onto your lips; bright and clear and it just melts his heart.

“I’ve never wanted anything more.”

-

Let me know what you thought?

[stuckonstarker]

oh don’t worry about that, you take your time! It’s not necessarily a long prompt, tho. Personally I really like your writing and you always write such a great homey starker that I had this idea just for you: starker having lazy sex hahaha. Just like, one lazy Sunday they are watching Netflix, curled up on their sofa you know, and Peter suddenly just starts rubbing Tony’s dick and somehow they end up fucking right there, but kind of lazy sex?? hahaha hope you like it :)

Hope you like! :D

Peter and Tony are both cuddled up on the couch, there’s a soft blanket covering them - mostly Peter, though. Tony has a hand wrapped around Peter, gently rubbing the boy’s shoulder.

They’re watching The Empire Strikes Back for the fifteenth time, but - in Peter’s opinion - it never gets old.

Peter’s hands, once resting in his lap, begin to explore underneath the blanket. He doesn’t do anything too risque until he feels Tony’s cock straining through his sweatpants. Peter stops moving but doesn’t pull away from the older man’s manhood.

Tony’s hips buck up, “Teasing me, baby?”

Peter whispers, “I can stop if you want.”

“No,” Tony says, “keep going, baby.”

Peter smiles shyly and continues rubbing Tony’s length. Tony groans, Peter’s delicate fingers pleasuring him perfectly, every touch sending sparks of pleasure up his spine.

He rubs a calloused hand on Peter’s neck. Peter mewls, his neck one of his more sensitive spots. The rough fingertips send shivers through the younger man’s body.

“Tony,” Peter whines, a dim arousal igniting in his abdomen.

Tony lets out an acknowledging hum, continuing to tease the younger man’s neck. He leans over pressing a kiss against Peter’s jaw.

Peter giggles and his back falls against the couch cushion. He gently tugs Tony down with him. Tony holds himself up, just above Peter’s lithe body.  

Tony growls playfully and nips at Peter’s neck. Each kiss sends firecrackers exploding up Peter’s spine.

Tony whispers hoarsely in Peter’s ear, “I love you. So precious and just for me, right?”

“Right,” Peter breathlessly agrees.

In the blink of an eye, Peter’s sweatpants are discarded on the floor along with Tony’s.

No matter how many times they’ve had sex before, Peter will never get used to the transcendent experience of Tony’s cock filling him to his brim.

Tony enters Peter slowly, taking his time pushing past Peter’s tight hole. Tony groans, leisurely filling Peter. He wants to feel every single movement of Peter’s tight body. He watches in awe as Peter’s body swallows his cock. His pretty boy truly was made for him. 

Peter lets out a low, choked moan. Tony’s dick always fills him so good, but there’s something special about when Tony takes his time. Every inch of his length rubs against Peter’s sensitive insides, sparking a wildfire of pleasure inside his abdomen.

Tony groans, eyes screwing shut as he fully sheaths himself inside of Peter. He lets out a soft exhale of breath.

Peter sighs in bliss. He can feel his body being stretched to accommodate Tony’s girth, that thought always sends a rush of red-hot pleasure to Peter’s dick.

Tony’s thrusts are languid and lazy. It’s almost agonizing to Peter, in the best possible way, as Tony’s cock slowly drags up and down every single sensitive spot inside of him.

“It feels so good,” Peter whispers.

They’re so close together. Have they always been this close? Peter feels all the heat radiating off of Tony’s sweat-damp body. It feels perfect.

Tony whispers, Peter can feel Tony’s hot breath on his ear, “You look so pretty.”

Peter feels Tony roll his hips once more and he lets out a desperate oh. Tony’s nipping at Peter’s neck as his cock explores Peter. 

Pleasure dots up and down Peter’s arms and legs like pinpricks. His arms wrap around Tony’s neck, trying to get closer to the man than possible.

“Sweet boy,” Tony says, voice gruff.

God, Peter thinks, how is it fair he gets to sound so hot?

Tony’s tip rubs against Peter perfectly, making the younger man choke on a moan and roll his hips downward to meet Tony’s thick length. 

“Relax,” Tony whispers, “I’ll take care of you, my pretty boy.”

The words work like a charm, Peter immediately going lax - fully trusting Tony. 

The thrusts are slow, dazed almost, but there’s no rush to finish. Tony loves basking in the bliss that Peter’s tight body provides. The warm lust that rests heavy in his lower stomach, that tightens into an uncomfortable knot that only Peter can solve.

“I’ll always take care of you,” Tony whispers.

[miss-scientia]

Unrequited Love

Hi all, (everyone who is still here that is!) just a random post by me! Not totally random actually. I was just going through my old documents and I found a FFXV one shot I had completely finished but never posted for some reason. I re-read it and actually quite liked it, so I thought I’d stop by and post it for anyone still around! It’s a bit of slight Noctis angst, I hope you enjoy if you read! 

(Also, I stop by from time to time and see notifications still popping up. You are all still so lovely!)

Prompto x Reader x Noctis (kind of!) SFW This is a long one!

She had confessed her feelings to him at the beginning of their journey, but he’d rejected them to stick to his duty. After a while she moved on and started dating Prom, which is... great! Fantastic really! Then why did he feel so shitty...?

Noctis was sure, he thought to himself as he shuffled around in his sleeping bag, that the six had a pretty sick sense of humour. They had to have, judging by his current predicament. Either that, or he had done something really, really, really bad in a past life to deserve this. 

Gods above it wasn’t fair. 

It wasn’t fair that he was the one chosen to be the king of kings, having his future laid out and already planned for him. It wasn’t fair that he had to marry Luna, an area in life where he ought to have control, yet had none. And it certainly wasn’t fair that the actual girl he was in love with, was with someone else. 

And that someone was his best friend. 

To make matters worse, she had previously admitted feelings for Noctis too, early on in their journey. But he’d had to say no, that he was already betrothed to another, that he couldn’t do that to Luna or his family. A familiar sinking feeling clawed at Noctis’ gut as he recalled that day, the regret of his words churning in his stomach. 

What an idiot. 

How different life could’ve been if he’d only told her how he felt that day. Instead, he had kept his lips sealed and she had moved on. Unfortunately, to a certain blond haired sharp shooter. 

Although he had his back to them, Noctis could hear them both now, whispering to each other in a shared sleeping bag. Did they have to be so... so affectionate? Constantly touching, constantly giggling. It was like they lived to torture him. 

Noctis stifled a groan, the pit in his stomach growing ever deeper. The whispering of the two finally ceased, and Noctis was about to send a silent thanks to the gods, before an odd sound stopped him. 

Are they...? 

A sharp wet sound emanated from behind him, confirming his suspicions. They were making out, completely unaware of the wide awake prince laid only mere inches away from them. 

I must’ve done something absolutely awful in a previous life. 

Before he could prevent it, a perfect picture of the scene behind him had appeared in his mind; her wrapped tightly against Prompto’s body, his arms tight against her, pulling her to his frame. Their lips locked in a heated kiss, eyes communicating their sheer desperation for each other. 

It was like a knife had impaled his stomach. The mental image paired with the the all too real sounds behind him was enough to make him queasy. The thing was though, he couldn’t even find it in himself to be angry at either of them. He had rejected her, and she had ended up with Prom - why shouldn’t they have got together? It was neither of their fault, no. Could he even blame himself however? Was it his own fault, even though he’d been born into this life with all of his future, all of his destiny already set out for him? Was it his fault for following his duty? He wasn’t certain, but he was damn sure that it sucked. 

