#and might be longer than the original due to not remembering how every word went

[bluepenguinstories]

It's Hard To Be a Free Bird When You're a Canary In a Coal Mine

You might leave any day now and never remember me. Some might call that a blessing. Yeah, in the past, I would’ve traveled with you but I’ve seen enough already. These tired old bones beg me to sit and stare out at the places I’ve seen

Tell me you need a change and that you need to spread your wings. But if I leave the window open bugs will crawl in. So don’t be surprised when all entrances have been bolted shut. “You see, girl, I like my privacy,” I say, halfheartedly.

When you ask, “What happened to all your dreams?” I’ll say they were traded for a restful sleep. Just one wink, that’s all, I went on my knees. It’s a selfish dream, but already knew I wouldn’t always live not stopping.

Back before you knew me, I was an animal - I ran naked through creeks, or wore my birthday suit in the streets on those cold, dark, drunken nights torn through with all my might. I had crowds at my feet I had the limelight. Too many benders, too many blackouts too many arrests, it only served to feed me. That’s the life you want, but all that time spent wild and young, it’s all been wasted time, wasted time. The lives we lead are the lives we leave behind.

You say you want to be free Well, fuck, that was me. But all my embers were coughed out as coal. While mining for more life I was caved in with nothing but the darkness as my companion. Another exercise in futility, I learned how the caged bird screams! But as I tried to open my beak and be the phoenix I thought I could be all my feathers were plucked and my wings deep fried, slathered in honey.

[arctickat2400]

Take Care Of You ∞ Henry Cavill

Henry Cavill x F!Reader

Warnings: talks of detailed period stuff, negative self talk, normal repetition (*annoyed eye roll*), overall fluff and Henry taking care of Reader (as in the title lol), Henry being literally the best boyfriend ever (as per usual)

A/N: I’ve had notes for this imagine in my Notes app for a while and the day before I started to write it was the second day of my period and it was kicking my ass. So I thought it was finally a good time to write it. Enjoy!

Word Count: 3,448 (aka much longer than it needed to be)

* * * *

Henry had gone to work on his new movie a month ago and he was finally coming home. You wanted to do something special for him, knowing he’s going to be exhausted, and you just wanted to take care of him. Besides, he’s always taking care of you, so why not give him a break every once in a while if he’d let you?

However, your plans hadn’t turned out the way you wanted them to. Your period had come in the middle of the night, resulting in very little sleep. You had things you needed to do, but it was kicking your ass and all you wanted to do was curl up and not get up for the next several days. That wasn’t an option, though.

Your apartment was a mess, and although Henry doesn’t live with you permanently, he’s at your apartment a majority of his time when he’s not away filming for a movie or show, so it might as well be his home. You’d prefer it to be clean for him. But your body had different plans - you didn’t want to get out of bed.

When you finally did, you headed to the bathroom to take some Advil for the pain, but you did a double take when you looked in the mirror. Your face was all broken out, your hair was a mess, and you were feeling a bit more insecure about yourself and your body now that you were on your period, although that’s not saying much. You wanted to take a shower, but you could hardly stand due to your raging cramps, the Advil not having kicked in yet, and you decided it best to go back to bed, cleaning yourself up before doing so.

You couldn’t let Henry see you this way. Yes, he’s seen you on your period before. You’ve been together almost two years and he’s always told you how beautiful he thinks you are, on or off your period, clean or dirty hair, acne or no acne (even though no acne was quite rare). Either way, he’s always told you how gorgeous you are no matter how you look.

But your mind was telling you it’s different this time. In the past, Henry’s always been there to help you through it all, to take care of you, if it was at home or while you were on trips with him. But, he’s never come home to you this way, and the fact that it’s hard for you to take care of yourself makes matters worse. He’s coming home expecting one thing, but will come home to something completely different, and quite unattractive (at least in your mind).

So, to take care of matters to the best of your ability, you picked up your phone from your bedside table and texted Henry.

Y/N: Hey, babe. Just wanted to let you know I’m not feeling well and that maybe it’s best for you to head straight to your place when you get home. I should be feeling better in the next couple of days, so I hope to see you soon. 

The original plan was always for him to come see you when he comes home from trips. You wanted so bad to see him, more than anything. You missed him dearly when he was gone, especially for so long. If it wasn’t for your insecurities, you wouldn’t possibly care if he saw you this way. But, that wasn’t the case this time around. 

You placed your phone back on your bedside table, curling up on Henry’s side of the bed, and falling asleep almost instantly.

When Henry got the text right after his plane had landed, he knew something wasn’t right. He couldn’t remember the last time he went to his house first before going to see you after a trip. He would always go straight to you and you’d never told him not to come over. 

As the realization popped into his head, Henry opened his calendar on his phone to see what day it was, and surely enough, just as he’d predicted, it was your time of month. That’s what was so great about him, it was his real life super power: Henry knew every little thing about you.

Henry couldn’t possibly just leave you alone in your time of need. He wants to come and take care of you if you want him to or not. So, he texts you back.

Henry: My beautiful baby, I’m so sorry you’re not feeling well. Let me come take care of you. I’ll be there shortly, my love.

But, by the time he’d texted back, you’d already passed out again from exhaustion, missing his text. 

Henry decided to stop by the store on his way home to pick up a few things for you. He didn’t want to make you mad by coming over when you told him not to, but he knew the reason why, and therefore he’s justified because he just wants to take care of his baby. Plus, he hasn’t seen you in a month and he hates being away from you for long periods of time. If he’s able to see you, he won’t hesitate to do so. He prefers for you to go with him on trips, and you feel the same way, but you both know you had your job and responsibilities at home that prevented you from going with him. Henry was grateful, though, for the times you are able to go with him. 

Finally pulling up to your complex, Henry took all of the grocery bags and his suitcase from the trunk and made his way up to your loft. Using his key to get in, all the bags in one hand, he set his suitcase by the door and toeing off his shoes before guiding himself into the kitchen and quietly setting the grocery bags on the island, knowing you had to have been asleep after not having texted him back. You were usually very efficient when texting people back. 

Making his way upstairs, Henry spotted your sleeping body on his side of the bed. He knew you loved sleeping on his side when he was gone because it smelled like him. He knelt down beside you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and brushing his thumb over your cheek before placing a sweet kiss to your temple. He stood to go back downstairs, putting away some of the groceries, keeping the stuff for you out on the counter. Henry, then, decided to make you something to eat for when you wake up, knowing you probably forgot to eat before going back to sleep. 

Meanwhile, still half asleep, you hear some clanging of dishes downstairs and your eyes pop open wide. Quickly, you rush out of bed and downstairs, only to find Henry in the kitchen with an apron on (you would laugh if it wasn’t for the adrenaline pumping through your veins), food on the stove, groceries on the counter, and no dishes in the sink (which you’d meant to wash before but now they were gone). The kitchen was clean, and, unless you cleaned in your sleep, Henry had done it all for you and you felt even worse now than before. 

“Henry, what in God’s name are you doing here?” You startled him as he whipped his head around, his eyes wide in surprise. 

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I was trying to be quiet and trying so hard not to wake you. I know it’s your time of the month and I know you said not to come over, but,” Henry walked up to you, placing his hands on your waist, brushing his thumbs over your tummy. “I just couldn’t go home knowing I could be here taking care of my precious girl. I couldn’t stand by and leave you to deal with the pain all alone,” Henry finished, a sweet smile on his lips.

You loved Henry with all your heart and loved that he wanted to take care of you despite more than likely being extremely tired from filming and his trip home. But the fact that you knew how you looked right now made tears well up in your eyes as you stared into his. The other fact, unknown to you, was that all Henry could see was his magnificent girlfriend who would never cease to look anything short of stunning to him no matter what. 

“Honey, what’s wrong? Does your stomach hurt? What can I do?” He panicked. If you weren’t so aware of your mind going haywire, you would have chuckled at his absolute need to take care of you. 

You fell into tears, turning away from him and heading back up the stairs. Henry took his apron off, hanging it on the back of a chair at the island before chasing after you. “It’s just that I look absolutely horrendous. I’m still in my pjs, I haven’t had it in me to shower, I feel and look disgusting, I’m all broken out, and I’m just feeling all out insecure.” You say, sitting on the recliner in the corner of the room, placing your face in your hands, hiding from Henry who knelt down in front of you, his hands on either of your thighs. “And I was supposed to wake up this morning and clean, and I had a plan to take care of you today for once ‘cause I know you’ve got to be exhausted, but I ended up just falling asleep again, and you’re just so amazing and you’re always taking care of me. I just feel like such a bad girlfriend, and I… I…”

Henry took your hands from your face, holding them in his, making you look at him. “Baby, it’s okay. I don’t need anything more than to come home to you. And if that means being able to take care of you when you’re having a hard time, I’m more than happy to do so ‘cause I love you and I love more than anything to take care of you,” Henry smiles up at you as you sniffle. “And as for your comment about how you look, you know how I feel about that and you saying those things about yourself. It is impossible for you to ever look anything less than stunning to me. So don’t ever hide away from me. That would just deprive me of your beauty and we can’t have that now, can we?” Henry chuckled, pulling a short snicker from you, as he brushed his finger over your cheek to catch a tear. 

“Now, please let me take care of my baby girl. I bought you a few things from the store that I hope will make you feel better,” Henry smiled, taking your hands in his and lifting you from the chair. “Didn’t know what you needed so I just got you some extra supplies, as well as a bunch of chocolate and some food you crave around this time. Plus a little something special,” Henry turned to you as he led you down the stairs and winked at you, making a red blush rise to your cheeks. To this day, even after two years of being together, he never ceases to make you blush. 

Leading you to the island and lifting you up by the waist to sit on top, Henry pulled a bouquet of red roses from the pile of groceries, handing them to you. How you didn’t notice them before, you didn’t know. But they were so beautiful and he was so sweet for the precious gift. 

Henry stood between your legs, his hands on either side of your hips. “Henry, they’re gorgeous. Thank you,” You placed the flowers down beside you as you pulled Henry in for a kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck before pulling him in for a much needed hug.

“Welcome home, my love. I’m sorry that’s not the first thing I said to you,” You smiled, pulling away to look him in the eyes. “I was just very surprised to see you and I was too in my head. Didn’t realize what really mattered was right in front of me.”

“That’s quite alright, my darling. Never need to apologize. I’m just happy to be back home with you in my arms,” Henry pulled you in for another kiss. “Now, I made you lunch and your favorite dessert - brownies,” He winked at you. How you didn’t smell them before either was beyond you, but the sparkle in your widened eyes and smile sent Henry into laughter as you licked your lips. 

“Let’s get some food and water into that adorable belly of yours, shall we?” Henry placed his hands on your waist as he bent down to press a kiss to the sliver of belly beneath your tank top, making you giggle, your hand brushing through his hair. 

Henry was obsessed with your belly. You never understood why, but you guessed it might have something to do with the fact that you’ve never been a big fan of it yourself, always being insecure about it and the extra fat that’s accumulated there. He just wanted to love the parts of you that you didn’t like so that you may learn to love it all like he does. And his love for it and the constant attention has allowed you to hate it just a bit less and you were grateful for him and his love for you, not just your body.

“Then, I’ll get to taking care of my beautiful baby,” Henry smiled and kissed your forehead. And he did just that. After eating, Henry picked you up koala style (your favorite way to be held by him) and carried you upstairs and into the bathroom. Setting you down on the countertop again, he went to turn on the shower to the temperature of your liking. 

Henry came back to help you undress, lifting your tank top over your head and sliding you off the counter before taking off your underwear.

Just then, tears stung your eyes as a wave of pain struck your lower stomach and your insecurities started to come back again.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on, baby? Are you okay?” Henry questioned, his hands cupping your cheeks to lift your face to look into his concerned eyes. But you couldn’t meet his eyes as you let out a cry, your arms covering your stomach. 

“I’m so sorry. It just hurts and all of this is just so disgusting and your shouldn’t have to deal with this…” You cried and Henry followed your line of sight to your blood filled pad. He knew what you were talking about, but he didn’t understand why you were so upset about it. 

“Baby, look at me,” He placed his finger under your chin to make you look at him. “I’m here for it all. There is nothing to be sorry about. This is all normal and I know that. There is nothing disgusting about it and nothing to be embarrassed about. I hate that you’re in pain and I wish that I could take it from you. That’s why I want to be here to help you and I will be here to help you in any way I can. I will do all the heavy lifting. Just let me take care of you and it will all be okay.” Henry explained to you so it would be ingrained in your head, sympathy in his eyes. You nodded and let out a whispered thank you, not trusting your voice just yet after the tears. Henry offered a sweet smile and a kiss to your head before you went to take care of your female things while he undressed himself, ready to join you in the shower, wanting to wash off his flight. 

Henry took your brush and started running it through your hair gently, getting all the tangles out. He, then, followed you into the shower, closing the glass door behind him. Your body instantly relaxed once the hot water hit your back and shoulders. It was even better when Henry came to stand behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You leaned back against him, reveling in the warmth and safety of his embrace. 

“You’re so wonderful, Henry. I hope you know how much I appreciate you. You never cease to show me just how much you love me and I love you so much, darling.” You look up over your shoulder at him, one of his arms wrapped around your waist and the other coming up to stroke your cheek. 

“And I love you, my precious girl. I hope you know I will never stop. I can’t imagine a world where I could ever stop loving you. There is not a single thing that could take my love away from you. And that is how it will always be,” Henry smiled a small smile, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your lips, crading your head in his hand. 

After Henry washed your hair and body and helped you shave your legs (this man’s a freaking saint), he got out first to allow you to enjoy a few more moments of warm water on your tense muscles. Meanwhile, he went to get you and him some comfy clothes while also running downstairs to grab your supplies from the kitchen. 

You opened the glass door to be met with Henry, his towel tied around his waist, holding your own fluffy towel out for you to walk into as he wrapped it around your body. He helped you dry off before getting himself dressed while you went to put in a tampon. Turning to see him shirtless and in a pair of gray sweatpants, just as you like him, you meet Henry in the middle. He knelt down to pull your underwear up your legs, a pad already set up inside, and pulled his Royal Marines hoodie over your head. It was your favorite hoodie because it was his. It always smelled like him and felt like his hugs for whenever he couldn’t be there to hold you.

Henry took your towel and ruffled it through your hair to dry it a bit, making you laugh. He loved your laugh and it never ceased to make him smile. Twisting your hair and clipping it at the top of your head, Henry picked you up in his arms and carried you to bed. Laying you down gently against the pillows, “Get comfy, sweetheart. I’ll be right back,” Henry leaned down to press a kiss to your forehead, smoothing the hair back from your forehead, before leaving to go downstairs. You took the remote from your bedside table and turned on the tv to Man of Steel. It was your favorite comfort movie. What could you say? Did it have to do with the impossibly handsome man currently in your kitchen? Maybe. 

Soon enough, Henry came back upstairs with a tray of items in his hands - a plate of four generously sized brownies, your Owala water bottle, two Advil pills, and a bowl of cut up strawberries. You smiled at just the sight of such a spectacular man (in more ways than one) coming toward you as he placed the tray on your right side before climbing into bed on your left (you sleep on the right and Henry sleeps on the left). Henry pulled the covers over your legs and pulled you into his side. 

He made sure you drink plenty of water, always making sure you were properly hydrated, and ate the snacks he brought up, having heard your tummy make noises just after getting out of the shower. You took the Advil as well, hoping to keep the cramps at bay if you kept on the medicine. 

Once you were done with the brownies (two for you and two for Henry), you slid down to lay your head on Henry’s chest, your legs pulled up over his. He held you tight against him, one arm around your back and the other rubbing your belly. Being back in Henry’s arms made you feel so safe and secure, and you were so comfortable, you began to drift off. Your eyes became heavy, the toil of your emotions and hormones getting the best of you.

Henry looked down to see you struggling to stay awake. “Sleep, my love. It’s alright. I’ll be here when you wake,” He brushed his fingers through your hair, soothing you into a deep sleep in the warm embrace of the love of your life.

[flyingraijin]

Sickly Sweet | H. Sero

Entry 04 | The Virginity Chronicles

Summary: Being sick truly is an inconvenience, in almost every aspect of life. Especially so when you’re so close to graduation. But if your reward for getting well again is your boyfriend, Hanta, you suppose it might be worth falling ill more often...

(Or, alternatively; Hanta fucks for the first time)

Pairing: Hanta Sero x AFAB!reader

Warnings: swearing, sickness, smut, virginity loss, multiple orgasms, oral (f + m receiving), a lil bit of dry humping, face-sitting, cunniligus, vaginal sex, a little bit of overstimulation, a teensy bit of pain, soooo fluffy (I really went overboard with this one bc im such a simp this man), pussy drunk sero, whiny sero, characters aged up to 18 years!

Word Count: 15.6k

Note: So... I present to you more Sero. This actually originally stemmed from a conversation I had with a friend about how Sero would probably prefer oral to traditional sex and I could not get it out of my head. As a result, once again, ya boi just wants his face ridden. But I’m not complaining...

Additionally, I’d like to apologise in advance. I got real lazy with the editing bc this turned out way longer than I expected and I didn’t budget my time properly. I’ll probably go back in and edit properly some time in the future but I’m too lazy to do that now.

Series Masterlist + Series Taglist

As you decided one day, if you had your way, human beings would never get sick.

 Sickness was an inconvenience for everything – for the person who was sick, for the person taking care of said sick person, for the people relying on them. Nothing good ever came from falling ill.

 Especially not when you were a student in UA’s support course.

 Especially not when your last final project was coming up – the final project that would determine whether or not you would be able to step off the UA campus and begin the job you’d been dreaming about for the majority of your life

 The dread had begun to build the moment you felt the first beginnings of scratchiness tickling the back of your throat. Your first instinct had been to go see Recovery Girl for some medication, however you talked yourself out of that quickly enough – in a school full of students who were constantly throwing themselves at death’s door, it didn’t seem very likely she’d have time to handle your mild cold. Besides it was just a cold, it would sort itself out in a matter of days.

 That was your first mistake.

 Your second happened roughly four days later, when you allowed yourself to be dragged outside by your boyfriend during a rain storm to perform, as he’d so said, a “romantic dance in the rain.”

 It had been fun at the time of course – it’d been a Sunday, one of your last free days before you buckled down to start studying and Hanta, as always, had treated you to hours’ worth of entrainment as he rushed around, kicking at puddles and shaking tree branches like an excited child.

 It wasn’t until the next day when you woke up with a splitting headache and completely clogged sinuses that you realised maybe it hadn’t been the best idea.

 Still, you tried your best to continue as normal. After knocking back some painkillers, you threw yourself into your work, using it as a distraction from the haziness in your head. All your last coursework had been due around that time and in some ways the delirium actually helped, as you came up with more and more creative ways to work your way around problems.

 Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t ignore things any longer once the fever finally set it.

 It was Hanta that noticed it first – of course it would be him. It was the Friday before you were due to start work on your final thesis for the year and you were on your way to first period, your boyfriend meandering along beside you. Hanta was talking about something one of his friends had told him the evening before – either Kaminari or Kirishima, you couldn’t remember who. However, you were barely listening. Your head was cloudy, steps off-balance and you daren’t open your mouth lest your boyfriend pick up on the weakness in your scratchy voice. Just one more day, you were telling yourself as you walked. Just one more day and then I can rest.

 And then you felt a light tug at the sleeve of your uniform top.

 You stopped short and turned to see that Hanta himself had stopped a few steps behind you and was now staring at you with a concerned look on his face. “Lovebug?” he asked, worriedly, as his hand dropped from where he’d reached out to grab you. “Are you okay?”

 You blinked and forced down the cloudiness in your head. “What? Yes, of course, I’m fine.”

 He continued to watch you, eyes narrowed. “Are you sure?”

 You nodded, ignoring the way it immediately sent your stomach spinning. “I’m sure. Now come on, we need to get to class.”

 You were about to turn away and continue your walk down the hall when Hanta reached out to grab you again. “Lovebug,” he started and this time you could hear the deep concern in his words. “Your class is right here.”

 You looked where he was pointing, at the large door with a sign reading 3F. It was, indeed, your homeroom class.

 You cursed inwardly. In your delirium all your surroundings had blurred into a single, long mess of white hallways and you hadn’t even registered the fact that you had actually reached your own class. It was a rookie mistake for someone hiding the fact that they were sick and now Hanta was giving you very big, very worried eyes.

 “I think you should see Recovery Girl. You don’t seem well, Lovebug.”

 You tried to shake your head again but stopped quickly, when your vision began to swim with dizziness. “M’okay,” you tried to convince your boyfriend. But Hanta was smart. And also had eyes. And so he dismissed your own dismissal completely. Without a word he leaned down, and then you yelped as your body was scooped up into his arms.

 “If you’re not going to go by yourself, I’m taking you,” Hanta told you as he began to walk in the direction of the nurse’s office. “I’m not gonna let you abuse yourself like this.”

 You wanted to thrash your way out of his arms and tell him that you were fine. But you knew it was a lie. And when the most you could struggle turned out to be weakly kicking your legs, you decided, with a sigh, to give in.

 As expected, Recovery Girl diagnosed you with a bad case of the flu and chronic overwork. You sat sulkily on the nurse’s bed the whole time as she prodded and poked you, muttering and berating you for not coming to see her sooner. Hanta stood in the doorway the whole time, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched on. And then, once the examination was over, he stepped forward to whisk you into his hold once again.

 Letting your head slump onto the curve of his shoulder, you let your eyes slip closed as, for the first time in a week and a half, you allowed yourself some rest.

 “Here,” Recovery Girl said, holding out a sealed bottle to your boyfriend. “One tablespoon of this twice a day, and bed rest, and she should be right as rain in two or three days. 

 “Thank you,” Hanta nodded, taking the bottle from her. “I’ll make sure she takes it.” You felt his grip on you tighten ever so slightly.

 The walk back to your dorm room was slow. Hanta didn’t seem too bothered by the fact that he himself was missing class – “I asked Kami to tell Mr Aizawa what’s up,” he said when you asked him about it – and instead, spent most of the time fussing over you.

 “That was dumb,” he told you as the pair of you stepped out of the main building. “Really stupid. I thought you had a brain in there, Lovebug.”

 He was teasing, you could tell, but there was an underlying worry to his words that made you feel just a little bit guilty.

 “I know,” you mumbled. “I just… didn’t think it would get this bad.”

 “That’s what happens when you're sick,” Hanta said with a short shake of his head. “You get worse if you don’t try and get better.”

 “I know,” you repeated again and your voice was soft. “I’m sorry.”

 His lips pressed into the top of your head, firm and reassuring. “Don’t be,” he murmured. “I get it. There’s a lot of pressure and we can’t exactly afford to take breaks right now. Just… please don’t do that again.”

 His tone said more than his words did and you pressed your face deeper into the crook of his neck. “I won’t,” you promised him, and promised yourself too. “I really won’t.”

You spent the rest of that day and then the whole of Saturday sleeping. Hanta popped in and out as much as he could – he returned to class after settling you in your room but dropped by during breaks and then again after school. You didn’t see him often though, usually just waking up to glasses of water and some light snacks left on your nightstand, or when he woke you up briefly to help you take your medicine..

 It was only once Sunday rolled around that you began to feel better. Your fever had broken the night before and when you opened your eyes to the early sunlight of the morning, it was the most awake you’d felt in days. After lying back and staring at the ceiling for a few long moments, you gathered all your strength and pushed yourself to sit up against your pillows.

 It was easier than you’d expected, given your full-body weakness for the past week, and you couldn’t help the small smile that graced your lips – it was nice to finally feel like a human again, after being stuck as a zombie for so long.

 It was only once you reached out to grab the glass of water that sat on your nightstand that you realised you weren’t alone in your room. There was a messy tangle of blankets positioned in the free floor space beside your bed, along with a familiarly patterned pillow. And protruding from it all was a head full of messy, dark hair.

 You blinked at the sight for a second, shocked. You hadn’t registered Hanta making his bed on your floor, and hadn’t registered that he’d slept there for what must’ve been the whole night. You weren’t even sure if he’d been doing so from the beginning of your bedrest or not.

 Gingerly, you grabbed one of the extra pillows on your own bed. For a moment, you aimed, eyes narrowing as you tried your best to focus. Then you threw the pillow.

 It hit further down than you’d intended, thwacking against what you presumed was Hanta’s leg instead of his back. Still, its job was done when the lump beneath the blankets stirred and then a face popped out, bleary eyed and curious.

 It took a moment for Hanta’s gaze to find yours. But when it did, you saw the visible recognition flash across his face.

 “Lovebug!”

“Have you been sleeping here this whole time?” you asked him in lieu of a greeting. Hanta did his best to nod beneath the mountain of blankets still cocooning him.

 “Uh huh. I didn’t like the idea of being so far away from you while you were sick.”

 Part of your brain immediately went aww at his words. The other part shook its metaphorical head.

 “I’m not helpless, you know.”

 “Well,'' Hanta corrected as he managed to wriggle his way out of the blanket burrito and sat up. “You kind of were? You could barely stand.”

 You pursed your lips, unable to counter him. So instead you just shook your head.

 “Are you even allowed to be in here?”

 Hanta shrugged. “No one’s stopped me yet.” Then he climbed up out of his makeshift bed and right into your own. You let yourself fall back against the pillows as he wiggled in beside you, turning his head to stare into your eyes. His palm pressed flat against your forehead.

 “How’re you feeling? You look better.”

 “I feel better,” you affirmed, closing your eyes as his hand continued to brush across your face. “Still not 100% but way better than before.”

 “I’m glad,” Hanta mumbled. Then he dropped his hand and you opened your eyes to see him frowning. “But you really musn’t ever do that again.”

 “I already promised you I wouldn’t,” you told him, looking away. Hanta shook his head.

 "I know you did. But can you promise again?”

 When you didn’t reply he gently tapped the underside of your chin. “Please, Lovebug. I was worried about you.”

 “I promise,” you told him then and reached up to grab his hand. Your fingers linked with his and then you shuffled closer to press your forehead into his collarbone.

 “Thank you,” Hanta mumbled.

 There was a moment's pause, during which the pair of you simply breathed. Hanta’s warmth was comforting against you, more comforting than you’d ever admit, and you realised suddenly that despite the fact that he’d been around almost the entire time, you felt like you hadn’t seen him in weeks.

 Hanta seemed to have the same sentiment when he pulled back to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I missed you,” he mumbled lightly, lips lazy against your skin. “School’s not as fun without you.”

 “We’re not even in the same class,” you snorted as your free hand came up to stroke through his soft hair. “Besides, you have other friends.''

 “They’re boring.”

 “Don’t let them hear you say that,” you warned him. “Mina will have your head. And Kaminari would probably cry.”

 “Well it’s a good thing they’re not here then,'' Hanta murmured and your breath hitched in your chest as he head slipped down, lips down ghosting over the skin of your neck.

 “I’d be very concerned if they were here,” you managed to choke out, sighing aloud when he nipped playfully at the skin of your collarbone. One of his hands slid around your waist while the other came up to cradle your head. You almost let yourself slip into the feeling of him against you when your eyes shot wide and you pulled away quickly.

 “Wait, Hanta… you’re gonna get sick if you’re this close to me.”

 He shook his head, trying to pull you back towards him. “Don’t care.”

 “But Hanta,” you insisted, firmer this time. “You can’t get sick. Your proper licensing exam is coming up and you-“

 “Lovebug,” he said , mimicking your tone. “I’ve been snuggled up to you for the past three days. If I was gonna get sick, it would have happened by now. Besides –“ he grinned cheekily. “I’m stronk. I can handle your germs.”

 You shoved lightly at his head, making a face. “Go away.”

 He chuckled, good-natured as always and buried his face back into its place in the juncture of your neck. “No, I don’t think I will.”

 The warmth of his body had remained and you basked in it for a second, slipping into the comfort of his presence as he held you. Still, he seemed to be holding himself back, his mouth no longer making its way along your neck, and you realised it was because he was waiting for some kind of signal from you. Petals of warmth bloomed in your chest.

 You and Hanta had known each other for a long time. Even before you began dating, he’d been your best friend after the pair of you had met, way back during middle school. He’d been an awkward, lanky kid back then, too tall for his age and obsessed with some American hero with a spider quirk, while you were just an outcast who liked designing hero costumes. It almost astounded you every time you looked back on your life with Hanta, still not quite sure how you’d ended up where you were now.

 And yet, the pair of you made sense together. You had a connection with Hanta that you didn’t share with many other people in your life, a connection you couldn’t describe or explain. You loved him more than anything and he made it clear that he felt the same about you. And you were more comfortable around him than you were even around yourself.

 Which was why moments like these, where the pair of you lay curled up and entangled, were pretty common. You liked the feeling of Hanta’s hand on you, on your body – it was natural and comforting and always left you craving more, craving him. And you’d done this before. Not… all the way. But this - held each other, touched each other, learned each other.

 The light press of your lips to the side of his head was all the signal that Hanta needed to begin again. His mouth was hot against your neck and then the skin of your shoulder, lips firm and soft before his tongue darted out to taste along your skin. His hands moved too; sliding their way from your waist down to your hips to pull you closer. You had been on your back but you rolled obediently when his grip tightly, settling on your side with a leg swung up and over the bone of his own hips.

 Hanta grinned against your neck. “You smell so nice.”

 Your own hands rushed to run up his chest and then along his shoulder blades as you made a face at the wall behind him. “I really don’t. I've been in bed for two days.”

 “You smell like you,” Hanta mumbled into your collarbone. “I like it.”

 You couldn’t really argue with that and so you dropped your head, letting your nose press into his shoulder. He was wearing a shirt, a thin black cotton one with long sleeves and a v-neckline, and you could feel the way his collar bone protruded from his shoulder even through the fabric – a staple of his consistently lanky build despite the years of muscle trailing. You trailed your fingers up and over it, feeling his form and trying not to blush as you did so – there was something about the way he felt under your touch, the warmth of him and the hardness that had you breathless.

 Without thinking, you shuffled a little closer. Your leg, which was pulled up over his hips, curled further around him and suddenly you felt him groan into the skin over your jugular, his tongue faltering just a little.

 Your eyes widened when you realised the reason why.

 “Shit,” you mumbled. “Sorry, I- '' But he was already shaking his head. Pulling back, he gently cupped the side of your face with one of his large hands, holding it while his dark eyes flicked between your own.

 “It’s fine,” he breathed. “Really. Just… are you sure you’re up for anything like that?”

 A doctor would probably advise against it, you figured. Sexual activities while sick was not really… standard practice. However you weren’t a doctor and so you felt it would not be proper for you to make such an assessment.

“I’m fine,” you assured Hanta in the steadiest voice you could muster and indeed you were – a slight weakness remained, your body not quite as alert as it usually would be. But otherwise, you felt better. A lot better. Better enough to let Hanta taste you, which was – surprisingly – all you wanted right then.

 Hanta groaned and then his hand slipped downward. The warmth of his palm slid down your back and then dipped beneath the hem of your cotton shirt. His fingers splayed out over your lower back and then, in a show of his hidden strength, he rolled you so you were lying completely on top of him. Instinctively, your arms slipped around his neck as you raised your head just slightly to stare down at him with hooded eyes.

 “I missed you,” you murmured low. “We’ve both been too busy.”

 Hanta hummed in agreement, the vibration ringing through his chest. He looked sleepy still, dark eyes drooping at the corners and his expression lazy. Still there was a glint shining in his deep pupils, a glint you recognised. It had the muscles in your stomach pulling taut in excitement and anticipation.

 “Love you,” Hanta whispered then. His grin stretched lazily across his face as his eyes trailed over your expression. You felt yourself flush, heat rising to your cheeks that had nothing to do with the remnants of your fever.

 “You’re so obsessed with me,” you mumbled in embarrassment, although you didn’t look away. Your nose was already brushing up against his and then he forced the distance between you and him even smaller when he tilted his chin up just a little. The curve of his bottom lip dragged across yours.

 “I sure am,” he said with a grin and you shook your head, pushing his face away.

 He drew you back towards him immediately, laughing, and you didn’t protest as his mouth pressed into the curve of your shoulder once again. As he sucked lightly on the skin you couldn’t help the little sigh that escaped you, a sigh both of you knew could only mean more to come.

 “You sure you wanna mess around?” you mumbled against him, throat thick with tension. “You might get sick.”

 “I’m sure,” he replied as his fingers dug deeper into the curve of your hips. You could feel the tension in his own body, pulled tight and waiting. “I won’t get sick.”

 “Promise?”

 “Promise,” he whispered, and grinned.

 You kissed him then, and it brought a wave of relief through your body. It had only been two days since your mouth last found his and yet as you tasted him now, you felt ravenous, as if you’ve been starved of him for an eternity.

 Hanta seemed to share your feelings because he groaned into the kiss and raised a hand to hold the back of your head, pulling you further down to him. His mouth was so warm against yours; warm and comforting and familiar. And it reminded you once again of how much you loved him and how much you needed him. You felt drunk on his touch and he’d barely touched you, addicted to his taste and you’d barely tasted him. His presence was overwhelming and intoxicating, and there was a little voice in the back of your mind telling you this time wouldn’t be like the times before – there was something more here, something more burning in the pit of your stomach. And as much as it made you nervous, you wanted to find out what it meant. You wanted to let it consume you.

 “Wait,” Hanta suddenly mumbled, pulling away from your lips. Instinctively you tried to chase, not ready to let the feeling of him dissolve just yet. But you were stopped by his eyes – big and wide and curious and…scared?

