#but also. how long do you think ashe would have to be alone for him to notice something was wrong

[gilliontidestriderchampionoftheu]

do you guys ever think about what wouldve happened if vyncent HAD killed mark. i do. a lot.

check out my commissions :D

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。yours, always yours

synopsis. satoru has always been yours—and he needs you to know you’ll also always be his

— word count. 2.4k (read the breakup fic first for better understanding, but can be read as a stand-alone)

— contents. fem! reader, college! au, rich boy! gojo, post-getting back together angst that gets a little heated <3, minors do not interact, fingering, unprotected sex, edging, satoru cumming too quick <3, creampie, tbh the smut is short and a lil rushed my b, it ends in fluff tho !! trust !! there is fluff !!

— notes. tbh this will probably get flagged rly fast but oh well u win some u lose some. anywayyyyy here is the make up sex bc yall nasties deserve it <3 jk love u guys

satoru falls first. and he falls hard. everyone knows it, it’s never been a secret.

“you want me to wash your hair?” you ask gently, kissing his shoulder as the water falls over his head. he hums, nodding absentmindedly as he stares blankly at the tiles of your shower wall.

“sure,” he mumbles, “don’t tug.”

“i never tug,” you roll your eyes, snorting. he huffs a small chuckle, but it’s not the usual laugh satoru gives you. it’s mechanic, almost—just there to fill the space. “baby?” you ask softly.

“yeah?” he asks, “oh, should i bend a little? sorry, i—”

“what’re you thinking about?” your hands cup his cheeks, gentle and warm from the hot water as it soaks his skin.

he shakes his head, trying to smile as he clears throat. “just how nice it is to be pampered. maybe i’ll let you break my heart every once in a while so i get my back scrubbed and hair washed like this.”

“satoru,” you insist. you know—and he knows it too. “tell me?”

“why’d you do it?” he mumbles, “why’d you listen to him?”

“toru, you know why,” you sigh, “you know i didn’t think there were any other options.”

“you could’ve talked to me,” he furrows his brows, “just because my stupid old man threatens you with my stupid inheritance doesn’t mean we have to break up.”

“i was afraid you’d choose me.” it comes out as a whisper, like a confession you can’t bear to admit.

“i would have chosen you,” he agrees, “why’s that bad? how’s that wrong—”

“you’re not thinking about the bigger picture,” you shake your head, “that company is yours. you’ve spent your whole life—”

“so what? was i supposed to give up the rest of my life for it too?” he asks tiredly—satoru’s defeated. he’s never been defeated, it’s the most magnetizing thing about him.

even before you date him. he asks and asks and asks no matter how many times you say no. because there’s always a chance you’ll say yes, and he’ll never stop as long as there’s a chance.

“i’m sorry,” you sniffle, lips wobbling, “i could have….i should have said something. i didn’t want you to make a choice young and then….and then regret it.”

“you think i’d regret you?” he’s wounded—absolutely wounded at the words.

satoru has always been careful, diligent and so, so meticulous to love you right, to love you how you need to be loved. hadn’t that proven enough? that he was in it for the long run—for forever? he’d been so sure you’d be his future, that the break up feels like waking up from a peaceful dream to a house fire—devastating, with smoke in his nose and lungs that he can’t breathe right, and everything gone within a moment before he can even register it.

he stares at the ashes in despair. nothing prepared him for the hollowness of not being yours—because satoru has never cared to make you his. all he’s ever wanted was to be yours.

you’re quick to remove him from everything, deleting pictures from your socials, untagging him from posts, removing him from your private stories and close friends list. he doesn’t understand how you could change your mind so quickly—and then he realizes you probably don’t. because he knows you—better than anyone ever has, satoru knows you.

so he’s comes to you, drenched from the rain, from standing outside your door even as the water pelts against his skin because he’s determined. he’s going to get an answer out of you, going to make you explain why you pulled him in so close, let him reside in your heart and fall asleep to the comforting rhythm of its beating—and then push him out like he’s nothing. what made you push him out?