Curling his fingertips into the soft material of his pillow, Noctis attempted to block out the almost heavenly sighs that fell from her lips. Slowly he drifted off, plagued with thoughts of how if only he had the chance, he could make her sigh like that... 

- 

The ever delicious scent of Ignis’ cooking drifted to your nose as the evening meal was presented to you and your camp mates. Your stomach grumbled in anticipation, desperate for fuel after the exhausting day you’d all had. “I dunno if it’s because I’m ravenous, or if you’ve done an extra special job of it tonight Iggy, but this is the best meal I’ve ever laid my eyes upon!” Your boyfriend Prompto sighed dramatically from beside you, eyes lighting up as he was handed his food. 

“Kid’s right Iggy, this is good stuff.” Gladio nodded, already digging into his larger than average portion. 

“Mmmmph...” came your almost orgasmic sigh of agreement. 

“Well, thank you everyone, but I dare say that I haven’t done anything extra special tonight. Perhaps we were all ready for a meal after our rather busy day.” Ignis modestly brushed aside the compliments, but you could tell he was pleased by the corners of his mouth rising, fighting to hide the beam threatening to reveal itself. 

You were halfway through your food before you realised that Noctis hadn’t said a word since sitting down. Casting your eyes over to the prince, you saw his figure sitting rather slumped over on the floor opposite you. One hand gripped a fork rather loosely as he stabbed the utensil repeatedly into the same carrot, in and out, over and over. His brow line puckered slightly, the hints of a frown forming over his dull looking eyes. It struck you that he sort of looked like... he was sulking. And now you thought about it, he’d been really grumpy all day, unresponsive and quiet. 

Wonder what’s up with him? You thought, glancing once more. Strands of his jet black hair fell into his eyes, causing him to blink those long lashes and sweep his head slightly to clear his vision. 

Your heart stuttered. 

As much as you didn’t want it, he was still able to get you like that. One little move of his head or gesture of his hands, and it shook you again just how pretty he was. 

It truly was hard to forget about your first love. 

Drawing your eyes away you searched for another familiar pair, gaze landing on the ever smiling, ever warm face of your boyfriend and immediately you felt better. As much as Noctis could sometimes catch you off guard, you knew for certain you loved Prompto. There was no doubt there. 

“You okay [Name]?” His kind face and genuine smile had you smiling back instantly. 

“Sure am Prom.” You replied, resting a hand on his knee. Naturally, his hand rested on top of yours, warm and safe. 

“What’s the matter with you prince sulks?” Gladio voiced your earlier question, albeit a little more teasingly. Everyone stopped eating to glance over at the Prince in question. 

Noctis shot Gladio a glare, his eyes clearly saying ‘don’t even start’. 

“Is there something on your mind that you wish to share?” Ignis asked this time, much more accommodatingly. 

“No. Why, does it look like it?” His voice was gruff, annoyed. There was definitely something up. 

“Well, you’ve not really said much since coming back, and you’ve barely touched your food.” You offered. 

“Yeah pal, is there anything we can help with?” Prompto offered his best friend, leaning forward so he could pat his leg. 

Finally Noctis looked up, but as you caught his expression your heart sank. He looked mighty pissed. 

“I said there isn’t anything. Why do you guys have to push me all the time?” 

Prompto blinked, taken aback by his friend’s blunt tone. 

“I just wanted to see if there’s anything I could do to-” 

“Well there isn’t Prompto. There’s nothing that anyone can do, okay?” The prince snapped, rising to his feet. 

Prompto’s face fell, and that was like someone had pressed the anger button on inside you. You were suddenly furious. How could he talk like that to his best friend? 

“What the hell is up with you?” Standing to your feet, you walked over to the sulky prince. 

“Nothing, [Name].” 

“Nothing? So you think you can talk to people like that because... because nothing?” 

Noctis looked at you, fully frowning now, agitation apparent in his ocean blue eyes. 

“Guys, I think we should just cool it...” Prompto’s quiet voice attempted to cut the tension which was now crackling in the air. 

“I agree, Noctis I’m not sure what’s wrong, but we must-” 

“I’d have been fine if people had just left me alone.” Noctis cut over Ignis. 

“Sorry that people care about you.” You retorted, anger still clouding your better judgement. 

“Yeah well, I never asked for people to. I never asked for any of this.” 

“You ungrateful little-” 

“Noctis.” Gladio’s voice stopped you from finishing your sentence. He hadn’t shouted, hadn’t raised his voice, but his deep rumbling tone halted you. “I think you should go and take a walk. Cool down. Come back when you have a better head on, cause this is going no where.” 

“Tch, fine.” Noctis grumbled, but turned on his heel and stalked off into the night, leaving the four of you hurt, annoyed and confused. 

- 

The campsite seemed overly quiet now that the prince was gone, suffocatingly so. Every cough and every shuffle was heard, adding to the already tense atmosphere. 

“I just don’t understand. It’s not like him.” Prompto said for the fifth time. He was anxiously picking at the hem of his shirt, pulling at a loose thread. Every so often you had to lay your hand atop his to remind him to stop before it became threadbare. 

“I know what you mean, I don’t get what’s up with him.” Gladio sighed and stretched. 

“Perhaps his last comment gave us some insight? He said he never asked for any of this. He has never been overly fond on what his future holds in store for him...” Ignis offered a solution in a quiet speculative tone. You almost scoffed however.  

“It still doesn’t give him the right to talk to his best friend like dirt.” Prompto squeezed your hand in silent thanks, but you knew that the blond wasn’t even angry. In fact, you correctly assumed that he was more worried for Noctis’ safety right now. 

Pure person through and through. 

“I do wish we could know where he went.” Ignis sighed, guardian-like instincts kicking in. 

“I’m sure he’ll be fine specs, he’ll come back when he’s ready.” Gladio attempted to appease Ignis, to no avail. 

You had a pretty good idea of where Noctis might have headed to, thinking back to the car journey earlier on that day. The only time when the prince had shown remotely any interest in what was going on around him is when you had driven past a very large lake. It was highly plausible that he’d gone to check it out. The more you thought about it, the more that you were certain this is where he’d have headed. And the more you thought about it, the more you realised you could remember the way there. And the more you thought about that, the more you realised this was a good a chance as any to have a proper conversation with him. And to possibly lecture him on how to actually talk to his best friend. 

I can go there, yank him back here and make him apologise. 

Looking over at Prompto’s anxious face, his top front teeth gently nibbling on his lower lip, you knew this was the right thing to do. You stood up quite forcefully, drawing the attention of the other three boys. 

“[Name]...?” 

“I’m going to go find him, and bring him back. Then I’m going to get him to apologise.” 

Ignis sighed, Gladio nodded, and Prom... 

“Are you sure you want to do that [Name]?” He stammered, looking torn between some inner dilemma. 

“I’m sure. I think I know where to look, but I’ll be fine. I can’t have him talking to you like that Prom. I can’t.” 

“He was just angry, he didn’t mean it.” 

“Well then, he can just say sorry when I drag him back here.” You told Prompto with a reassuring smile. The blond boy finally smiled back, standing up to face you. 

“Thank you [Name]. Be safe.” He told you, and with a quick kiss you set off in search of one sulky prince to bring home. 