 “Are we…?” he breathed out and you could feel the way his heart pounded through his own chest and into yours. “Is this… Are we gonna… I mean, will we…?”

 You knew exactly what he was asking and it scared you too. But at the same time… it didn’t.

 Because as much as you’d given yourself to Hanta and he’d given himself to you, and you'd felt his hands and his mouth, there had always been a line. An invisible line drawn somewhere that neither of you had dared to cross.

 And oh, you wanted to cross it now. More than ever before, although the exact reason why was a mystery to you. You wanted him, totally, completely, in a way you’d never had him before, and you hoped he wanted you too. But you didn’t know for sure.

 And so you said, “Only if you want to.”

 Hanta’s brain seemed to short circuit. His eyes went wide and his body, hot and hard as it was beneath you, became even more so. You wondered briefly if you’d have to wave a hand in front of his face, only to be stopped by the absolute smirk that suddenly curled across his lips.

 “I’m not gonna go easy on you, Lovebug,” he said and it was so cocky, so smug that it had your toes curling. “I’m not sure you’ll be able to handle it.”

 You rolled your eyes and tried to hide the fact that your heart was in your mouth. “We’ll see,” you told him although you knew he wasn’t lying in the slightest. If anything his words weren’t doing justice to what you knew he was capable of. Something deep inside your chest twitched with nerves and anticipation.

 “Still,” Hanta continued and his expression turned serious. “You say stop, we stop. Got it?”

 “Got it,” you repeated and leaned down to nip his earlobe. “Same goes for you, ‘kay?”

 “f’course,” he mumbled back, and then the smirk returned and he was drawing you back towards his mouth by the back of your head. You smiled as your lips met his again, still needy for the warmth and comfort he provided.

 You stayed like that for a while; lips working each other’s, tongues flickering out to taste, light groans passing between you every so often. Hanta was a good kisser – always had been – and you silently rejoiced in the fact that of all people, he’d chosen to demonstrate his skills on you. Your hands ran up the sides of his face to the strands of his thick hair and then you tugged on it, trying to get him to open his mouth so you could suck on his tongue.

 He did and you smiled against his as the heat of his mouth met yours, teeth scraping gently across your lower lip as in turn his hands slid down your back.

 You squealed when his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, and Hanta smirked. “Excited are you?” he teased as your mouth slipped from his and he began to trail kisses back down your neck. “’Knew you couldn’t resist me, babe.”

 “Oh, I’m sure,” you breathed back, stumbling a little over the words as he found the most sensitive spot against your jugular. “As if you're any better.”

 Hanta made a nose of agreement and then nipped at your skin. You whimpered aloud as your eyes slipped shut and then your hips gave an involuntary roll right down onto Hanta’s crotch.

 The both of you let out long whines and then froze, wide eyes peering at each other. Then Hanta chuckled.

 “Damn, you really are needy!”

 In another instance you might have been embarrassed. The tone of his voice was teasing and it was evident he said it in an attempt to get you riled up. And yet… you felt more challenged than teased. More driven to prove him wrong.

 As your hips rolled down on his again, you couldn’t help but smirk at the way his expression instantly softened, dark eyes widened as a groan slipped from between his kiss-bruised lips. “We’ll see, Hanta.”

 You could feel him between your legs – hot, hard and straining against the loose sweatpants he wore. It was a feeling you were used to, having grown familiar with the idea of his cock over your years of dating. However there remains a small flicker of nerves as you ground yourself on him.

 If he let you, you’d have him inside you before the morning was out.

 Carefully, you pulled one of your hands free of his hair and then began to sneak it down his long body. Hanta’s eyes had fallen closed with your continued ministrations, his own hips beginning to roll in tandem with yours as he gripped your waist. His movements froze completely however when you slipped your hand between your bodies and traced your fingers up along the bulge of his hard cock.

 A groan escaped Hanta’s lips and his head fell back slightly. You took this as your cue to continue and so palmed at the bulge a little harder, feeling it out beneath your fingers. His hips twitched, jerking upwards into your touch and Hanta himself sucked in a long breath, the air hissing between his teeth. When you looked back at him, his eyes were open and he was watching you from beneath drooping eyelids.

 “Hanta,” you murmured as you continued to stroke him through his sweats. An idea had popped into your head, an idea of something you’d never done before but wanted desperately to try now. Only the words were sticking in your throat as nerves overcame you, a sudden fear of rejection rising in your gut. “Hanta,” you said again and pursed your lips, trying to gulp back your fear. “Do you want me to… d’you want me to… suckyouoff?”

 It was rushed and jumbled and you had no idea how Hanta was able to understand what it was you were asking, but he did. And it made his eyes roll back, a sudden shiver running the length of his spine as his fingers dug further into your waist. “Holyfuck,” he mumbled out, and it was just as jumbled, just as confused, and yet it had your lower abdomen tightening, heat flaring up between your legs, which was only heightened by his next mumble of, “Please.”

 You’d never done this before – Hanta had always preferred to be the one with his head between your legs. And yet, you wanted to. So so badly. Because the idea of your boyfriend falling apart underneath you because of something you were doing sent a spike of hot, dark pleasure right through your gut.

 Slowly, you began to slide yourself beneath the blanket, creeping down Hanta’s long, lithe body until you reached the spot where his shirt had ridden up just a little exposing his hot skin and defined v-line. For a moment, you fumbled, feeling around at the thick band of his sweatpants and trying to peer through the darkness beneath the bedcovers. But then the blankets were thrown back and you blinked as light engulfed you again. Hanta was propped up on his elbows by now, staring down at you with clouded eyes, and when you looked up at him he reached out a hand and ran the pad of his thumb across your lower lip.

 “I wanna see you, Lovebug,” he mumbled. “Wanna see ­- fuck – everything.”

 You couldn’t help but smirk at the way his eyes squeezed shut and his teeth sank into his lower lip when you traced your index finger along the outline of his dick once again. It was even more impressive up close, a sizable bulge in the dark grey fabric of his sweatpants, and you had to stop your hands from shaking as you reached up to hook your fingers into the waistband.

You could feel the heat of his body as you pulled the sweatpants down. His skin was burning beneath your touch, muscle rippling, and you had to bite your own tongue to stop a moan from slipping between your lips as his lean hips came into view, beautiful v-line leading right to the bulge that was now hidden only by the dark blue fabric of his boxers.

Without thinking, your head dropped forward and then you licked a stripe right up over his clothed bulge. The reaction was instant – Hanta’s hips jumped upwards and his head fell back as the prettiest moan you’d ever heard fell from his tongue. “Babe-!”

 You could feel the smallest of damp spots on the fabric, just the hint of stickiness and yet it made all the difference as something heady and deep tightened in the base of your abdomen.

 “Shhh,” you whispered, almost to yourself as you stared down at your boyfriend lovingly. “Lemme take care of you, baby.”

 Hanta whined but kept still as you began to pull his boxers down. As they slipped from his body, you leaned forward to gently kiss the skin that was coming into view, nipping gently at the rise of his hip bone. His skin was so soft, and smelled so much like him – his usual addictive scent of white rose and dark chocolate – that you stayed like that for a moment, with your nose pressed up against his lower abdomen and eyes drooping closed.

 Once you’d manage to pull his boxers completely free of his long legs, however, you sat back. His cock was out now properly, standing tall over his abdomen. You let your lips wet your tongue as you stared at it, the excitement growing in your chest because he was long. You wondered briefly if you’d be able to take all of him in, not entirely sure in your inexperience just how much you could handle.

 Hanta was getting impatient, however, as you sat frozen staring at his cock, because he let out a low groan. “Lovebug” he mumbled in a shaky voice as his own hand slid down. “Please…”

 You blinked when you realised he was trying to touch himself, snapped immediately from your trance, and immediately you slapped his hand away. Hanta whimpered but didn’t protest as you leaned forward to gently grip his cock at the base.

 “I told you I was gonna take care of you,” you told him in a voice far more sensual than you’d ever thought possible of yourself. “Be a good boy for me, Hanta.”

 Hanta choked, eyes screwing shut, and you swore you felt his cock twitch in your grip. “M’kay,” he mumbled, as his hand fisted the bedsheet below him. “M’a good boy, just… please just touch me.”

 The corner of your mouth twitched upwards. Because how could you say no when he sounded that good?

 Your grip on the base of his cock tightened and then you slowly ran your hand up, feeling out each bump and ridge that ran along the length of him. Hanta keened at the feeling, sucking in a deep breath. Then his hips jerked up properly when you reached the tip and ran your thumb right over it. A tingle bead of precum escaped it and rolled down his vein-covered skin.

 You couldn't help yourself – you ducked your head down and licked it up, dragging your tongue from his base right to his tip.

 Hanta’s grip on the bed sheets tightened. “Holy-!” he mumbled out and his voice was so weak it had you moaning softly against the tip of his cock.

 “Baby,” you breathed, tasting the saltiness of his precum on your tongue. “Baby…”

 Hanta could only pant in return, eyes rolling as you took the tip properly into your mouth and sucked gently.

 You’d never been particularly drawn to the idea of sucking dick – from what you’d seen and heard, it seemed like a pretty gross experience that wouldn’t do much for you personally. You found, however, that your expectations had been dead wrong – while the feeling of Hanta’s cock sliding across your tongue wasn’t exactly the biggest turn on, seeing him shaking and whining under you certainly was. Hanta’s chest heaved as you swallowed even more of him down, trying your best to get as much of a reaction out of him as you could. His head was thrown back, eyes screwed tight shut, and every now and then a moan would slip from him, the sound of which had your panties growing distinctly damp.

 Then, suddenly, you felt the back of his hand on your head. Your eyes widened slightly as he pushed you down – not enough to hurt you, and not enough that you couldn’t resist if you wanted – until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. You couldn’t help it – you gagged, eyes bulging as tears brimmed on your lower lash line. Hanta himself swore violently, biting down hard on his lower lip before he released you. You pulled back, coughing, and wiped a dribble of spit that had escaped out the corner of your lip. Then you met Hanta’s gaze with a frown.

 “The hell was that?”

 Hanta had the grace to look sheepish, a blush turning his golden skin a soft pink. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I just… you take it so well.”

 That had you smirking and quick to climb your way back up to him so you could slot your lips against his. “I know I do,” you told when once you’d pulled away, your voice low and cheeky. It made Hanta’s groan – the sound growing louder when you scrambled back down to kneel between his thighs and began to suck his dick once again.

 It didn’t take long for Hanta to cum after that. After years of knowing him and his quirks, it took no time at all for you to figure out exactly what had him coming apart at the seams. As you bobbed your head, hand stroking whatever you couldn’t reach, you made sure to tease his tip with swipes of your tongue, swirling it around and lapping up whatever precum he had to give. Hanta himself seemed to let go of whatever restraint he had from the start; moaning and whining and thrusting up every now and again. It was addictive, seeing him like this, and you always made sure to reward his little whimpers of your name or pleas or praise by taking as much of his down your throat as you could, or pulling away from his cock to lap happily at his balls.

 It was only a few minutes until Hanta was thrusting upwards desperately, his eyes wide and pleading as the muscles in his abdomen tensed up. “Fuck, please,” he whined out, staring you straight in the eyes as you licked a long strip right up the vein that ran along the underside of his dick. “Please, baby, I’m so close…fuck, m’gonna-!”

 You stuffed him back into your mouth and then swallowed around his cock – a trick you learned about from Bakugou’s girlfriend – and he all but cried out. You knew he was close – you could tell by the way his cock twitched and his body trembled and his moans got more and more desperate. And there was something in you – something that was pleading just as he was, just as whiny and just as desperate for him to cum. You wanted it – no, needed it – so badly that it forced your brain into overdrive and so you let him thrust his hips upwards, practically fucking your face as you massaged his balls. His whining was like music to your ears, each little hiccup and choked breathing leaving you clenching around nothing. And then your eyes almost rolled back as a wave of pleasure shot through you when he began to mumble, in a small, broken voice, “Oh please, please, please, baby, I needa – need to cum, fuck, please!”

 When he did cum, you swallowed it all – it spewed down your throat as his body tensed up, tasting not as bad as you thought it would, and you continued to suck lightly at his length the whole time, milking him as best as you could. It was only once you were sure he’d given everything, that you’d had every last drop, that you pulled back.

 There was a moment’s pause, while you watched Hanta watch you, with droopy eyelids and an expression of absolute ecstasy. It took a moment for the cloudiness to clear from his dark eyes, for him to prop himself back up on his elbows and look down at you properly. And when he did, he grinned.

 “What the fuck?”

 “Yeah,” you mumbled, unable to stop the smirk twitching at your own lips. “What the fuck.”

 His hands reached out for you and then you were being pulled back up his body until your legs were resting on either side of his hips and your hands were resting against his chest, supporting yourself as you blinked down at him. He smirked back and then leaned in, bringing his lips to yours in a lingering kiss that had your toes curling. You didn’t miss the way his tongue explored your mouth, lapping up any residue of himself, and then a soft groan rumbled deep in his chest. When you pulled back, he smirked up at you again.

 “Where did you learn to do that, baby?”

 You fought back your blush – you downright refused to admit that you’d gone to your more sexually experienced friends to ask them for advice – and simply shrugged your shoulders. “Places.”

 “Well, thank fuck for ‘places’,” Hanta mumbled as he pulled you down to bury his face into your neck once again. “That was the second best experience of my entire life.”

 You started to smirk and then frowned when you realised what he’d said. “Second best?” you asked, trying to pull back so you could look him in the eyes. “What was the first-?”

 But he kept you close to him with a firm hand on the back of your head. And then, when he leaned forward so his mouth brushed the shell of your ear, you could feel the smirk curling across his lips. “The first was when I had my head between your thighs.”

 You couldn’t help the shiver that shot down your shine, eyes widening in absolute shock. Because when he said it like that, you couldn’t help but remember the feeling of his tongue against you, or the way he pulled you apart perfectly. The heat between your legs spiked then, and your cunt – still dripping from the aftermath of watching your boyfriend get off – clenched around nothing.

 Hanta knew exactly what you were thinking. You could tell when he finally did pull back, allowing you to see his expression, and there was a shit-eating grin plastered across his face.

 “You can’t just-!” you began indignantly, flushing immediately as you tried to roll away from him. “That’s not fair.”

 “Oh?” Hanta asked as he held you on top of him, dark eyes glinting in the sun that was just starting to shine through your window. “It’s not fair, is it?”

 “No!” you mumbled, now trying to hide your face as you blushed even harder. “You’re teasing me.”

 Hanta chuckled then, a warm sound that you knew well. As it rumbled in his chest, you relaxed just a bit, letting yourself sink into his familiar warmth.

 “Maybe I am teasing you,” Hanta admitted. You felt one of his hands stroke softly along the back of your head. “But you know it’s only because I like making you squirm.”

 You squirmed even more after hearing that, hands jumping up to try and hide your flaming cheeks as Hanta burst out laughing. His grip on you was tight however, and he kept you on top of him, even as you tried to pull away.

 “C’mon, Lovebug,” he mumbled once his laughter had died out a second time. His dark eyes met yours and your chest warmed at the sight of the adoration swirling in the depths of his pupils. “You know you love it.”

 “Maybe,” You mumbled out, still blushing furiously. Hanta pouted at you.

 “Aw, please?” he whined. “I wanna hear you say it, baby.”

 You almost didn’t, out of pure spite. But you could never resist his puppy-dog eyes. “Fine,” you mumbled out eventually. “I love it. I love you.”

 Hanta grinned then and kissed you lightly on the tip of your nose. “I love you too,” he whispered. Then something in his expression changed and you felt the pit of your stomach drop.

 “So, baby,” Hanta whispered and you almost moaned purely at the tone of his voice. “Will you let me taste you again?”

 Heat flooded you, rushing from your core right to the tips of your fingers and toes. Something between your legs throbbed and you had to bite your lip to stifle the gasp of absolute lust that was ready to jump from your tongue. “Hanta- “ you began but he shushed you with a long, slow kiss.

 “Please, Lovebug,” he mumbled against your mouth, his words hot on your lips. “Please let me.”

 And how could you say no to that?

 The first thing to go was your pyjama pants. You tugged at them hastily, trying to rip them off in such a hurry that they tangled, getting caught on your feet and making you groan unhappily as you struggled. Hanta helped you with your panties next, dipping his hand past the waist band to swipe his middle finger teasingly up your dripping folds. You shivered at the feeling, forehead falling right into Hanta’s shoulder as he chuckled, helping to tug your panties down when your hands shook too much to do so. You didn’t bother with the shirt you wore – a large, old one of Hanta’s – before you began to roll to the side, fully prepared to have him climb between your legs and devour you.

What you didn’t expect, however, was for him to stop you, gripping your hips lightly while he gave  you a long look from beneath the shadow of his eyelashes. “Wait, baby,” he murmured, and leaned up to kiss you once more before his grip on you became a push and he began to guide you up his body. “Like this.”

 Your mouth dropped open. It was obvious what he was implying but he’d never… you’d never…

 The thought sent a rush of pleasure right up your spine. But still, you blinked down at him in shock. “But Hanta, we haven’t – Before, I didn’t – Are you sure you want me to-?”

 Hanta laughed at your jumbled words, still pushing you up and up until you were balancing, knees just below his shoulders, so you could still look down at him. “Please, Lovebug,” he asked again and his eyes were wide, begging. “I want you to. I know we’ve never done it before but…there’s a first time for everything right? Unless you’re not comfortable with it.”

God, he was so perfect, you thought to yourself as you stared down at him. It made your chest warm and your heart explode into butterflies. And yet there was still that thirst in your low abdomen, the fire that jumped whenever you thought about the idea of him between your legs. Slowly you nodded. “I want to, Hanta. I-if you want to, then… then I want to.”

“Thank you,” he groaned out, and you had to bite down on your tongue, hard. “Thank you, baby. Now…c’mere.”

 You didn’t waste any more time, following his guidance as he slid you higher, until your knees were on either side of his head, until you had to lean forward and grip the headboard of your bed for balance. For a moment, Hanta sat still, staring up at your pussy which now hovered above his face with wide, starry eyes. Then he reached up to wrap an arm around the back of each of your thighs and pulled you towards him.

 “You’re so perfect,” was the last thing you heard from him before he tugged you down completely and you lost the ability to think.

 Hanta has always been good with his tongue but this was… something more. His first lick right up the length of your slit had you keening, back arching as your jaw went slack. His hold on your thighs kept you steady when your entire body jolted, the feeling of him sucking on your clit making you see stars. You were already so turned on from before that the pleasure was overwhelming now, burning like fire in the pic of your stomach. But it was also addicting, so much so that your head fell back as your eyes rolled up into your skull.

 “Fuck,” you groaned out as his tongue delved deep inside you, your inner walls contracting instinctively. “Fucking shit!”

 Hanta made a small noise that almost sounded like a snort, however you didn’t have it in you to glare down at him when he flicked at your clit with his tongue. Your hips rocked down on his mouth, some deep instinct kicking in, however you quickly stopped yourself, not wanting to overwhelm Hanta in any way.

 Your boyfriend, however, had different ideas, because almost immediately he pulled his mouth from your cunt to pant out, “Don’t hold back, baby.”

 You stared down at him. “But-?” 

But he was already shaking his head. You blinked in surprise when you realised he looked desperate.

 “Please,” he groaned out. “Ride my face. Properly. Need you to.”

 You bit back a moan and nodded, letting him pull you back down to attach his lips back to your clit. A spike of pleasure rushed up through your body immediately when you rolled your hips and Hanta let out a guttural moan – a moan you felt the vibrations of right through your clit. You choked, panting already as the pleasure continued to burn a fiery stream up your spine – it was better than anything you’d ever felt, so much better, and it had your hand on the headboard gripping desperately, hard enough that your fingers ached. A desperate whine fell from your lips as you breathed out“Hanta!” while letting one hand slip down to grip at his hair. “Baby, it’s so good. Feels so good. Oh shit!”

 Hanta whined against you and circled your clit desperately with his tongue. He needs this as much as me, you thought as the tension spiked, your entire abdomen tensing up. Your hips rocked further, grinding down on his face and Hanta seemed to choke for a second. But his grip on your thighs remained tight, stopping you from pulling away when you tried.

 The noises coming from him were obscene – loud slurping, squelching, the occasional broken moan – and you would probably have been mortified if it were in any other setting. But you couldn’t think, at least not enough to be embarrassed, as he pushed your pleasure higher and higher, your body growing tenser and tenser as your head clouded up. 

 “Please,” you whimpered then as you felt your orgasm nearing. “Hanta, I need to – please make me cum!”

 “Fuck,” Hanta mumbled back, the words tumbled about between dutiful sucks at your clit. “You’re so… fucking… perfect… Cum for me… please, baby.”

 You squealed as your toes curled, your breath coming out in uneven shallow pants. It was right there, you could feel it, so, so close that it had tears pooling in your eyes. Desperately you rolled your hips just as Hanta shoved his tongue back inside you, one of his hands unhooking from your thigh to sneak between your legs and rub circles into your clit. “Oh god,” you whimpered, choking on your own pleasure. “Oh god, oh shit, oh fuck, oh fuck!”

 And then Hanta gave one last slurp to your clit and you were done, climaxing hard enough to see stars. Your legs shook violently and had it not been for Hanta’s secure grip on your thighs and your hand on your own headboard, you probably would have collapsed. As it was, a sharp sob escaped you as your entire body seemed to fizz out into static. It was blinding, the pleasure. It rushed up your limbs and flowed thick through your veins, enough so that you could taste it, and you couldn’t help the tears that rolled down your cheeks purely from how overwhelming it was.

 Hanta worked you through the feeling with soft kitten-licks at your clit. But then he pulled away before you could reach overstimulation. His arms unwound themselves from your thighs and for a moment you wavered, limbs still like jelly, before you began to slumped sideways. Hanta caught you before you could though, and drew your body back down to nestle against his chest. You curled into him, eyes slipping closed as finally, finally, your head began to clear.

 It didn’t take long for you to turn your gaze upward, staring up at Hanta with starry eyes. He grinned back, obviously smug, but you also didn’t miss the way his breathing was still rapid. From where your hand rested against the swell of his chest, you could feel that his heart was pounding.

 “So,” you mumbled once your voice had finally returned to you. “Still the best experience of your life?”

 “Still the best,” Hanta smirked. “Fuck, you do things to me, baby.”

 “I'm glad,” you mumbled before leaning up to kiss him. His lips were soft against yours, and you could taste your own essence on his tongue. It sent a thrill rushing through you, a reminder of the fact that there was a heat still burning between your legs. You squirmed a little, one hand sliding up into Hanta’s hair to pull him even closer.

 Hanta broke the kiss with a snort. “Shit,” he murmured, as his own fingers tracked their way down your body, dipping beneath the hem of the t-shirt you were still wearing. You whined when they slipped between your legs, your entire body jerking when he flicked at your oversensitive clit. “You’re still so needy, baby.”

 You could only agree with him, moaning into the crook of his neck as his cock – still very much hard – brushed up against your thigh. Hanta smirked again, although you could feel his heartbeat jump, and then slowly, he began to roll you over.

 You blinked when suddenly he was on top of you, hips settled between your bent legs and chest flat to yours. Hanta grinned down at you, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, and you scoffed. You were almost about to push him off you, but he ducked past your arm and kissed you again; a soft, playful kiss that left your stomach full of butterflies. When he pulled back, something had changed in his face.

 “You… wanna continue?”

 Your breath hitched. Slowly, you nodded. “Yeah.”

 “You sure?” he asked. You nodded again.

 “Yeah.”

 “Okay,” he whispered and a shock of…something rushed up your spine at the tone of his voice. He sounded so serious, so determined; it had you squirming under him as his body dropped lower, weight beginning to press you into the mattress. Your hands ran up his arm to his shoulders and then fisted into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. A frown caught your lips.

 “Hanta,” you murmured as you reached down, clawing at the t-shirt's hem. “Can you… Off…?”

 “Yeah,” Hanta mumbled back, his voice thick. “Fuck - yeah…” He lent to the side, resting all his weight on one elbow while he used the other hand to grab the back of the shirt collar and pull it off. Your eyes widened as the bare skin of his chest became exposed to you.

 You’d seen Hanta shirtless before, probably more times than you could count. However you didn't think you’d actually noticed the way he looked, at least not like you did now. As you stared up at him, treated to a perfect view of the sloping plains and hard contours of his lithe body, it made you think back to the skinny, pale kid he’d been when you first met - the young, insecure middle-schooler who hated wearing anything other than huge sweaters because of his fear of people seeing his elbows.

 He’d grown up so much since then, and it had your chest blooming with pride as you slid your hands allowing his shoulders. He’d grown into the person he’d always wanted to be, the hero he’d always wanted to be and while you had absolutely no idea when exactly it had happened, it made you so undeniably happy. Without warning you reached up to pull his head down to yours so you could plant a long, deep kiss on his mouth.

 Hanta blinked when you pulled away, his dark eyes wide and curious. “What was that for?” he mumbled and you shook your head. There was a smile twitching at the corner of your lips.

 “I just… love you.”

 That made Hanta smile too, his whole face softening and he pressed his forehead into yours. “Aww,” he cooed, which made you blush. “You’re so cute.”

 “I am,” you winked at him and then kissed him again. It was even longer this time and you felt the warmth of it running right through your body. Your toes curled in delight as your tongue moulded with Hanta’s and then without thinking you began to tug at the hem of your own t-shirt.

 Hanta helped you silently, only breaking the kiss for a split second so he could pull the thing up and over your head before diving back down. His bare chest pressed flat into yours now, the warmth of his body consuming you, and you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him closer, too drunk on him to let him go.

 “Fuck, you’re so warm…” Hanta slurred against your mouth as he slid one hand beneath the back of your head to hold you. His other hand slipped along your side, his fingers trailing over every divot and bump along your skin before he gripped your hip tightly. You whined at the contact and then gasped out loud when Hanta broke the kiss and pulled back to begin nosing his way along your collarbone.

 “Hanta,” you whispered, your voice breaking, as his mouth slipped downwards. Then you whimpered as you felt the burning heat of his wet tongue slide across the soft skin right above your breast.

 “C-can I…” Hanta choked out and then groaned aloud when you nodded. One of your hands slipped to the back of his head, pushing him back down to your chest and then your fingers pulled hard as his hair at the first touch of his mouth to your breast. Hanta himself whined as he kissed along the swell of you before reaching your nipple and tugging it gently into his mouth.

 The effect was instantaneous – your head tilted upwards as your eyes slipped shut in complete ecstasy from the feeling of Hanta’s soft tongue running over the peak of your nipple. It was like he was tasting you, tasting the way your skin rippled beneath his touch. A moan fell from his lips then, low and guttural and his motions became more pointed, more purposeful. Your whole body trembled at the feeling of him lapping against the creamy skin of your nipple and then slipping down. His teeth sank into the soft flash of your under-boob and your breath caught in your throat.

 “Oh shit.” You could barely speak as the feeling of his touch overwhelmed you. You felt so comfortable, so happy and so safe when Hanta touched you, which was a little surprising. You’d always assumed that when the time came it would be awkward and the vulnerability of everything would make you feel self conscious. But that wasn't the case – you just wanted Hanta to see you, to appreciate you, and you were so happy as he seemed to force himself even closer, obviously wanting the same things. With a burst of confidence, you reached down to take hold of his free hand which was gripping your hip and pulled it upward.

 Hanta raised himself from your chest slightly to watch as your first took his hand to your mouth. Your eyes slid closed as you kissed his knuckles, slowly, softly, each one at a time as you tried to make him understand how much you wanted him. Then you guided his palm down to rest flat against the swell of your other breast.

 For a moment the pair of you lay still. Hanta’s eyes were wide as he scanned your face, his lips parted in a temporary expression of absolute awe. You stared back at him with the faintest of blushes, although you had no urge to drop your gaze. You wanted – no, needed – him to know how you were feeling. Like it was too much for you to hold yourself, too much to keep contained within your own body and so you let it bleed out - out your skin and into his as you pressed his hand further into you.

 “You’re so perfect,” Hanta whispered and you could feel the ghost of his words wash along your exposed skin. It sent a shiver running down the length of your spine and your cheeks burned further. In response, you reached out for the back of his head and gently drew him back to you until his nose was pressed right to your sternum.

 You felt his eyes flutter shut as he stayed like that, gently palming your breast while he simply breathed against your chest. His eyelashes tickled you as his eyelids fluttered and his breath fanned out and drew goosebumps from your skin. Your fingers weaved themselves into his thick hair, feeling it, its familiar softness, and you let your head fall back further and you eyes slip closed as you enjoyed the moment just as he was doing.

 A few seconds passed as Hanta just breathed, eyes closed and holding you tightly. Then his lips pressed into your warm skin and he slipped downward, leaving a trail of fire in his wake. You kept your eyes closed, although your breathing sped up, as you let yourself just feel him and his affection.

 Hanta was slow with his movements, his kisses calculated and intent as he carried on downward. His mouth lingered on your ribs as his hands moved from your chest to your own free hand and his long fingers curled around yours. Then he continued his journey, down and down and down until his nose was brushing your belly button. You felt butterflies jump in your stomach as his lips traced your hip bone and then, in a moment of instinct, you tugged at his hair. Hanta groaned and followed your pull, rising once again to meet your lips in a smouldering kiss.

 You held him against you with the hand in his hair as his hips settled between your spread thighs. Every inch of his body pressed up against yours as you pulled him down and, in turn, he let his own weight drop. You could feel the plains of his abdomen sitting hard against the softer outlines of your own body and for some reason it sent another spike of need through you. As the tip of his tongue slipped out to trace along the wet inner lining of your bottom lip, you let out a soft moan.

 Hanta pulled away soon after but didn’t go far as his forehead rested against your own. His hand which was still clasping yours came up as he settled his weight on his elbows on either side of your head, and you sighed when you felt the back of your own hand pressing into the sheets below you. Hanta’s eyes were wide and awe-filled as he stared down at you and for a moment you lost yourself in staring back. They were his eyes, the same eyes you’d seen almost every day since you were twelve years old and the eyes that always made your throat feel just a little tighter. They were comforting and familiar and so full of love that the next breath you drew in was shaky and you had to quickly wrap your free hand around the back of his shoulders to keep him close before you cried.

 Hanta smiled – he seemed to understand exactly how you were feeling. For a brief second, he leaned down to press the sweetest kiss to the tip of your nose. Then he said, “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

 You couldn’t speak – there weren’t any words coming to you – so you just nodded and stared up at him with wide eyes. One of his hands cradled your face, and you shivered at the feeling of his thumb rubbing over and across the swell of your cheek but you didn’t look away. You couldn't look away.

 A small grin tugged at the corner of Hanta’s lips.

 “You know,” he mumbled out in a voice so soft you felt it more than heard it. “I never wanted to… Well, I never really thought… The idea of sex was never all that… appealing to me. I guess I was never all that interested. But you - you just… it’s you and I wanna… I wanna be closer, I wanna be…with you and…”

 His cheeks were beginning to burn and his words were beginning to tangle however you couldn’t help but smile. Leaning up, you returned his tiny kiss on the tip of his nose before nuzzling into him happily. “Hanta,” you murmured in a voice just as soft as his was. “I know.”

 He stared at you for a minute and you could have sworn his eyes were filled with stars. And then he smiled and it was breathtaking.

 “I love you.”

 “I love you too,” you whispered. Then you rolled your eyes, needing the suffocating tension to break. “Now can you hurry up? I do actually have things to do today.”

Hanta laughed outright at that and nipped playfully at the fat of your cheek. “Sheesh, okay, okay,” he conceded with his own exaggerated eye roll. “Have some patience, would you?” Then his joking demeanour dropped and he looked down at you with a serious expression once again.

“You’re… still on the pill right.”

 “Yeah,” you nodded once and gave him a pointed look. “You should feel very lucky.”

 “I do,” Hanta affirmed and kissed you again playfully. “You’ve saved me the embarrassment of having to rush back to my dorm to ask Bakugou for condoms. I owe you one.”

 “I expect a nice breakfast after this,” you told him and he laughed.

 “Done.”

 Then before you could say anything else he was kissing you once again, soft and light and loving. You melted into the feeling immediately as your arm around his neck tightened and you pulled him even closer. His hand in yours squeezed once.

 “You ready?” he checked again when the pair of you broke apart. His forehead was still pressed to yours but you kept your eyes shut this time, avoiding his deep gaze.

 “Yeah,” you mumbled out. “I’m ready. Can you just fucking put- oh!”

 Your words died on your tongue when you felt the first touch of him between your legs. The head of his cock, guided by the free hand he’d slipped down to grip himself, running up against the skin of your inner thigh and then your labia. Out of instinct your grip on his hand tightened immediately and all the muscles in your abdomen tensed, waiting for him. Hanta leaned down to kiss you again.

 “Relax,” he whispered right into the heat of your mouth. “It’s just me, baby.”

 His words flowed from his mouth into yours and you tasted them for a second before swallowing them down. Then you did as he asked and forced each of your muscles to loosen one by one until you were limp beneath him again.

 At your signal to continue, Hanta began to move again. His hips dipped, abdomen pressing further into yours as the warm head of his cock rubbed right up against your heat. You let out a small squeak at the first press of him into you, though it was barely anything. Hanta paused and shifted, getting himself more comfortably balanced on his arms above you, before beginning his ministrations again. His forehead remained right where it was against yours as he checked one final time if you were alright before – at your given affirmation – beginning to press forward once again.