and finally, when he does, when you let him be yours again and admit it’s never what you wanted, that it’s because it’s what his father wanted—well, satoru can’t keep his composure. don’t you know? hadn’t he always told you? hadn’t he poured his heart out and let you know every moment he’s always been stuck dangling from his father’s fingers? stuck somewhere between the sky and ground, too high to feel the floor under his feet but never high enough to feel the wind in his face.

you’ve always known, always listened—and fuck, you held him some nights too, let your fingers dip into his hair and soothe his sorrows of always being stuck.

satoru’s always been stuck, always had every choice made for him and every instruction carefully laid out on the table. and then you decided to make his choice for him too, walking away and choosing his future for him like he’s never had a say.

he’s always been stuck, but never with you—but now, he wonders if that’s changed.

“no,” you squeeze his cheeks, “no i don’t think you’d regret me….but satoru losing what you have is a big thing,” you mumble, “people work their whole lives not having a fraction of what you do. that’s a lot to let you lose.”

“i’ve never seen my dad kiss my mom,” he stares at you, hard and unwavering, his eyes stare into yours, “he’s never held her hand or made her laugh. and you know what she told me? that she would sell her share of everything to have what we do. why do you always look at me for what i have first?” he asks angrily, the water pouring over his shoulders as they shake, “why can’t you just look at me first for once?”

“i do look at you,” you insist, “toru, all i ever see is you—”

“then stop caring what he says,” he says louder, his voice echoing through the small bathroom of your small apartment.

everything about your home is small—smaller than satoru’s especially. but he loves it, thinks he’d rather be here than anywhere else.

because it’s yours. and as long as you’re here, the world fits into this tiny apartment, the galaxy too.

“okay,” you say shakily. and then you nod, looking him in the eye, “you’ll handle it?”

he nods, kissing between your brows, “yeah, i’ll handle it. who else is gonna take over that company anyway?”

“but what if he finds someone else? and then he—”

“he won’t. my grandpa will shred him.”

“but he’s old, and he stepped down, so what really can he do if your dad decides—”

“god, baby,” he groans, pushing your body against the wall gently, “i love your voice, but you talk so much. i’m wanna listen to something else.”

his lips find your neck, sucking gently at the skin, hand trailing to your tits before his thumb circles your nipple. it’s slow, deliberate, teasing as it rolls over the bud.

you whimper, clutching onto him as a breathy, “t-toru,” leaves your lips.

“yeah,” he nods, “that’s what i wanna listen to instead.” his lips are in a grin against your neck, kissing and biting until he reaches your collarbone. “anyone dm you after you took me out of your socials?” he asks bitterly.

“j-just one,” you admit through a stutter, “b-but i didn’t even open it! i wasn’t really—oh, toru,” you gasp as his finger finds your clit, spreading your legs as he lets out a soft growl at your words.

“what? just cause my face isn’t on your instagram suddenly you’re not mine?” he asks, thumb rubbing harsh circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves—you close your eyes, moaning as your arms wrap tightly around his neck. “you’re always mine,” he murmurs against your ear, low and careful so you hear him well, “yeah? got that?”

“got it,” you nod furiously.

“got what?”

“‘m al-always—oh, fuck,” you mewl as one finger prods at your entrance, gathering your slick before slowly sliding through your walls.

“c’mon, sweetheart,” he says firmly, “finish your sentences.”

“always yours, toru! always yours—please, please j-just…”

“just what?” he raises a brow.

“more,” you sob—it’s a broken plea as your hips thrust against his finger.

he’s quick to slide in a second, thrusting his digits mercilessly into your soaked cunt, his palm gliding over your clit as the slick sound of his fingers fucking you is almost drowned by the water in the back.

your water bill will be high this month. you decide it’s a sacrifice satoru deserves.

“you think someone could ever learn this body better than me? make you cum like i can? you think anyone will ever love you enough to learn you like i do?”