- 

Just as you’d expected, Noctis had made his way over to the lake that your group had passed earlier. You could see his silhouette from where you stood; his shadowed figure sat crossed legged on the wooden pier which stretched out into the middle of the lake. The perfect fishing spot, yet he wasn’t fishing. 

Well shit, there’s gotta be something really wrong with him then. 

It hadn’t taken you all too long to get there since you knew which paths to take, however it was still a rather long way away from where your group had pitched the tent. It had been a miracle that no daemons had attacked you, dark as it was out. You wondered how long the prince had been sat there, not fishing, just sitting and watching the lake. 

Taking a deep breath, you walked out from your hiding spot and marched all the way down to the lake, stopping to stand a few feet away from Noctis. He didn’t move upon your arrival, showed no sign that he was even aware of your presence. 

You cleared your throat. 

“Noctis?” 

“[Name]?” Was his reply, quiet but with a hint of sullen sarcasm you knew well. Swallowing the biting response you wanted to give, you instead replied; 

“What are you doing out here?” 

He didn’t answer straight away, still looking down at his hands. In fact, he took so long to answer that you weren’t sure if he’d even heard you. But then finally; 

“It’s peaceful out here. When it’s night like this, lakes always seem that much more... tranquil. Kinda makes me feel like time has stopped, at least in this little area, y’know?” His reply startled you a little, it hadn’t been what you were expecting. And looking around the lake, you could kind of see what he meant. But as lovely as the lake was, you weren’t here to discuss that. You had a purpose in mind for travelling all the way out here, and feeling sorry for the prince wasn’t it. 

“Noctis, I don’t really understand your train of thought right now, but what I do know, is that you snapped at everyone and left your best friend feeling highly confused and rather hurt.” He could probably hear the accusatory edge to your voice. 

Well, good. 

“Look, I didn’t mean to upset anyone. I just hate it when everyone is pushing me.” 

“Yeah, well y’did.” 

“I know that [Name].” He finally turned to look at you, those ocean blues flashing with a hint of frustration. “Don’t think I don’t know that, cause I do. It makes me feel worse than I already do, alright?”

You folded your arms. “Then come back and apologise.”

“Tch, I’m not going back there yet.” He mumbled, his eyes dropping once more. This only annoyed you further.

“So, it makes you feel bad, and yet... you’re not gonna apologise for what you’ve done? Is that it?”

“N-n... that’s not what I said.” The prince suddenly sprang to his feet, his body towering over you. He was getting worked up at your words, the biting remarks nibbling away at his ability to think clearly enough to explain himself coherently.

“You aren’t the only one going through some tough shit, okay?” You snapped, unaware at his inner turmoil.

“Obviously! I never once said- it’s really hard for me to- just stop pushing me, alright?”

“No. If you won’t apologise then we at least get to know what’s got that stick so far up your butt!” You drew yourself up to try and make yourself look taller. There was no way he was worming out of this one, and you could tell he knew. He could sense your determination, his eyes betraying the slightest hint of panic within the frustration.

“[Name], seriously, you-”

“No Noctis! We’re sick of it! We can’t even help you if you don’t explain.”

“You can’t help me.”

“Why not? What is it Noctis?” Your voice was sharp but your eyes were gentle. Underneath all of your annoyance, you really did just want to help your friend.

“[Name], really, you don’t-”

“What is it?”

“I’m telling you, you’re not-”

“What is it?”

“[Name]-!”

“Just tell me what it is!”

“It’s you!”

You paused, the words you were about to say dying in your throat. It was... you? You were the reason he was acting this way? Unease swirled in your stomach.

I’ve been making him feel like this...?

Noctis was almost panting, seeming out of breath from your shouting match. Although he seemed weary, he did not look as if he regretted saying so.

“It’s...me?” You whispered, his answer throwing you completely. Noctis sighed heavily, one hand rising to awkwardly scratch the back of his neck. Suddenly he almost seemed... tired.

“Look... that came out wrong, okay? It’s not... it’s not just you.”

“But I... I’ve done something to hurt you?” The crack in her voice at the end of the sentence physically pained him to hear, made him want to take back everything he’d just said. He’d suffer with it all internally if he never had to hear her sound pained again.

“[Name], it’s not something you’ve done. Please, just let it go.” Noctis pleaded, knowing his efforts would more than likely be futile. Slowly he turned away from her, walking once again to the edge of the wooden beams to sit down, dangling his legs only centimeters above the calm lake. Not looking at her made this easier. Her crumpled expression only further pained his heart, and it was getting hard to quell the need to comfort her as it was.

Gentle padding sounds as she walked to sit next to him told him she wasn’t going to give up that easily. Frustrated, he repressed a groan.

Not. Fucking. Fair.

“Noctis...whatever I’ve done, I want to know. It was never my intention to hurt you.”

Of course it wasn’t, pure soul that she was.

Her quiet tone caused him to sneak a peek at her from the corner of his eye. She was sat close to him, legs dangling, an almost mirror of his pose. All traces of previous anger had been washed from her face, instead, confusion and remorse took its place.

He hated that he was responsible for it.

“Honestly, there really isn’t anything you could have done about it. I’m not sure there’s anything anyone could have done about it. My future has been set since day one, I don’t have a say in this stuff... and I sure as hell don’t have a say in who I fall in love with either.”

A quick intake of breath from his immediate right caused him to realise what he’d just said out loud.

Shit!

His head snapped to look at her fully now. She was turned to him, eyes wide in shock as the realisation of what he’d just admitted sunk in. Quickly he began to try and explain.

“[Name], I-”

“That’s not fucking fair.” Her voice was dull as she cut over him. To his surprise, tears quickly gathered in the corner of her eyes which were rapidly becoming tinted with red. She was... really upset. He had been expecting anger. Not sadness.

“That’s really un-fucking-fair of you Noctis. You know... you know how I felt about you. It took a while to get over that rejection.”

“I’m sorr-”

“You don’t get to say that to me now Noctis! I’m with Prompto, I’ve moved on! I picked myself up and carried on living, you can’t just, just waltz back in and say that. It’s not fair!”

“I know.” He uttered, so softly it was as if he was speaking to himself. It was your turn to be surprised at the sadness of his tone. A few moments of silence passed between the both of you, your eyes trained on the almost black waters beneath you. It was hard to really believe what he’d admitted... he loved you?

Noctis broke the silence first with a soft sigh. Well, if the cat was out of the bag, he may as well try and explain himself.

“I tried so hard to stop it. Y’know? I knew it wasn’t fair, believe me, that’s all I’ve been saying these past few months. Not fair on you, Prom, or me. But, [Name],” He took a deep breath; “you’ve no idea how fucking hard it is when I see you cuddled up to him every night.”

Her eyelids fluttered shut as he spoke, a little pucker forming between her brows as she frowned slightly. There it was again, that look of pain. But he couldn’t stop explaining now he’d started, it would be better to get to the bottom of it.

“It’s not like I resent either of you. Honestly, I was happy for the both of you. But I also felt like absolute shit. Took me a while to realise why, guess I’ve never been one to be clued up about their emotions.”

That earned him a slight snort.

“Yeah, guess that’s no secret either, right?” His words were tinged with regret.

Chancing a glance her way he saw that her eyes were still closed. However, she made no move to stop him explaining, so he continued, eager to finally get it out in the open.