 Your grip on him tightened immediately at the first breach of his cock into your sensitive inner walls. It was barely the tip, just enough to put a slight pressure on you and yet it hurt. Hurt enough that your nails dug into the back of Hanta’s hand and your teeth sank into your lower lip as your thighs snapped tight against Hanta’s hip bones in an attempt to close.

 Hanta paused as soon as he noticed your discomfort. His expression morphed into one full of his own pain and his free hand came up to gently caress the side of your face once again. “Baby,” he whispered. “Baby, I’m sorry. I’m –“

 But you shook your head before he could apologise again and pulled him down to kiss you. “Please,” you choked against his lips because you couldn’t help but feel like if he just sat there like that you might just explode. “Please keep going.”

 For just a second he looked at you, dark eyes reading your own. And then his fingers squeezed yours and he nodded. “Okay,” he whispered and pressed his forehead back to yours. “Okay.”

His hips began to move again, pressing forward as he sank himself into you once again. Your own fingers dug deep into the muscle of his back as you whimpered in pain, your breaths not fully formed as tears began to bead in your eyes. Hanta whimpered too, his hand gripping yours oh so tightly as he stared down at you with wide sad eyes. It was like this was hurting him just as much as it was you as you couldn’t help but let your tears run down your cheeks.

 Just stop, a voice at the back of your head said then, low and persuasive. Just stop. You can.

 But you didn’t want to. Because there was a new feeling blending with the pain, a new realisation that made your eyes squeeze tight shut and your tears begin to cease. It came with a wild inhale of breath when you’d caught a whiff of Hanta’s familiar smell. The scent of white rose and dark chocolate was surrounding you, it was everything you could sense and it made you remember… this was Hanta. It was Hanta pressing into you right then, Hanta with his arms around you, Hanta who was whimpering as you were because he hated so much to see you in pain.

 It made you think back to the days before UA, when you weren’t eighteen but instead were thirteen and were sitting in your middle school classroom, eating lunch with your middle school friends. And you remember how they’d talk and giggle about their crushes and their first kisses and how the idea of losing your virginity was so scandalous, and you’d look up and accidentally lock eyes with a boy across the classroom. A boy with unruly black hair and wide dark eyes and an ill fitting school jacket just a little too big so it covered up his elbows.

 It made you wonder what your thirteen year old self would think of your eighteen year old self if you went back to tell her you were now madly in love with that very boy, the one who always blushed when you caught his eye.

 It made you smile, a little deliriously, and cling onto Hanta even tighter. Because it reminded you that the one pressing ever deeper into you right now was that same boy. It was Hanta, your Hanta, who’d given you his bento when that bitch Susuki had knocked your lunch out of your hands, who’d offered to sit with you when your friends were all busy one day during lunch, who’d opened his acceptance letter with you and had hugged you hard enough to suffocate you when you both got into your dream school. The boy who’d given you a white rose and a bar of dark chocolate when he’d asked you to be his girlfriend just because you’d told him that’s what he smelled like to you. That Hanta.

 And suddenly you didn’t mind the pain because you could feel him inside you, it was him who was breaching your inner walls and you didn’t care anymore because you wanted him closer, you wanted more. And so as he finally bottomed out and his hips were pressed right snug into your own, you reached up and pulled him right back down to you to kiss him full on the mouth again.

 Hanta’s chest was heaving as he kissed you and you could feel his heart pounding right through his own ribs and into yours. He hadn’t let go of your hand, hadn't loosened his grip in the slightest and you didn’t want him to, even as the pair of you pulled apart finally and stared at each other in awe.

 There was a long moment of silence, filled only by huffing breaths and gasps. And then, eventually, Hanta let out a weak chuckle.

 “Holy shit.”

 You couldn’t help your smile in return, although like his, it was weak and you didn’t feel entirely present. “Yeah…”

 “I’m sorry,” Hanta started immediately, blinking down at you with worried eyes. “Does it hurt? Maybe I should've –“

 “It does but I can take it,” you said quietly and his voice cut off. He stared down at you for a long moment, almost as if he was thinking, before the corner of his lips curled upwards. “

 “Shit, you’re pretty amazing, you know?”

 “I know,” you told him with a bleary smile. Your fingers squeeze against yours for a quick second. “So… how does it feel?”

 “It’s…” Hanta seemed to think about it for a second before his head dropped to press into the curve of your shoulder. “I don’t really know how to describe it… It feels…like you.” His voice was muffled into your skin but your heart still twisted as warmth hit began to flood your chest.

 “And that’s a good thing?” you asked tentatively. Hanta snorted.

 “Very good thing,” he replied, slurred. “I don’t… I didn’t… It’s weird but it’s you, ya know? And I… want… you.”

 Your heart was pounding in your chest as you listened to his tangled words because you knew exactly what he meant. It wasn’t a comfortable feeling, the sensation of him pressing so deep into you, it wasn’t even a nice one. But it was him and that made it okay.

 For a moment you lay still as you stroked your hand down the back of his head, twisting strands of his hair idly between your fingers. Then you tilted your chin up to meet his gaze more squarely.

 “You wanna keep going?”

 He swallowed and you could feel the way his adam’s apple bobbed from where his face was still pressed into your shoulder. Then he adjusted his grip on your hand in his, lacing his fingers into yours and squeezing momentarily.

 “I wanna keep going,” he whispered eventually. “As long as you do.”

 You nodded and pressed a kiss into his temple. “I do,” you mumbled in a choked voice. Your hand slid from the back of his head to his shoulder and your fingers dug into his skin in anticipation. “Please, Hanta…”

 He groaned and you felt the muscles in his back ripple as his hips rolled backward for the first time. You winced, the pain coming rushing right back as he pulled from you and then pressed in again, your muscles still far too tight to take him properly. Still, his head remained buried in your shoulder and from there you could hear his little breaths, the choked curse words and hitches in his throat. It helped, knowing he was right there, feeling everything just as you were and the tightness in your chest eased just a bit as you gripped onto him tighter.

 It took a while for the pain to settle. Hanta’s rhythm was sloppy and unpracticed, and you were too tense beneath him as you bit down hard on the inside of your cheek. Your fingers remained locked with Hanta’s, squeezing his hand as you wondered briefly if maybe there was just something wrong and this just wasn’t going to work.

 And then his hand slipped downward, between your bodies and a gasp forced its way from your throat as his thumb rubbed across your clit, and, for the first time since his cock had slid inside you, you felt a spike of real pleasure.

 “Relax for me,” Hanta choked out as he began to draw lazy circles along you. “It’ll feel better…”

 He himself was starting to find fluidity as he spoke, finally sinking into a more consistent rhythm. You let out a long sigh and let yourself melt into the mattress below you, following his lead as he let the natural motion of your bodies take over. And he was right - as you relaxed and he continued to tease your clit, it started to feel better. The prod of his cock inside you started to feel less like an intrusion and more like it fit, and when you tried something and rolled your own hips with his a new warmth burst in your abdomen – a pleasure you vaguely recognised but hadn’t truly experienced before.

 “It’s me,” Hanta was whispering over and over again as you started to respond to him more and more. “It’s just me… I love you… I love you…”

 You gasped as your hips jumped, eyes widening as pleasure crashed through your body like a roll of thunder. It was just heat, warmth that had your muscles spasming, but it felt so good and the whimpers in your chest were turning to gasps of pleasure. Hanta was still rubbing at your clit, his experience fingers rolling over it as a permanent distraction as his cock continued to spear you.

 Although you were beginning to think you didn’t need it anymore, especially so when the tip of him bumped up against a spot deep inside you that had your whole spine rippling. Your hips rutted upwards, instincts taking over as you searched for more of him and for the first time, Hanta himself let out a choked moan.

 “Baby,” he whispered, removing his hand from your clit to slide his arm beneath the curve of your spine and pull you even closer. “Does it feel…?”

 “Feels better,” you could barely whine back as your eyes squeezed shut. A shiver rushed through you. “Feels good.”

 “Fuck,” Hanta mumbled brokenly. “Thank fuck. Wan’ you… to feel good, okay? Feel good f’me, baby.”

 “F’you,” you choked back as your fingers wound into his hair again. His pace seemed to increase with your affirmation of pleasure and it wasn’t long before one of his hands slid down to grab at your thigh. You raised both compliantly and locked your legs behind his back, allowing him a completely new angle from which to thrust into you. You could feel all of him like this – the ridges of his cock, the veins, everything, and it made you choke back a sob of pure desire.

 Still, Hanta’s touches remained gentle on your body as he helped to manoeuvre you. His arm under your back braced the back of your hips and helped you rock against him while his other hand pressed yours down into the cotton of the bedsheets. With bleary eyes he looked at you for a second, meeting your gaze as he scanned your face with an expression of pure admiration. Then he leaned forward until his lips were trailing across your cheek, not quite kissing but comforting. Your own eyes slid shut at the feeling and you held him even closer, your hand stroking up and down the back of his head as a long groan rumbled deep in his chest.

 “So perfect,” he breathed against your skin as you whined against him, loving the way his voice vibrated right through your own body. “S’pretty, all f’me, Lovebug.”

 “Just for you,” you moaned back for a second time and then whimpered as he leaned down to kiss you properly. It was uncoordinated and sloppy and there was spit coating your lips by the end of it but you were too distracted to care as the heat within you burned higher and hotter. It was right there now, that near constant pleasure that came just before the start of the build up, pleasure caused by what Hanta was doing. His thrusts were more practised now, cock prodding up against that spot again and again, and each time your abdomen tensed and the heat spiked and your toes curled. Your head fell back, lips leaving Hanta’s with a low pop! as a moan rolled through your body.

 He dived to your exposed neck, taking advantage as your chin tilted back. Your fingers tightened in his hair at the first touch of his mouth to the burning skin of your neck and then a gasp choked up as he sucked along the line of your jugular. He was leaving hickeys, you were sure of it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care right then – leave it for later-me to deal with, you thought drunkenly as Hanta’s teeth nipped at the skin of your collarbone.

 “Holy shit,” Hanta mumbled then, right into your neck. His hips gave a particularly aggressive roll, pressing the head of his cock into your sweet spot for a second longer than normal. Your body seized up for a moment, your eyes squeezing shut and you let out a moan that could only be described as pornographic. Hanta smirked against you and then pulled back to give you a raised eyebrow.

 “Oh, you like that?”

 You flushed, not at all wanting to seem desperate but the truth was you did like it. You liked it very much.

 Hanta leaned in close. “You want me to do it again?”

 You could’ve died in that moment, though you weren’t entirely sure whether it be from embarrassment or lust. Still, you screwed your eyes shut and nodded once as your fingers finally untangled themselves from his hair to slide down his back. Hanta shivered at the feeling of your nails scraping up against his skin, a low moan of his own slipping from between his lips. Then he leaned down to press the quickest and lightest of kisses to your swollen lips.

 “M’kay. I’m gonna make you feel good, baby. Just relax.”

 And that was the start of the build up. Now knowing exactly how to angle himself, Hanta began to rut his hips against yours again, only more deliberately this time, slower and more controlled. And for a moment you wanted to curse him for being so damn good at everything because he was hitting the spot every single time. Your ascent began like the rush of the incoming tide – you had no warning before you were climbing and Hanta was panting and it was all just too much but you never ever wanted it to end.

 “Fuck, baby,” Hanta mumbled as he continued to drive his hips against yours. “You feel… really fucking nice. I can… can barely concentrate – oh fuck.” His eyes practically crossed as you clenched around him and for the first time he seemed to lose his composure, the balance he had hovering over your body wavering.

You whined as his thrust became more desperate, if it was possible hitting even deeper inside of you and, unable to help yourself, you dragged your hand down his back. Hanta hissed at the feeling of your nails scratching deep red lines into his skin but it seemed to spur him on even further as his rocking became incessant. His hand pulled from beneath you, leaving you to helplessly rut into him as best you could, and dipped back between you to where the pair of you were joined.

 When he touched your clit you swore you could have screamed – after so much stimulation and then nothing at all, the feeling of his thumb rolling over the tiny bundle was sending shockwaves through your whole body and catapulting you even further. Your peak was approaching – you could feel it undeniably and it had your legs locking tighter around Hanta’s waist while your fingers grabbed more desperately at his shoulder blades.

 “Oh shit,” you barely managed to whimper out as your head grew hazy. “Hanta…”

 “Baby,” your boyfriend whined back as his patterns on your clit became even more intricate. “Fuck – Are you… Are you close?”

 “So close,” was all you would reply with. Your thighs began to tremble, your toes curling as all the muscles in your core grew impossibly tight. You really were so close, you could feel your climax just beyond your reach. Desperately you rolled your hips up to meet Hanta’s, forcing him deep and deeper as his finger on your clit shook.

 “Fuck, c’mon,” Hanta whispered as he leaned down to tongue at your nipple once again. “Please baby, need you… need y��to cum…”

 “H-Hanta,” you whined and your voice shook. Your entire body was poised, waiting for the wave to break and the desperation was enough to have tears beading in your eyes.

 Hanta gave one last nip at the soft skin of your breast before he raised his head again. His forehead pressed into your temple as he kissed along the shell of your ear before whispering, in a voice so low and husky it made your head swim, “Be good f’me, baby. Go on, cum. Make me happy.”

 Your entire body burned and then the pleasure erupted, rising up from deep inside your core until it consumed you. It was the sharpest orgasm of your life, stinging through your veins like liquid silver until your limbs trembled and your vision blurred and you couldn’t even think.

 All the while Hanta remained hovered over you, whispering praise in your ear as you clung to him with your eyes squeezed tight shut. Then he pulled back when you eventually began to calm down, smothering a grin of his own and he pressed butterfly kisses all over your face.

 “You did so well, Lovebug,” he mumbled lazily, eyes shining with adoration. “That was so fucking hot.”

 You whined something unintelligible and pulled him closer as you felt the last strings of your pleasure ebbing away. Then, as your head finally cleared, you looked up at him again.

 “You didn’t cum.” It wasn’t a question because you could tell. He was still inside you, still hard, and the only thing coating your thighs was your own slick.

 Much to your surprise, Hanta smirked. “No,” he said, shifting his hips against yours – you let out a sharp whine when you realised he was starting to pull out – and leaning down to kiss you once again. “I'm focusing on you. But now…” He stifles his own groan as he slips from you completely. “I have an idea on how you can get me off. If you’re up for it, of course.”

 As he spoke he sat up, wiggling his body back until he was kneeling between your legs once again. You followed him, propping your upper body up on your elbows as you blinked curiously, wondering what he was planning. Your gaze met his for a second and he smirked cheekily before leaning down to kiss at your hip once again. It was soft, with just the tip of his tongue flicking out to lick up your taste but you couldn’t help the way you moaned at the feeling, your whole body still tingly and sensitive after your climax.

 As Hanta began to work his way downward, trailing kisses and soft nips down your thigh, you got your first inkling of what he was up to and it made you throw your head back with a long sigh. Hanta noticed your reaction and snorted into the flesh of your inner thigh. “Like I said, only if you’re up for it,” he reassured, raising his head to look at you once again. “I can just go jerk off real quick if it’s too much.”

 It might be too much, you thought privately to yourself. If just the feeling of his kiss had your blood boiling, you weren’t not sure if you could handle him touching you down there any more. But you liked the idea of him going to get himself off even less and so you reached out to grab the back of his head and pushed him gently back down between your legs.

 “Just go for it,” you mumbled as your head fell back and your eyes slipped closed. “I wan’ you to cum too, Hanta.”

 “Fuck,” he breathed and you felt the heat of his words across your bare cunt. Involuntarily, it clenched and you realised with a short inhale that you were still soaking.

 “Thank you,” Hanta mumbled and dropped a kiss right where your leg met your hip. “Just stop me if it gets too much, okay.” You squirmed, settling yourself more comfortably on the bed, and reached forward again to ruffle up his bangs. “Okay,” you replied back in a soft voice, not missing the soft-hearted grin that passed across his face before he dropped his head.

 The first touch of his mouth to your pussy had your whole body jerking. You were sensitive, so sensitive, and you can’t help the yelp that escaped you as Hanta dragged his tongue right up the length of your slit before dipping it inside. Still, it felt good even then and the familiar flowers of warmth began to bloom in your lower abdomen as Hanta continued to lick at you.

 “Fuck,” your boyfriend mumbled as your hips jumped again. One of his free hands grasped your thigh and pulled it over his shoulder so he could hold your hips down more securely as he began to suckle at your clit. “You taste so fucking good, you know that?”

 You whined and purposely rolled your hips into his face in the way you knew he liked. Hanta moaned at the feeling as his own hips gave a telltale rut into the bed and you smirked inwardly. As your hand fisted more securely in his hair, you tried to banish the discomfort of overstimulation from your mind and focus on your boyfriend’s pleasure above all else. It was the least of what he deserved, after all.

 Hanta himself seemed overwhelmed as you settled into your own rhythm, canting your hips against his tongue. He was lapping at you like a man starved by now, and as you let out a gentle moan of his name, you swore you saw his eyes cross. He was grinding himself down into the mattress at a frantic pace already, and as your nails scratched over his scalp, his rhythm jumped, faltering. “Fuck,” he groaned into your wetness, his voice shaky. “Fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me cum.”

 “Please,” you choked back, thighs tightened around his head. “Cum for me, Hanta.”

 Hanta whined, sounding so desperate it shot a spike of pleasure right through your own core, and dived right back between your legs. His tongue was relentless, fucking you silly and eventually there wasn’t much you could do but lie back and moan as Hanta took his fill.

 It didn’t take long for a shiver to pass up the length of his spine and a long moan to leave his lips as he slammed his pelvis into the bed for a final time and came with a long groan of your name.

 For a moment, the pair of you just sat in silence, panting as you recovered. Your own heart was pounding at your chest and while you didn’t orgasm, you might as well have. Hanta himself had his forehead pressed into the juncture of your leg and hip, his shoulder blades heaving with the weight of his breaths as he recovered from his own climax. His lips were soft as they pressed into you, still planting little kisses against your skin even as his body trembled. Then he raised his head to give you a shit-eating grin and you couldn’t help but flush and cover your face with your hands as your cheeks burned.

 “Damn,” Hanta mumbled as he pulled himself up to flop next to you. You shook your head, eyes tight shut as finally, your rational mind began to return to you.

 “I cannot believe that just happened.”

 “I can!” Hanta laughed out loud and rolled onto his side to stare at you with adoring eyes. “I’ve been dreaming about that for so long.”

 “Oh, you have?” you asked, copying him as you too shuffled onto your side. One of your eyebrows cocked upwards and Hanta suppressed a laugh at the sight of it, reaching out to trail his fingers along the contours of your face. “So, did it live up to all your expectations?”

 “It went waaaaaay past anything I could've ever imagined,” Hanta admitted and when you blushed, he laughed properly. “God, baby, I love you.”

 You stared at him for a long moment, taking in the mess of his hair, the way his cheeks were still flushed pink and there was a light sheen of sweat glistening on his skin. And then you could help your own smile because if you were honest with yourself, it was way better than anything you ever could have imagined either.

 Scooting your way forward, you kissed first his forehead and then his lips, rolling your eyes when you felt him smirk against you. As you pulled back, he reached out to drape an arm over your waist. “I love you too,” you mumbled eventually, letting your eyes slide shut as you smuggled closer into his warmth. 

Now that quiet had fallen within your room, you could hear the other inhabitants of your dorm building beginning to emerge, awake and ready to start the day. You knew you’d have to face them at some point however sleep was tugging at the back of your mind and your limbs felt too heavy to move. It was all you could do to let Hanta pull you in and bury his nose in your hair with a long sigh.

 Right before you nodded off, you heard the rumble of his low words in your ear, words that made you smile despite your hazy consciousness.

 “My middle school self would be so jealous if he knew about this.”

 You didn’t speak but internally you agreed with him. If only your middle school self had known what it would lead to, back during that first time you’d ever locked eyes with Hanta across the chemistry lab. 

Right as you slipped away into sleep, you mumbled a silent ‘thank you' to the universe that it did happen. And while you weren’t sure if Hanta heard it or not, you could have sworn you felt him smile against the top of your head.

Tagging: @lastroseofspring​ @kinda-sleepy​ @iizuwuku​ @sashatanaka​ @spilled-mi1k @goodoldfashionloverboy1​ @lovemegood​ @x-ashleyb-x​ 

(Bold if it wouldn’t let me tag you)

[felassan]

Dragon Age development insights and highlights from Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development

Some really tasty factoids here.

Cut for length.

Dragon Age: Origins

The continent of Thedas was at one point going to be named Pelledia, a name initially floated by James Ohlen

“Qunari” was a temporary name that ended up unintentionally sticking, much like “Thedas”

Mary Kirby wrote the Landsmeet. To this day, nobody understands how it works, except possibly her. If she’s “really really drunk” she can explain how it works. There’s as many words in it as Sten’s entire conversations put together

Concept art for Thedosian art - as in in-world art - draws heavily on Renaissance-era portraiture, the Art Nouveau movement, religious styles and media like stained glass, and favorite pieces from the golden age of illustrations in the early 20th century

Andrastianism in-world (art-wise) is depicted in wildly different methods depending on who in-world made the art in question. “One religion, 3 different lenses”. There’s the Chantry take, the Orlesian take and the Fereldan take; each with its own different interpretations, different mediums and different stories

The stained glass images were drawn by Nick Thornborrow for DAI, to decorate religious spaces in that game “and beyond”

irl Viking art influenced Ferelden

Greek and Italian art influenced Orlais

The book also had other insights into and anecdotes from the development of DAO, but I’ve transcribed them recently as they’re essentially the stories DG has recently been relating on the awesome Summerfall Studios DAO playthrough Twitch streams. (On those streams he provides dev commentary while Liam Esler plays through DA. The ones with DG are currently once every two weeks. Check them out! Here’s a calendar where you can check when the next one is) Instead of repeating myself I’ll just provide the link to the first transcript. From there you can navigate to the subsequent parts. Note these streams are ongoing. At this point I will also point you to a related post which is cliff notes of the Dragon Age chapter in Jason Schreier’s book Blood Sweat and Pixels.

Dragon Age II

DAO had the longest development period in BioWare history. In contrast DA2 had the shortest

Initially DA2 was going to be an expansion to DAO. A few months in EA said “Yeah, expansions like these don’t sell very well, so let’s make it a sequel.” So it suddenly became DA2 and they had to make it even bigger, although they still only had 1.5 years of time in which to do this

Production of DA2 officially lasted only 9 months, and at the time the team was still supporting live content for DAO! They finished development that January after the design team crunched all the way through the holiday period that year. Then it went to cert 9 times

The limited time they had is why the story takes place mostly in and around 1 city, and over 7 years (so it was temporal, rather than over physical distance, because a more expansive world would have taken more irl time to make)

They had no time to review even the main plot. Mike Laidlaw pitched the idea of 3 stories taking place at different points in the PC’s life, tied together by Varric’s recollections of events. DG rolled with this and made 1 presentation on the idea. This presentation was then approved and off they went

As they were writing DG realized that there was going to be no oversight and that everything was going to be a ‘first draft’. “Because nobody had time.” He sat down with the writers and said “Look, here’s the conditions we’re working under. A lot of what we’re putting out is gonna be raw. We’re not going to get the editing we need. We’re not going to get the kind of iteration we need. So I’m going to trust you all to do your best work.”

Looking back, DG has mixed feelings on DA2. “A lot of corners were cut. The public perception was that it was smaller than DAO. That’s a sin on its own.”

Despite this he thinks DA2 has some of the best writing in the series, especially character-wise. The DA2 chars are his favorite

The pace with which production progressed may in some ways have helped. “When we do a lot of revision, we often file away [as in buff off] some of the good writing as well. Somehow DA2′s whirlwind process resulted in some really good writing”

The pace meant chars landed on the writers in various stages of completion. For example Isabela was fairly defined due to appearing in DAO. In contrast Varric at the start was just that single piece of widely-shown concept art

Varric was conceived as a storyteller not a fighter. His skills are talking and bullshitting. Hence the question became, so what does this guy do in combat? The direction was to make him as different as possible to Oghren, so not a warrior. He couldn’t be a dual-wielding rogue in order to differentiate him from Bela. But you can’t really picture this guy with a bow. “For a dwarf, it would probably be a crossbow. We didn’t have crossbows, or we only had crossbows for the darkspawn. And they were part of the models. We didn’t have a separate crossbow that was equip-able by the chars. They had to like, crop one off a darkspawn and remodel it. And that became Bianca” (quote: Mary Kirby)

“Dwarven mages are exceedingly rare.” [???]

If DAO was a classic fantasy painting, DA2 was a screenshot from a Kurosawa film or a northern Renaissance painting. (Here Matt Rhodes was commenting on art style)

John Epler: “In any one of our games, there’s a 95% chance that if you turn the camera away from what it’s looking at, you’ll see all kinds of janky stuff. The moment we know the camera is no longer facing someone, we no longer care what happens to them. We will teleport people around. We will jump people around. We will literally have someone walk off screen and then we will shift them 1000 meters down, because we’re fixing some bug.” John also talked about this camera stuff in a recent charity Twitch stream for Gamers For Groceries. There’s a writeup of that stream here

Designing Kirkwall pushed concept artists to the limits of visual storytelling, because it has a long history that they wanted to be present. It was once the hub of Tevinter’s slave empire, so it needed to look brutal and harsh, but it also then needed to feel reclaimed, evolved, and with elements of contemporary Free Marches culture

The initial plan was for DA titles to be distinguished by subtitles not numbers, so that each experience could stand on its own rather than feel like a sequel or continuation. (My note: New PCs in each entry make sense then when you consider this and other factoids we know like how DA is the story of the world not of any one PC). Later, DA2′s name was made DA2 in a bid to more clearly connect the game to its predecessor. For DAI they returned to the original naming convention. (My note: so I’d reckon they’d be continuing the subtitle naming convention for DA4)

DA2 was initially code-named “Nug Storm”, strictly internally

The Cancelled DA2 Expansion - Exalted March

This was a precursor to DAI

It was meant to bridge the gap between DA2 and DAI

It focused on the fallout from Kirkwall’s explosion, with Cory serving as the villain

Meredith’s red lyrium statue was basically going to infest Kirkwall and it would end up [with what would end up] the red templars taking over Kirkwall and essentially being Cory’s army

To stop him Hawke would have recruited various factions, including Bela’s Felicisima Armada and the Qunari at Estwatch, forcing Hawke to split loyalties and risk relationships in the process

It was meant to bring DA2′s story to an end and end in Varric’s death. DG was very happy with this because all of DA2 is Varric’s tale. The expansion was supposed to start at the moment Cassandra’s interrogation of him ended in the present. “And we finished off the story with Varric having this heroic death.” It tied things up and would have broken many fan hearts, something BioWare writers notoriously enjoy. But between a transition to the new Frostbite engine and the scope of DAI, the decision was made to cancel EM, work any hard-to-lose concepts into DAI, and in the process save Varric’s life. DG has talked about the Varric dying thing before

Concept art for EM explored new areas previously not depicted in the DA universe, with costumes that reflected next steps for familiar chars. Varric was going to war, what would he have worn? With Anders, if he survived DA2, the plan was to present a redeemed Warden

A char that vaguely resembled Sera in DAI was first concepted for EM. This fact was mentioned near this concept art (see the female elf) and this concept art of Bethany with the blond bob

The writers sketched out plans to end it with Hawke having the option to marry their LI. This included alternate ceremonies for party members like Bethany and Sebastian if the player opted not to wed. There was even a wedding dress made for Hawke. This asset made it into DAI (Sera and Cullen’s weddings in Trespasser). The dress can also be seen in DAI during an ambient NPC wedding after completing a chain of war table missions

The destruction of a Chantry was explored in concept art as it might have happened in EM. This idea ended up carrying over to the beginning of DAI. (My note: Lol, the idea that DA2 could have had 2 Chantries being destroyed in it 😆)

World of Thedas

Sheryl Chee and Mary Kirby started with “a disgusting little dish called fluffy mackerel pudding”. In the middle of DAO’s busy dev period one of them (they can’t remember who) found a recipe online for this, scanned in from a 70s cookbook. “I don’t understand why it was fluffy. Why would you want fluffy mackerel pudding?” MK says. “We loved it so much we included it in a DAO codex.”

This led them to create more food for Thedas, full recipes included, like a Fereldan turnip and barley stew from MK and SC’s Starkhaven fish and egg pie. The fish pie became Sebastian’s favorite. “To me it made sense for it to be fish pie because a lot of the Free Marches are on the coast”, SC says, “It was something that was popular in medieval times, so I thought, let’s make a fish pie! I looked at medieval recipes and I concocted a fish pie which I fed to my partner, and he was like ‘This is not terrible’”

For WoT the whole studio was asked to contribute family recipes which might have a place in Thedas. SC adapted these to fit in one Thedosian culture or another, including a beloved banana bread that localization producer Melanie Fleming would regularly bake to keep the DA team motivated. “Melanie’s banana bread got us through Inquisition”

DAI

It says part of DAI takes place in or near the border with Nevarra [???]

This game was aimed to be bigger than DA2 and even DAO in every conceivable way

The first hour had to do a lot of heavy lifting, tying together the events of DAO and DA2 while introducing a new PC, new followers etc in the aftermath of the big attack. DG rewrote it 7 times then Lukas Kristjanson did 2 more passes

DG: “Our problem is always that our endings are so important, but we leave them to last, when we have no time. I kept pushing on DAI: ‘Can we work on the ending now? Can we work on the ending now? Can we do it early on?’ Because I knew exactly what it was going to be. But despite the fact that it kept getting scheduled, whenever the schedule started falling behind, it kept getting pushed back... so, of course, it got left til last again.”

“The reveal of the story’s real antagonist, Solas, a follower until the end, when he betrayed the player”. “Solas’ story remains a main thread in Inquisition’s long-awaited follow-up” [these aren’t DG quotes, just bits of general text]

Over the course of development they had 8 full-time writers and 4 editors working on it. Other writers joined later to help wrangle what ended up being close to 1 million words of dialogue and unspoken text. While many teams moved to a more open concept style of work for DAI, the writers remained tucked away in their own room, a choice DG says was necessary, given how much they talked. All the talking had a purpose ofc as if someone hit a bump or wall in their writing they would open the problem up to the room

As writing on a project like DAI progresses, the writers grow punchier and weirder things make it into the game. This is especially the case towards the end of a project (they get tired, burned out)

Banter and codexes require less ‘buy-in’ (DG has talked about this concept a few times on the Twitch streams) from other designers. DG liked to leave banter for last as a reward because it was fun. Banter begins as lists of topics for 2 followers to discuss. These may progress over time or be one off exchanges. One banter script can balloon to well over 10k words. “The banter was always huge because we were always like, laughing, and really at that point, our fields of fucks were rather barren, so we would just do whatever”

The bog unicorn happened pretty much by accident. It was designed by Matt Rhodes and was one of his fav things to design. They needed horse variations and he had already designed an undead variant which was a bog mummy [bog body]. irl these are preserved in a much different way to traditional mummies. When someone dies in a bog their skin turns black and raisin-like. The examples we know of tend to have bright red hair for whatever reason. It’s a very striking look and MR wanted to do a horse version of this as he thought it’d be neat. 5 mins before the review meeting for it he had a big ‘Aha!’ moment, quickly looked up a rusty old Viking sword, and photoshopped it through its skull like that was how it died. “And I was like, ‘I just made a unicorn. Alright, in it goes!’” It got approved. “So we built the thing. It fit. It told a little story”

With the irl Inquisition longsword, one of the objects they tested its cleaving ability on was a plush version of Leliana’s nug Schmooples

The concept art team explored a wide variety of visuals for the Inquisitor’s signature mark. It needed to look powerful and raw but couldn’t look like a horrific wound. In some cases, as cool as the idea looked on paper, they just weren’t technically feasible, especially as they had to be able to fit on any number of different bodies

Bug report: “Endlessly spawning mounts! At one point during development, Inquisitors could summon a new horse every time they whistled, allowing them to amass a near infinite number of eager steeds that faithfully followed them across Thedas. “You could go charging across levels and they’d all gallop behind you,” Jen Cheverie says, “It was beautiful.” Trotting into town became an epic horse siege as a tidal wave of mounts enveloped the streets. Jen called it her Army of Ponies”

The giants came from DA Week, an internal period when devs can pursue different individual creative projects that in some way benefit DA. They also had a board game from one of these that they were going to put in but they didn’t have time. It’s referenced though. It was dwarven chess

Josie’s outfit is made of gold silk and patterned velvet, with leather at her waist. She carries “an ornate ledger” and she has “an ornamented collar sitting around her neck, finished by a brilliant red ruby, like a drop of Antivan wine in a sunbeam”

Iron Bull’s armor is leather. His loose pantaloons and leather boots give him agility to charge

On DAI in particular, concept artists took special care to make sure costumes would be realistic, at least in a practical ‘this obeys the laws of physics and textiles’ sense. “While on Inquisition, we thought about cosplay from a concept art perspective. Given how incredible a lot of [cosplays] are, I now am not worried about them. In fact in some cases in the future I want to throw them curveballs like, ‘All right, you clever bastards. Let’s see if you can do this!’”