“n-no,” you pant, his fingers hitting that spot inside of you so perfectly, you feel that dull ache build up quickly. it’s good—everything with satoru is good. his other hand finds your chest to pinch a nipple, twisting and squeezing until your nails leave indents on his shoulders as you moan loudly. “no one—no one but you.”

“exactly,” he growls, “how could you leave me? how could you leave us?”

“‘m sorry,” you sniffle, whimpering when the tips of his fingers slam against that spongey spot of your walls, fluttering around him and squeezing him in. you’re close—so close that you almost don’t know what he’s saying anymore, too focused on the way your impending orgasm is approaching. fast. “i’m sorry, i’ll never—ever leave again.”

“say you love me,” he demands.

it sounds like he’s pleading, though, if you listen closely. there’s a small crack in his voice, a slight shakiness that makes you force your eyes open and stare at him and whisper, “i love you, satoru. i love you.”

and then he rips his fingers out—right before you’re about to cum. you gasp, pleading nonsense as you cling to him and buck your hips and search for something, anything to take you over the edge.

and then you hear a sniffle. is he crying? is that wet droplet on your shoulder a tear or the water? you’re too busy calming down from your orgasm dying before it ever came to focus.

satoru’s hard against your thigh, throbbing and painful to sink into you. he strokes himself a few times, whimpers as his thumb gathers the pre cum from the sensitive tip, smearing it along his length as he shakily lets out a quiet moan.

“f-fuck, i gotta feel you. please, can i? please—”

“yes,” you pull him closer, grinding your heat over his hard-on, “yes please, toru. more, need more.”

he’s sliding along your folds, dragging the tip of his cock along your entrance and smearing a mix of your arousal with his. and then slowly, ever so gently, he’s pushing into your after that, pushing past your walls and bullying into your soaked cunt, curving into you perfectly.

it’s only been a week—you feel like you haven’t felt him in years. but it’s familiar. you remember every part of him, including every vein that drags along your walls and makes your head spin. he remembers every part of you, including where that spot is that he needs to angle his hips to find.

he slams into you, hard and rough and fast—doesn’t even let you adjust your position to hold onto him tighter before he’s thrusting his hips and fucking into you desperately. you can feel him, every inch of his skin against you, every part of him that’s touching you. and you can feel the way his cock nudges past your folds, the friction burning pleasure through ever nerve.

satoru knows how to fuck you, just like he knows how to love you, he knows your body—every dip and ever curve, every place to touch and every part that has you gushing around him. it’s just the way he is, too good at giving you what you want, what you need.

when he moans, it’s breathy and he’s panting as he lets out those soft whimpers that make your head spin. “feel that? feel me?” he asks, grunting as you squeeze around his length.

“yeah,” you breathe, “‘m so full.”

“i need you. please, please,” he murmurs, “can’t lose you, baby. never you,” he chants, the quiver in his voice tearing you apart.

“i’m right here,” you gasp, lacing your fingers with his and squeezing his hand. he squeezes back, just to let you know he’s there too, “right here, baby. you got me.”

and then he cums, just as soon as you whisper that—he spills right into you with a broken cry, his hips rolling, needy and desperate and so, so lost on the pleasure. he’s too busy working himself through his high, trembling over your body to care he’s cum too quick—and you don’t have it in you to tease him. you can feel the hot ropes of cum filling you, painting your walls white, fucking deep into you as the blunt head of his cock slams into you without a second of hesitation.

but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t falter that brutal pace as his hips slam into you, perfectly kissing your sweet spot every time. and before long, you break—your head pushes back against the wall behind you, mouth parted as you wail his name and cum—hard. you’re quivering and spasming around his swollen cock, enough that he whimpers at the way you’re so tight.

it’s good, it’s always good. satoru makes you feel good. he’s the best you’ve ever had—the best you’ll ever find.

and then you hear it again, the sniffle into your neck as he clutches you tightly. you know for sure that wet droplet is a tear this time, and your fingers tangle into his hair as you stroke the wet strands.

“i love you, toru,” you murmur, “my sweet boy. i’m sorry, okay? i’m so sorry.”