“So when I finally realised how I felt about you... well, the fact that it was far too late sucked. And it just got me thinking, if my life wasn’t so predestined, if I had even a little bit of control over areas of my life where I really should, then we’d be together. We’d be together right now [Name]. No pre-arranged wedding duties. And it’s just been eating at me how little of a choice I get over pretty much everything in my life. Then listening to you and Prom giggling and enjoying each other every night... I just wanted that.”

Finally he petered off, letting the weight of what he’d said hang in the air. It was like the burden had finally been lifted from his shoulders - she knew how he felt. He’d told her, in probably the longest speech he’d ever given in his life, and it just felt good to not have it burning him from the inside.

Although that may all go to shit the next time her and Prom start sucking face again. He almost grimaced at the thought.

The seconds ticked by in what felt like hours, she didn’t breath a word. Shyly Noctis turned to face her again, noticing her eyes were finally open, wide and [e/c], staring right back at him. The whites of her eyes were tinged a deeper red, and fresh tears had collected in her lids. His heart almost broke. He wanted to stop the crying, comfort her, take it all back, anything to stop her tears.

Undecidedly, he lifted his hand, fingers outstretched to rest on her shoulder, but froze in mid air.

“[Name], you don’t know how sorry I am.” He whispered, and she replied with a quiet sob from deep in her throat.

Before he knew what he was doing, the one sound caused him to finally reach out to her, close the distance between them. In no time at all, his strong arms were wrapped around her shoulders, her waist. Her head buried in the crook of his neck, holding her close as she sobbed. His fingers rubbed soothing circles into her back as he held her, noticing with a sick, ironic pleasure that they fit together so well. Like his arms had been made to fit her body exactly.

Could this get any worse? He was comforting her.

But she’s not yours.

They fit together perfectly, like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle together at last.

But she’s not yours.

She was all he wanted. But she wasn’t his to have.

Fuck, this sucks.

Noctis wasn’t sure how long he sat there, holding her. Time truly seemed at a stand still; they were lost in this little hidden part of nature. He wasn’t sure when her tears finally stopped, but he could feel her breathing return to normal, her silent sobs no longer racking her chest. Still, he couldn’t let her go. Didn’t dare move for fear of breaking this moment with her, her face gently buried into the side of his neck, wrapped in his embrace. He knew it would never happen again, despite how much he wanted it.

It couldn’t.

“Noctis?” Her voice was soft, thick from the tears she’d shed.

“Yes?” They were almost whispering, but in the tranquil quiet of the night, the sound seemed to echo in his skull.

“I’m in love with Prompto.”

“I know.” His reply was gentle, but the feeling in his heart was anything but. The admission shouldn’t have been a surprise to him, he’d known it for a while. He could tell just by how she looked at him, the pure adoration for Prom in her heart. It still hurt. He wished she’d look at him like that.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He uttered, one hand absentmindedly reaching up to tuck a stray hair back behind her ear.

“It’s me who should be apologising. To everyone back at camp, but mostly to you. It wasn’t fair for me to dump all of my baggage on you like that. I just... felt I had to.”

“No... I’m glad you did.” She had lowered her voice, and it came out slightly mumbled into his shoulder, but it meant the world to him anyway. It felt like she’d accepted what he said, and that was the best he could hope for right now.

“Thank you [Name].” He whispered, his voice trailing off, leaving what he wished he could say hanging in the air between them both.

I love you. 

[kareofbears]

number one fan

At the best of times, a large group of teenagers in one area is a mild inconvenience to traverse with. In between rows and rows of filled chairs in a packed gymnastics stadium, it’s a nightmare.

Especially when someone unexpected is sitting close by. 

—

read on ao3 or under the cut :) 

(lovingly beta read by @mad4turtles)

At the best of times, a large group of teenagers in one area is a mild inconvenience to traverse with. In between rows and rows of filled chairs in a packed gymnastics stadium, it’s a nightmare.

“Man, it’s so effin’ crowded here,” Ryuji grumbles, half-shoving people out of the way. They learned early on to make him spearhead the group in packed environments, given that he’s the only one with enough guts to openly ask crowds to move out of the way. He’s like a pissed-off shepherd towing his sheep.

“What do you expect?” Makoto sighs, one hand gripping Haru’s wrist and the other clutching Ann’s jacket, kindergarten style. “This is something like the semi-finals, right?”

Akira shrugs, his shoulder rubbing against Ryuji’s from the sheer proximity. “No clue.”

“Didn’t she give you the tickets?”

“Sure she did, but it’s not like it came with some kind of gymnastics handbook.”

“Does anyone even know what type of gymnastics she’s in?” Haru asks, grip tightening around Makoto’s hand when a group of enthusiasts threatens to break them apart.

Ann’s eyes light up. “Oh, the one with the string twirling, right? She posted it on her Insta the other day, she looked so good.”

“She did! I can only imagine how rigorous her regimen must be.”

“Do you think she’d give me her secret? I wonder if she even lets herself snack.”

"I think so? She posted some desserts on her story recently."

Ryuji scratches his head. "There's more than one type of gymnastics?"

Makoto lets her head drop forward. "We don't deserve these tickets."

Akira turns his head back to the rest of them. "We're getting close to our seats," he says with a raised voice to combat the noisy crowd ('raised' only in the sense that it's slightly louder than his usual soft tone. Akira is a man of many talents, but voice projection is not one of them).

Someone from a step above them knocks their elbow into Akira's head, enough to make him stumble back a few steps, surprised.

Ryuji sends a glare at the stranger, eyes dark. "Hey, watch it, you motherfu—"

"And here are our seats!" Makoto claps her hands. "Let's sit before we do something illegal!"

Akira cards through Ryuji's hair, a silent thank you, I love you, but please calm down.

Eventually, he relents. "Fine."

Ann collapses into one of the bright red, plastic seats. "Thank God, my feet were killing me."

Haru joins her, grimacing. "Why are these seats so sticky...?"

"Because whenever they do a real good flip, the fanatics piss themselves."

"Ryuji, what the hell?"

"Sorry."

"Okay everyone," Makoto peers down at her phone. "Competition starts in two minutes. Settle in, but don’t go to the bathroom."

"Don't go to the bathroom?" Akira raises an eyebrow. "Are you Ushimaru?"

"I'm just saying that, given our position, we're basically stuck to our seats until everyone else leaves."

"For real?" Ryuji groans. "I really wanted one of those hot dogs they have, where they're yelling out 'hot dogs!' and shit."

"This isn't some American baseball game, dumbass," Ann snorts.

"I know that!"

Haru points past Ryuji. "If you're really desperate to go, you might be able to ask that man to move his tripod aside to make room for you."

"You're totally right! What a good senpai," he casts a grin at Haru before calling out to the man a few seats down from them. He's dressed bulkily for such a packed stadium: a thick black hoodie with the hood up, and a thick pair of black shades. To top it all off, he has an annoyingly big tripod in front of him with an expensive-looking camera perched on top. "Yo! 'Scuse me!"

Ryuji blinks as the man almost seemed to shift away from him. "Uh, hello? I just got a quick question."

To everyone's surprise, the man seemed to turn even more, his torso twisted in the opposite direction.

Makoto squints. “Maybe he didn’t hear you?”

“Whatever, it’s about to start anyway,” Ryuji falls back into his chair. “I’ll just ask him again when I actually need to go. Oh, look it’s her!”