2 geese that nested on the office building and had chicks were named Ganders and Arishonk (it wasn’t known who was the mom or the dad). Other possible names were Carver Honke, Bethany Honke, Urdnot Pecks, Quackwall, Cassandra Pentagoose, the Iron Bill, Shepbird, Garroose, Admiral Quackett, Scout Honking, HChick-47 and Darth Malgoose

Bug report: “The surprising adventures of Ser Noodles!” DAI was the first time the series had a mount feature, meaning this had a lot of bugs. A lot of the teams’ favorite bugs were to do with the mounts. There was a period of time where the Inquisitor’s horse seemed to lose all bone and muscle in its legs. They had a week or so where all quadruped legs were broken. It was a bit noticeable in things like nugs and other small beasties but the horse was insanely obvious. “The first time we summoned the horse [for this] and started running around, the entire QA exploration room just exploded with laughter.” Its legs flapped around like cooked fettucine, leading testers to lovingly nickname it Ser Noodles. At galloping speeds the legs almost looked like helicopter blades, especially when footage was set to classic pieces such as Wagner’s Flight of the Valkyries

For DAI the artists were asked questions like “What would Morrigan wear to a formal ball? Can Cassandra pull off a jaunty hat?”

On DAI storyboarding became the norm. John Epler: “Cinematic design for the longest time was the Wild West. It was ‘here’s a bunch of content, now do it however you want’, which resulted in some successes and some failures.” Storyboarding gave designers a consistent visual blueprint based on ideas from designers, writers and concept artists

Quote from a storyboard by Nick Thornborrow (the Inquisitor going into the party at the end of basegame sequence): “Until Corypheus revealed himself they could not see the single hand behind the chaos. A magister and a darkspawn combined. The ultimate evil. So evil. Eviler than puppy-killers and egg farts combined.”

A general note on concept art:

In the early stages of any project, before the concept artists are aware of any writing, they like to just draw what they think cool story moments could be. It’s not unusual for the team to then be inspired by these and fold them into the game as the project progresses

– From Bioware: Stories and Secrets from 25 Years of Game Development

[watchmegetobsessed]

Mine Again - Harry Styles

a/n: this is something i just thought about after my nap today lol, so enjoy this treat, a classic exlovers to lovers fic!

pairing: Harry x Famous!Reader

word count: 3.4k

masterlist

Seeing an ex is never easy. Whether it’s by your choice or not. Working together with an ex is even harder and now you brought a situation on yourself where this is your reality.

Arriving to the studio of The Late Late show you immediately get escorted to your designated dressing room where a hair and makeup artist are already waiting for you. Today you are here to promote your new movie, Don’t Worry Darling with your onscreen lover, Harry Styles, however, what no one else in the building knows is that once the two of you were real life lovers.

Your romance blossomed during filming, having spent so much time together on set, it didn’t take long for a relationship to form between you and him, the chemistry you shared was immense and undeniable, anyone could see that and you felt like you were burning in a bonfire of the most intense feelings you’ve felt for any man. It was passionate and intoxicating, it felt like something that could only happen in movies, but it was your reality.

However filming ended and you were forced to go your separate ways, you both tried hard to keep what you had and though your feelings never changed, distance brought the worst out of the both of you. Six months after you became an item, you mutually agreed to break it off.

You haven’t seen him since then, meaning that it’s been five torturous months without having any contact with him and now that promo has officially kicked in, you are forced to travel around and make appearances with the man you love, yes, still love more than anyone on this Earth. Not even five months and absolutely no contact could change your feelings for him, however he might already be over you at this point, having forgotten about feelings and memories you still hold close to your heart.

How has he been doing? What is he like now? Has he been thinking about you? Does he miss you? What is it going to be like to see him for the first time?

The questions flood your mind as you sit in the chair and let the professionals work their magic on you, covering up the dark circles under your eyes that formed due to the sleepless night you had the day before, nonstop thinking about Harry and what it’ll be like to see him for the first time again.

After careful elimination, you choose a dress for the appearance, it’s tight and short, the fabric is covered in glittering sequins down your body and the long sleeves as well and while the dress covers a lot up from the waist, it makes up in the lack of length on your legs as the end of it barely reaches the upper part of your thighs, ending it black feathers that tickle your freshly shaven legs. The nude heels add even more to them, making you appear like you could hit the runway any moment when in reality you are not high enough to be a model.

There’s still some time until the taping starts, James drops by to say hello and tell you how excited he is to have you and Harry on tonight and you chit-chat for a little before you go to take a quick business call outside. When you’re done with that, you head back to your dressing room to take a few quick photos to post later, but right as you near your destination, a door swings open down the hallway and Harry steps out, wearing a black suit, of course, head to toe Gucci. The crispy grey shirt’s first few buttons are left undone, allowing you a glimpse of his toned chest and his necklace with the tiny cross pendant on it.

He looks good. No, he looks absolutely stunning, just like he always does and just the sight of him takes your breath away, forcing you to stop in your tracks when you lay your eyes at him. He spots you as well, stopping to take a look at you before you see a small smile on his perfect pink lips.

“Y/N, hi! You look… gorgeous,” he speaks up lowly, his eyes raking your body up and down.

“I, uhh—Thanks!” you breathe out, feeling already flustered. How are you gonna survive the interview, sitting next to him, talking about what it was like to play a married couple?!

His hand moves a bit and there’s a moment of awkwardness, neither of you really knowing what to do, last time you saw each other you kissed as your hellos, but now it’s not an option, obviously. At last, he moves forward and goes for a hug.

He envelopes you in his arms as you wrap yours around his neck, the warmth of his body bringing you a sense of home and it hits you hard how much you’ve missed him in these five months.

You swear he holds you just a second longer than what would be appropriate before his arms fall from around your frame and you force yourself to let go of him, though every fiber in you is protesting against it.

“How—How have you been?” he asks, his beautiful green eyes finding yours.

“I’m good. I’m good,” you nod. “What about you?”

“Same. Just the… usual stuff.”

“Writing music?” you ask with a soft smile. You still vividly remember those nights you spent together after a long day of filming, crashing at either his or your place and you often found him strumming his guitar in a corner, scribbling words down into his notebook. Sometimes he sang you the songs he came up with, sometimes he kept them to himself.

“Yeah, I’ve been writing a lot lately,” he admits with a shy smile.

Someone calls his name down the hallway and his head snaps up before looking back at you.

“I gotta go, but I’ll see you soon, right?”

“Yeah,” you nod, stepping aside so he can walk past.

“And you really look amazing, Y/N,” he calls after you one last time before jogging down the hallway.

You walk into your dressing room and shutting the door you lean your back against it, huffing heavily as you try to recollect yourself. Somehow, this encounter went really well, because the two of you were civil and respectful, but it was also a painful shock to see him in the flesh again. It was one thing to see pictures of him here and there, but actually meeting him, hugging him, talking to him… you need time to process it all.

Unfortunately, you don’t have much of that. Twenty minutes later you are walked to your spot behind the curtains from where you’ll walk out when James calls your name. Just as you arrive Harry appears as well, casually talking with one of the camera guys, having a laugh and just as he sees you, his eyes fall down your body again and you swear you see him gulp hard before turning his attention back to the man.

“Ready?” he asks upon walking up to you, a hand coming to rest on your lower back. Glancing over your shoulder you look down at his hand, lips parted at the feeling of his welcoming touch. He sees your glance and pulls his hand back quickly. “Sorry, it’s a habit, I guess,” he mumbles, blushing softly.

“It’s fine,” you smile. Of course it’s fine, for what you care, he could throw you over his shoulder like a cave man and run out of the building, you wouldn’t say a word. You want his touch on your body, you’ve been craving it since the moment you last saw him, but are you even allowed to admit it? You have no idea what he is thinking or feeling, you can’t just come right at him like that.

Harry fixes the lapels of his suit jacket, but what he doesn’t see is that the collar of his shirt is kind of stuck under the jacket.

“Your shirt is… let me fix it,” you breathe out and he turns to face you, letting your delicate hands fix his outfit, perfecting the look to the tiniest bit. “There, you look great,” you smile, your hands sliding down his chest before they fall to your sides again.

“Thank you,” he nods smiling back at you before offering an arm that you take gladly. He knows how much you hate high heels and that you are always scared of tripping and falling and being the gentleman that he is, he’ll be the support you need.

The taping soon starts and the two of you stand patiently behind the curtain as James introduces you.

“And now, please welcome the stars of the upcoming hit movie, Don’t Worry Darling! Ladies and gentlemen, Y/N Y/L/N and Harry Styles!”

The crowd starts clapping and cheering as the curtain moves and the two of you walk in, arms linked and Harry makes sure to slow down when you walk down the few little stairs. James welcomes the both of you with two kisses before everyone takes their place, James behind his desk, you and Harry sitting on the couch.

“Thank you so much for dropping by tonight, guys!” James smiles at the two of you.

“Thank you for having us,” Harry nods with a soft smile.

“You both have been guests on the show separately, but tonight you are here as a pair, since your latest movie, Don’t Worry Darling is hitting the theaters this weekend. How are you feeling about that, excited to see the film finally?”

“Very excited,” you nod with a smile. “I can’t wait to see the final version, because obviously we only know the version we envisioned while filming, but the actual movie is going to be something else.”

“Y/N, your role in the movie was originally handed to Florence Pugh who had to step back because she broke her arm,” James points out and you nod.

“Yes, I stepped in her place just about a week before production started and if I’m being honest I was scared that people would prefer to see her in the role, but I had a talk with her actually and she said she helped Olivia, the director to pick out the person to take her place and she said she instantly knew I would be perfect for it, so I trust her.”

“That’s amazing to hear, that the two of you didn’t have any rivalry going on,” James enthuses.

“She actually visited set a few times,” Harry chimes in and you nod.

“Yeah, we had a great time together.”

“Sounds like a lot of fun, the three of you together,” James chuckles. “So, the two of you play a married couple in the film and if I’m not mistaken you didn’t know each other beforehand. Was it hard to get into the roles with not much background on each other?”

“We met up a few times before filming started to get to know each other more and I think we hit it off right away, so it wasn’t hard for me,” Harry speaks up and you nod along.

“It was obviously a little different situation than when you meet someone and become friends, because as we got to know each other more, we had to go through scenes that were meant for a couple that was already years into their relationship, but I think it strengthened our friendship,” you answer, hands laid flat on your bare thighs.

No lie has been told, everything you said was the truth. You just left out the part where you become real life lovers and started dating a month into production.

“Y/N, you’ve been acting for a while now, have quite a few roles under your belt, what did you think of Harry’s acting?”

“I think that he is a wonderful actor and I hope people will give him his much deserved credit for it. He is often still seen as just a silly singer from a former boy band and they don’t take him seriously when he really is a very talented man. You’ll see in the movie as well, his role was a tough one, needed a lot of work and a wide range of emotions, but I think he did an amazing job.”

You dare to glance at him at the end of your little speech and for a moment you forget about the audience, James and the cameras. He is looking at you with so much gratitude and thankfulness. You remember every talk you had where he opened up to you about wanting to be taken seriously in the acting business, that he is not trying to be just a joke and another failed attempt of a singer to try himself out in movies. He told you how scared he is of not being good enough when you saw him every day on set and you were blown by his eternal talent and special take on his role. He deserves to be praised, he deserves every bit of it.

“It was easy, I had a great partner to learn from,” he smiles softly and you feel the heat crawling up your neck.

“You two really have the chemistry we’ve heard so much about, I can’t wait to see it on the big screen!” James sighs. “Tell me a little about what it was like to film? You guys spent a lot of time together, must have made a lot of memories.”

You take a deep breath as all those memories mentioned flood your mind. You had the best time of your life not just with Harry, but with the whole crew. Leaving after production was wrapped really broke your heart.

“It didn’t even feel like working,” Harry starts. “We always joked around, had lunch or dinner together, we were like a big family. It was so nice to have so many amazing, talented and hard-working people around you all day.”

“The jokes never stopped,” you add chuckling.

“I wish I could have been on set!” James laughs wholeheartedly. “That didn’t happen, but we have a little something. The crew has put together a short BTS video of the filming, so let’s have a look at that,” he announces and the video starts playing on every screen in the studio.

It’s a short little montage, but it captures the vibes of filming just perfectly. Clips shown from set are not just of you and Harry, but all the other cast and crew members. Goofing around, having lots and lots of laughs, dancing on set, which happened quite often and just all of you having a great time. Some of the slips however pain your chest, the ones of you and Harry.

This was very early into your relationship, no one on set even knew you were together, but seeing yourself on the screen you can’t deny the sparkles in your eyes every time you were around him.

A clip shows the two of you between two takes, doing a goofy dance in the kitchen of the home that was used as the set of the house of your characters, you are both wearing your costumes, Harry looks great in his suit and your long retro dress is flowing around you with every movement you make. He grabs you by your waist and spins you before you end up in his arms laughing crazily, you were so happy, so carefree. You wish you could go back to that moment…

Another footage was taken in your trailer when Harry took the place of Clare, your makeup artist and tried to do your eyeliner but miserably failed. In the video, he is gently clasping your chin, angling your face for himself as his other hand is working on the line, but it’s wobbly and way too thick, so you both end up just laughing when you check yourself in the mirror.

And there are some small moments of the two of you, moving around on set, lying in bed between takes, sitting in your chairs while eating, just tiny memories you still cherish so much and wish to live through again, but it’s the past. And it wouldn’t hurt this much if you knew Harry from the video was still yours.

When the video ends you need to blink a few times as your eyes have watered a little. You catch Harry’s gaze and he looks worried, he clearly wants to ask if you’re okay, make sure it was just the sentimentality of the moment, but he doesn’t have the chance, the cameras are still rolling.

“That looked like so much fun! Next time make sure to invite me on set too!” James jokes and you force a laugh out of yourself.

A few questions are asked about future plans and just generally about your careers before the taping finally ends. You thank James for the invite again and a photo is taken of the three of you, you standing in the middle with the two men on your sides. When everything is settled, you head to your dressing room, using the chance to slip away silently while Harry is still chit-chatting on the set.

In the comfort and silence of the dressing room, you lean onto the vanity, staring at yourself in the mirror, finding it ironic that on the outside, you look perfectly fine, healthy and pretty, but on the inside… you could scream. You miss Harry so much, you hoped that your feelings for him have toned down a little over these five months, but it was just the same if not even worse.

A faint knock is heard on the door and you quickly fix yourself before calling out to the person outside. The door opens and for your surprise, Harry steps inside, closing the door behind him.

“Hey, you disappeared so fast,” he softly says.

“Yeah, I’m just… a little tired,” you lie, though you know exactly he can see right through you.

“Y/N, I saw that look in your eyes after the video…”

“What look?” you ask with a huff. “What do you want me to say, Harry?”

“The truth,” he answers. “I’m not James, don’t bullshit me.”

“You want the truth? I’ll give it to you, but don’t blame me if it’s uncomfortable for you,” you chuckle bitterly, throwing your hands into the air. “I’ve been miserable, Harry. I miss you so fucking much, seeing you today was like Hell. I really thought it would be easier, but now I’m stuck with going from one interview to the other with red carpet events all around the world, seeing you every day when I terribly miss you and it fucking sucks, because you might not even feel the sa—“

You don’t get to finish, because Harry crosses the distance between the two of you, his hands grab your face and pulls you into a hard and passionate kiss. His lips move perfectly against yours and it feels like he is trying to squeeze every missed moment from the past five months into the kiss, making you melt into his arms completely.

He is everywhere. He is all you can taste, you breathe him in, his hands are everywhere on your body and your chest is pressed tight against his as you wrap your arms around his neck, locking him into your embrace. Your tongues dance, teeth tugging and pulling on lips, it’s a whole mess, but it’s the most perfect mess you’ve ever been. He takes your breath away completely and you don’t even want it back if it means you can’t have him.

Harry pulls away first, both your chests heaving wildly from the heavy make-out session and he looks down at you with hooded eyes.

“If you think I haven’t missed you like crazy… you can’t be more wrong, baby. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, I wanted to call you a thousand times and beg for you to come back to me, but I thought you already moved on.”

“Moving on?!” you huff with a tired smile. “Harry, I could never…”

“Alright, then I’m not letting you go again. No way you are walking out of this building without being mine again.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words as you pull him down for another kiss, needing to feel his lips on yours.

“I never stopped being yours,” you whisper against his lips and he moans weakly before crashing his lips against yours again. 

-

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[pies-writes-and-more]

haikyuu boys as expecting fathers

characters: TimeSkip!Tsukishima Kei, Bokuto Kōtarō, & Ushijima Wakatoshi, all with a Fem!Pregnant!Reader

warnings: pregnant reader and mentions of having a baby so pls be mindful if this makes you dysphoric or if you’re not in a good headspace for it. But otherwise, it’s all fluff so I hope it makes you guys smile!

a/n: everyone around me irl is having babies so here is the result of that LOL i love cute stories about expecting families and shit. All of these are obviously with TimeSkip! characters! And none of the following gifs are mine so credits to the original creators! Hope you guys like it :) 

haikyuu masterlist

Tsukishima loves to tease the shit out of you, and that hasn’t really changed since you started getting bigger. But now, he’ll hide your cravings in the top shelves of the pantry so you have to make him come get it. He can’t help it, it’s that angry pouty look in your eyes - he’s so in love with you, even when you look like you’re about to murder him.

But despite him hiding everything you could possibly crave, he is an absolute sweetheart. He calls his mom every now and then to update her about you and the baby, probably asks about what she liked when she was pregnant. She tells him stories about liking to read to him and his brother, or how she enjoyed a nice bath if she was particularly sore that day. She even joked that she found it really hard to put her shoes on so typically she just wore slippers or easy to slip on shoes.

Cut to the next day, you wake up to Tsukishima reading a book of dinosaur facts to your belly. He’s not so much reading it as he is disputing and/or explaining further the facts that are written in it. He doesn’t notice you wake up while he waves away the book and states, “It’s fine. When you’re here, I’ll just bring you to my museum and I’ll show you in person. I can sneak you out of daycare, just don’t tell your mom.”

You had hoped to be able to keep your independence for longer than this, but found yourself struggling to properly put on your shoes. You huffed, muttering something to your unborn kid about how you’d hold this over their heads forever, and just waddled about with the backs of your shoes folded under your heel. Tsukishima raised an eyebrow as he noticed, waiting for you to sit down in the car before holding the door open and bending down to properly put your shoes on.

“Kei, what’re you doing?” You laughed, watching him swiftly tie up your laces. “They’re fine, they’re old shoes anyways.”

“If you wear your shoes like that, you’ll fall and hurt yourself,” he shrugged. “I can’t have you hurting the little Tsukishima just because you can’t put your shoes on.”

His expression was the same plain emotionless face as usual, but you smiled anyways because here he was, kneeling in front of you and helping you with what is supposed to be a simple task.

The day went on as usual, but you definitely weren’t prepared for your husband to call you into the bathroom and display the little bath he had drawn you with your favourite candle lit.

“Did you do something?” You asked him with narrow eyes, making him scoff.

He rolled his eyes, helping you out of your clothes gently, “Am I really such a bad husband that you think I’d have to be feeling guilty to be nice to you?”

You thought about it for a moment before nodding playfully, “Yup. So what did you do?” You laugh and he just flicks your forehead before helping you into the tub.

You watch as he smirks a bit, holding your chin for a second and watching your eyes, “Well I’m the reason you got knocked up so I supposed I have to take care of you don’t I?”

He doesn’t hold that sultry teasing look on his face for too long, especially when you splash him with water, drenching every part of him you could reach 😂.

Bokuto is in a PANIC the closer you get to the due date. You once just felt a bit tired after vacuuming and the boy thought you holding your front meant you were going into early labour.

“I’VE GOT THE CAR KEYS BUT I CAN’T FIND MY WALLET!!! BABE HAVE YOU SEEN NY WALLET? I CAN’T REMEMBER WHERE I PUT IT. OMG WHAT IF THEY WONT TAKE US IN. WHAT IF THERE ARE SO MANY BABIES BEING BORN WE CANT GET IN. I KNEW I SHOULD’VE TAKEN A CLASS ON BIRTHING BABIES!”

You let him run around because he honestly is so entertaining to watch while panicking. He pouts about it later, talking shit about you to your belly, “Your mom’s a big meanie. You need to be born quick so we can team up on her okay?”

“Kōtarō! Don’t you dare try to turn my baby against me!” You laughed, swatting at his head.

Man is overly prepared for any sort of situation. He already set up all the safety baby measures, like corner cushions and outlet covers, though now he’s considering locking up all the knives into a cupboard.

“Kōtarō... how am are supposed to cook like this?” You asked, raising an eyebrow at the lack of your sharp cooking knives.. and the butter knives.

The grown man just poured some more, “I gotta keep both my babies safe alright? I’ll cut everything for you so you don’t cut yourself.”

Except for the fact that Bokuto is definitely more accident prone than you are and has a few bandaids on his fingers now.

As an expecting dad, Bokuto found himself getting more and more teary eyed at any situation that involved a family or a baby. Whether that was just seeing kids and families play in the park that the two of you walked past sometimes, or seeing a commercial for diapers with happy bouncy babies, you would turn to see a misty-eyed Bokuto who would then turn to you and wrap you in a tight squeeze.

He was beyond excited at this point to meet your little baby - he wanted to know what they would look like. The perfect mix between the most perfect woman in the world and him, who was pretty cool thank you very much. This baby was going to be the cutest most amazing kid ever, who would definitely play a really great game of volleyball, Bokuto was sure of it.

Let’s be honest though, pregnancy is not an easy journey. Bokuto loved seeing you grow the baby but he knew that it was a difficult process for you. You were always sore and at the beginning you were always sick. And there were some days where you literally didn’t feel attractive or beautiful at all, but Bokuto would praise you as high as he always did regardless.

“You are the most perfect lady I have ever laid eyes on. The most gorgeous being to ever walk this universe!” He told you one day, pressing kisses all over your face as you laid across a couch.

“Thanks,” you tried to give him a smile - you always appreciated his compliments, even if you didn’t necessarily agree.

“What’s wrong?” He asked you with a small frown, noting your forced smile.

“I just… feel bleh. Not at all like how you’re saying I look,” you admitted with a small smile.

Bokuto’s eyes grew wide in shock, jumping over the couch to sit down on the floor next to you. He clasped your hands in his, pressing kissing to them gently as well. “I know you might not feel it… but I hope you know that I still think it. I don’t even have to force it. You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever met, and that hasn’t changed even though your body is changing a bit. I don’t need you to wear the most perfect makeup or the best dress for me to think you’re gorgeous. You’re perfect just laying here in my old sweats and I’m happy that I get to come home to see you like this every day,” he grinned, touching your cheek affectionately.

You loved this man. He was so sweet to you in every way possible. But sometimes…. sometimes his sweetness just went a little too overboard. You tried to insist to him that you were pregnant but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do anything. Man refuses to let you do anything for yourself. No lifting boxes, no lifting anything in fear that you might hurt your back.

“Kōtarō, it’s just my purse,” you tried to point out in a laugh, trying to reach it as he held it above your head.

“Nope! Not happening. What if you hurt yourself?”

“... with my purse?”

“Ya!”

“Kōtarō, I have to go shopping for food or we won’t have anything to eat. And baby needs to eat!”

“Well I’ll come with you then!”

“You’ve got practice!”

“It’s fine, I’ll tell them I’ll practice another time! My perfect wife and baby come first,” he’d grin at you and insist on opening all the doors as you two made your way to the car. You fall in love with this man more and more every day, even if he keeps stealing things from your hands.

Ushijima is a really nervous new dad, even if you can’t really tell from his stoic expression. He listens intently to all of the parenting advice people give, bought a few books about newborns, and has hundreds of tabs on his laptop of ranging topics from baby products people insist are necessary, mommy blogs about what is important to do when pregnant, and research that he doesn’t quite understand but feels is important nonetheless.

Ushijima isn’t necessarily a man of words all the time, so you were surprised to find that he started to talk a lot more after finding out that your child could hear him.

“You don’t have to play volleyball if you don’t want to,” he told them quietly one day while the two of you were on the couch. It came so out of the blue that you actually thought he was talking to you.

“Hm?”

“... do you think they’d want to play volleyball?” He asked you sheepishly, glancing at you with a shy expression.

You thought about it for a moment and slowly started to smile, “Well they’ll be attending every single one of your games so I’m sure they’ll be at least interested in learning!”

Ushijima nodded and you watched as a soft smile graced his face. You kept your eyes on him for just a moment longer, seeing a flicker of uncertainty on him.

“Wakatoshi, don’t you dare think for one second you’ll be a bad dad,” you warned him, poking his side and making him jump from surprised.

He stared at you for a moment, blinking, “You know what I’m thinking?”

“I know that you’ve been worried about being a good dad ever since I told you I was pregnant. I know that you’re nervous about being the kind of dad you always wanted to have growing up. I know because I’m terrified of being a good mom too,” you admitted with a nervous sort of smile, interlacing your fingers together. “We’ll be okay together though.”

Ushijima nodded and hummed softly, “We’ll have to take them to France.”

“France??”

“Satori wants to meet them too. He said he would make them chocolate.”

It wouldn’t just be the baby that Satori is constantly trying to spoil, but you as well. He sends over packages of his chocolate for you to try, grinning ear to ear when you call him for a catch-up call.

“Do you like them?” Tendō asked, and you could hear him humming to himself as he moved around a kitchen.

“I love them! But you’re going to make us fat if you keep sending them! They’re much too yummy for me to stop eating!” You laughed, eyes wandering to the kitchen where you knew you still had a few bits of his chocolate left.

“No no no no. I’m just trying to make sure your baby is a cute healthy plump baby! They’ll grow nice and strong!”

It always made you smile, knowing that all these people who loved your husband wanted to love you and the baby as well. Even Ushijima’s new teammates would come by and bring snacks or anything they thought might aid you in your pregnancy. Though, Kageyama wasn’t really sure what pregnant people or babies liked, so he just brought a whole bag of the milk boxes he liked.

“You’ve got to grow big and strong so that I can defeat you in volleyball one day. I can’t defeat your dad right now… cause he’s on my team. But I’ll defeat an Ushijima one day for sure,” he muttered to your belly with a fierce intensity in your eyes that made you laugh, making his ears turn red as he realized that you also heard him (Kageyama, the baby is attached to her, of course she heard you lol).

As it neared your due date, Ushijima prepared himself mentally every passing day. He wanted to be 110% ready so he went over your birthing plan mentally at least 10 times a day and reread over all the articles and information he had gathered over the months. He wanted to be the best father possible, but you insisted to him that you weren’t worried about this at all. After all, he was already the best husband you could ever have asked for.

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[bontenten]

Efficiency

Pairing: Daishou x f!reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings/Tags: smut, exhibitionism, voyeurism, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, praise, light degredation, aftercare, established relationship

Thank you so much @/bakatenshii and @/thirstyforthem2dmen for beta-reading. This is a repost from my main after it went fully sfw. Originally for the hqhq (now Anilysium) hard at work collab.

Pen scrawls and keyboard taps sound throughout the conference room as your boss goes over current client projects. Daishou is sitting across the table and you notice he's wearing the tie you gave him for his birthday last year. Looks good, you think to yourself. It's not just the tie, it's his entire outfit, and him.

Daishou notices your lingering stare and makes eye contact, granting you a cheeky grin and a head tilt. Pompous bastard. In response, you send back an expression of mock disgust before turning your attention back to your laptop.

For any newcomer at the firm, it might seem like the office is split down the middle into either your camp or Daishou's, with opinions and jabs on completely opposite ends of the spectrum. Why else is there so much spite being tossed around between the two of you, if not due to a deeply entrenched layer of grievances?

It might leave the newbie confused as to why Daishou affectionately calls you his "most significant problem". Or why you preface notes to him with, "to whom this may piss off, my royal pain-in-the-ass".

Then there comes a revelation to the newbie that you and Daishou are not mortal enemies, but rather the most wretchedly in-love couple in this skyrise building. It's a bad decision to cross either you or Daishou for any matter. Not only are the both of you perfectly vindictive, crossing one means submitting an application to be on the blacklist of the other. There's no doubt, in your humblest opinion, that Daishou, even if he'll never outright admit it, absolutely worships the dirt under your heels. And when you are in remotely a good mood, fine, you don't mind his coffee breath either.

It's heartwarming, that in this tower of cold, hard stainless steel and immaculate glass panels, there's love floating around the disinfected air of money, money, and more money. When it counts, you can be sure that Daishou will stand on the same side of the fence as you.

While the meeting goes on and you multitask with the spreadsheet open on your screen, you think you hear your name being tossed around. To your knowledge, everything is lined up already and unless there is some sort of overnight emergency, there's absolutely nothing left on your plate to take care of.

At the same time, there is also the off-chance that someone decides to drag you into hell with them and include you in a project. Now, who could possibly have the audacity to put you into the wringer with them?

"Daishou! Excellent, I'll leave this to you," the boss exclaims. "This pitchbook needs to be done by tomorrow. It's high urgency and the client just sent the numbers in."

A sinking feeling begins to churn in your stomach. You pause your frenzy across the keyboard and pay attention to the meeting to hear the rest of what Daishou has to say.

"If I may," Daishou curtly asks with a smile that's a tad too wide, "I'd like to work with Y/N on this. As you know, we work best together. It'll be done before the meeting tomorrow."

You can feel everyone's eyes turn to you in the meeting room, begging you to please say yes to the man holding titles such as your boyfriend, co-worker, and also 'royal pain-in-the-ass'. You force a smile and match Daishou's client-ready, saccharine expression. "Of course, we'll have it done tonight."

Suddenly, the atmosphere of the entire meeting room relaxes by ten notches. Bastards, all of you.

"Our firm's best duo!" the boss praises, "We'll leave it to you two then. Meeting adjourned."

It's the two words everyone has been waiting for. The moment the syllable falls, the conference room is filled with the sounds of shifting seats and scuffling feet eager to leave work for the day. With a huff, you shut your laptop and see Daishou coming around the conference table with his laptop and files tucked under his arm. He adjusts and tugs on his tie.

"Guess it's you and me again tonight," Daishou comments.

"And here I wanted to leave work early for once."

"Hey, just a special date night. It's called 'overtime', sounds pretty sexy don't you think?"

You snort and walk past him, going towards the direction of the elevator. Daishou eyes your figure strutting down the hall. The lines of your ironed shirt and the pencil skirt that hugs your figure perfectly match the echoing clack of your heels striking shiny tiles.

Even if you don't remember, Daishou's impeccable memory absolutely remembers how the last time you paired that shirt and that skirt together, it was an overtime situation very much similar to tonight. And the cock that's starting to grow hard in his slacks certainly remembers a lot more. He can feel it twitching just trying to conjure up the sensation of your gummy walls milking him in the breakroom a month ago.

"You coming or what?"

Daishou sees you holding the elevator door open and waiting for him. Daishou won't ever admit to this, maybe to you in privacy, but Daishou will rather be dead than admit to anyone else how lucky he feels to have someone as incredible as you in his life.

He takes a few quick steps and enters the elevator.

"How sweet," he coos. "I knew you wouldn't just leave me hanging and working in this dismal place all alone."

"Shut-up, Suguru," you snap, but you lean your head against his shoulder anyway. It's been such a long day already, and the night is only going to be longer.

"Stay the night at my place later? I'll order your favorite."

"Let's get this project over with first."

"I caught you staring at me during the meeting."

"Huh, is that so."

"Practically stripped me naked with your eyes. Ooh, I felt tingles all over."

You lift your head from his shoulder. "You're so full of yourself Suguru," you remark before tugging on his tie to pull his face closer to yours. "If anything, I think you're the one getting hard at work."

Daishou leans in even closer. A hand encircles your wrist and his thumb brushes your inner-wrist across the bump of the vein. Your pulse is throbbing against his fingertips. You feel your adrenaline and anticipation rushing through your body as your heart pounds harder and faster.

"Then do something to help poor lil' me out?"

"At your place later, we—"

"But I want you so badly right now," Daishou breathes out, body tight against you so you can feel his straining desires through the layers of fabric. "I want—

Ding.

The elevator opens up to the floor the two of you work at. The co-workers waiting for the lift can only see two pristine and exemplary office workers without any semblance of dishevelment walk out. Daishou even says a polite "see you tomorrow" to them.

"If only the elevator stopped working," you joke after taking a deep breath to swallow the fire building in your core. "Sly snake, no one here in the office knows your true colors."

Sometimes, you wonder just how Daishou can switch his persona so quickly. Or maybe he just likes the precarious edge of being horny at work.

"Love you too dear," he sneers.

A couple workers are still at their desks scrambling for their deadlines. You and Daishou take a seat at your work stations and begin to chip away at the urgent, overtime project. Every now and then, you'll say good-night to the other remaining co-workers finally able to go home. It doesn't take long before the halls are completely vacated and empty except for the two of you still slaving away in front of the bright monitors for hours into the night.

"Where are you going?" you ask Daishou who is returning to his seat after disappearing down the hall again. "This is the third time in the last hour. Are you shitting in the toilets or dumping all the work on me?"

Daishou comes by your desk and leans on the back of your chair. "Just making some phone calls. Want to go home now? It's getting late."

"Uh...work's not done yet."

"It's fine, let's have dinner first, we can just work remotely at my place. The bulk is done anyway."

You glance at the clock and ponder Daishou's offer. It doesn't hurt to leave a little early and continue the work later in a more comfortable setting. "Okay, let me pack."

After cleaning up the workstation and packing everything the two of you will need, you and Daishou are back in the hallway waiting for the descending elevator.

Daishou takes the heavy tote bag from your shoulders. “I’ll hold onto this,” he explains.

“Why so nice today, Suguru? First luring me over with food, the compliments, and suggestions to leave early…” You trace a finger along the line of his spine and observe, pleased with the nervous grin spreading on his face. “Someone’s losing patience, hm?”