“don’t do that again,” he huffs in between tears, “that was so mean. so mean.”

“i said i won’t,” you chuckle, fighting back your own tears, “how long are you gonna hold this against me?”

“how long do you plan on being mine?”

“well,” you pull him from your neck, cupping his cheeks as you wipe away tears and peck his lips softly, “i think….forever.”

“well, get ready, then,” he glares softly, “i’m gonna hold this against you forever too.”

“okay,” you nod, “that’s fair.”

“and i love you too,” he adds, “but block whoever dm’d you. it better not be that zenin boy.”

“block those girls who’s pictures you liked,” you shoot back, glaring at him with a pout of your own.

“don’t yell at me,” he mumbles, leaning into your touch as your thumb strokes his cheek, “i’ve had a rough week. you have to be nice.”

dabitee anon. are u seeing this. did u see the satoru who cums too fast. did u see it. report back if u saw this. i repeat, dabitee anon report back if you see this

[i-like-writing-stuff]

the other five [ five hargreeves x reader ]

request: Hello! This is my first time desperately requesting a fic because the new season is SO bad 😭 Can you write a fic where the reader finds out about everything that happened between Five & Lila and then she gets taken away by one of the Fives at the deli and promising her that he’ll treat her better than OG Five (You can also add a part where OG Five finds out about this and lives to regret it)

a/n: AU where everything in that trash season was the same, except when five made the first jump in s1 he made it in his 32 yr old body bc i will not have y/n pull a zach justice (lmao)

even if lila did 😭😭

anyways basically everyone is the same age

i like to think of the five that comforts y/n as the five that explained everything to five in the last episode because that one literally felt like the five we were supposed to get, the five that was there all the first three seasons

sorry i cant stop trashing this season you guys 😭 i’m just so disappointed

summary: after breaking up with five, you make up with… well, five

part two

“Leave me alone, Five!” You yelled in despair, pushing the man before you away, “Actually, first take me back home, you psycho! I have nothing to say to you!”

“Y/N, please, just hear me out!” Five tried to reason with you, as if anything he would say could make your heart glue itself back.

You were standing in the subway station after Five had blinked himself and you away from the family- or what was left of it, watching him at loss of words. You didn’t recognize the man before your eyes, as much as you tried. You didn’t even have time to gather all your thoughts since there was yet another impending apocalypse on its way, so your mind was completely all over the place.

Five Hargreeves was not the same Five Hargreeves you fell in love with all those years ago. He was not the same man who had stolen your heart and made you feel like you were the most precious person in the world. He wasn’t your partner anymore, he wasn’t your lover. Your boyfriend wasn’t there. You looked at this person and there was a stranger, acting as if he was the same who had hugged you, held your hand, kissed you all those many times. You were questioning everything about him now.

“Take me back!” You yelled again, ignoring his same pleas, curling your hand in a fist, “I’m this fucking close to making you ash!”

As your pure anger got the best of you, you were ready to let your powers take over for a second. Obviously you weren’t actually going to hurt him, no matter how much you wanted him to feel your pain, at least physically.

You met him six years ago, during the first time you tried to stop the apocalypse. You were also one of the extraordinary kids, but luckily enough, Reginald Hargreeves didn’t manage to adopt you- more so, purchase you. You only met Five not long after he managed to time travel back to his family in 2019 after spending all those decades by himself. Before you knew it, you were dragged into the Hargreeves family and your relationship soon after developed.

Your six year relationship that was so merry a few hours ago. Now it was crumbled, trashed.

What hurt was that it was six years only to you. Five managed to block himself seven years away from you, only in the presence of Lila.

“This is so fucking stupid,” You scoffed, fighting back the tears in your eyes, “It’s fucking over! Do you want me to spell it out for you?!”

“I want you to listen!” Five didn’t give up on arguing, “I thought I’d never see you again!”

“You didn’t want to see me again!” You screamed, wailing your hands in the air, “Fucking save it- It’s over! I don’t want to ever see you again if we survive this apocalypse! You ruined our relationship, you ruined your brother’s marriage, family! For fucking Lila!”