Sumire stands with her coach, dressed in a bright leotard and a determined expression on her face, nodding along intently.

Ann leans forward over the railing. “Go Yoshizawa! Woo! Come on guys, we’re here to cheer!”

“Well, she did give us the best seats… it only makes sense that we make the most of them.” Haru says, before cupping her hands over her mouth. “Let’s go, Yoshizawa!”

“Hell yeah, Yoshizawa!”

“You can do it!”

“Gymnastics.”

“Akira, you suck.”

Sumire looks up, eyes brightening as she waves back enthusiastically in their direction. To their surprise, she brings her hands together to make a heart.

“That’s sweet of her,” Haru comments. “I wonder who that was for.”

Ryuji rolls his eyes. “Probably Akira.”

“It’s for Akira.”

“Definitely.”

“I don’t think so,” Akira frowns. “She’s never done that before.”

“Man, don’t try to be all humble—everyone knows she had a thing for you.”

“In the first ten minutes, maybe. Now she’s just a little sister,” Akira waves at Sumire. “Go back to cheering.”

“Good idea,” Ryuji takes a deep breath. “Give me a Y!”

“Y!” Ann yells back.

“Give me an O!”

“O!”

Makoto rubs her temples. “We really don’t deserve these tickets.”

—

The competition goes off without a hitch, Sumire taking first place with ease. If the people around them were exasperated with their cheering before, it’s nothing compared to how they screamed their throats raw when she accepted her gold medal. The stranger in the black hoodie kept throwing them dirty looks, but they didn’t care.

“I’m so thirsty,” Ann rasps, once the award ceremony wraps up. “Anyone have water?”

“Nope,” Ryuji stands, stretching his arms above his head. “I need the bathroom pretty bad, though.”

To their misfortune, people are still slowly filing out of their seats, too slow for their liking. There’s a gap in the crowd, but the only way to get to it is through—

“The man is still there?” Haru asks.

“It seems so,” Makoto says. “He’s probably a huge fan of the whole gymnastics scene, given the way he’s so careful with his camera.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that I gotta go,” Ryuji says, before turning to the man once more. “Sorry dude, gotta move past you for real this time.”

And just like before, the man steadfastly ignores him. Akira narrows his eyes.

“Excuse me,” he says, his voice dropping an octave lower. Everyone stiffens. The words he spoke did not belong to Kurusu Akira and is now owned by someone donned in a long, black tail-coat, armed with a knife as sharp as a tack. “Please move. My partner here is trying to walk past you.”

And still, the man doesn’t shift.

Ryuji places a hand on Akira’s forearm. “Chill,” he says, running his hand up and down in what he hopes is a soothing manner. Ryuji might be the one on a hair-trigger temper, but no one has anything on Akira if someone so much as looks at his friends the wrong way.”It’s cool, ‘Kira. If the dude’s busy, then he’s busy. We’ll just wait for the other side to file out, yeah?”

Akira smiles, just a little. “I love you.”

“Love you too, dude.”

“—but you’re too nice.” He rips his arm from Ryuj’s lax grip and saunters over to the man.

“Respect,” Ann mutters, impressed.

“Stupid,” Makoto rectifies, face palming

“Hi there,” Akira greets, faux cheerful in a voice they recognize as his customer service voice. “Still ignoring us? That’s cool,” he shrugs a shoulder. “We’re used to it. Not a problem—we know how to be heard.”

In one, swift movement, Akira stands in front of the tripod.

Ryuji covers his eyes, peeking through his fingers. “I’m dating an actual bastard.”

The man visibly bristles and looks up to send Akira a black look from under his hood.

“Can you—” he hisses, before cutting himself off. “I mean,” clearing his throat, he drops his voice to a low grunt, not too different from a child impersonating an old man. “Move, dammit!”

Haru frowns. “That voice…”

The man shoots her a dirty look, before quickly turning his sight downward, but it was too late: they’ve all already caught a glimpse of his panicked brown eyes.

“Alright, I’ll move,” he says in the same gruff voice. “Just leave me alone—”

Akira bends down slightly, squinting at the man who’s avidly attempting to pull down his hood even more.

Squirming in his seat, “Young man, you are being extremely rude and hostile and I don’t appreciate—”

Akira reaches forward to grab his hood and forces it back, allowing Akechi Goro’s hair to flow down on his shoulders.

They all stilled, frozen in shock. Eyes widened, mouths openly gaping. Only Akira’s expression remained unchanged; cool and filled with disdain.

Ryuji is the first to speak. “I really hope I didn’t just piss myself.”

“What—” Ann splutters. “What are you—why the hell—I just—”

Makoto’s hand are alternating between making a numbered list with her fingers and gesticulating wildly. “So you’re in a gymnastics competition, and you’re actively hiding from us, and you have a camera which is weird at best, why are you—”

“I truly want to give you the benefit of the doubt here, Akechi-kun,” Haru cuts in. “But I’m kind of struggling to find—”

“Bro, like, a camera? You weren’t even trying to hide how weird this—”

“I know a thing or two about creeps and—”

“Oh, would you all give it a rest, you damn dolts!” Akechi snaps. “Your insistent cheering from earlier is already giving me a migraine.”

Akira narrows his eyes. “You don’t get to talk to them like that.”

“I just don’t understand, Akechi,” Makoto’s brows furrows. “You could have avoided being caught if you had just moved out of the way before sounding the alarm bells through Akira’s head.”

Leaning back into his chair, Akechi shoots her an incredulous look. “I wasn’t going to do that.”

“Why not?” Ann asks. “Do you really just love pissing us off?”

“No, I didn’t even know you clowns were beside me until it was too late,” he shoots a glare somewhere down towards the mats. “I couldn’t have moved this camera because…”

Everyone leans forward, awaiting his response as Akechi trails off. He blinks slowly.

“Hello?” Ryuji asks, incredulous. “What the hell was that? Why’d you stop talking?”

“You know what?” He stands abruptly, words flying out of his mouth. “I don’t need to answer any of your questions like some kind of interrogation,” shoving his arms through his jacket. “I know my rights,” he plucks the camera off of the tripod and closes its legs with a snap. “I’m a detective.”

With a dignified tilt of his head, he turns to leave only for Akira to cut him off by placing a foot on the stadium chair. “Nice try.”

“Move,” Akechi spits through gritted teeth.

“Nope.”

“Not before you tell us why you were recording Yoshizawa-chan,” Haru smiles.

Ann points at Akechi like she’s about to challenge him to a duel. “We care about her too much to let this go, so fess up!”

Rubbing his temples, “You don’t even know what you’re saying.”

“Then explain yourself!” Makoto says.

“No.”

“Hold on, guys.”

Everyone turns to Ryuji, who’s squinting at Akechi. “We got these dope tickets from Yoshizawa, right?”

“Yeah?”

“So how did this geezer get his hands on his?”

Akira’s eyes twinkle. “Now that’s a fantastic question.”

“I’m sure you all had an absolute grandiose time finding a brand new way to annoy me,” Akechi drawls. “But you aren’t going to get a single word out of—”

“Goro!”

They all turn to the sound of a familiar voice, only to blink when Yoshizawa Sumire comes running towards them, dressed out of her leotard and into her black tracksuit.