Daishou gives you an ingratiating smile. “Princess, as fancy as our work is, we still work in client-services. What can I say, I live to serve and please.”

“Cheeky.”

The elevator arrives and the two of you enter the space.

"How long do you think we still need?" you ask Daishou.

"Must we talk about work, right now?"

"You're just horny, Suguru."

"Oh, so it's 'just' me, is that what it is?"

You shrug and admit, "Nah, I was wondering why you didn't suggest anything earlier when the office was empty."

"Baby, if you wanted me that bad, you should've just climbed on my lap."

You laugh at Daishou's retort and prepare a comeback. "I think—"

A loud screech sounds through the elevator and the lights flicker briefly before a jolt causes you to stumble. Your hand automatically flies to the handrail. Daishou also wraps an arm around you tightly to steady your balance.

"Is the..."

"Seems like we're stuck," Daishou comments.

You rapidly press the service bell button, but it's no use. "No one's picking up, it's like the signal got cut. Should've just taken the stairs!"

The cell signal is also terribly weak in the elevator space. There's nothing else to do but wait and see how things play out.

Daishou laughs dryly and smooths his hair back. "We work on the 18th floor, since when do we take the stairs?"

"There's that one evacuation drill..." you reply weakly.

Daishou raises an eyebrow, giving you a look that says, really now?

"You're right, we're doomed. Last moments and—"

"With the love of your life, isn't that pleasant a way to go?" Daishou tightens his arms around you. "Don't worry, it's all going to be okay."

You reciprocate and respond to his hug, while your brain searches for a solution. "I once saw on the internet that if the elevator drops, you have to time your jump right before the elevator hits the ground floor. Otherwise—"

"Shhh," Daishou shushes you quietly with a quick kiss. He rocks you from side to side and reassures you again that everything is okay.

"Trust me, it'll be okay. Let's just have a little fun while we're waiting," he suggests one hand already tracing up your thigh. "Maybe it'll relax all those nerves you've been holding onto."

Daishou wants to laugh. Whose nerves exactly? Do you have any idea how he’s been counting the minutes and seconds for this moment while you innocently worked on the project like the good, model worker that you are?

It took everything in him to somehow put down a few excel formulas and not shove the monitors onto the floor to fuck you senseless across the worktables. Not to mention, the pleasure of having those witty remarks that spurt out from that little mouth of yours replaced with incomprehensible whines and begs for your precious Suguru to fill you to the brim. And now that you also admit to thinking along the same lines earlier, Daishou knows the dirty little thoughts clouding into your mind already.

Some slut that you are, acting proper and put-together at work, basking in the praise from co-workers and the boss; they just don’t know how ten minutes after those morning touchpoint meetings, you are bouncing on Daishou’s cock in a hidden corner while the financial markets open for the day. It’s an art, really, the number of quicks you two manage to fit into the crevices of a busy office schedule. But that’s why Daishou is one of the best employees of the firm. Daishou Suguru works quickly. He works efficiently.

The patterns Daishou's fingers trace tickle and send shivers up the skin. His low voice and hot breath across your ear elicits a soft gasp as you press your thighs together in the tight, figure-hugging skirt, seeking some hidden relief for the needy throb inside. The scrap of fabric down there is barely able to soak up the wetness beginning to pool. You are pressed up against him for comfort and security, your breasts plush against his chest. Each inhale and exhale you take is a test of patience.

"T-there's a camera," you remind him through shaky breaths, eyes flickering to the black mechanism in the corner. This is your final thread.

Daishou eyes the camera that is staring expectantly at the tryst about to happen in the cramped space with a wicked grin. Like that has ever bothered you, but if you want to play coy, he’ll humor you. He pinches the soft flesh on your thighs. "But we both know you're an attention whore. Always wanting to be the center of attention?"

You bite your lip to stop a whimper and look away, unwilling to admit that Daishou is completely right. You're already squirming in anticipation and delight. How cute, Daishou savors before deftly undoing the first two buttons of your crisp blouse. He has all of your clothes memorized, and how to take them off in the least amount of steps. At this point, it's completely second nature, and even if it isn't, the particular outfit you are wearing today has a special pedestal in Daishou's memory of interests. He pulls the tucked fabric apart to expose your delicate neckline and the soft curves of your breasts in the bra.

Oh, this one? What a coincidence then. He buries his face into the crook of your neck and deeply inhales the scent of your lingering fragrance. His hot breath and tantalizing lips drag across your collarbone, brushing your sensitive skin.

"So fucking sexy. Let's put on a show shall we?"

The thread snaps.

You harshly tug on the Daishou’s tie and capture his lips with yours. Daishou presses his body even closer, resting a forearm right above your head to cage you against the elevator wall. You wrap your arms around his neck, threading your fingers through his hair, as you meld into the searing kiss. The zipper of your skirt is tugged and the fabric is pushed up to your waist. His hand snakes up your thigh and a thumb hooks the side of your panties, pulling the soaked scrap down.

"Step," he instructs, pulling your panties down all the way and guiding your heeled feet out. "Don't want them dropping on the floor," he says, tucking the bunched fabric into his shirt pocket.

"Touch me, please," you beg, pulling Daishou back to you. You grab his hand and lead him to between your legs, grinding yourself against his thick fingers for some relief.

“No need to rush, the elevator isn't getting fixed anytime soon," he coos, "We're not going to get distracted this time."

Daishou spreads your lips apart and rubs along your sensitive bud, coating his digits with your slick. "Fuck, you're so wet already," he marvels before slipping a finger in and then another.

Daishou pumps his fingers in and out of your sopping pussy, occasionally dragging over to circle your clit. "That's it, isn't it?" he groans, feeling your walls clench around his fingers when he finds the spot that has you falling apart into streams of whines and mewls.

Daishou withdraws his fingers and brings the glistening digits up for you to see. "How much are you enjoying this? Wanting to be fucked in an elevator, watched by who knows who behind that camera."

You whimper and watch Daishou take the coated fingers in his mouth, licking off every drop of you. "You taste so good," he breathes, before pulling you into a kiss and letting you have a taste of your own arousal.

You break out of the kiss and turn around, resting your hands on the handrail. "S-Suguru, want you in me," you beg. You bend over just enough for your Daishou to see how much more wet you've gotten from tasting yourself on him. Your glistening hole is dripping and desperately clenching around nothing.

"Patience, princess." Daishou quickly unbuckles his belt and lets the cock pressing against his tight slacks spring free. He prepares to give himself a few more strokes but you reach behind and slap his hand away, replacing the hand on his cock with your own.

"Fuck," he groans, bucking his hips into your hands. "Always the impatient one."

"Hurry...please."

The building anticipation is making your knees weak and head dizzy already. You keep both hands on the handrails for support and squirm over trying to better line yourself for that thickness you need to fill your hole.

"Shit, stop teasing me!"

Beep.

The emergency intercom you pressed when the elevator first malfunctioned finally lights up. The line connects after a moment of static and radio noise and temporarily shocks a thread of rationality into your thoughts.

"Hello? Hello? Are we connected now, finally? Hello? Can you hear me?" the voice urges from the other end.

"Ah-" you gasp out, feeling Daishou fingers draw out slow circles on your clit. You press your lips tightly together to muffle a moan.

"Ma'am? Ma'am, can you hear me?"

Daishou leans next to your ear. "Answer them, sweetheart." The tip of his cock teases the entrance of your pussy, running along the wet lips. "Do well and I'll give it to you."

You manage, with difficulty, squeak out, "Y-yes!"

"Good girl."

Your legs buckle slightly when you feel Daishou's thick cock being pushed into you, finally giving you the gratification you have been craving during Daishou's ministrations.

"Oh, careful now, don't want you falling over," Daishou's grip on your hips tightens and he groans at how warm, wet and tight you are around him. "Fuck, you feel so fucking good," he mutters under his breath.

The speaker buzzes again. "Great, finally connected. Ma'am are you doing okay still?"

"Yes!" you cry out as Daishou gives a firm and deep thrust; a wave of pleasure shoots through you.

"Don't panic, our team is already coming—" The line disconnects as abruptly.

Daishou revels at how your soft walls hug and clench around him. By all means, he didn't expect the interruption happening at all. It seems like you are not the only impatient person, he wonders, before flashing a nasty look at the camera in the corner and flipping said object off.

"Come on, princess,” he encourages and pats the side of your ass lightly. “Let me hear how pretty you sound."

"Sugu—" you gasp out, feeling the tip of his cock rocking into you. "R-right there right, ah—"

"Yea, you like that?" Daishou groans, pushing into you again feeling your walls clamp around him so tightly. So perfectly. It's addicting and all he can do is thrust in and out, over and over again. Each time seeking out the sounds of your pretty moans when you are completely filled and stuffed with him.

Lewd squelches and the slaps of skin meeting flesh fill the elevator space, along with Daishou’s grunts and your pants. Your hips meet each of Daishou’s thrusts in perfect rhythm, taking his entire length until the base. You can feel each stroke dragging along your walls, the size and length of his cock pushing against your tightness and prodding your cervix.

Neither of you can bother with any other distractions now that bliss is just teetering on the edge. Daishou pulls out and turns you around so you face him. He then scoops you up from under your ass with your legs spread over his forearms and hoists you up against the elevator wall. You feel the stinging cold from the cylindrical edge of the handrail as a dubious support against your heated skin.

"Suguru!" you squeal out, "I'll fall! I'll—"

"I got you, don't worry," Daishou reassures, "You're okay, I won't let you fall."

Once he feels your arm wrapped tightly around his shoulders, Daishou slides into you again with a loud squelch.

"We're right outside now! Won't be long before we get you two out." A loud voice calls out from beyond the shut elevator doors.

"Smile for the camera, princess," Daishou encourages before picking up the pace, chasing the high that's just around the corner. His thrusts become faster and rougher, hitting your sweet spot deep inside you over and over again making your mind spin. The countless reflected images of Daishou's unrelenting pursuit and speed, and the expression of your fucked out face collide together in a blurry, infinite kaleidoscope.

“Gonna cum! Gonna-”

All thoughts leave your mind with each ragged breath as you near your own edge. You can only cling onto Daishou tightly, nails digging into his shoulder and back. You don't hear the sounds of mechanical whirring outside the elevator. Whatever it is that the people are shouting outside does not matter. The bright lights don't make any sense to you anymore. You don't even remember what Daishou Suguru looks like.

The blank stare from the camera is the last thing you see before you squeeze your eyes shut, face tucked in the crook of Daishou’s neck, and body feeling like putty in his arms. All that's left is the euphoria sparking through and broken syllabylic babbles you struggle to utter out.

With a few final thrusts, Daishou grunts and pulls you completely flush against his hips, finally spilling himself into you. Release after a long day never feels this sweet, Daishou muses as he holds your languid body close. Each deep breath you take only pushes your soft breast against his chest, and Daishou can feel your spasming walls still hugging him. He peppers a few kisses on your sweat covered brow. So good, so fucking good.

The voices and mechanical whirs outside interrupt Daishou’s moment.

That’s right, we’re still in this damn elevator. Daishou carefully pulls out his softened and twitching cock and lowers your wobbly form down from your make-shift seat. He takes a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the drool from your face then lightly dab away the trail of mixed fluids seeping out of your puffy cunt. The overly saturated handkerchief does a poor job soaking away the mess the two of you made.

Daishou reaches for the crumpled panties he shoved into the shirt pocket, but decides against letting you wear it. In your current state, your legs are like a newborn deer, barely able to support you let alone try to maneuver into underwear.

"Once we get back to my place, I'll draw us a bath.”

The increasingly loud mechanical clamor and sounds of the elevator workers pull you out of your daze for a moment too. You try to fumble around and haphazardly button your shirt, but the buttons miss their proper buttonhole by one. You pout and look at Daishou who just buckled his belt and tucked in the edges of his crumpled shirt. He looks ready for a client meeting already, if not for the obvious smell of sex clinging into him.

Daishou chuckles at your state and helps you slip into his long coat. He kisses your brow again in apology. "Sorry baby, just bear with it for a moment."

"Hungry."

"Yes, yes. I'll order your favorite too, like I promised."

You nod, pleased with his answer.

Ding.

The doors of the elevator open, to the relief of the elevator workers outside. They were in the process of getting ready to pry the doors open, but it seems like the elevator is back to normal already.

"Sir, Ma'am, we apologize for our tardiness."

Daishou waves a hand. "Not at all, it was fine. My girlfriend," he nods to your hidden form in the coat, "a bit frazzled, that's all."

Daishou's coat is like a bathrobe and hides absolutely everything. Turn up the collar, hide your face in Daishou's neck, and no one can see the mess that you are still underneath the thick layer. If they don't look, they won't know about the cum that's already dripping out and trailing down the curves of your legs into your scuffed heels.

"Is she okay? If there are any problems, we can direct you to-"

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of her. Thanks for helping fix the elevator." Not that there was anything wrong with it to begin with.

"We'll be inspecting all the elevators in the building as well. We assure you this will never happen again."

The musty smell of sweat and sex is all that lingers in the elevator, but it'll dissipate soon enough. Maybe there are tiny puddles of your juices on the tiles but the 5 A.M. cleaning workers will wipe it all away. By tomorrow, the elevator and rest of the building will be just the way it always is again. The stainless steel is cold, and the glass panels are pristine. In the early hours of the morning, leather shoes and heels will be strutting around on the marbled floors. Phone calls. Printers. Clients. Meetings. And more overtime.

Daishou smirks to himself, supporting just about your entire weight. His phone rings in his coat pocket. He reaches for the device and answers the call. Those bastards.

"Heh, glad you enjoyed the show you fucker. And tell Kenma, 'that was a dick move he pulled back there.'"

He listens to the response from the other line.

"Yea sure, thanks for hacking the system...uh huh, tell him to cum in your dirty sock-rag then...yea whatever, go eat shit."

Daishou ends the call and shoves the phone into his pocket.

"Su-gu-ru..." you mumble.

"Yes princess?"

"...Pitchbook..."

Daishou presses a light kiss to your forehead. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart."

Even all fucked out, you still manage to not forget about corporate responsibilities, some overachieving show-off you are. After getting you cleaned up and warm, he'll finish up any remaining work. Daishou Suguru works quickly. He works efficiently.

[shinygoldstar]

Midnight Snack

DannyMay Day 11: Midnight

(Also DannyMay Shadow, Scars, Power, Nature, Seasons, Teeth can you find them all?)

Word Count: 2271 (not beta’d. experimental writing)

Warning: mentions of ghost cannibalism, nothing explicit

@floralflowerpower ​ – for that ghost cannibalism post

(it’s 1 am so i’m gonna sleep now. might post on AO3 later)

Edit: AO3 Added!

.

It was mid-October. The leaves are starting to turn yellow heralding the approaching autumn. Danny was happy because that meant the unusually hot weather is almost over. It wasn’t that he’s melting from the heat- quite the opposite, he’s probably the only person in Amity that isn’t sweltering under the sun with his cold core. But due to this exact same reason, his cooler body temperature also drew in water vapor which condenses on his skin, pooling into beads of water dripping down his shirt, making him appear extra sweaty. He can’t wait for the temperature to be cool enough to not change clothes every few hours. Good thing his clothes are purchased by the dozen; no one really noticed him wearing new sets of clothes throughout the day.

.

It was the contaminated fridge foods that disappeared first. No one missed them. At least until they can’t find the mutated turkeys for their annual Thanksgiving hunting event.

.

Danny yawned as he and his friends entered Fenton Works. Autumn is comfy. Just the right temperature where he can wear loose clothing and not be stared at for being underdressed for the weather. No ‘sweating’ either. His mouth closed with a click, a bit too fast on his new fangs. Danny winced. The fangs seemed to have grown longer overnight again. At this rate Danny won’t be able to pass them off as normal pointy canine teeth for much longer. It didn’t hurt but the itch is annoying. Danny took a detour to the fridge, grabbing an ice cube from the freezer and popped it into his mouth, absentmindedly chewing on the cubes to take the edge off the itch as they walked down to the basement lab. His parents are at a paranormal convention at a nearby city and won’t be back until tomorrow. Danny and his friends gladly took the opportunity to do their ‘Danny’s quarterly fitness test’.

Danny flipped on the light switch and walked to the center of the lab, transforming into his ghost form. “Okay I’m ready. What’s first on the list?”

Tucker dropped his bag and took out a piece of notebook paper, “Okay, first we gotta do the baseline measurements. Height, weight, temperature, and the ecto reading.” Sam dug through her sports bag, pulling out the measurement tape. She held it against Danny, eyes scanning the tape measurement numbers. “Still the same height.”

Tucker nodded, noting down the measurement in Danny’s health notebook. “Next, weight.” Danny stood over the scale. “Yup, still the same weight too.”  

.

Then it was the ecto-samples that Jack misplaced in the kitchen fridge. Jack warned everyone a few days later (everyone knows to avoid glowing food on normal basis so the delayed warning is mostly just courtesy), but no one could find where it went and assumed it grew legs to join the other tiny ecto-samples lurking as their equivalent of household pests. (No matter how often Maddie tried to patch up the mouse hole it keeps reappearing in the same shape but in a different part of the house as if the original mouse hole got transplanted from its original location)

.

“Lunch Lady’s right. You need to eat more. You’re still as skinny as ever.” Sam remarked as Danny took the thermometer out of his mouth. “76 F. The ghosts keep attacking me all day and night. You’d think my parents would notice when a ghost sneaks pass them while they work in the lab but I triggered all their ghost alarms just by being in the house so they deactivated the system when I’m around. They must’ve kept it turned off during the day too.”

“Tough luck dude. Ecto scan next.” Tucker passed the scanner to Sam while Danny stood still for her to scan. The machine beeped, “Wow 6.8, that’s quite a jump from last quarter’s 5.1”

“Maybe it was from all the ghost fighting I did over the summer?”

.

As the leaves began to fall from the branches, ghost attacks lessened in frequency. Not looking the gift horse in the mouth Danny happily enjoyed the lack of ghost attacks to focus more on his studies. If he did well enough, he might even get Bs for his efforts. He also managed to avoid getting detention for the entire week much to the relief of everyone involved.

.

Two days before Thanksgiving, the Fentons finally remembered their turkeys. But by then it was gone. In a rush, they quickly purchased a pre-made turkey instead. While Danny enjoyed the fact that they’re having a normal family dinner for once, he can’t help but feel like there’s something off about the chicken. As if it’s missing a particular tangy or zingy flavor that would’ve made it richer in flavor. ‘Must’ve been because it’s overcooked.’

.

"Honey? Have you seen the new ecto-samples I placed in the basement lab fridge?" “Again Jack? This is the third time this month. Have you checked the upstairs fridge?” “I-ah was pretty sure I placed them in the correct fridge this time. Must be some no-good thievin’ ghost.” “I’ll set up the ecto-anti-theft, that’ll get ‘em good! No ghost can escape Jack Fenton for long!”

.

*Intruder Alert* *Intruder Alert*

Red lights peppered with robotic voice and alarm noises lurched Maddie into full alert mode. She quickly took stock of her surroundings and tried to wake Jack up. But Jack had his earplugs on and continued to snore blissfully. A loud knock on the door caught her attention. “What’s going on mom?” Jazz’s voice floated through the door. Maddie quickly rose to open the bedroom door, swiftly pulled Jazz in and locked the door. “Jazz dear, try to wake your dad up. I’ll go check on the intruder.” Maddie strode quietly to the door then paused, “Have you checked on Danny?” Jazz bit her lips and looked away for a moment “-ah yeah! Danny’s snoring so loud he can’t hear the alarm.” Maddie twisted the doorknob but paused, hesitating. “He’s fine mom.” Jazz reassures her. “If Danny wakes up, he’ll come here first. I’ll let him know what’s going on.”

The alarm rang loudly in her ears as she walked down the stairs to the basement lab, its loud ringing noise effectively covering up the sound of her footsteps. Reaching the basement floor, Maddie quickly crept over to hide behind the shelf on her left, eyes scanning the lab for the intruder.

The glass jars clinked as a shadow moved about the fridge. A very familiar shadow. That didn’t glow. Maddie turned on the lab lights. “Danny?” she started, carefully walking over to face him, her eyes still scanning him to check if he’s really her Danny. The faint, barely noticeable scar on his eyebrow from his attempt to fly off the tree when he was five is there confirming his identity.

“What are you doing down here-?” Maddie noticed the glowing jar in his hand, “and what exactly are you doing?” Danny hazily stared at her; eyes half-lidded. Maddie snapped her fingers to get his attention. Danny didn’t blink. “He's still not awake, Danny come on wake up!”, she shook his shoulders. “Huh? Wuzzat?” Danny groggily woke up. He blinked in confusion.

Finally aware of his surroundings, Danny looked down at his right hand that still held the glowing sample. “Aah!” Danny yelped dropping the sample, then realizing he dropped the sample, tries to catch the jar, fumbling clumsily. Maddie would’ve laughed if it was anywhere else but in this situation. “Danny, do you remember what you were doing?”

“I was doing my homework and was craving for a good cheeseburger?”

---

“And the half-opened jar of ectoplasm?”

“Pickles?”

---

“Dude are you for real? That was priceless!” Tucker crowed with laughter. Sam leaned away from Tucker to avoid the meat spittle, “Urgh! Gross Tucker! Swallow it before you speak!”

Danny grumbled into his glass of milkshake, “’s not funny Tuck. you didn't see her face. She was about ready to scan me for signs of ecto-possession. Good thing my lie about craving cheeseburger and opening the wrong fridge worked. Otherwise I’d be in big trouble if she scanned me now with my latest ecto-reading. Anyways I'm banned from the lab now.” Danny bit into his burger.

“So what really happened there dude? Did you seriously sleepwalk into the basement lab?”

“I think so? I don’t really remember anything before Mom found me in the lab. Only that I was feeling a bit hungry.”

.

The ghosts stopped coming. Everyone in Amity held their breath when there were no ghost attacks for two weeks straight, then a month. Then two months, three. No ghosts. They let out their collective breath. It might be too soon to hope but for now they will enjoy their ghost-free, perfectly ordinary life. It feels a bit strange to not have ghost related interruptions as part of their daily routine but they didn’t miss the ghost-related reconstruction expenses. The local insurance company employees received a nice bonus for the ghost-free month.

.

By the time March rolled in, Danny is restless. “Guys, there's definitely something big going on.”, he waved his hands for emphasis. “The Fenton portal is still open yet no ghost came through? Not even Boxy since the North District warehouse thing last month. There’s definitely something big going on. I've been taking the ghost-free break for granted for a while now and it helped save my grades but this is too big to ignore.”

“Dude, maybe it’s because you’re much more powerful now? Your latest reading last week is 8.2. None of the ghosts we’ve met so far is above 6 except for Vlad and the Ghost King.” Tucker suggested.

“You might have a point there, Tucker. We haven’t seen any of the ghosts bothering Vlad so far and he’s definitely higher than 6.” Sam added.

Danny frowned, “Maybe you’re right but I just have this nagging feeling that that’s not quite it.”

.

Danny entered the Zone with little fanfare. The area around the Fenton portal looked normal enough, the usual rocks and clouds of debris are still floating around in their usual areas. Danny aimlessly passed through the nooks and crannies, ducking under the endless spiral staircase, not entirely sure of what to look for. The Zone felt a bit quiet today but Danny haven’t been to the Zone that frequently to be certain about it.

.

The Ghost Zone, while still filled with random bits of odds and ends felt empty somehow. It wasn't until he sighted Skulker that he realized he hasn't seen any of the tiny blog ghosts nor the occasional passerby ghosts through his trip.

.

Luckily or unluckily, Danny quickly spotted someone he knew in the distance. As if called, Skulker turned his head towards Danny, then veered sharply to the left and flew fast in Danny's opposite direction, a first for the self-proclaimed hunter to not hunt his favorite prey. ‘Something's not right and Skulker definitely knows something.’ Danny thought.

Danny quickly chased after him; Skulker could never beat Danny at speed chase even at his best, and he won't be winning today's unplanned race either. “Hey Skulker! What’s going on?” Danny yelled over the gap between them but Skulker gave no reply, diving down deep into the reddish forest ravines of the island below. Not to be deterred, Danny did a quick aerial flip, adjusting his flight angle to follow down Skulker’s path. Danny soon caught up to Skulker and launched him into a nearby rock with sticky ectoplasm to hold him still long enough to talk. Skulker ejected from his metal suit but Danny was faster and caught the real ghost before he can escape.

.

(Why is Skulker fleeing?)

.

"Hey Skulker, not hunting me for once?" Danny asked teasingly.

Skulker paled (Danny never knew ghosts can turn pale) and squirmed even more. Danny's smile dropped.

"What’s going on Skulker?" he asked worriedly. “None of the ghosts have appeared in the human world and the Zone looks empty somehow”

Skulker squirmed a bit more but realizing he’s stuck finally said, “Ghost Child, haven’t you ever wondered why the Infinite Realms is never overcrowded?”

Danny frowned, puzzled as to where this leads to. “How is this related to this situation?” Skulker stared at Danny stunned.

“What?” Danny asked, suddenly self-conscious, “-was there something I was supposed to know about?”

Skulker sighed, unconsciously loosening a bit of his tension, “You’re so young. So very young. We Ghosts don’t fade as fast as Newcomers arrive from your world. In the Realms, there's a natural system that keeps the population under control. An ecosystem. There's predator and there's prey. And then there's the Apex Predator. There's a reason why Dark was feared. It wasn't just for his harsh rule. It was because he was the Apex Predator.”

Danny struck at the odd wording, "’Was’? Was that because he got sealed?” Danny paused, “But wait- if he's sealed, he would still be the Apex predator. So how-? Wait. Did I?"

Skulker nodded, "Good you're catching on fast. By defeating Pariah Dark, you have proven to the Realms that you're the best candidate for the Apex Predator. And with the new status comes sets of conducts, one your body instincts know well. You've been culling down the uncontrolled excess from Pariah Dark's sleep quite fast. Your hunger would settle down soon of course once balance has been re-established in the Realms."

“But- How- Wait- What-?” Danny looked down at his hand “Hey Skulker--!” but his hand is bare.

.

Danny’s lips tasted oddly tangy, energized.  

.

.

.

-----

(Skulker might've slipped out of Danny's slack hand while Danny is in shock. Danny might've bit his lips hard enough to bleed. It's not that hard with his new fangs. But this is just speculation...)

[mendespideys]

in need of saving | e.y.

pairing: eren yeager x reader 

warnings: mentions of fighting, swearing, blood, etc. it’s angsty

summary: eren’s emotions get the best of him and you’re his last hope. based on the line “you’ve been talking with your fists” from when you love someone by james tw.

a/n: this is my first ever drabble/fic/one-shot (whatever you wanna call it) of aot. my husband made me watch it, i became obsessed and now i am here putting my obsession into my writing lol. hope you guys like it. enjoy! 

also, to the people following me for marvel/sm content - i’m sorry lol

gif credit 

it was no secret that eren jaeger was slowly but surely losing it. maybe not losing it, but definitely losing his cool. and a lot more frequently than what everyone had deemed normal for him.

because it was also no secret that eren was known for losing it time and time again. everyone in the 104th cadet corps had seen the green-eyed boy pick a fight more than once - especially with jean. the two of them seemed to bubble with anger just at the sight of one another and no one really knew the real reason why. 

whether it was jean using what was definitely eren’s least favorite nickname he had ever gotten (suicidal maniac) or eren making a comment about the redhead being a coward - the two of them could barely get along on a good day. 

but, lately, everyone seemed to be getting on eren’s bad side. horse-face was no longer the only insult coming from him and it certainly was not the most cruel one that had slipped past his lips either. eren’s anger - or whatever it was - was no longer only focused jean. he seemed to be taking his feelings out on everyone. everyone except you. 

even the captain and the commander had been getting their fair share of snarky comments and attitudes from the titan shifter. while they were undoubtedly unable to hold their ground, eren was definitely crossing lines he shouldn’t have. 

and, so, you were forced into your current situation. 

“tch,” captain levi pushed himself off the table he had been leaning on. “the brat is out of control. while i have no problem beating the living shit out of him, i doubt more fighting is what he needs.”

hange nodded. “it seems he’s either too tired to heal himself or he chooses not to. his injuries are taking longer and longer to disappear. we have to do something before it’s too late.” 

before it’s too late. 

you shuddered. the thought of something happening to eren sent a shiver down your spine. worrying about him was like second nature to you and the only one who appeared to understand you was mikasa. 

“with all due respect, commander,” armin spoke up, his bright blue eyes studying the room before continuing. “we have all tried. he doesn’t want to listen to any of us. it’s pointless.”

a sigh fell from his lips, as a subconscious hand rubbed his bandaged shoulder. poor armin. even the innocent, genius best friend had been unlucky enough to experience eren’s wrath. 

“everyone but y/n.”

your eyes darted toward the mention of your name and you met captain levi’s steady gaze. you cowered under his intense stare, feeling other eyes on you as well. you cleared your throat, feeling a weird sense of pressure in the pit of your stomach. 

“i’ve tried, too,” you swallowed thickly, refusing to remember all the times you had tried to talk him. “i- he doesn’t want to listen.” 

“you haven’t really tried,” levi remarked. “the brat’s picking fights left and right. every little thing seems to set him off and you are the only one who can get him to stop. y/n, we all see the way he looks at you. eren might be humanity’s last hope, but right now, you’re his.” 

your heart was thumping in your chest. you had noticed the difference in eren’s actions toward you as well. the touches that lingered a little bit longer than normal, the longing stares he thought you never noticed, the way his anger practically melted away when his name left your lips... 

but to hear someone else confirm it aloud felt weird. foreign. because you had pushed those observations to the back of your mind, desperate not to over-analyze any of them. the two of you were just friends. 

a knock on the door startled you out of your messy web of thoughts. the door opened before either one of the superiors could give permission to do so, revealing a timid yet determined sasha. she addressed the whole room, but her brown eyes were on you. 

“um, sir, sorry to interrupt, but eren and jean are back at it again and i’m afraid neither one of them is stopping, sir.” 

no one seemed to notice the half-eaten potato clutched in her hand - or if they did, they chose not to mention it - as she saluted the captain and commander. you were already practically out of your seat before she could finish and the look from sasha that went unnoticed by everyone else certainly did not go unnoticed by you. 

you followed hot on her heels, your gaze fixated on her bobbing ponytail as she scurried through the hallways but your mind totally elsewhere. there was an uneasy feeling bubbling deep inside you and no matter what you told yourself, you couldn’t shake it. 

while eren did lack the ability to take control of his emotions and strategically plan out his next moves, his brute strength and impeccable hand-to-hand combat techniques made up for it. therefore, you were more worried about jean than eren, to say the least. 

so, to say you were surprised when you entered the field and laid eyes on the two was an understatement. the sight you had imagined and prepared yourself for was nowhere to be seen. instead, the one eren was injuring was himself. by the look of it, there definitely had been a fight between him and jean, but the latter was merely watching connie’s attempts at stopping the brunette. 

you came to a halt immediately, unsure of how to process the scene playing out in front of you. a trembling hand mutes a sob, which is now nothing more than a pained whimper as your eyes traveled up and down eren’s body, mentally assessing his injuries. 

his nose was definitely bleeding. this wasn’t an unusual sight as it tended to happened a lot during his early experiment stages with hange. but you weren’t prepared for the bruising that was already forming and there was no doubt in your mind that his nose was broken. 

his forehead was stained red as well, strands of his growing hair sticking to the sides of his face. it was impossible for you to appraise the extent of the damage as you were unable to determine the origin of the crimson liquid. 

everything seemed to happen in slow motion and too fast all at once. at the sight of the your group, connie’s attempts were replaced by captain levi’s with mikasa not far behind. hange made a beeline for jean, who was muttering frustrated nothings while rubbing his jaw. 

so eren had gotten a few hits in. 

a gentle nudge brought you back, once again, from the dark chaos within your mind. you met armin’s blue orbs, attempting to ignore the pure worry swimming within them. his eyebrows arched as a silent plea and you followed his gaze to where eren was wildly trashing against the captain. 

in any other situation, you would have laughed at the ridiculousness of it all. the captain’s height was a frequent talking point among your group and there was no denying how small he looked compared to eren’s towering frame. in any other situation, you also would not have bothered hiding how impressed you were with the captain’s ability to overpower the younger boy. 

“y/n-” levi warned, voice strained, as the bloodied boy continued to attempt resisting him. 

with a nod (to convince yourself or as a response to levi, you were unsure), your unsteady legs carried you toward the two of them. eren’s eyes were wild with determination, his nostrils flaring with anger. but you quickly realized when walking closer that there were a dozen other emotions pooling within his emerald orbs. 

“eren,” his name fell from your mouth with ease. skillfully, you maneuvered your hand around his flailing limbs, placing your palm on his swollen cheek. “eren, it’s okay. hey - stop, it’s okay, i’m here.” 

it was as if a boulder had fallen off his shoulders. his actions halted immediately and his entire body relaxed at the sound of your voice. you wouldn’t have believed the effect you had on him if you hadn’t just witnessed it. levi reluctantly let go of eren, still on stand-by in case the boy would try anything.

“y/n,” your name fell from his lips just as easily, his voice nothing more than a whisper. 

and just like that, he crumbled underneath your touch. you fell to the ground with him, ignoring the pain as your knees came in contact with the hardened dirt beneath you. bringing your other hand up as well, you trapped his face, forcing him to meet your gaze. 

he didn’t try to look anywhere else. he couldn’t. the pained look he was giving you was almost too much and you resisted the urge to look away. his bottom lip was trembling, the slit in it leaking blood with every movement. you found yourself having to withstand the yearning to kiss the pain away. 