Akechi’s eyes widen, and he takes a step back. “No, go away Sumire. I’ll—I’ll meet you downstairs—”

“Yeah, right! That’s what we’ve been doing, but then you didn’t show up. You got me worried! Thought the crowd ate you up.” Sumire rolls her eyes, before smiling. “Hello, senpais!” Bowing deeply, “Thank you for coming. It means a lot to us.”

Slowly, they all turn to stare at Akechi, who’s expression is contorting in a strange way—his lips are pursed, and his arms are crossed in a defensive manner.

“Um…” Ann blunders. “Yup.”

“It was our pleasure,” Akira covers for her, shoving his hand in his pocket. “Congrats on the win.”

Sumire lights up. “Thank you! Speaking of—” she turns to Akechi, hands on her hips. “Tell me you didn’t forget to record me this time. And please tell me I’m in frame. Last time was a mess.”

Akechi gives her a dirty look but nods all the same. “Of course I did, who do you think I am?”

“Hurray!” she claps her hands together. “Funny story, actually. At my last competition, I asked Goro to film me—”

“Sumire,” he hisses at her, but she ignores him.

“But people kept moving the camera and messing it all up! It was a miracle that I had one more competition before the finals came up—I seriously need that footage for practice.”

She laughs, light and trill; a perfect juxtaposition to Akechi’s dark, defeated expression.

“Okay,” Ryuji shakes his head. “What the fuck is going on?”

“What Ryuji is actually means to ask,” Makoto averts. “Are you two…”

“Friends?” Akira finishes. His eyes flicker between the two of them like he’s working out an incredibly difficult equation. “Are you two friends?”

“I don’t have friends,” Akechi insists, the same time Sumire beams, “We’re best friends!”

A beat passes.

“Would you all stop staring at me?” Akechi snaps, and they all immediately look away, but it was too late. They’ve finally nailed his expression, one so strange to see on him that it took much longer than it needed to:

Akechi Goro is embarassed.

“Wow,” Haru whispers.

Sumire peers down at her watch and yelps. “Shoot, it’s that late? Sorry, everyone, we have to leave. Goro treats me whenever I get that first place.”

“Does he now?” Akira remarks innocently. Akechi’s glare can wither flowers.

He drops his foot, allowing Akechi to stride past him a little too quick to be nonchalant.

“Oh, don’t forget this.” Akira swoops down to pick up the forgotten, handing it to Akechi. When their hands touch, he whispers, “Besties, huh?”

“I’ll fucking end you.”

“Third time’s the charm.”

Yanking his hand away, Akechi stalks off. Sumire sighs dramatically.

“Such a drama queen! But I should leave, too.” She bows once more. “Thank you again.”

“No…problem…” Makoto trails off when Sumire runs to Akechi’s side, casually linking arms with him.

Silence encompasses the group.

“That’s weird, right?” Ryuji finally asks. “Like, I’m not wrong for thinking that was really fucking weird, right?”

“Yeah, that was weird,” Makoto confirms.

“Really?” Akira muses. “I can kind of see it.”

Ann rubs her temples. “Whatever. That whole thing plus my dehydration just gave me the world’s biggest headache.”

“Ryuji, don’t you need to go to the bathroom?” Haru reminds him kindly.

“Huh? Oh. I don’t know, I think I’ve might have just moved past it.”

“Gross.”

“Shut up, Takamaki. Let’s leave, I hate it here.”

“Because you peed yourself?”

“I did not.”

—

“I hate you.”

Sumire doesn’t look up from her slice of carrot cake. “No, you don’t.”

Their usual cafe was near empty in thanks to the fact that it’s a Tuesday evening and barely anyone knows this place exists—only a barista is inside with them, trying his best to text on his phone in secrecy and failing miserably. She can feel his glare at her from across the table, though there’s no heat behind it. (There hasn’t been heat behind it for a long time.)

“No,” Akechi agrees. “I don’t.”

She glances up at him. He hasn’t touched his tart yet. “But you’re upset with me.”

His brows scrunch slightly as he rolls his answer around his head. This was to be expected.

“No,” he decides. “I’m not upset, either. But I honestly cannot for the life of me figure out why you would do that. I hate them, Sumire, and you know that.” Picking up his fork, he prods at his fruit tart absentmindedly. “You’re a good person, even if you aren’t nice—”

“Only to you I’m not.”

“—so you won’t do anything that would disconcert me in a legitimate way on purpose.”

Her shoulders tense. “Did it disconcert you?”

“It unsettled me, sure. But only because I knew where their tickets came from, and it certainly didn’t come from Takamaki’s profound interest in gymnastics.”

“Unsettled you?”

Akechi gives her an exasperated look. “You’re going to make me say it?”

“How about a deal?” she offers, smiling ever so lightly. “You say it out loud and I’ll tell you why I did it.”

Sighing, he heavily leans back into his chair. “I despise the idea of them seeing me… like that.”

“Like a human being?”

“Like I’m weak,” he corrects.

“Seeing you in a normal setting,” she settles. “With a friend?”

“You’re pushing it.”

Her smile widens. An odd setting is more accurate. It’s only in a gymnastics setting that she can really get a reaction out of him—rarely does he act the way he did. It’s his own brand of sweet that’s really grown on her.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” she starts, setting down her fork. “But I don’t agree with what you said.”

“Shocker. Which part?”

“About you hating them.”

When she doesn’t continue, he kicks her shin lightly. “Don’t be cryptid.” Which is his way of saying talk to me.

Sumire kicks him back. “I’m not! I’m just thinking.”

She chooses her words with care. “You said something, a while ago,” she says slowly. “Like way, way back. It was kind of offhand, and you probably said it as a way to prove how much you hated them or something. But you mentioned that Akira—and the rest of his lovely friends—were the first people to really treat you like…a person.”

Akechi blinks, and she feels her eyes soften. Of course he thought (or hoped) that she’d forgotten a detail like that.

“And yes, lots of stuff happened in between,” she continues. “Lots and lots of stuff. Stuff I’ll probably never know about. But…I owe them, I think.” Sumire shrugs. “They took care of you before I could have. So I was worried that it bugged you when you lost touch with them.”

Akechi was quiet for a moment before he knits his brows together. “And that led you to try and cupid me with them during your semi-final?”

“When you say it like that—”

“‘Losing touch’ is very different from what actually happened,” he cuts off, leaning forward. “And just because they didn’t treat me like a famous asshole from television absolutely did not create some kind of fostered kinship.”

Akechi’s eyes never soften, never lose focus, but occasionally they can lose some of their steel. Warmth engulfs her as she watches it happen now. “For the record, no. It doesn’t bother me,” he hesitates. “Not…not anymore.”

Just as quick as it arrived, the moment passes. Straightening up, “And you? Does it bug you?”

She blinks. “What does?”

“That I make for a lackluster cheerleader.”

Sumire laughs, too loud for the near-empty cafe. Impossible. He may be a mess with words, would rather pull out his own teeth than confess vulnerability, but he’s shown up to every single one of her competition and sat through the entire thing. From warm-ups to the awards ceremony, it’s undoubtedly a grueling time to spend his day, and as much as he loves to complain about it, whenever she looks up from the mat, he’s always there in the exact same spot without fail.

She snags a strawberry off of his tart, making him click his tongue harmlessly at her.

“You’re more than enough.”