“eren, what’s going on with you?” you tried to maintain a steady voice but there was no doubt that everybody could pick up on the worry behind every word. “this is- you can’t keep doing this. you have done nothing but talk with your fists and you need to stop. you can’t go picking fights with everybody over the smallest things.”

eren didn’t respond. the mixture of dirt and blood - both dried and fresh - and the threat of nightfall made it hard to see, but the violent jerks of his body made it obvious: he was crying. your own tears fell as well as sob after sob raked through his body. 

“i can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong,” you swallowed down your own cries, your mind focused on nothing but helping the heartbroken boy in your arms. “eren, i need you to talk to me. please?”

“w-why? you shouldn’t- i’m a monster. a stupid good-for-nothing bastard. you- why do you want to help me?”

anger coursed through your veins. you wanted to beat the living shit out of whoever had made him feel this way about himself. they had absolutely no right. eren’s cries echoed in the twilight. you didn’t check if your comrades were still an audience. frankly, you didn’t care. 

“you want to know why? because you’re human. because you have the abilities you have. because i truly believe you’re one of humanity’s last hopes. because you deserve to have someone believe in you the way you believe in saving all of us,” you inhaled deeply, overcome with emotion. “because i love you.” 

eren’s sobs stopped just like that; as if they had an off button that you just pushed. the momentary silence - which felt way longer than you would ever admit - was broken by a sound somewhere between a shaky sigh and a surprised gasp coming from eren. 

you couldn’t bring yourself to regret your confession. you didn’t feel an ounce of remorse and definitely not any embarrassment. maybe it was due to eren also showing vulnerability or maybe it was because you had practiced said confession more than once. 

you didn’t care. he knew. he knew now and that was all that mattered. 

his eyes searched your face. you weren’t sure for what, but you assumed for a sign of wether or not you were speaking the truth. your features held nothing but earnest as you returned his analyzing stare and it seemed to satisfy his silent investigation. 

“i feel- it’s too much. too much pressure. i don’t know what i’m doing anymore. i’m not- there has to be someone else. i-i can’t do it... so many people. they’re all dead because of me. i’m not strong enough to-” 

the last drops of self-control you had were eliminated by his proclamation. while it might have been difficult to comprehend for some, you had understood every word and with each broken sentence, your heart ached more and more. 

eren’s disjointed admissions were halted by your lips on his. you didn’t know where your newfound confidence had come from but you were grateful for its presence. his lips molded against yours almost instantly - so effortlessly. 

you ignored the taste of iron just as eren ignored the stinging from the cut on his lip. while the kiss was nowhere near being sexual, it was definitely more than just a peck. your lips moved together in pain and understand and love and relief. 

unwillingly, you pulled away. suddenly aware that you more than likely still had an audience, the fresh evening air felt good against your flushed cheeks. the two of you remained silent, attempting to revert your breathing patterns back to normal. 

eren rested his forehead against yours. you were sure sasha could practically hear the way your heart was stammering in your chest. and if not, eren definitely could. with each thump, your chest tightened and you were sure that if human bodies had not been designed with rib cages, your heart would have been long gone. 

your thumb caressed his cheek, his fresh tears smearing with the dried crimson in the process. a gust of wind took ahold of the few pieces of hair framing your face. eren gingerly grabbed the loose strands, tucking them behind your ear. he had done so countless times before, but something just felt different this time around. 

“i love you, too,” he whispered, the previous insecurities long gone from his voice. he had never spoken truer words. 

you smiled. “let’s get you cleaned up, yeah? and i think you might owe someone an apology.” 

eren’s limbs ached and although he didn’t want to admit to that, his body betrayed him. he had just barely stood back up when his trembling legs buckled. he prepared to meet the cold ground and the pain that would ensue, but a pair of hands caught him before it happened. 

you were just as surprised as eren appeared to be as levi attempted to steady him. it seemed the captain hadn’t ventured far. hyper aware that he probably had heard every word shared between you and eren, you didn’t dare meet his eyes. 

you sprung into action immediately, moving to eren’s other side. he winced as you navigated his arm around your shoulders, causing you to sputter out apologies while doing so. captain levi’s amusement didn’t go unnoticed by you or eren, but neither of you decided to comment on it. 

with you and captain levi both being significantly shorter than eren, supporting his weight was easier said than done. after some trial and error, though, the three of you were able to move almost seamlessly. 

eren’s strength was wavering by the second, you could tell, but he had enough left to come to a halt when you neared his most recent victim. you met jean’s eyes, hoping he could sense how apologetic you were. he confirmed with a nod then turned his attention to the boy who seemed to be getting heavier and heavier in your arms. 

“i’m sorry, jean, i-i honestly don’t even know... i’m sorry.”

“what? no ‘horse-face’?” the redhead chuckled, almost sadly. you realized that they had already cleaned him up. “don’t worry about it, eren. you did more damage to yourself than me anyway.” 

jean placed a hand on eren’s arm that was thrown over your shoulder. the interaction was brief but seemed to mean a lot to the both of them. then, they nodded and jean walked back toward the remainder of the group. sasha and connie were both saying words to him that you couldn't hear. 

you could feel the distressed stares that armin and mikasa were both sending in your direction. you gave them a nod, promising that their childhood friend was okay. he would be, at least. you had already made it your mission to ensure it. 

as you and captain levi hauled eren toward his dorm, the severity of the situation began feeling heavy on your shoulders. eren had definitely broken more than a few rules and you were sure captain levi would make sure he was punished for his insubordination. 

you weren’t entirely sure you would be off the hook either. sure, you hadn’t broken rules or gone against direct orders, but you hadn’t exactly abided either. captain levi could easily find a reason for why you should receive punishment as well and no one would even question it. 

captain levi’s steel eyes followed your every move as you opened the door to eren’s room, you could feel it. it didn’t feel like his typical burning glare but you couldn’t quite place your finger on the emotion behind the action either. 

as if sensing your thoughts that were now moving a hundred miles a minute, a groan came from eren. you watched them both quietly as captain levi managed to plop eren down on the chair you had placed next to the bath. another groan escaped the green-eyed boy and you could tell he was exhausted and in pain.

“captain, i’m-”

“tch. save it, brat. we have all been there and if they haven’t, they will. i’m surprised it took you this long. you’re a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for, kid,” levi interrupted, turning his attention toward you. “y/n, i trust you’ll take good care of humanity’s last hope. i’ll see the both of you at breakfast tomorrow morning.”

“i- yes, sir.” 

captain levi left without another word, leaving you and eren alone for the first time all day. you suddenly felt hesitant, unsure of what to do next. eren’s grunts of frustration filled the silent room as he began - well, tried to anyway - removing his tunic. 

you swatted his hands away gently, removing the article of clothing with ease. you had seen eren’s bare body before but you were still just as awestruck. this time, though, his skin was littered with scrapes, cuts and bruises of almost every color imaginable. you swallowed the urge to yell at him. 

the silence continued as you washed his body ever-so-gently. once you had been able to get him into the tub, that is. more than once, you had to momentarily stop your actions to check if eren had either fallen asleep or passed out. 

every time, his eyelids would flutter open instinctively, as if missing the warmth of your touch the second it disappeared. his green eyes would widen until they landed on you and he would relax, his lids falling shut once again. 

the silence wasn’t uncomfortable; it was filled with unspoken words of gratitude and affection. the two of you enjoyed it to the fullest - maybe even a little too much. reluctantly, you stopped running your fingers through his brown locks that never seemed to stop growing. 

eren didn’t protest when you told him it was time to get out despite how much he wanted to. he also didn’t protest and tried his best to help when you began putting a change of clothes on him. he didn’t protest when you whispered it was time for bed, either. 

he did protest when you attempted to take your leave, however. 

“stay,” it was a soft plea that pulled on your heartstrings. “please?”

and, so, you climbed into bed with him without hesitation. he nuzzled into the crook of your neck so quickly that it seemed like second-nature to him and was asleep within minutes, his soft snores the only sound within range. 

well, you had definitely broken rules now. but you decided that eren sleeping next to you was more than worth whatever form of discipline captain levi could ever devise. you would handle whatever it was with pride if it meant you could stay like this forever. 

/ / / / / 

ok, um, this didn’t exactly go where i had envisioned it to but i’m not really mad? idk. i had to put some levi x eren in there bc i live for their mentor/mentee relationship. if you made it this far, please send me some asks and let me know what you thought 🥺

[devilrainbunnie]

.- anthurium -.

X/2/3

shigaraki x reader

a/n: kind of an au, first piece! hope you guys like, i was feeling angsty. part two maybe?

CW: anxiety warning, cheating, manipulation, reader is depressed, sexual themes and description of sexual themes. minors DNI.

—

“for the millionth time, nothing is going on!” he snapped, rolling his eyes as he shuffled in his chair. fingers carefully laced around the hand held device. the vermillion eyes were full of fire, a fire that burned in agitation. towards you. he dared not to look into yours, for that would be almost like he was admitting to the accusations.

“then why do you smell like perfume that isn’t mine? why are you gone hours at a time without ever going to a meeting? why can’t you even do as little as look at me? why do you—“ your voice began to shake, feeling your fingers tremble with the hem of your shirt.

“you’re being paranoid, quit projecting your fucking insecurities on to me y/n. this conversation is over, now fuck off and let me relax.” he snarled, shifting his body away from your stance. he continued to play on his device, paying no mind to the girl with a river of tears pouring from her eyes.

you knew how it would end, and it always consisted of him leaving for the rest of the day. coming home the next morning, sometimes not even bothering to shower. you weren’t stupid. you could see the love bites on his scarred neck, his swollen lips, the way his sea foam colored locks were in a tangled bunch, he reeked of expensive perfume... you’d even found hair strands that weren’t either of yours. you knew, he knew that you knew, but he didn’t care that you knew.

it’s been going on since tomura was declared leader, king of this new group— the paranormal liberation front. since then, he’s put himself on such a high pedestal and his eyes began to wander. it wasn’t too noticeable at first, you thought you were just being insecure. because your boyfriend of over a year was beginning to spend less and less time with you. for the first time since you both got intimate, he stopped sleeping with you in your shared bed regularly. his often touch starved nature of wanting to be held and hold you constantly, began to stop. after a while, he wouldn’t so much as ruffle your hair anymore, or touch your back as he walked past. he stopped smiling at you.

he stopped loving you.

you noticed a specific girl with him from time to time, she was so different from you. outwardly sexy, confident, and most of all, she had him. she had beautiful emerald eyes, and dashing natural red hair. her figure was unbeatable. someone who would’ve been regularly out of his league, just due to her status, and often snobby nature. deep down, you knew that’s probably why he felt so enticed. she was unattainable. just like you had been to him once. he was always one to strive for the best, you guessed that meant lovers too.

you almost felt bad for him, considering the knowledge you had about her... she did this a lot. fucked around with higher ups as a way to gain better status, be placed in a higher rank, and get special privileges bother plf members wouldn’t originally receive. you’d heard this from dabi, she apparently tried to do the same thing to him, but he said, he “had better standards than that”.

you chuckled at dabi’s comment, you were the only one in the league he treated like a genuine friend. thankfully he could always make you crack a smile or two.

then like usual, the sadness came back.

there you were, alone in your shared apartment inside of the plf building. you sat at the edge of the windowsill in the living room, the lights were off. nothing but the distance sound of owls, wind, and branches to be heard. the moons glow to illuminate the scenery just a touch. your e/c eyes red, and glistened with the aftermath of an overbearing storm of a meltdown. your cheeks still burning, lips chapped and your hands doing anything else but standing still. since it got bad a few weeks ago with him, this is all you’ve been able to do. cry. let out your loud sobs all day, and whenever tomura was due to return, you’d go back to the way he preferred you. quiet, distant, and minding your business.

even with your quirk, your depression had led to all of the plants in each room to wilt. it’s almost poetic how accurate that displayed to your feelings— and of course, tomura didn’t even notice them.

anytime you did anything, it agitated him. there was no use in speaking, unless he was the one to initiate it. asking you what you made him for dinner, asking if you’ve seen a certain item of his, or asking you to do something for him, like stitch his tethered hoodie. sometimes telling you that he was annoyed with you being around dabi.

you began to nibble on your bottom lip again, trying to stop the fresh new wave of tears that threatened to spill. you promised yourself to not cry anymore, stop it. you stood from your spot, adjusting the simple outfit you wore. just usual long sleeve and leggings. using your sleeves to dry your face from the evidence of your overwhelming sadness. deciding that you should just take a shower, get ready for bed, and sleep. what else was there to do anyhow?

you soon felt refreshed, your heart still aches but the overwhelming pain subsided. you rested your head against the familiar scented cotton pillow case and grabbed his pillow. holding it close to your chest.

this is all i really have left of him now... wow.

—

the next day was seemingly uneventful. with a rare spotting of tomura coming in, showering, getting dressed, eating, and leaving once again. he paid you no mind the entire time. just simply glazing over your figure as you sat in different spots within the hour or two he was there. there were no words to he spoken. he didn’t even greet you when coming in. he just walked in the bedroom, rummaged around. looked at you as you were just waking up, and went about his business.

the pain settled in even more. every day it hit harder, and harder, but today, you were numb. the tears you held were all gone. you couldn’t cry, you couldn’t aimlessly sob. nothing. the core of you was empty.

“how much longer can i take of this...” you whispered to yourself tucking your knees to your chest. arms protectively wrapped around yourself.

you looked over to the once beautiful anthurium, it was completely wilted. the vibrant red petals were beginning to fall off. that plant was the one you connected the most with, it had a piece of your soul with it at this point. it would’ve been an easy fix to keep it from dying. one touch, and it would be right back to normal.

would the flower remember it’s neglect? the times you slacked on giving it water and proper daylight? would it simply forgive so easily just by your touch? can you forgive him, just by his touch?

“i don’t know.”

—

days had passed, he hadn’t come by since that night to your knowledge. sometimes you stepped out for a bit, just to clear your mind. you began to grow anxious, something was wrong. definitely wrong. you needed to know, to have some closure. every minute that passed seemed to crush you, it felt as if the world was ending.

against your better judgement, you got dressed. fixed your hair, and shakily tried to calm yourself down as you looked in the mirror. overanalyzing every single detail about your appearance, you looked like hell.

you were planning to go searching for tomura around the building. maybe even ask dabi if he had seen him. you stepped into your converse, taking deep breaths as you prepared yourself to find whatever might lie ahead. the feeling in your stomach didn’t stop churning.

one touch can’t fix it.

he won’t fix it.

he doesn’t want you.

you hugged the jacket tighter to your frame, feeling clammy and weak in the knees as you began to search around. he wasn’t anywhere you were looking, you checked everywhere you usually found him. you came across dabi before stepping into the elevator. he seemed concerned, he grabbed your shoulder before you walked away.

“y/n?” he quietly asked. his tone laced with anxiety.

“o-oh, hey.” your trembling form turned to face him. “long time no see.”

“what the fuck is going on?”

“it’s nothing, don’t worry about it—“

“don’t lie to me.” he cut you off, his voice laced with venom. he was always like a big brother figure to you, always protective and so easy to catch on. “what’s going on y/n? do i have to kill that creepy little fucking gremlin?” he snarled.

“n-no! no! it’s fine, really. i’m just uh, trying to find him that’s all.” you said sincerely. your voice wavering the entire way, stepping away from his hold on you.

“y/n don’t walk away from me, talk to me about this. you look like shit.” he called after you.

“i’m sorry.” you said in a voice so small he barely was able to grasp it. dabi just stared at you with disbelief, and anger.

—

then came the room you dreaded most. subconsciously you wanted to search it last, due to fear of what you might see.

you knew he was cheating, but you were in denial until you could see it.

you were about to give up and go back to your room before you heard a specific sound. coming from the office tomura used most often, but wasn’t always in. the way the table sounded against the wall and hardwood of the floors made your body tense, the breathless panting, the high pitched moaning... and worst of all, the sound of tomura groaning in pleasure. did your ears deceive you? bile threatened to shoot from your stomach. you eased open the office door, to a sight you wish you never saw. there was tomura, thrusting into the girl you feared and envied most. he was lost in lust, suckling, kissing, and grabbing every part of her flesh that was visible. like he used to do to you.

used to.

you stood there in horror, feeling like everything was crumbling before you. he didn’t even notice your peering eyes staring right into the depths of his soul, and hers. his groans got louder, he muttered something he hadn’t told you in such a long time. it made you want to scream so loud that your lungs bled.

“f-fuck, i— love you.”

you shakily slammed the door behind you. hard, and heavy breaths struggling to be let out, as you ran to the elevator. smashing the buttons to go back to your room. tears streaming down your face once again, you let out hushed cries, trying to regain your composure. as you ran to your room. it happened all in a daze, you loudly cried as you packed some of your things into a backpack, hating that things still smelled like him. you sobbed finding old polaroids if each other. deciding to throw the stack at the wall above the bed.

once you had everything ready, you realized something. you were still wearing a necklace he gave you a bit ago. it was a small anthurium made of ruby. you held the delicate item in your hands, debating what to do with it. the burden of owning it haunting you much more than letting it go, so that’s what you did. you placed the necklace on the counter. grabbing the notepad that was usually on the counter as well to write a quick note on top for him to find. your eyes flooded over the room, drinking it in as much as you could before leaving. all of the memories, decorating it with tomura, having sex for the first time on the bed, the first time he came home like he often did now... you felt a sob threatening to release again as you recounted the memory.

lastly you dropped the key next to the necklace, never to be seen again.

you exited the building with little hassle, tears still free falling across your face like usual. the hood of your jacket was up to conceal yourself, you wanted to leave without a trace. luckily it was late enough to do so, the only person who spotted you was spinner. for some reason he was alone by himself outside. he seemed concerned about your disheveled and unfamiliar appearance. but he didn’t utter a word to you, letting you walk out before him. you wondered what he thought of your pathetic sobbing form pacing out of the entrance.

you barely had a plan, a place to go for that matter. all that mattered now, was you.

you need to let go.

he can’t fix it this time.

don’t let him fix it this time, y/n.

>>>

tomura arrived to the apartment hours after you had left, he wasn’t expecting anything but a nice hot shower and a warm bed to sleep in. his body was sore from the steamy evening he spent with the red head. she really rocked his shit, he chuckled at the thought of her.

he didn’t bother to look around the main room, before heading straight into the bedroom. the light was on, which wasn’t that unusual. what was unusual though, was the mess around the room. the closets were wide open, pieces of film thrown all over the bed, and floor. at first he was mad, barging into the bathroom to yell at you. flipping on the light, to see nothing. you weren’t in the bathroom, or bedroom.

“y/n why did you leave everything such a mess? why did you throw pictures everywhere? what the fuck is going on?!” he called out to you. annoyed. like usual. he walked out of the bedroom, noticing finally, you weren’t here. “y/n.” he spoke sternly.

he walked cautiously around the space, looming over every detail, not able to make out your form anywhere. he remained calm but he was a bit worried, you were acting super unstable lately. though he’d never let you know that. he seemingly searched everywhere in depth, before he noticed some items on top of the island counter. switching on the light switch to get a better look. his heart sunk.

the necklace he gave you.

the beautiful ruby anthurium he gave you.

the one you wore every day since.

the one he gave to you as a promise to his love, the love he promised to be undying.

“fuck...”

along with the key to the apartment.

the one you both shared.

he noticed the note, it was written in your handwriting.

‘i hope you love her as honestly as you once loved me. i left everything behind i never want to see again. i won’t be ratting you out and i won’t be returning to you.

good bye, thanks for the memories.

y/n.’

[vermillionbones]

I'd love to hear more of your Phobditor HCs!!

ohoho thank you for enabling me anon i am going to kiss you directly on the mouth /pl

also slight warning for spoilers to the new(??) ending of project nexus!! i don't talk explicitly about what happens in general, but the stuff involving phobos is mentioned in the very first hc so for those of you who don't wanna be spoiled you can just skip that one lol. grab sum popcorn lads this one's a long one snbcnkcnvmv

Phobditor HCs!!

rbs very much appreciated 👉👈

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

so i hc that phobos didn't actually get banished at the end of MPN, but he did get his ass handed to him to the point where he was so injured and drained of energy that he couldn't use most of his abilities. he went into hiding for a while and eventually found the AAHW, which he proceeded to join since he didn't really have anywhere else to go. after he'd healed and returned to his full strengh the auditor recognised how potentially useful he could be as a second in command, but ofc he'd have to earn her trust first. normally i don't try to make things make sense like this but since the auditor isn't actually in MPN i thought i'd at least try lmao

the auditor: ruthless girlboss by day, feral spouse-adjacent shithead by night

phobos is basically the same but instead he's manipulate mansplain by day and malewife manwhore by night /hj

before they got closer they'd never really physically interacted w/ each other, so phobos kind of assumed the auditor would be at least slightly painful to touch [cuz yknow. she's made of fire lmao]. plus he'd witnessed her setting things and people on fire with her bare hands before and he'd rather not get turned into a walking bonfire, thanks. the closest she'd ever been to touching him previously was like flicking the antenna on his helmet to piss him off

but like way, WAY later he finds out that audi can actually manipulate the temperature of their flames to an extent, so when they touch his hand for the first time he's really surprised when they're just like. pleasantly warm. kinda like the fuzziness you feel after you drink something hot but on the outside of your body

however this has also resulted in phobos using her as a mobile safety blanket lmao. sometimes if it gets too cold in the office he'll wander up to her and bug her until she folds a wing around him and tucks his head under her chin

when he's being a shithead sometimes she'll just pick him up by the back of his jacket and drag him off like a disobedient kitten lmao

They don't really have a super crazy height difference normally [i hc that audi is around 6'3 and phobos is 5'10 if he's not slouching] but sometimes she just morphs herself to have a several-foot height advantage just to fuck with him. like she'll appear in his office as this 9-foot-tall behemoth and he'll just be like "?? excuse me?? ma'am?? you can't do this to me???"

before he got to know her better, phobos had no idea the auditor preferred she/they pronouns over they/it like the agents around him seemed to think. he never made a big deal out of it and never explicitly brought it up, but he remembers to switch it up for her every now and then. plus whenever audi overhears him doing that she gets all fuzzy inside sfbfnckvj

phobos really likes her wings. he actually might be a little jealous of them, but he'd never tell her that sfvngk

ever since audi found out about this, they tend to subtly unfurl them and use them to gesticulate more when he's around. occasionally she'll use the claws at the peaks of her wings on touchscreens in place of a finger n stuff. she's also [gently] swatted him upside the head with a wing a few times when he was being a dickhead, but it doesn't really hurt him lol

she also lets him pet them when they're not busy. contrary to what he'd assumed, it doesn't actually feel like a whole lot to her - she's described the feeling as something similar to how it feels to have someone tracing their fingers along the back of your hand

phobos stims sometimes!! he has a bad habit of masking while he's working since a few of them are vocal and he doesn't want to distract anyone, but if he's just hanging out with audi he's totally chill. one of his more common ones is when he thinks out loud, either quietly narrating his current train of thought or saying unrelated words - usually confirmations like 'yeah' or 'mhm' - out loud cuz he thinks they're fun to say. occasionally he'll start humming low in his throat kinda like a microwave cuz he likes how his voice feels in his chest

also when he's standing idle sometimes he holds his arms closer to his chest and fidget with them

the auditor doesn't stim, but to people who know them well their wings are like big signs that can wordlessly describe how they're feeling [which is like my favourite thing to write cos wing emoting is really fun skdjbknk]. occasionally they might subtly flutter their wings when they're very pleased or receive good news, or flare them out when they're irritated/stressed

i always forget that phobos is actually like super powerful in canon so i hc that audi does too lmao. like it always slips her mind that he can teleport too so she'll dramatically disappear after telling him off for doing some dumb shit and fuckin scream when he somehow appears in the same room as her less than a second later

phobos has a red and black lava lamp in his office!! he'd never admit it but he got it cuz it reminds him of audi :]

phobos loves watching audi in combat for some reason. i mean he already likes watching them do stuff so he can backseat drive, but he's also quietly admitted that her fighting style is interesting to watch

he can't really put it into words, but it's because the way they fight looks incredibly effortless and fluid, mainly due to them having so much time to adapt to and understand their powers [both their original powers and the ones granted by the halo]. when phobos' own abilities started to surface he was incredibly unstable and struggled to properly harness them for months, so he thinks it's nice to watch someone who actually knows what they're doing for once.

much to the auditor's surprise, phobos is actually a bit insecure behind all that confudence, particularly about scars. after being close to her for a while, phobos came out of his shell a bit and explained how he managed to grant himself his powers/abilities, which is something i'll absolutely go further in depth with later [via a longer hc that i'm gonna post eventually lol] but to summarise he basically infused himself with raw madness in what he's eloquently dubbed 'the incident'. Of course, doing that to himself didn't come without consequence, and he's permanently scored with a variation of lightning & burn scars on his forearms, thighs, and most of his torso.

for the longest time, the most casual thing he'd wear even around just her was the long-sleeved sweater he wore underneath his trench coat, and he refused to change even if he was literally overheating. though eventually after he told her about what happened he felt way more comfortable and now whenever they're in their shared room audi practically has to throw a shirt at him to get him to wear one sbkcjcnk

the auditor has a sort of subspace/pocket dimension where they can store different items and recall them at will. normally it's pretty empty, but ever since she grew to like phobos she's started keeping miscellaneous things in there for him. sometimes she pulls out a drink or snack that he likes, sometimes she pulls out a little water gun with phobos' name scrawled on it and shoots him with it when he's being a shithead

they are both,, SO fucking touch-starved. like they will not let go of each other [at least if they're not currently in the middle of something or around agency employees] cuz internally they're both just going "wow!!! that's a hand i'm holding!!!!! there's a hand holding my hand!!!! wow!!!!!! i love this!!!!!"

having one eye isn't exactly the best thing for depth perception, especially when you're really tired, so sometimes audi has to hold phobos' hand and guide him around in the mornings because he can [and has] walked into walls and counters

even since before they became a thing, phobos had been a little envious of the auditor's halo and the powers it granted her. he used to subtly try to yoink it from her, maliciously at first but far more playfully later, where he'd like lightly grab it and give it a gentle spin above her head like a mobile. but his infatuation with the halo kinda died after she decided to let him borrow/try it out once by allowing him to link with it

by linking i essentially mean like wearing it, but the halo is so powerful that you can't just 'wear' it without letting it bond with a part of you

long story short, he went into it with far too much overconfidence & cockiness and the halo violently rejected him, kind of like how it rejected the auditor once. he wasn't at all prepared for the sheer amount of power that surged through him the moment it started to link with him, so it essentially short-circuited his brain and knocked him unconscious for the better part of a week. when he woke again, the auditor told him he was lucky his head didn't explode and calmly suggested they never tried that again, and he felt inclined to agree.

of course, he still toys with the halo while the auditor's properly linked with it since he knows it can't link to more than one host at a time. and despite his seeming ease and "it's in the past" sort of mentality about the whole event, if someone mentions the concept of him actually taking the halo and linking with it again, he'll shudder and shake his head, saying it's not his place to do so.

the auditor has no doubt it delivered a pretty harsh blow to his ego [being rejected by the thing that would make him a god would prolly do that], but knows he's too prideful to admit that.

audi likes listening to phobos when he goes off on super long monologues, especially if they're like those super cheesy villain monologues. like he could literally be talking about anything and she'll sit there to hear him out, especially if it's less related to work and more about himself

the auditor is super deliberate in the way they pronounce things and they tend to casually drawl their words out to further cement their cool, unbothered boss persona. however the way she talks doesn't really intimidate phobos anymore since he's also been next to her right after she's been woken up, when she's mumbling quietly & slurring some of her words together. he knows the big scary boss side of the auditor is just a persona used for everyone but him, so he feels a lot more at ease with them even when they're trying to be scary

even after being together for a while, phobos still has no fucking idea what the auditor is made of. like he's admitted to her that he's genuinely clueless, and if she lets him he'll spend like 99% of their downtime quietly interacting with her flames [read: curling his fingers through them and petting them] while he muses about his hypotheses for how stuff like her liquidy-shadow form works. they were a little suspicious of his motives at first, but after they relaxed they realised he was just genuinely curious and willing to share his concepts to see if he was right

they have like. the smoothest banter anyone at the agency has seen. like it's super cheesy back-and-forth stuff that wouldn't sound out of place in an 80s sitcom, but it just kinda flows out when they're both comfortable. and ofc they'd deny it if anyone mentioned it but they literally banter like an old married couple lmAO

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

[paper-n-ashes]

The Late Shift - Part 2

Characters: Paul Sevier x Female Reader

Words: 2k

Warnings/Tags: Little inklings of sexual themes. Otherwise we’re still in PG territory. Oh and mutual pining from two idiots. My favourite kind.

Authors Note: One shot? I don’t know her. Honestly, I don’t have any excuse. I just felt the urge to continue on with this dumb fluffy story because it makes me feel a little warm and fuzzy inside and I needed that. Will we drive this car straight into smut town afterwards? Ah you’ll just have to see. 

Catch up with Part 1 here

*

Paul always considered himself a smart guy. Perceptive, knowledgeable, with years of grueling education behind him to be where he is today.

His schooling, work, almost every minute of his waking moments was spent in the realm of artificial illustrations of correspondence. He could happily spend hours sifting through the words and numbers that made up all types of message transmission, might even admit he had a talent for decoding their significance and origin. Exchanges born from machinery were easy to analyse – they had set rules and gave little room for differing interpretation. He was comfortable in that world. Knew how things worked, what paths data and carefully devised information would take.

Human communication was infinitely harder to navigate. It was a skill he knew he was lacking in, compared to others at least. His words never came out the way he wanted, he struggled to say exactly what was wished to convey and agonised over the fact expression and tone could morph any remark into something with a whole different meaning.

Every day, he encountered people who used this as a tool - a weapon to obscure the truth and conceal hidden agendas. It was hard not to, working for the US government. In time, he’d become cynical. Wary of what people spoke aloud, assuming it was all said without much sincerity or reliability unless proven otherwise.

And then after another arduous day, there you were. Out of nowhere. Kind. Honest. Genuine. Within such an excruciatingly short interaction, you’d exuded all these traits so effortlessly. A breath of fresh air after being smothered by the smog the rest of his life contained.

Paul would easily admit his attraction to you was surprisingly swift. The rapturing smile you wore when you’d looked up from your notepad had him snared from the moment it appeared, an aura of natural vibrance and radiant energy shimmering out from your animated expression. What he’d expected to be a dry, tedious endeavour turned into a spark-filled scene, where an excited stranger made him feel both horrendously nervous and unusually at-ease. It had been a long time since someone made him feel like that.

It had also been a long time since he’d asked someone out on a date, for more than a few reasons. The more prolific Paul became in his job, the more unpredictable and unstable his life outside of it was. It took him across the country at a moments’ notice and consumed most hours of his day, meaning forging even short relationships was fairly difficult.

Plus… he just wasn’t good at it. Putting himself out there. He was shy, paralyzingly so. It’s not exactly something he could refute. His confidence was always born from experience and understanding, in knowing the reasons behind why things worked the way they did, along with being able to calculate what would happen next. No textbook could ever cover the entire spectrum of human personality, and there was no way to truly predict what a person might do or say. 

So, without the security of knowledge behind him, uneasiness and apprehension took over in most of his social interactions, particularly with those he felt a magnetism to. It’s exactly how he thought he seemed during his time with you. Awkward and floundering. Not exactly the most charming attributes for a man to have. And yet, the longer he was in your presence, the more he sensed those foibles fade into the back of his mind.

Talking to you was easy. Easier than it had been with anyone during a first meeting. What hadn’t been easy was enduring the seconds your touch grazed over him in your delicate workings while taking each different measurement - his heart beating a little faster, his muscles becoming a little more tense. When you’d eventually let your stare reach his, he’d seen how your eyes moved to trace the lines of his mouth, and it set his insides on fire. He’d been frozen by the unique type of burn, his body locked in place while a rare impulse begged him to sink his lips onto yours. In the past, he struggled to kiss a woman even after several dates, unable to push past the fear and doubt to turn his desire into action. However, in that moment, he’d been all too eager. His hand had moved on its own accord, fingers slinking up your waist, about to pull you closer when interruption instantly shattered his resolve.

The urge was still there in the dialogue that followed, although the promise of seeing you tomorrow made it easier to walk away, safe in the knowledge he had another opportunity to ask you out when his confidence was properly steeled. For once, he could be smart about this. Use his natural intellect to plan and act accordingly, giving him the best odds of securing more time with you.

Oh, but that all went to shit when your text message popped up on his phone screen. Seeing those words, even if they were meant for someone else, made his excitement reach an unfathomable peak, and in turn made him recklessly send a response without taking a second to think about the consequences.

And now, Paul had never felt so stupid in his entire life.

Sitting in the driver’s seat, the phone in his palm lit up with your conversation on display, he felt his stomach spasm with anxiety. Were you going to reply? What would you say? What if his bluntness freaked you out? What if you weren’t even talking about him? Was this all something his mind conjured up?

As the minutes passed without any sign of a response, the initially minor sense of panic began to compound, weighing heavy on his chest, the chaos of his mind soon melting into one certainty - he’d totally fucked this up.

About to slump his forehead into the steering wheel in a display of despondency, Paul suddenly felt a flash of courage at remembering the view of your face peering up at him. He knew the image of it would haunt him if he didn’t do something. He had to fix this. Explain himself. But it needed to be in person. He wouldn’t let technology mess this up for him again.

With a purposeful breath, Paul exited his car and began to retrace his steps past the other shopfronts, silently rehearsing what he wanted to say to you. He hoped to surrender himself to a collectively embarrassing situation, laugh off the turn of events, having it all culminate in an offer of dinner once your shift had finished. He already had a place in mind, only a street away, a little dumpling house that was always open late. Perfect for a cosy, quiet date after a chance meeting.

When his eyes latched onto your figure through the glass window, he stopped his hand from reaching for the door handle. You were crouching down in front of a small boy, his mother behind him cradling a newborn baby, your hand gesturing towards an array of child size suits. Paul couldn’t help but watch as your warming smile beamed, guiding the boys hands to touch and feel over the material, your words evidently making him feel more at ease as his expression slowly relaxed out of its worried frown.

Creeping backwards to make sure you didn’t catch him in your periphery, Paul felt a wave of relief wash over his skin, having evidence that your lack of reply wasn’t due to any of the worst case scenarios he’d been fretting over. You were just busy, concentrated on your work, giving your time and expertise to others in the same way you’d given to him.

The realisation was enough for him slink away, still impatient for your next encounter but assured in it being set within the next day cycle. He just had to wait.

Although, waiting wasn’t exactly a talent of his either.

 *

You were dying inside.

A friendly grin was plastered on your face as you conversed sweetly with the woman in front of you, making idle chit-chat while her son changed out of the suit you’d picked together, but the smile had never felt so insincere. Usually you loved when children came in to pick out ensembles for weddings and similarly formal events, but at the moment your mind was stuck on a small battery-powered rectangle sitting at your desk with a half-written message remaining under your lock-screen.

In the time before Paul’s response came through, you’d never felt more humiliated in your whole existence. Evaporating into thin air would have been a welcomed miracle. But when the returning text slid into focus, your whole mindset shifted.

He felt the same. He wanted you too.

You’d been in the middle of typing out a hasty invitation to come back and make true on his intentions when this overwhelmed mother with a fussy baby caught your attention. Her eldest son had done his best to iron out his only formal suit for the role of ring bearer in an aunt’s wedding this coming weekend, unfortunately resulting an a house full of smoke and a clump of burnt wool.

Personal matters withered into the background at the comprehension of her drained, exhausted demeanour, all your focus pointed back towards the job you’d been distracted from. Well, mostly.

You couldn’t avoid the thoughts and questions glinting in the back of your mind. Of what might have happened if this woman never appeared. What might be happening in an alternate timeline where you’d been able to send that waiting reply. Without intention, your wonderings turned into moving pictures – leading Paul into the back workshop, being roughly picked up onto the cutting table, his lips and yours finally connected in a heated clash, shedding all of his clothing until that heinous mustard shirt was crumpled on the floor-

The high pitched beep of the receipt machine snapped you back into reality, noting the relieved smile the mother wore while her son excitedly grabbed at the bags containing his dashing new suit.

“Thank you!” he hollered without needing to be prompted, waving his hand vigorously before skittering away to the door.

“You’re an absolute lifesaver,” the woman echoed, taking the receipt from your outstretched hand. “I’m really sorry for keeping you so late.”

“Oh don’t worry about it.” The time on the monitor screen just ticked over to 8:17pm, long after you would usually shut up shop and head home to your empty apartment. “I've got nowhere special to be.”

You each said your goodbyes, waiting until the precise moment her silhouette was out of sight before jumping to your phone. The same half written message was there, but now it felt impossible to finish. All traces of adrenaline had long since worn off, and the bravery that made you type out the risqué proposition was reduced to almost nothing. Your timid nature rushed back in full force, a thumb pressing hard on the little x button to erase all evidence of your out of character impulses.

Who were you kidding. You weren’t this person. Unashamed and brazen enough to dive into a fiery entanglement with a handsome stranger in the same evening you’d met. You wished you could be. There was never a time the concept was so enticing. But… it was a fantasy not meant for you to live out. They were destined for the outgoing, the cool and composed, the bold and sure-footed. You rarely felt like any of those things. And Paul, like most men, probably reserved their interest and attraction for those types of women. It was so silly of you to think any different. Getting your hopes up was foolish, and would only end in-

The tingle of the shopkeepers bell sounded, internally groaning as you slid your phone back onto the desk. “We’re closed,” you hawked, a coldness in your tone you couldn’t hide. Eyes snapping up to the intruder, a bolt of lightening shot through, barely able to stop the delight mixing into your blood.

“I just, uh, figured out something more that I needed,” Paul said softly, scratching the back of his neck, clearly nervous.

“You did?” you breathed. “W-what was it?”

His chest rose and fell with a calming exhale, making sure your stares were secured before giving his answer. “…You.”

*

Tagging some lovelies who might want to read. Feel free to let me know if you don’t want to tagged in future works!

@tlcwrites @roanniom @princessxkenobi @hopeamarsu @blowthatpieceofjunk @mariesackler @leatherboundriot @foxilayde @modernpaw @cornmousequeen @direnightshade @mylifeisactuallyamess @caillea @jynz-andtonic @paterson-blue @miraclesabound @prismaticpizza​ @millenialcatlady​ 

[clouditae]

First Love | 12

Yoongi x reader | 18+ | college au | tattoo artist au | angst | fluff | alcohol | swearing

Word: 3.8k

You first saw him in the multi-purpose room. Later learn his name, and on your third year, as he becomes your neighbor, you discover his lifestyle. Knowing your crush on him was nothing but that, you wanted to find the courage to look for love. Asking your friend for help, you’re pointed in the direction of the expert. Your neighbor, Min Yoongi

Chapter Index

Ari opens the door, tossing her backpack to the floor. You weren’t expecting her to come back so early that when the door loudly creaks from the force of the door opening, you jump in surprise. She looks to you with a triumphant look on her face as she practically yells with the door still closing, “I got an A on my fucking paper!” The door slams shut as she does a weird and awkward dance.

“Good job. I knew you could do it,” you congratulate, saving your work on your computer.

Ari kicks her backpack with no care in the world as to what she has inside. “Let’s celebrate,” she extolls, pulling off her hoodie and tossing it on her bed.

You turn your body to the left where she stands, picking up her backpack and putting it on her bed. “Celebrate?”

“Yeah. It’s Friday, I got a well deserved grade after almost breaking my wrist, and I am in the mood for some good food and a drink or seven.”

“What about Hoseok?” Ever since Hoseok and Ari got together, they’ve been inseparable. You sometimes wonder if you’ll be like that when you get a boyfriend. All couples eventually spend time separately, right? You sometimes feel really disappointed in yourself for not knowing a lot when it comes to relationships.

“He’s staying after class with some of his classmates to study for a test that ends tonight,” she says, disbelief evident in her tone.

“Why hasn’t he taken the test yet?”

“I don’t know? He seemed really nervous about this test, so all he’s done is study like there’s no tomorrow. I hope he takes it soon because the longer he waits, the harder it will be to answer questions as time ticks by.” Ari shakes her head, walking to her closet and opening the door. “Are you going in sweats?” She looks at you through the mirror.

You blink at her. “We’re actually going?”

She scoffs, “Yeah. I wasn’t joking, Y/N.” She pulls out a red spaghetti strap and a black jacket. Removing her shirt, she slips on her top. “I want food and some drinks.”

You sigh, “Can’t we just order takeout and sneak some alcohol in?”

“And get in trouble?”

You stare at her, contemplating if sneaking alcohol is really worth it. Groaning, you get up from your seat. “How far are we going?” You walk to your closet, opening the door to grab your jeans and whatever black shirt you first grab. There is no patience when it comes to picking outfits. You just blindly pick and go and hope it looks nice on you.

“It’s only down the street,” she exclaims, taking a set at her desk to fix her makeup at her little mirror. Changing clothes, you realize you put on a turtleneck. You didn’t know you have this type of shirt in your closet. You’ve seen a lot of professional looks with turtlenecks, but you can’t remember buying this and found no reason to wear it. “That’s a cute look,” Ari suddenly says, her body turned towards you. You watch her get up from her seat, making her way towards you. She unbuttons your pants and pushes the lower half of your shirt in your pants. “You’ll look even cuter like this. Plus you have a nice ass, so show it off.” Your hands unconsciously go to your butt, suddenly feeling self conscious. Ari buttons your pants and tells you, “No one will look. You’ll be sitting the whole time.” She pulls your shirt out just a bit to give it a baggy look. “There. Now your cute ass will get attention, but you’ll just look like you’re not interested and they’ll be sad not to have the opportunity to speak to the gorgeous Y/N.”

Ari just seems to have a way with words.

After a few more minutes of double checking for everything, the two of you leave your dorm and head the usual route towards the front parking lot. As you pass Yoongi and Hoseok’s door Ari yells, “Let’s go get you drunk and a boyfriend, Y/N!”

You place your hand over her mouth. “Why are you yelling?” you whisper, checking behind you to see if anyone heard her.

Ari removes your hand from over her mouth. “I’m showing Yoongi you’re better off without him,” she replies, the two of you walking past the stairwell and into the hallway where the exit to the front is.

“What makes you think Yoongi is even in his room?” The two of you are halfway down the hall when the sound chatter can be heard as you pass a group of doors.

Ari shrugs. “The dude never goes anywhere besides class and his room right?” You don’t know yourself. A majority of the time you spent with him was either in his room or somewhere else that not many people from campus went to. “I want him to know you’re about to get dicked down and he’s missing out on a fine ass girl.”

“I’m about to what?” What does that even mean?

Ari laughs as the two of you exit the building and head down the stairwell. “Not today obviously, but it’s to make him jealous.”

“We don’t even know if he likes me,” you counter, following a group of students walking towards the front gate entrance.

“Opposites attract, Y/N.”

“I’m attracted to him, but that doesn’t mean he’s attracted to me.”

Ari loops her arm through yours. “You never know. He might have a crush on shy, innocent types.”

“Wishful thinking, Ari,” you say, shaking your head as the two of you reach the sidewalk and make your way up towards the bar that sits at the corner. There are a few other students a bit up ahead making their way towards the bar as well, their loud chatter can be heard from where you and Ari walk.

“So, how’s your project coming along? Don’t you have like two weeks left?” The two of you pass a hotel. The neon light hanging on the window to the reception flickers every few seconds. Everything is quiet in that building until you pass the seafood restaurant where you can see a few people laughing from the window. It looks more lively than the hotel.

“It’s going great surprisingly.” You rub your arm for a little more warmth. “I just have to finish my body and conclusion and then sum it a bit more for the poster.”

“Damn. So you’ll have it done earlier than anyone when it comes to projects,” Ari whistles.

“People finish their projects a week or more before the due date,” you say, the two of you are now closer to the bar where you know heat will be.

“People who are smart finish weeks before. The rest of us procrastinate,” she laughs, shaking her head. The bar is now within a few feet when Ari says through chattering teeth, “We’re running. I can’t do this anymore.” You don’t have much of an option as she begins to jog towards the building, dragging you with her. Pushing through the door the smell of nachos and burgers invade your senses, your stomach rumbling in hunger. Ari removes her arm from around yours, pushing you towards the seating area. “Go find us a table. I’ll grab the food and drinks.”

Walking further into the building, you look around for an empty table. The walls where the tables and booths occupy are yellow while the brick wall has the kitchen and cashier against it. You scan the room in search of someone leaving, but to your luck you don’t have to look long until you find an empty booth at the far end of the room. You make your way over as another group of people get up from their table, gathering their backpacks after what looks like studying. You take a seat just as Ari makes her way over holding two bottles.

As Ari takes a seat across from you, she hands you the clear bottle with a green substance inside and says, “Flavored alcohol tastes so much better. Plus you’ll want more.”

Thanking your roommate, you take the glass and take a swig of it. It tastes like apples. “Has Hoseok started his test yet?”

“Yeah. When I last texted him, he was getting ready to start the test. He’s nervous and I told him you said "good luck”. He gave me one of those crying faces.“

"I hope he passes,” you mutter as you bring the rim of the glass to your lips. After another drink you add, “Is he coming here after his test or will he just go back to his room?”

Ari thinks for a moment, opening her mouth to answer when the speaker above says, “Ari, please come to the front. Your order is ready.”

She gets up and makes her way to the counter at the front where your food is waiting. From afar you watch her grab the tray, say a few words to the worker and make her way back to your table. “He’s just going to go back to the dorms. He sounded tired over the phone when we last talked,” she answers, putting the tray down and taking her seat.

On the tray is a plate of a greasy cheeseburger and fries; the other plate has nachos with jalapenos. “You got a burger, too?”

“Yeah. I was just going to get nachos for the both of us because it’s a lot, but I was craving a burger, too.” She shrugs. “We’ll share both and have the night of our lives.” You chuckle, grabbing a chip with a jalapeno barely hanging on by the string of cheese that’s attempting to escape from your mouth.

You grab the plate that holds the burger and fries, pulling it towards you. Picking up the knife that’s placed between the fries and greasy stack, you cut the burger in half, careful to not give one side more than the other. “Midterms are starting in two weeks, do you know if all your classes will have them or just some?” you ask, pushing the plate back to the middle for Ari to reach.

She groans, “All of them are going to have a midterm. One of them is a fucking paper that has to be seven pages long.”

“Seven? Which class is that?” You also wonder when she was given the information about the paper, and how long she originally had to write it. Ari is a big procrastinator. If she can avoid doing work immediately, she will and give herself a few days to work on it with all the stress jumping at her.

She shoves a few fries in her mouth in an aggressive manner. “Modern Asia,” she answers, mouth full of chewed up food. “He gave us this big list of documents we need to pick from and watch. Then we have to write a paper on it and answer the questions he has for them. There are seven documents on six different countries.”

“Which one are you picking?” You grab a few nacho chips, flipping it so that the cheese wraps around and coats the chip more.

“Uzbekistan.” She grabs half of the burger, taking a bite out of the corner. “The People, History, and Culture of Uzbekistan to be more specific. It’s on YouTube so it won’t be a mission to find the video, but a big distraction because it’s on YouTube.” Ari takes another bite, bigger this time, of her burger. “This is really good.” She looks up to you. “Should I buy another one?”

“We haven’t made a dent in the nachos yet. Plus we still have the fries to finish,” you inform, clearly shocked that Ari’s ready for more.

“Take a bite of the damn burger and you’ll know what I mean,” she commands, gesturing to your half that sat on your plate in all its glory.

You roll your eyes, doing as told. You can’t deny that it smells amazing and your mouth waters at the endless possibilities as to what it’ll taste like. When you take that bite, it’s like taking a bite out of heaven. Sure you’re being over dramatic, but you totally understand Ari wanting to buy another one. “I’ll go get one,” you tell her, getting up from your seat and taking your bag with you while Ari laughs.

You get to the back of the small line, opening your bag and pulling out your wallet. “Next in line,” a voice calls from behind the counter. You take a step forward, now being two people behind before you’re called. You have to double check to make sure you brought your money with you. There were a few times when you just leave your money at home and have to go the day without eating when you’re stuck on campus all day. You get lucky sometimes when Ari would bring you your missing items. The worker calls for the next customer to come up.

“Y/N?” You look behind you to see a familiar face. A familiar face with a name you cannot remember. It’s your partner during beer pong. The handsome guy who any person would want to date. He’s easygoing and funny and friendly, and you cannot remember his name.

“Hey,” you say, trying your best not to sound lost because his name is not coming to mind. “How are you?”

“Good, good. A friend of mine and I were tired from studying, so we decided to come here for a few drinks and some food.” A voice calls for the next person; the two of you move up. “What about you?”

“My friend got an A on her paper. She wanted to go out and celebrate.”

“That’s awesome! I’d do the same if I were her,” he laughs, his smile actually making your heart race as he runs his fingers through his jet black locks.

“Hey, Hanbin,” a male voice calls, coming up to the line. Hanbin. That’s his name. “There’s no empty tables. You just wanna eat outside or bounce?”

“Really? Ah, man.” You watch as Hanbin looks around the building in hopes of someone leaving their table.

“You can eat with us,” you say before you can even stop yourself from letting the words escape your mouth.

Hanbin and his friend look at you. “Really?” the stranger asks.

You can’t say no. You already messed up, and saying no will only make you look like a jerk. “Yeah.” Good job Y/N.

“We don’t want to impose,” Hanbin tells you, looking a little nervous.

“It’s okay.” Where is all this false confidence coming from? “It’s up to you if you want,” you say, turning around and pointing in the direction you and Ari are sitting. “We’re over there if you want to join.”

“Next in line.”

You turn back around and make your way up to the cashier. You give your order for the second burger you and Ari are about to devour, paying and making your way towards your booth where Ari finishes her half of the burger. “I messed up,” you rush, grabbing your drink and placing it on her side of the table.

“Messed up? What’d you do?” Ari asks, suddenly being pushed further in the booth as you scoot in. “What are you doing?”

“Remember Hanbin? The boy I told you was my partner at the party?” You grab the plates and pull them closer to the two of you.

“Yeah?”

“Well he was standing in line behind me and we had small talk and the next thing I know, I invited him and his friend to sit with us,” you profess in a shaky voice.

“You just invited two guys over?” she asks in an ambivalent tone.

You can see her from the corner of your eye staring at you as you babble, “Yes.”

Her hand moves to her chest. “Has my little Y/N grown up?”

You turn to look at her in surprise. “You’re not mad?”

She laughs, “No. Why would I be?”

“Because you’re dating Hoseok and it’ll look bad if someone saw you chatting with a guy?” Isn’t that how it works? You’ve seen it in movies and it always leads to problems—eventually solved.

“Hoseok trusts me just like I trust him. I’d never cheat on him, and we’re not stopping each other from having opposite sex friends.” She shrugs, looking behind you. “Is that them?”

You turn to look in the direction her eyes are focused on. Hanbin and his friend stand by the soda fountain, getting their drinks. “Yeah. The boy with the green jacket is Hanbin and I don’t know the other guy’s name,” you confess, wondering if it’s rude to not introduce yourself. Then again, he didn’t either.

Ari’s voice is now closer to you as she speaks, “Don’t tell Hoseok but he’s really cute. Why not date him? Tall, fit and handsome? That’s a whole package.” She suddenly gasps, “His package must be—”

You cover her mouth with your hand. “Do not finish that sentence,” you sputter, glancing around to see if anyone heard you. To your luck no one’s paying attention to you and your perverted friend.

Aris swats your hands away. “He’s cute, Y/N. And if he comes over and sits with us, then he’s interested in you, too.”

“Or he’s looking for a seat because there is none,” you counteract, grabbing a nacho and shoving it in your mouth. “Also, I’m not interested in him.”

“Guess we’ll see.” A voice speaks over the speaker, calling your name. “Time to devour a delicious burger.” She slaps her hand on your shoulder, pushing you out of the booth.

Groaning, you get up and make your way to the pick-up counter, telling the person your name and getting your order. “Are you sure it’s okay?” Hanbin asks, suddenly appearing next to you to grab his own order.

You almost jump, gripping the plate tighter. He looks to you unsure if he’s allowed to follow. You can feel your heart racing. This is strange. Ari’s words are just getting to you. “Yeah,” you swallow, looking anywhere but at him. “It’s fine.” You are not growing feelings for him.

“Thank you so much, Y/N. I really wanted to eat some chicken strips,” he laughs, his voice sounding smoky.

Oh God you like him.

You, Hanbin and Matthew, he tells you, shaking your hand so enthusiastically, make your way towards your booth. Ari is busy stuffing her face with fries to even notice you three until you set the plate down and take a seat next to her. She looks up, eyes wide and fries sticking out of her mouth. Thankfully she waves rather than talk with her mouth full of food. Matthew gets in first followed by Hanbin.

“Uh.” You glance at Ari who quickly chews on her food. “This is my friend and roommate, Ari.” You point to Matthew. “Ari, this is Matthew and this is Hanbin,” you finish, pointing to the boy in front of you.

“Hello,” Ari starts, once she’s chewed and swallowed her fries, “I’m really hungry, and these fries are good.”

Matthew gasps, “They are.” He turns to Hanbin. “I told you this place has some fucking good food.”

Ari looks to Hanbin as if he offended her. “You’ve never been here before?” He looks at her with a lost expression. He clearly doesn’t know how to respond. To his luck, however, he doesn’t have to as Ari adds, “It’s a good thing you have a friend like Matthew to introduce you to nirvana.”

The brunette haired boy snaps his fingers, pointing to your friend. “Exactly.”

“What’s your major?” Ari asks, grabbing the second plate that has the burger to cut it in half.

“Biomedical sciences,” he answers, taking a bite out of his taco.

“Oh? That sounds interesting. What exactly do you study?” Ari rests her arms on the table, leaning forward. The burger no longer exists to her.

“Just kind of the understanding of biological and chemical systems of the human body. What about you?”

“Linguistics, and Y/N here is a photography major.”

Matthew’s eyes are now on you. “Oh another art type.”

“Art type?” you question, finally taking bites out of your half of the first burger.

“Yeah. Photography creates art; stand-still pieces. There’s art galleries for photography, right?” Matthew glances between you and Ari.

“Yeah, I believe so,” Ari replies, popping a fry into her mouth.

“Plus Hanbin here is also an art type,” he begins, nudging his friend with his elbow, “Film.”

“You’re a film major?” You look to him, completely invested in his stories you want him to tell.

He gives you a shy smile. “Yeah.”

And just like that the rest of the night is a blur. You four eat and definitely drink. Ari and Matthew are drunk while you and Hanbin are buzzed. You mainly have conversations with Hanbin half the time the four of you sit. The two of you talk about film and photography—things you do and try to make your work look better. Eventually Matthew’s girlfriend comes and picks him up. Ari gushes at how cute she is and you have to apologize for how… gushy she is. Matthew’s girlfriend doesn’t seem to mind much as she smiles and walks a drunk Matthew out of the building.

After a while you and Hanbin decide it’s time to head out. Hanbin offers to walk you back to your dorm, and rather than politely decline his offer you say, “Please.”

Now you and Hanbin are chuckling at Ari as she whines about how much she loves Hoseok. Reaching your room you unlock the door for Ari to stumble in and get ready for bed. You keep the door cracked open as you look back at Hanbin.

“Thank you for the walk back.”

He shakes his head. “No problem. With everyone being drunk, you never know who’s trying to start something.”

You smile. “Still, I appreciate it.”

His smile is even bigger as he points to the way you just come from. “So I can head back the way we came?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Guess I should head out. Be sure to give Ari some water and medicine for her headache if she gets one.” You nod. “We should do this again,” he says, scratching the back of his neck.

“Definitely. Goodnight and have a safe drive home,” you say, voice quieter than before.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he mumbles, and it’s so sudden.

An instant that makes your heart race and realization hit as he presses his lips to your forehead, leaving before you can say anything. You touch the spot where his lips met your skin.

You have a crush on him.

[my2phetaliaheadcanons]

Man’s Best Friend

Allen, walked the streets of downtown Boston. His breath was slightly visible and frost-covered everything he could see. It would have been beautiful to anyone, but him. The frost reminded him of the feeling in his soul, cold and sharp. 

His year had not been a good one. He had started welding school, but though his skills were on point, the classes were much more difficult than he realized. Each lecture and the remembering of various formulas left him cursing. Studying felt like learning a new language, while tutors felt out of reach.

To save money he decided to remain with his family in the south side of Boston, but the stress they caused made him not want to be there. Every day felt like another fight between him and his brothers. First, he and Oliver, were constantly going back and forth over things like his choice of school and his lack of a stable dating life. It wasn't his fault the ladies just fell at his feet. 

His brother Matt and him were always just angry with each other. Allen could not pinpoint what started their fighting, but whatever had caused it, created such intense animosity they both acted like fighting dogs. Sizing up each other up before going in for a chance to kill. 

The only one he was on some decent ground with was his brother François. Sure they fought a lot too. Moments of insults and crude language had become common between them. Despite that at the end of the day, Allen found comfort in his grumpy brother. Allen thought it was because François was the only one that would actually give some kind of feed back that was not an insult.

The more his thoughts lingered on school and home life, the more cold Allen could feel himself become. The fighting was taking its toll, and school was starting to become a chore. He wasn't sure how much longer he could go on. He felt himself getting close to sna-.

Woof

Allen's head rose, brown hair shifted with the shake of his head, his thoughts were temporarily forgotten. Was that a dog? Most of the strays he had seen seemed to live by a code of silence. Always watching but never barking. For all he knew it could be a stress induced hallucination.

Again a deep woof resonated along the empty streets. 

With the second bark Allen realized it was no mere hallucination. Almost against his will, Allen moved toward the source of the barking. He walked a few feet into an alley. 

It was dark, cold, and there were many different trash cans along the way. Some were silver and metal, others were green and plastic. Trash was thrown in various clumps along the walls. The smell around it made his nose wrinkle. By this point the dog had stopped barking. Its silence made him think that the dog had moved on until it barked again. 

He had come this far, he might as well continue on to find it. In his mind, Allen told himself at least it was an excuse as to why he stayed out so late. 

As his feet moved down the alley he noticed it was shorter than it first appeared. It quickly let out to an old train junction. It was gray in the late fall air and as he heard another bark, he changed his course.

Stepping over the dark steel train tracks, he heard the barking increase in intensity. Then as soon as it started, he heard it change into small whimpers and howls. 

The juncture had been abandoned and in its run down state, Allen had to avoid various holes left from its neglect. As he drew closer to the now whimpering dog, he noticed its source seemed to be in one of the holes he had worked to avoid. 

Looking down, Allen saw a huge dog. It had a dark coat, but it was covered in globs of thick dark mud and small splinters of wood. Allen assumed it was stuck due to the steep walls that prevented an escape. 

The sight alone made Allen's heart clench. This was man's best friend and it was left here to rot. Without a second thought, Allen was crouching down by the hole. Clicking his tongue Allen stretched his tan hand toward the beast of the hole.

It looked at him, before lifting its head to smell the outstretched hand. With no other reaction than the sniff, Allen took it as his go-ahead. 

His hands reached down and grabbed the beast by its scruff. The dog growled for just a second, but once Allen started lifting it stopped. With a couple of grunts and heaves of his toned biceps that dog was out.

With its tail wagging and tongue panting, the dog hopped around. Allen chuckled as the dog continued its romp and looked back up at him. He stood up, brushing the mud from his clothes. 

"You're free buddy."

He gave a firm pat to its head as he turned to walk away. 

It wasn't more than a few steps before Allen realized that he was being followed. Doing what most people do, he turned and attempted to shoo the dog away. 

The dog just stopped and looked at Allen. It's head cocked and showed confusion. Allen tried again and shooed at it. Instead of leaving it came closer and wagged its tail.

Allen sighed. The dog was kinda cute and it was cold outside. Maybe he could house the big idiot for the night. Then find it a good home, or its owner. Allen wasn't sure if the dog was microchipped and he didn't recall feeling a collar.

He patted his thigh as he turned back to walk home. The dog quickly followed wagging along side his savior. 

Their walk was quiet and as the sun set the street lights took over and casted a harsh golden gleam. Allen's once barely visible breathe turned into dragon's smoke as he and the dog moved silently in the streets to his home. 

Allen could see his home in the distance. Its red brick walls and white shutters made him groan. He knew he had to reach the house eventually, but he wished it wasn't so soon. 

Looking at his new furry friend, he gestured. 

"This is it, my gateway to hell."

In tandem they walked into the house. It was quiet and that was never a good sign. He felt the heavy stare from blue swirled eyes. Looking around Allen saw those eyes again in the corner of the living room. It was his older brother, Oliver.

"Allen, you're finally home... and you brought a disgusting mutt."

Allen could feel the vein in his forehead twitch. Clenching his jaw, he breathed out.

"He ain't disgusting. Just covered in mud. I'm gonna bathe it and find it a home."

Oliver snorted at his attitude. Did Allen really think that it was ok to bring such a filthy animal into his home.

"Allen, take it outside."

"No."

"Why not."

"It's cold and it maybe hurt."

Oliver rolled his eyes, he could careless for the mongrel and if it died so what. It was dirty and Allen should be listening to his elder.

"Allen I am going to ask you one more time. Refuse and be punished. Now, take it outside."

"No, it has a right to be here too."

As soon as the words left his mouth, Oliver threw a punch at Allen's stomach. Though smaller than him, Oliver's punch left him winded. The grunt spooked the dog and caused it to start barking.

Oliver looked over not amused. He thought it would be best to shut it up, after all Matt was out drinking with François and Allen didn't have the skills to save it. He'd make it quick and save them both the trouble. 

As Oliver reached for his knife, the dog pounced on him. Knocking them both on to the floor and the knife from Oliver's hand. It landed somewhere in the room.

Oliver held eye contact with the beast as it growled and something in those eyes made him freeze.

"Allen get this MUTT OFF ME!"

Allen having recovered some from the punch, looked amused at Oliver's fear. He couldn't help but wonder what happened to that condescending attitude from moments before. 

"Well Ollie, I could. But you said the dog was dirty. I guess I shouldn't touch it."

"ALLEN LIBERTY JONES! YOU GET THIS MONSTER OFF ME THIS INSTANT!"

Allen smirked at his yelling. It sounded shrill and panicked. He enjoyed having this power over his brother. Tapping his index finger to his chin, he thought.

"Hmm... If you allow me to keep it, I'll help."

"WHAT?! I thought you were gonna rehome it"

Allen explained that had been his original plan, but he just got too attached. How could he ever part with such a sweet doggy. After all Oliver and the big guy were getting along very well.

Oliver's eyes widened before narrowing into slits. Without turning his head toward Allen, Oliver attempted to spit curses at him. But before a full sentence was out, the dog growled louder and snapped its jaws.

"Alright! Fine, you can keep the horrid beast."

With a grin Allen stood and whistled. There was no hesitance from the dog as it stopped growling and walked to its new master. This behavior caused Allen to smile. What else could he have this dog do?

With a quick thanks to Oliver, Allen took the beast up to his room. Even in the dark of the room, Allen and the dog walked calmly into his black stone bathroom and started the cleaning process. 

It was no easy feat, but as he washed that dog he finally checked the gender. 

A male.

That means his scary dog privileges just went up even more. With a chuckle he leaned back and looked at the damp animal. With its eyes covered it kinda reminded Allen of a small bear and the growling from early helped set the image.

"I'm gonna call you Makwa. My bear."

Allen smiled and the dog gave a happy bark. This was going to be a great friendship.

[waywardwrestlewritingwaif]

Whisky Secrets (sequel)

Here's something different. Before I ever thought about posting fanfic here, I used to write things inspired by fanfic I found by some of the incredible writers I found on tumblr. I've never posted any of them but I've really felt like writing something for Aleister Black/ Tommy End lately.

So I reached out to one of my original favourites on this site, @ghostofviperwrites and asked her if she'd mind if I published this sequel I wrote to her story Whisky Secrets. She gave me the ok (for which I thank her very much).

You absolutely have to read her piece first or this won't make any sense. It picks up literally at the point where hers leaves off and the entire premise is based on what she wrote. I think this goes in a very different direction than what she had in mind, though.

Since this is an old story, some of the characters are very different than they are now. It was set at around the time I wrote it. Based on events in the story, it's pretty clear when that was.

It's a bit dated but I hope you enjoy.

Pairing: Aleister Black x OFC (hints of Roman Reigns x OFC)

Word count: 7,031

Content advisory: graphic sexual content, language, incidental roughness that some might find stressful

You rested on the sofa for too long, knowing that you had to get to work, that you were already behind on an assignment that was due that afternoon. As much as you desperately wanted to cling to the scent and the feeling of him being there with you and the idea that he might someday want to be there with you for longer, you knew that you were only wasting time by indulging in a fantasy. Once again, you reminded yourself, he saw you as a friend, a landing pad after he was finished his adventures. And so you dragged yourself to the computer and tried to focus.

It was a fluff piece you’d been hired to write: places for new residents of Orlando to meet people. You’d accepted it because the pay was good and it had seemed easy. But what the hell did you know about meeting people? You’d barely met anyone and the only ones that you’d call friends were the ones you met when you’d done an in-depth profile on the WWE and their development territory NXT. Of those, only Aleister had remained close and even then, you couldn’t say that the two of you had ever properly opened up to each other. Nevertheless, you’d stayed in touch with a number of them, occasionally meeting for coffee or drinks. None of this was in any way useful when it came to recommending locations to connect with strangers.

You’d tried to start the article the day before but now when you opened the file, you discovered that you’d only come up with a half a dozen corny titles and one word of text:

When?

The word was too painfully appropriate.

When were you going to run out of luck and be unable to find further work as a journalist?

When were you going to admit that what kept you here, rather than moving to another state and pursuing more secure work, was the fact that you were in love with a man who was only interested in your capacity as a friend and caregiver?

When was your hopeless love going to break you beyond repair?

Annoyed with yourself, you deleted the word and tried to start again. You could meet people at the gym classes that were ubiquitous in this city. You could meet people at get-togethers for shared hobbies like hiking or pottery or basically anything. No one had to meet people by getting thrown into their orbit and being unable to extricate themselves.

About half an hour into your resentful hammering on the keyboard, you were startled by your doorbell. For one sweet instant, you imagined that it was Aleister dropping by to pass some time with you. Then you realized that he never came to you without an invitation unless it was dead drunk in the middle of the night. Even when you invited him, it was only every fourth or fifth time that you asked that he agreed to come over and watch a movie or go for a walk in the nearby park. There was no way it was him at your door at eleven o’clock in the morning.

In fact, the person at your door was Bayley, chipper and warm as always, returning the spare laptop you’d lent her a few weeks before.