[jesuschrististheway]

Unsaid Things

Requested by: @ai-kizu-rp

Tmnt type:2014-2016

Prompt: Mikey and Raph’s crush(reader) get super close, and Raph ends up getting really jealous. He tries to get closer to you, but brutally fails. After he flips out, you realize you had been kinda insensitive, and you try getting closer to him.

BTW, you call Mikey honey, but it’s just like a friendly honey, kind of like a nurturing honey

Includes: romance, anger, sadness, and BRUTAL rejection

Warning: um idk Raph yells at you once(not trying to scare you or anything, just was really emotionally broken). The word cringe is in there(i know it’s not bad, but I just don’t like the word, except there is no other word for it. I don’t know what it is, I just don’t like it.

(Y/N)=your name

I think there is some mistakes, and maybe the story is poorly set up, and I’m really sorry. I tried my best! Hope you enjoy it!

It had been about a year since you met the turtles, and you were over there quite often. Your stays mostly consisted of you meditating, studying for your college exams, and just hanging out watching tv with the turtles.

You were showing Donnie how to make waffles, while frequently humming metal songs to yourself. Raph was at the kitchen counter when this happened, glancing up at you and cutely smiling to himself thinking you were awesome/adorable. He had kind of warmed up to you after a little while. Mikey struts in with his hands up in the air hollering, “ WHAT’S UP ANGELCAKES!!” He suddenly stops, and wonders what the little jail cell looking things you were cooking were. “Huh, what are these?” He reaches out to see what they were, only to burn his hand after putting it straight on the waffle maker. “HOLY FLUFFBUCKETS!! (softer voice) they just looked kinda yummy..” He bit his lip while holding his hand, while you were bending over laughing like a spray bottle.

“Oh, Mikey, honey... EECH!!!! EECH!!!!! Haha, those are waffles, here honey let me get you some ice.” you say in a nurturing way to Mikey.

Raph giggles to himself at your laugh, and slightly cringes at the fact that you called Mikey “honey”. He tries to brush it off.

You all cool down and then you sit down next to him on the couch while he’s icing his hand. “ Oh no, angelcakes, my hand is on fire right now, and I can’t play my video game. Can you play it for me? You agree and then Mikey directs you on how to play. You guys laugh together, and you soon start to get the hang of it. “YES!!!! ANGELCAKES IS ON FIYA RIGHT NOW!!!”

Raph growls slightly and then goes off to lift his weights.

You and Mikey start getting closer and Raph is getting more upset, because at the same time he starts developing major feelings for you. He just can’t help but stare at you with the excitement you have in your eyes. Mikey starts teaching you how to break dance, and he wants to teach you how to rap also. He will soon find out that you already know how to rap and can easily rival him. Raph overhears the conversation about how you already know how to rap after Mikey asks to teach you. He listens in and hears you start popping off with ya rap skills. He walks out from the dojo, and says “ wow, uh, er didn’t know ya could pop off like that.” He says blushing. “Maybe ya could teach me sometime...” You smile a little and say “ yeah, maybe..” and go back to laughing with Mikey. He gets just a crushed look on his face after seeing you completely ignore him. He walks to his room and turns on his metal/rock music, and slowly starts to question himself.

-of course, why would she like you, you’re just a big, mean, aggressive and ugly turtle. Of course she wouldn’t care about you, you act like ya don’t care about anyone else- Raph thought, even though he knew he cared deeply about his family and would do anything for them.

A few weeks later, Mikey goes out to go and hang out at your apartment. “ going to (Y/N)’s!” You and Mikey are inseparable lately and Raph is over it. Raph is enraged at the thought of Mikey going to your apartment, especially with how close you guys have been. He growls and struts angrily over to the weight rack and starts benching like a million pounds, slowly adding more every couple minutes. Raph tries to talk to Splinter, and Splinter is telling him that he can’t force someone to like him, and he’ll just have to keep trying. So he does, constantly. All you do is just tell him that you’re busy, or ya hangin out with Mikey. You’ve only hung out with him twice in the past few months. 

However, this time was the last straw. Mikey points out your necklace with a cross on it, and asks about it. You tell him you wear it because you love Jesus and owe your life to him and God. You tell him all about it, and he says he wants to get into it. This was a time when you guys got closer than ever. Although Raph loves that you love God, you guys getting even closer is upsetting Raph(even though it’s a great thing to get closer about), and he can’t stop from stomping angrily away. You and Mikey kind of questioned it, but you figured it was just Raph being Raph. You soon hear yelling between him and Leo, while Splinter is trying to defuse the situation. It’s not working. This goes on for several minutes and you are surprised you didn’t hear any crashes. “Huh, wow.. that’s surprising. Didn’t hear anyone being smashed against the wall.” You joked with Mikey. You continue bonding, and then decide to play candy crush.

Raph angrily walks out, and just stops, and looks into your eyes. “Hey (Y/N), uh can I talk to ya real quick. Or maybe we can at least hang out?” You stare into his deep, stunning eyes, seeing that he really needs someone to talk to, and...

“eh, sorry, can’t. Playing candy crush with Mikey. You’re welcome to join though.” You smiled sweetly. Although he loved seeing you smile, this feeling was overpowered by rage. His soul had just been chewed up and spit out, and he trudges into the dojo. “Yup, always with Mikey.” He mumbled in his gruff voice. He had been expecting this, but he never truly thought that you would say no that easily with that look on his face. You see his face, and hear his mumble, and you are curious. Your mind goes back to the times when he invited you to hang out. You remember seeing that same look on his face, and your heart just breaks. Had you truly treated him like that? Did you truly care that little for him? You decide that your answer is no.

You walk up there cautiously, and you hear the punching bag being pummeled. You also hear frequent sniffles. You go in.

When you see him, all you can see are his bulging muscles. Sweat dripping off of them from his fight earlier and his current workout. You do the Radio Rebel thing.

  “Uh, hey Raph, I’m really sorry. What did you need to talk about?”

ignores

“Um, Raph, I’m here now. You can talk to me.”

He looks at you, and then continues punching the punching bag.

“Raphael! (softer voice)...dude...please...talk to me.”

His eyes quickly narrow at the use of his full name. “DON’T SAY I CAN TALK TO YOU!”

He quickly walks up to you, his feet making the ground shake a tad. You are stunned by how much he towers over you. Girl, how had you never noticed this before?

(softer voice)” I’ve been trying to talk to you, hang with you, get to know you. But all you ever do is ignore me.” His eyes are watering greatly. 

Although he had just yelled at you, you knew his only intentions with you were kind. In fact, even though he is mean to his brothers, you know that deep down in his heart, he cares. All he’s ever done is care about you. You deeply admire this trait about him. 

-He likes you. He definitely likes you. I can feel it,- you thought.- I guess my recent actions and thoughts indicate that... I like him too. All he’s ever done is care, and I’ve all I’ve ever shown is that I’m insensitive.-

You take your hands, and tilt his face downwards. You see his big green eyes, and the pain behind them.  You wrap your arms around him, and pull yourself close to his plastron. “I’m so sorry,” you whisper, tears forming in your eyes, “I was so insensitive, and rude. You were always so kind, and patient.” You grab a nearby stool(convenient, right?), and you set it down in front of him. You’re still not tall enough, and he thinks this is cute. You give him a deep, passionate kiss. 

Man, you were both blushing hard.

Although he had already been holding tons of tears back, even more happy ones started to spill out. He picks you up by the waist, and spins you around.

“nah, it’s alright angelcakes. Sorry i got so jealous.” 

Apparently, it sounds great when he says it, too.

He sets you down. You walk over to a little corner, and sit down. You pat the ground and say “So, uh, what do you want to talk about?”

[evaxsombra]

A SECOND AWAKENING

Kadeu, Spade Territory, Leon Estate

Summer, Evening

Evangeline, 16 y.o.

“ARGH!”

Evangeline paced to and fro across the living room, hardly caring that she couldn’t see where she was going. Every time she bumped her shin against a piece of furniture, she screamed in annoyance. It had been a year since she defected to Clubs and been taken in by Prospero. Since then, he’d done nothing but help her in developing her Shifter abilities. It had take a few months to settle on which animals she wanted to become part of her, and even more months to acquire the animals themselves so she could collect their hearts. She hadn’t felt great about that, killing in order to gain their abilities, but she had vowed it wouldn’t be in vain. She would master her Shifter powers even if it killed her!

The problem was she hadn’t been successful in the slightest. Eva was at her wits end and Prospero even more so having to deal with a frustrated, hungry, teenage Shapeshifter. Somewhere in the back of Eva’s mind she knew she should calm down, that it wasn’t anybody’s fault, that Prospero was doing his best. She worried if she kept up the attitude, the Jack might just change his mind about keeping her around and send her packing back to Clubs. Abandon her just like her parents had.

But Evangeline couldn’t help it. “I can’t do it!”

“Evangeline—”

“It’s EVA,” the young girl swung her shiny new cane toward Prospero’s voice, but she felt his own block it before her cane could make contact with his body. She really needed to get her temper under control. She was surprised, blocking was all Prospero was doing. That didn’t stop Eva from trying, though. She growled, “I’ve been at this for months, Prospero. You said I was supposed to feel something. You said the Shifters you talked to said the animals just reach out. That all I have to do it feel them. Well, I’ve been doing that and I can’t feel anything!”

The last word ended in something near a wail. Eva hated to cry and she rarely did so. There had been no time to cry when you were surviving as a One in Clubs and there definitely no time to cry when you were trying to focus on shifting for the first time. But Eva’s chest felt tight and her eyes began to water and she so hopeless. All she had ever wanted in this life were two things—to have a family to call her own and to be able to shift as a true Shapeshifter could. It had taken her so long to open up to Prospero and his kindness, but eventually she had found her family in him and Hilo and Anton and all the others who made it known she was cherished.

Now all she was working on was finding that missing link that would connect her to her heritage, her species, her parents. Eva could feel the gaping hole in her soul that told her she was missing something crucial, something important and beautiful and indescribable. She had tried to explain it to Prospero a few times, but there truly were no words for the way she had felt lacking all her life. Most would chalk it up to her blindness, but Eva knew it was because her Shifter abilities had yet to come forth. Maybe that’s why Shifter’s had such crazy appetites, she thought, because we’re always hungry for that piece of us that we can’t quite hold on to.

Gods, Eva was hungry. Concentrating this hard had never been her forte and it was taking a lot out of her. She felt the press of something into her hand and automatically wrapped her hands around it, bringing it to her nose. “Apples! I thought these were out of season?” Her mood was brightened almost instantly at her favorite snack being presented to her. She could hear Prospero’s bemused amusement at her sudden change in attitude.

“I knew you would be a brat and so I had Lilith fetch them from an Elementalist I know. You always did need encouragement.”

Eva had the decency to look ashamed, but the hand ruffling her hair made her scowl, then giggle. She really did love all the doting she got from House Leon. They spoiled her rotten and she couldn’t get enough of it, but Prospero pulled away quickly, gruff in his affection.

“Now, instead of complaining about it, let’s try it again. Or are you quitting after all the work you put in?” That got a rise out of Eva. She was no quitter. She had fought all her life and she’d be damned if she’d let anybody imply otherwise. She shift, damnit!

Oh. She felt a ripple across her skin, a rumble in her bones, a calling in heart. Something was calling her. “Prospero,” she whispered excitedly, “I feel something.”

“Not another bout of frustration, I hope.”

Eva waved him away impatiently. “No, no. This is different. I feel something.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. Now, quiet! I’m concentrating.”

For once, the Strongarm didn’t grumble about her disrespect and remained silent. Eva concentrated on the call from within. Something primal and knowing and so comforting. She wanted to fly to it. She wanted wings so she could carry herself to the whatever was beckoning her to follow.

“Miss Santiago!” Lilith shouted. “Hahahaha! Excellent work, Eva! You’re doing it!” Prospero rejoiced.

Wait. What?!

When Eva mentally reached out to examine her body, she realized it felt so much lighter than normal. She heard the flapping of wings and when she shouted in alarm and excitement, an animalistic screech came out instead.

And with it, the world appeared. The walls of the Leon household were mapped out before her, the sound of her screech bouncing from one wall to the next and off the furniture and—oh my gods, there’s Prospero and Lilith! Eva turned her body awkwardly, working to flap her leathery wings, but they barely paid her any mind and she flew headlong into a wall. Her body was thrown back and she was disoriented, but another screech unveiled her surroundings once more and—gods, Eva could SEE. It was nothing like what she imagined normal eyes could make out, but in her mind’s eye, the sound from her small body was creating a large world, far larger than she ever anticipated, and the emotions coursing through her were too much for what she now realized was her bat form.

She let her wings drop and Eva felt herself drop towards the floor, but pulled herself once more by expanding her wings, riding on the small draft coming from a window that she could see off to her right thanks to her hearing. That was the other thing—it was so loud. Prospero and Lilith’s breaths, the creaking of the floorboards, the murmurs of passing people out on the streets and the trot of hooves on cobblestone. It was too much and it was everything.

Eva knew she should shift back to human and celebrate with the Leons her accomplishment, but not yet. Not yet. She needed this. She could feel the call now surrounding her, embracing her, welcoming her home. Eva was home in her own body for the first time ever and she didn’t want to let this feeling go. She was afraid that when she turned back into a human, all this would be gone. But Prospero was calling and that was another call she could not ignore—the call of her family. So she turned back into a human after much struggle—but the feeling didn’t abandon her much to her relief and she allowed herself to feel the unadulterated joy of finally becoming a Shapeshifter.

—

Eva surfed the breeze on her bat wings and let the winter’s chill run over her fur. It was a bit harder to navigate Kadeu when she was above the buildings, but she kinda liked the freedom of not knowing where she was going. It wasn’t like before she’d been able to shift. The uncertainty didn’t terrify her now that she had animals that called to her in their eagerness to aid her when she was in trouble. They were always with her just like her family was among the factions down below.

Nothing compared to the magic of her first shift, the sudden and profound freedom she’d gained in that moment. The immediate clarity she’d earned upon seeing the world with her voice and wondering if either of her parents had experienced the joys of being a Shapeshifter. It had felt like she was connecting to everyone and everything in all the ways she had always hoped she would.

And now she’d never have to fear being alone again. Her Shifter abilities had ensured that. With a screech, Eva dived down into the city and between the buildings and over streets and people until she landed on human feet in front of the Leon estate. Lilith had gotten Elementalist-grown apples today and she wasn’t about to miss eating them alongside Prospero and company. Maybe she’d take some to Hilo and Anton later.

“Prospero! You better be up or I’m eating all these apples, ya hear me!”

The door shut just as Prospero yelled out his own grouchy response.