“Thank you so much,” she beamed, thrusting the computer into your hands. “You are a lifesaver. I’d have lost my goddamn mind if I hadn’t had this while mine was in the shop.”

“It was nothing,” you insist, smiling at her unconstrained warmth even though you didn’t feel very positive about your life at that moment. “Do you want to come in for a minute?”

She nodded cheerily and stepped across the foyer. You never really knew how you fit in with the women of WWE, even though you’d spoken to many of them in depth. Bayley stood out because she was determined to be your friend despite your introvert’s reluctance. And, indeed, she was irresistible. Much like her in-ring character, she cast sunshine wherever she went and her glow was contagious, even in your darkest and lowest moments.

You motioned her into the kitchen, offering her a choice of lemonade, iced tea or water. Her eyes immediately fell on the empty whiskey bottle you’d left on the counter, her expression growing more serious as she focused on it.

“Getting started early?” she cajoled.

“A friend left that here,” you replied guiltily.

She narrowed her dark eyes as she looked at you. Sweet and optimistic as she was, Bayley was not naïve. She knew exactly what friend had left the bottle behind and she knew how you felt about him.

“I’ll have a glass of lemonade,” she said, the smile slowly returning to her face.

You joined her and the two of you jokingly touched glasses before drinking.

“So, a few of us are getting together tonight,” she said hesitantly. “I thought you might like to join us.”

Your first instinct was to ask if Aleister would be there, but you thought better of it. Instead, you responded, “Well, I have an article I need to finish.”

Of course, your article was due by the end of the afternoon, which meant that your evening was free regardless, but part of you wanted to be at home in case Aleister came staggering over again.

Bayley’s jaw set in a determined expression you’d only seen from her in the ring. “We’re having a party for Roman, to celebrate him going into remission.”

Well now you felt like a bit of a bitch for making excuses and didn’t know what to say.

“It won’t just be wrestlers there. Some other journalists are even coming. And I know that it would mean a lot to him if you were there.”

When you’d done your article on the WWE, you’d interviewed Roman Reigns and he’d been incredibly generous with his time. He’d even contacted you after your interviews to confirm that you had all the detail you needed. He was the face of the company and had done everything possible to make sure that the company had provided what you required. He’d clearly wanted to make sure they’d left a good impression and you couldn’t help but be impressed by his PR skills. Although you knew it wasn’t true that it “would mean a lot to him”, you were touched by the idea that he remembered you and might like you to be there to celebrate his great news. At the same time… you needed to be there for Aleister.

“Look,” Bayley insisted, “I’m going to text you the details for the bar where we’ll be. It’s not a big deal, just a bunch of us getting together to be happy for our friend.”

There was no way that you could refuse that, so you shyly thanked her as she gulped the rest of her lemonade and made for the door.

“I’m serious,” she said as she departed. “You work so damn hard you deserve a night off. Finish what you’re doing and come have fun with us.”

As soon as she’d left, you once again sat down at your computer. Before you could return your attention to your work, however, you couldn’t resist checking Instagram.

Someone had tagged Aleister in a photo on Instagram.

Yes, you were that pathetic that you always checked.

With trepidation, you clicked the link to look at what was there. As it too often did, the notification came from an airbrushed-looking woman, her collagen-enhanced lips pressed against his. She looked arrogant and proud, while he looked smug and inebriated.

“Guess who I got to hang with last night?” the caption gloated.

You knew damn well what “hang” was a euphemism for. He never cared that the Barbie dolls he hooked up with advertised their conquest on social media. He was single and hot. Why should he care if people knew that he always scored with the sort of women other men lusted after? Why should he care that it ripped your heart to shreds every time you saw him with another woman so unlike you in every way?

The woman had posted a few other photos of the two of them together, embracing. Every part of her magazine-ready body was on display, save those parts that would have gotten her in trouble. Her artificially perfect breasts were spilling out of a tiny tube top while her endless legs were shown in their full glory between the edge of a skirt that likely required her to trim her pubic hair and the sky high heels that raised her enough to press her lips to his without having to stretch herself awkwardly. She was nothing like you, with your unkempt hair and loose, bohemian dresses, your comfortable ballet flats and blandly natural face. She had all the glamour that you lacked and he ate it up.

The images of the two of them cut into you like a laser and, for once, all you desired was to break free from the pain of feeling. A few minutes later, when Bayley sent the text she’d promised with the details of where you could find the party tonight, you immediately responded.

“I’ll be there. I promise.”

To hell with Aleister and the designer women he adored, you told yourself as you returned to your article with a vengeance. Tonight you were going to do whatever it took to break the spell he had cast over you.

*

It was just after nine when you found yourself teetering to the entrance of the bar where the party was taking place. It was marked only by a subtle sign, no words, just a stylized anchor, and it was hidden away on a tiny street that was hardly more than an alley. In your fit of pique, you’d finished your article two hours before your deadline and then, having examined the options in your closet and found them wanting, headed out and spent entirely too much money on a new dress that clung perfectly to your breasts before flaring out to highlight the movements of your body, while covering just the bare minimum to maintain decency. You’d also picked up a stylish pair of ankle boots with heels higher than you were used to and that posed a legitimate threat as you made your way down the roughly paved road to the speakeasy-style bar.

A little further down the alley, you see a couple leaning against a car, taking turns swigging from a liquor bottle. The woman is one of those glamorous animals that makes you so insecure, laughing in drunken delight in a way that only confident people can. In one quick movement the man spins her around and bends her over the hood of the car. He immediately takes out his cock, stroking it a couple of times before he thrusts into her, one hand on her back while the other holds the bottle that he continues drinking from. And it’s a moment before you realize that it’s Aleister, fucking away at a woman whose name he won’t remember in a few hours.

The sight makes you want to curl up and die, makes you want to say that you’ve made a mistake and run along home so you can bawl your eyes out while you wait for his inevitable drunken arrival. But, if nothing else, the damage that you’ve done to your credit card in order to make yourself look just a bit more sexy and edgy than usual, as well as the glasses of wine you had already consumed to fortify your courage, push you forward. This is a test. In order to pass, you need to be able to ignore the man whose indifference is killing you and enter the world of others, where someone who wasn’t up to the standards of the rarified model girls might be willing to give you a second look.

Aleister doesn’t even glance up as you enter the bar a few feet away from him, can’t feel the dark weight of your eyes on him or the force with which you tear them away as you step through the door.

As soon as you do, you are once again frozen with the idea that you’ve made a mistake. When Bayley characterized this as a “get-together”, you’d assumed it meant a group of people spread out around a few tables chatting away and toasting Roman’s health. Instead, what greets you is a basement club full of people with a dance floor alive with writhing bodies. You recognize a few journalists but for the most part, the space is taken up with every WWE and NXT star you’ve ever heard of. It’s a convention of beautiful people and you can’t help but feel dowdy even in your overpriced finery.

You slowly descend the stairs, fully intending to look around, say hello to a few familiar faces and then bolt for the exit, but you’re immediately greeted by a familiar voice that fairly shrieks. “Oh my god woman, just look at you!”

It’s Sasha Banks, standing at the edge of the stairs with Bayley, who gives you an exaggerated round of applause.

“Miranda, you look amazing,” Sasha continues breathlessly. “Seriously, you’re putting everyone to shame.”

You don’t feel like you’re putting anyone to shame, least of all Sasha in her body suit that hugs every curve of her perfect little hourglass, but you blush at the compliment.

“Come on,” Bayley gushes, “we need shots to celebrate your hotness!”

She pulls both of you through the crowd to the bar and somehow is able to get the bartender’s attention almost immediately, ordering two rounds of tequila shots because, she tells you and Sasha, there’s no point in getting just one round when you know you’re going back for seconds. The three of you toast and toss down the shots and then immediately do so again and you have to admit that you’re feeling the warm glow already. Sasha, apparently feeling something herself, wraps her arms around you and once again reassures you that you are devastatingly beautiful.

Another shot is thrust into your hand, this time by Dash Wilder, who’s arrived with his Revival partner Scott Dawson. Wilder has always been attractive to you, so you give him as radiant a smile as you can manage and you swear he blushes a little just before he downs his shot. Dawson is hugging Sasha and Bayley close to him, allowing Dash to edge a little closer to you and you’re feeling a little high on yourself when another voice cuts through your circle.

“Miranda? Holy fuck I can’t believe you’re here!”

Roman Reigns pushes right through the bodies close to the bar and grabs you firmly by the shoulders, his eyes gradually focusing on yours. He’s grinning with an intensity that clearly comes from his being a little past feeling no pain but it doesn’t hamper the thrill it gives you when he wraps his arms around you and nearly crushes you in a hug.

“I mean, shit, I don’t think I’ve even talked to you since you did that interview,” he pouts. “Thank you so much for coming.”

You smile as another shot is pushed into your hand, biting your lip self-consciously. You down about half the shot before Roman grabs it from you and finishes it, breaking up with laughter. He signals the bartender for another round, keeping an arm around your back until the tray of shots arrives. You’re all toasting each other and you wonder why you ever questioned yourself for coming here because this is exactly what you needed.

“Come dance with me,” Roman chuckles, grabbing your wrist and pulling you towards the dance floor. He’s clearly floating on a sea of drunken bliss, goofing around and happy to have someone to have fun with, someone he didn’t expect to be there. Even if you wanted to resist his offer, you couldn’t because, while he isn’t doing anything that might hurt you, his grip is strong enough and the rest of him powerful enough to compel you forward.

The two of you deliberately dance like complete nerds in high school, awkward movements and ironic posturing until you’re both laughing so hard you can barely stand. It’s then that you realize that you’ve become the focus of some attention; Roman goddamn Reigns, the face of the company, the locker room leader, the man who everyone has come to celebrate, is dancing with you. Most of the people here have no idea who you are but because you’re with Roman, you are somebody. Basking in the subtle attention and envy, you close your eyes and allow yourself to get lost in the music, swaying to the beat until you feel a large pair of hands on your hips.

You open your eyes to see Roman pulling you closer to him with a devilish grin before spinning you around and pulling your back against his massive chest. You continue to move but at a slower pace, your movements limited by how close he’s holding you and the sensual way in which his body moves against yours. Keeping one arm loosely around you, he lets his other hand fall against your thigh, lightly playing with the hem of your dress. It makes you gasp.

“You never responded to any of my texts,” he murmurs gruffly in your ear.

You remember at least half a dozen messages asking if he could clarify anything or if you needed any additional material for your article. You hadn’t needed anything else but you suddenly feel terribly rude for not answering.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, “you were very professional and I should have at least told you that I had what I needed.”

His voice drops even lower as he speaks. “I didn’t mean to be professional about them. And I was hoping that you didn’t have everything you needed.”

He pulls you up and firmly against him and for the first time you can feel his hardening cock through his pants. You can’t help but thrust your hips into him, barely able to process what’s happening to you. The two of you are still ostensibly dancing, although it’s more like a rhythmic grinding to the music as he reaches down and pulls the hem of your dress up, rubbing your thigh and then your ass as he presses his lips into your neck. His hands are everywhere on you and you’re aware that your entire lower body is basically on display for anyone who cares to look but you don’t care because it feels like you’ve won the lottery. You moan at the feeling of his growing excitement against your flesh, both his large hands grazing up the front of your thighs and for a moment you think that you’re ready to beg him to take you right there when you’re violently spun away from your dance partner, a bruising grip on your arm.

It’s Aleister, eyes incandescent with rage as he tells Roman, “I need to speak to her for a minute.”

Roman looks confused and tries to speak to you but Aleister drags you away and a gaggle of women immediately descend on Roman, desperate to take your place.

Aleister flings you against the wall, glaring at you with an intensity that you’ve never seen outside the ring.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he growls.

“I was dancing before you interfered,” you snap back at him, rubbing your arm.

“Dancing?” he repeats with derision. “That’s what you call that?”

“I was having fun.”

“What the hell are you wearing?”

For the first time since you saw him with his woman of choice outside, you feel ridiculous, like a girl trying to look glamorous by donning her mother’s clothes.

“I wanted something a little different.”

“A little?” he hisses back. “Do you realize what you look like? You’re all tarted up and letting some guy grab at you and get you half naked in front of a bar full of people.”

“What I look like?”

“Everyone could see practically your whole goddamned body. They could see what you were letting him do to you.”

“You mean to say I look like a whore.”

Aleister crosses his arms and glances away, refusing to confirm what you’ve said.

“So what, Aleister? So what if I’m letting a man touch me and show me that he wants me? Who cares who else sees? Maybe that’s what I want!”

“Are you so stupid that you think he wants you for anything other than a one night stand?”

The accusation stabs at your heart and your confidence but you’re determined not to let him see that.

“Again, so what? Maybe I’m happy to have this big, gorgeous man want me. Maybe I’m fine bringing him back to my place for a few hours of fun because at least it means someone is thinking of me as a sexual being for a change.” You pause, knowing the danger of what you’re about to say but unable to stop yourself. “Maybe I’d be fine if he just took me outside and fucked me over the hood of a car.”

For a second, you think that Aleister is going to strangle you. The look on his face is like the moment before the sky erupts in thunder and lightning. Truthfully, you expect that he’ll turn on his heel and walk away from you and never come back, and perhaps that’s what you need him to do so that you can get over him.

Instead, he grabs you, pinning you to the side of his body and pulling you towards the door. His movements make you stumble, and the more you try to resist him, the more ungainly you look.

“She’s dead drunk,” you hear him assure a few people, “I’m going to make sure she gets home.”

And while it’s true that you are drunk, you’re not nearly as drunk as he’s making you out to be. The second he has you outside, you try to twist away from him and go back, only for him to wind you closer, pulling you off balance so that you look even more inebriated.

You hear him whisper to Seth Rollins, who’s observing the spectacle through the corner of his eyes. “Look, tell Roman that she’s falling down drunk and I just had to get her home. No disrespect meant.”

Seth has a confused expression on his face but nods and tells him, “Sure thing.”

Realizing what Aleister is doing, you once again try to rush past him, but he blocks you, gripping your arm and pulling you after him so that you really do appear pathetically unable to take care of yourself.

“Why the fuck are you doing this to me?” you shout at him, figuring that there’s no reason to worry about who might hear you, there being no further you can sink in their estimation. “Why can’t you just let me enjoy myself?”

“Jesus, Miranda, you’re loaded. You can barely stand up.” He emphasizes this by jerking your arm forward, which almost causes you to keel over onto your face. “You’re just embarrassing yourself.”

“No,” you insist, pulling yourself to a halt. “I knew what I was doing. I knew what I wanted. Sure I’m a bit tipsy but-“

“You don’t want that,” Alesiter snaps, threading his arm through yours and continuing down the street. “You don’t just want to whore yourself out for a night because you think it might help your self-esteem.”

“You don’t get to decide what I want, Aleister.” You’re crushed against his side and he’s moving so quickly that your feet only graze the ground every third or fourth step. “Let me go. I’m sick of playing the surrogate mother for someone who’s incapable of seeing me as a real woman. I want to go back there. I want to have someone make a show of wanting me. I want to get fucked so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.”

Aleister shakes his head like a parent frustrated with a misbehaving child. “Stop it. You’re being ridiculous.”

“So let me be ridiculous!” you yell back, trying unsuccessfully to extricate yourself from his grip. “What the hell is it to you? Are you worried that for once I’m not going to be there when you need a place to collapse at four in the morning?”

The two of you reach the corner where the alley meets the street and he swings you to face him, glowering at you with a terrifying expression, gripping your biceps so hard you know you’ll be bruised in the morning. He says nothing but stares at you until he whips his arm out and hails a taxi seemingly out of nowhere.

He launches you, there’s no other word for it, into the back seat of the car and snarls your address to the driver as your tears start to fall. The cabbie is noticeably uncomfortable with your quiet whimpering and seems confused by the fact that Aleister does nothing to comfort or engage you. He sits with his arms folded, scowling, until you arrive at your building. Reflexively, you reach for your purse only to have Aleister swat your hand away and pay the driver himself. You try to keep pace as he yanks you towards the door, but stumble because of your unsure footing in these strange heels and because your vision is glazed by the tears you’re fighting to hold in.

When Aleister pins you against the door and rummages through your purse to find your keys, it somehow feels more invasive than Roman gripping your ass for an entire bar full of people to see. You feel, for a moment, that he is looking at you with tenderness. But when the door opens, he simply guides you through it. As you hear it click shut, the last of your strength, physical and emotional, gives out and you drop to your knees, finally allowing the tears to fall. It’s a full-on ugly cry, punctuated by guttural, anguished sounds you’d never allow anyone else to hear. Despite everything, you desperately want to hear the door open again behind you and to hear him say that he’s realized he loves you.

But no, in the end, he’s just found it gross that the woman he sees as his caregiver might have another side. He found you pathetic in your overpriced dress and shoes. He knew that you were desperately trying to act like something you could never be: like someone who could compete with the perfected Instagram beauties he fucks every night. You could never be that. He knew that you were just a sad little woman decked out in a gaudy outfit. You’d never be that sexy, desirable person who stopped men dead in their tracks, no matter what your dance with Roman had temporarily led you to believe.

You’re on your knees for what seems like hours, choking on tears and snot and trying to restrain yourself from howling. Just as the sound overpowers you and a low wail escapes your lips, you’re startled by a pair of arms, familiar, tattooed arms wrapping around your waist from behind.

“Shh. There’s no need for any of that,” he grunts into your hair.

And while you’re shocked and thrilled that he actually stayed behind to make sure that you were ok, it’s also even more humiliating that he’s seen you fall apart so spectacularly. Your body feels limp with defeat and unable to react at all as he gathers you up and carries you into your bedroom, setting you gently on the edge of the bed. He rests his hand on yours for a moment and you’re able to stem the flow of tears until he stands up and heads back towards the door. This time, you’re determined to hold in the worst of your misery until you’re sure he’s gone, even though you can’t stop the tears from running down your face.

But after a few minutes of straining to hear the door close, you see Aleister return, a damp washcloth in hand, and he sits once again beside you on the edge of the bed. He presses the cloth, cool and soothing, against your cheeks and then holds your chin as he delicately wipes it across your face. It takes you some minutes to realize that he’s removing your smeared makeup, cleaning you off so that you look good as new, so that you look more like the plain girl who lets him into her home in the middle of the night, his touch filled with a tenderness that you never imagined him capable of. When he’s satisfied with his work, he tosses the cloth aside and wraps an arm around you, pulling you close against him. The sweetness of his friendly gesture makes you want to cry all over again but you choke it back, knowing that you’ll have plenty of time for that when he’s gone.

“Can I stay here tonight?” he whispers, the sound of his voice making you feel weak.

You nod and roughly pull back from him, unsure of your ability to stop yourself from throwing yourself at him and begging him to wreck you. You fumble with the zipper of your boots until Aleister slides off the bed and onto his knees and removes it for you. He glides his hand along your calf, up to your thigh and then moves to your other boot. As he slides it off, he presses his head against the side of your knee, giving the skin a light kiss before rocking back on his haunches. You know he’s being gentle with you because he feels sorry for you. He finds you pitiful, which is even worse than finding you asexual.

The feelings are too much for you to take and all you can think of is that you want to get into bed where you’ll be safe and where you can sleep off the nightmare your evening out has become. You clumsily shed your dress, stockings, bra and panties without thinking much of the fact that you have an audience. Why should it bother him seeing you naked, after all? Normally, you put on some nightclothes but you don’t even have the strength to bother. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see that Aleister has turned his head towards the door. He’s embarrassed for you, the way you would be if a parent or sibling was undressing around you.

You crawl under the covers with a grumbled “good night” and immediately start to feel yourself drift off. You’re jolted back to wakefulness when Aleister climbs in beside you. In all the time you’ve known him, as many nights as he’s come and collapsed on your sofa, you don’t think he’s ever seen your bedroom. Now, having seen it, he’s apparently happy not to leave it, indulging in the comfort of your bed without even asking permission. It makes you a little self-conscious that you’re nude but it’s hardly the most humiliating thing to happen to you tonight, so you let yourself ignore it. If you can just fall asleep, this night will be over and you can begin the process of trying to forget it.

It’s only a matter of seconds, though, until you feel his body pressed against yours from behind, one hand coming to rest flat on your stomach and pushing you back against him so that you are acutely aware that you are not the only person naked in the bed. The hand on your stomach flutters downward until his fingers are moving lightly over your pussy, like he’s plucking the strings of a harp. His other arm wraps around your shoulders and keeps you flush against him, close enough that you can’t mistake the feeling of his erection against your back.

He presses his lips and tongue against your neck, making you whimper as you try to keep your heart rate stable. Your little noises seem to motivate him further, his touch becoming more insistent and one of his legs snaking over yours, pulling it back to give his hand greater access.

“Such a little fool,” he murmurs, his fingers stroking insistently along your fleshy folds. “Thinking I don’t see you as a sexual being.”

He sinks his teeth into your shoulder, making you cry out- more from the shock than the pain. His mouth continues to move around your neck and shoulders, nipping and sucking on the skin there, his grip on you tightening until it’s nearly painful.

“What are you doing?” you manage to ask.

“Leaving marks,” he says matter-of-factly.

You’re at a loss for what to say, but are saved from having to answer as he pushes two fingers inside you, his thumb rubbing slow circles over your clit. You’re embarrassed that he must have felt how wet you were just from being in his presence but he says nothing, quickening his pace and giving satisfied little growls when his touch elicits gasps and cries of pleasure from you.

It’s pity, you remind yourself; what he’s doing to you, he’s doing it because he feels sorry for you and because he’s drunk and horny despite his encounter earlier in the evening. But the thought gets whisked away as he brings you closer and closer to what you’ve desperately needed from him for so long. You let out a little shriek when he removes his hand, unable to believe he’s so cruel as to bring you to the precipice and then deny you. But he simply flips you onto your back before pressing his fingers inside you once more, watching your reactions to be sure he’s hitting just the right spot before burying his face between your legs. His tongue, lips and fingers work together like an orchestra. Your knuckles are white from the force of clenching on the sheets and you’re biting down so hard on your lip to muffle the sounds you’re making that you’re worried your teeth will end up permanently embedded. He unexpectedly raises his head and stills the movement of his hand inside you and the shock is almost enough to make you start crying again. You look down at him, his eyes sparkling in the low light with an expression you can’t read.

“Why won’t you let me hear you?”

Because you don’t want him to know how good his merciful little gesture is making you feel. Because you don’t want to admit to yourself that it’s better than you’d imagined. Truthfully, whenever you’ve thought about the mechanics of sex with Aleister, you imagined that it would be fast and rough and hedonistic, much like his other sexual encounters seem to be. But he’s chosen this moment to take his time, to focus on his partner, rather than go for a quick, dirty fuck in a darkened corner.

You don’t tell him any of this, instead croaking out, “I’m shy.”

He raises himself up and over your body with the effortless grace of a serpent, pressing his head close to yours and kissing along your jawline.

“What do I have to do to make you not be shy?”

“I don’t know… I just… am.” You wriggle a little under him, turning your face away when he looks directly into your eyes.

He cups your face in one hand and runs the other, still wet with your juices, over your breast, teasing the nipple and making you shudder involuntarily.

“Am I moving too fast?”

You shake your head, not quite trusting your voice.

“Is there something that you’d enjoy more? Something you want me to do for you?”

You give him another little shake of the head.

“You don’t have to be shy with me. Whatever you want, I want you to tell me so I can give it to you. Anything.”

For the first time, he kisses you on the lips, his tongue, that still tastes of you, slides against yours and the hand at the side of your face slides to hold your neck, cradling your head so that you don’t have to tense any muscles to stay in that position. Your body has nothing it needs to do but experience the sensations he’s creating. Of course, you still answer his kiss, hungrily flashing your tongue against his, reveling in the light scrape of his lip ring against your lips. His hand glides back down between your legs, and even the proximity is enough to draw a couple of little mewls of pleasure. You feel him smile a little against your lips at the noises and he pulls away from the kiss.

“Am I making you feel good?”

You nod as he starts to work his fingers around your entrance once again.

“Do you want my mouth down there again?”

You nod even more vigorously than the first time but he shakes his head.

“Tell me. Say it out loud.”

You open your mouth to do so and he immediately thrusts his long fingers into your g-spot and your clit at once, making you yelp in pleasure. It’s almost enough to make you cum on its own but he eases the pressure before you reach that peak.

“Yes?” he asks again.

“Yes, fuck, yes!”

“Then let me hear you. Please.”

He returns his attention to your core and has you making all manner of unholy noises in short order. He expertly teases you and then holds back, so many times that when he does finally take you over the edge, you feel like you might pass out from the intensity of it. Your gasps for breath sound cavernous in the quiet room.

He keeps the palm of his hand firmly against you as he leans forward and presses his lips into your neck, letting out a satisfied purr every time an aftershock rolls through your body.

When he’s satisfied that you’ve fully come down, he raises himself up on his arms, giving just the hint of a smile when you grab onto his biceps to steady yourself.

He’s so rigid that he doesn’t even need a hand to guide himself into you. He simply presses forward in one slow but sure moment, his eyes closed as if it’s a kind of religious experience, not opening them until he’s fully seated inside you. It’s been long enough since you’ve been with anyone that the feeling of being stretched draws a little whimper from your throat. He remains still, his eyes open and bearing down on you with a delirious kind of excitement, aching prick twitching inside you, desperate to proceed but waiting for a signal that he can.

And it’s at that moment that you allow yourself to think that this isn’t pity or a drunken mistake, that he’s as hungry for you as you have been for him and that what’s happened tonight has just served to connect a circuit. The fiercely possessive look in his eyes as he watches you, the fury when he thought someone else was claiming you, the need to mark you to make you his, the flush of pure lust on his face and chest… it is just a little frightening, something you suspected was in him but never that it was focused on you. But you’ve always known you could handle his darkness if he let you in. So you thrust your hips a little and wrap your legs loosely around his waist to show him that he can continue. Just as he starts to move, he cups your face and presses his mouth to your ear.

“You deserve so much better.”

“Stop trying to make those decisions for me,” you moan, feeling your insides flutter with his movements.

“I’ve never felt anything like that jealousy.” He’s staring into your eyes as he confesses. He lifts one of your legs over his shoulder pressing deeper inside you and gasping at the feeling. “Knowing that everyone could see how sexy and beautiful you are… And I’m an idiot for waiting for that to happen before I did anything, I just…”

He grimaces and slows his pace a little, obviously trying to prolong the sensation.

“You mean it?” You have to ask because you still can’t quite believe that this has been on his mind for all this time when he’s shown no sign of it to you.

“God yes,” he answers through gritted teeth, once again allowing himself to move faster and more urgently.

You can’t completely banish your fears that he’s going to regret this in the morning and just shut you out again but every second with him is pushing them further away. You lace your fingers through his hair, nipping at the shell of his ear as he lets out his own stream of desperate, lusty noises, running your nails gently down his back as he approaches his crescendo.

His head drops to your chest and he cries out as he releases inside you.

“Fuck I love you, fuck I love you, fuck I love you.” He repeats it like a mantra that brings him back down from his high, saying it a final time as he looks into your eyes.

Slowly, he rolls onto his side, gathering you close to him like he thinks an errant breeze might carry you away.

“I have…” he begins quietly, “… there’s a lot that goes on in my head… Bad things, I guess. I thought you’d run away. Or that I’d pull you down with me. I still don’t know that won’t happen.”

He looks so vulnerable that it makes your heart hurt but at the same time you have to stifle a smile.

“Well I’d rather you let me try to deal with it. I’m a lot tougher than you give me credit for being.”

His expression grows a little guilty and he nods. He wraps his arms tighter around you and you do the same until the two of you are lying in your bed, wound around each other.

[modern-inheritance]

Tell us your silliest Eragon and Arya head canons!

Hell yeah I can! Some of these are gonna be used for stories later, and may not be as silly as you might have wanted, but it’s mostly a collection of the weirdest and whackiest stuff I can remember putting down as canon for the MIC Eragon and Arya.

Eragon:

Eragon was not terribly prone to mischief as a child, but would often get dared by Roran or other children to do things and would give in. He was well known as a crackshot with anything, including his slingshot as a boy, and frequently these dares would involve Eragon hiding somewhere and using his insane aim to knock things out of peoples hands or set off natural Rube Goldberg machines.

When Eragon first went into the Spine when he was about 8 years old it scared the hell out of everyone. Search parties were formed but they couldn’t go past the outer edges of the forest due to superstition. Marian, Garrow’s wife, eventually grabbed Garrow by the ear and literally dragged him into the woods, after which the reluctant villagers followed. Eragon showed up perfectly unharmed at Brom’s house later, chattering excitedly about all the wildlife and cool new spots he had found.

This uncanny ability made some people think Eragon was a changeling for a while. He was teased about it mercilessly until Brom scared the hell out of the other kids. Brom was considered the authority on all things weird and magical, and when he firmly said that Eragon was nothing but human, the adults took his word as well. No one spoke of it after that.

When in his early teens and exploring deeper into the Spine than ever before, Eragon encountered a lost Urgal child. As Urgal children actually look remarkably human, Eragon just assumed the girl was a part of the fabled lost tribes of the Spine. He used his tracking skills to follow her original path back to her village, but when she ran into one of the huts and never came back out, he headed home. He mentioned it to Brom once, the old man sternly told him to never go back, and had all his ‘why’ questions shut down hard.

Even though he’s gotten used to his newfound elvish strength, Eragon still occasionally breaks things.

A combined headcanon for Eragon and Saphira: When one of them sneezes, the other also sneezes immediately after.

His favorite breakfast food is peanut butter and banana pancakes.

Sloan has a general dislike for him not only because of his frequent trips to the Spine, but also because Eragon once puked in his shop.

Eragon knows general ways to do women’s hair! When Marian was ill he would often help brush her hair for her and braid it. He eventually started asking Katrina and Elain for tips on how to do different styles, as he saw how happy it made his Aunt. He occasionally braids Arya’s hair for her, first using it as a way to help her get used to having people sitting behind her again, and later just for fun. Post-war, once word got around, the young girls and even the longer haired boys of the Rider school sometimes run up to him asking for help with their hair, which he gladly obliges.

Until first in Teirm and then later with the Varden and in Du Weldenvarden, Eragon wasn’t exposed to much in the way of tropical and subtropical fruit. When Arya managed to barter some kiwi at Tronjheim’s market and handed one off to Eragon, he yelled and almost dropped it because it felt, in his words, “Like a shaved horse nut.”

Saphira thought this was hilarious. She also fuckin’ loves kiwi.

Brom originally had vital organ protecting wards around Eragon as a toddler, but removed them as the kid grew. Not because he didn’t need them, but because Eragon had long ago proved to be a mix of the situationally unluckiest while results-luckiest person alive. He could be chased off a cliff by bees but would get up and walk away with just a bunch of bruises and a twisted ankle.

Eragon hated learning to swim. Like, clinging on to Garrow’s arm wailing at the top of his lungs.

Arya:

Is the accidental source of a ghost story in the Surdan borderlands. During the continued border skirmishes that were Arya’s first taste of combat, during the night she would get bored, sneak out of camp, cross the no mans land, and pilfer weapons and gun emplacements to bring back. Because no alarms were ever raised, no one was ever seen, and these thefts occasionally happened when the guarding Broddring soldiers backs were turned for just a few moments, the Broddring men began whispering about a pilfering poltergeist. Arya didn’t even know about this until decades later, when a young Surdan infantryman complained to her about his post at the border, claiming it was haunted and told the stories of .50 cals going missing.

These infiltration runs eventually became sabotage runs to destroy or disable artillery. And yes, I was influenced by this. 

Like Eragon relearning his strength after his transformation, Arya was very much not used to the more fragile makeup of human made items. Men in her group would often say ‘be gentle’ when passing her stuff like mugs or plates in the mess. Some people still do simply because they grew up around others doing so. 

Can move a dwarvish tank with her bare hands, and has on several occasions. There is a story behind this that several people on tumblr know the gist of, but I’ve never been able to tack it down well enough to write. But a team building/proving exercise during bootcamp to move a disabled tank a few feet turned into Arya and the other recruits she was with pushing the whole thing back into the repair shop. Some of the guys disabled the brakes, a couple climbed in to help steer (like you would with a car in neutral) after Arya pried the hatch open, and the rest posted on the corners of the tank to yell directions to her. The drill master had been kind of a dick to Arya because he didn’t trust elves (and generally didn’t want women in any of his squads) and Arya was sick of it. This was the result.

Arya sometimes acts as a drill instructor for Varden recruits. She, Glenwing and Fäolin were also frequently used as the ‘looks can be deceiving’ example for newbies when they were available. This usually involved games of ‘Go pick the elf up. Can’t? Alright let's see the elf do it. As you can see, this elf can pick you up and lift you off your feet one handed and not break a sweat. These elves are friendly, and will generally not throw you. Forsworn elves are not friendly. They will throw you.’ and other shows of speed, strength, agility and supernatural skills.

Arya occasionally works as a bartender at Coop’s bar. Her favorite drink involves grape soda.

Electroswing dancing? Electroswing dancing. 

Uses the elvish phrase ‘growing a pine tree’ instead of the more classic human phrase of ‘pushing up daisies.’

Was 100% not understanding that Fäolin was interested in her for a long time, while also not realizing she was interested in him. Clueless demiromantic/demisexual.

Very distantly related to Glenwing.

Naturally knows nearly every way to make Islanzadí’s eyebrow twitch in irritation.

OFC there’s more than these but it’s what I’ve got for now! Thanks for the ask!! Send mooore!!!