You hated him absolutely. The mere thought of his infidelity, of the nerve to act as if he still loved you, it was all despicable.

You grew to love all of your boyfriend’s siblings, and also your nieces and nephews, even if you and Five were not yet married. You planned to be a part of the family officially, but still wanted to focus on your careers, you wanted to adjust yourself to your old life, back to your origins.

“Y/N, please!” He tried to step, towards you, but you started stepping away.

Thoughtlessly, because of all your anger, you just walked towards the first train approaching you, fully intending to be away from him at whatever cost.

“If you don’t want to take me back, I’ll fucking find my own way!” You hopped onto the train, watching as he tried to catch up with you.

But he was too late.

In hindsight, maybe it was not the smartest idea, but you were just so devastated nothing made sense to you anymore. You spent the past six years thinking that you are set for the rest of your life, now that the world wasn’t ending anymore. You reconnected with your family, you built a career for yourself and were living happily with Five, you had literally just finished settling yourself in the new house you bought together. You couldn’t understand how he could do this to you.

You couldn’t understand how Lila could betray your friendship either, especially Diego and their kids.

You tried to make it make sense, be reasonable- it was only a few hours to you, but they were lost in this subway system for seven years.

But then again, Five was lost in the future 45 years by himself and he didn’t give up on trying to return to his family once.

Now he did, he gave up on trying to return to you.

That’s definitely another aspect that stung.

“Fucking piece of shit,” You mumbled, as the train approached its first station, “How do I fucking get out of here?”

You stumbled out of the sub, taking in your surroundings. It was yet another crumbled down station, but if you were to be at least a tiny bit fair, it was maybe a bit better kept. You looked around curiously, trying to figure out where to go from now on. Your fire-based superpowers were totally useless in this situation, so you hated to admit that you were in a bit of a pickle.

You rolled your eyes, as Five rounded the corner and stopped in his tracks, watching you with widened eyes.

“You again?” You sighed angrily, “Take me back or get out of my sight, Five.”

Five raised his brows, putting his hands in his pockets curiously. He didn’t say a word yet, as a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. He slowly stepped towards you, not taking his eyes off you once. For a split second, you stopped as well, sending that something was up.

You took in his features, trying to make sense of what was going on, realizing that he didn’t have a coat on him. He was wearing the exact three piece suit an black tie, he was wearing the same silver watch on his left hand, but he didn’t have his coat on.

“Y/N,” He smiled, stopping in front of you, “I never thought I’d see you again, more so here.”

“What the fuck is going on?” You calmly asked, over-analyzing the man before you.

His smile didn’t drop. It was a genuine one, a smile you hadn’t seen in a while. Things between you and Five were okay a few hours ago, but he hadn’t watched you with this look since you first met. His eyes were sincere, taking in every single feature of yours, traveling all over your body.

“I take it your Five danced the devil’s tango with Lila,” He sighed deeply, raising a hand to gently brush away your tears.

When did you even start crying?

Your mind was scrambled all over the place, but at that exact moment you couldn’t say another word. You just melted into his touch, feeling warmth. It really hadn’t been that long since Five touched you, but this touch felt different. His hand rested on your cheek, as his thumb caressed you lightly. His touch was so intoxicatingly sweet, sending shivers down your spine.

“I’m so sorry I’m a literal shitface in some other timelines,” He lightly shook his head, “I’m so sorry.”

“What is going on?” You asked once again, calmer this time.

For whatever reason, you relaxed in an instant. You couldn’t tell if it was because of his gentle touch or simply his presence. Ironic, since just ten minutes ago you were ready to set him on fire.

“Come with me, my love,” Five said, grabbing your hand in his, “I’ll explain everything.”

You didn’t fight his touch, locking your fingers with his. None of you said a word, as you watched you hands fit so perfectly in one another. How could your relationship be over when you were so good together?

You followed Five through the subway station, rounding the same corner he appeared from. You watched as he turned his head to give you a reassuring smile, lightly squeezing your hand in comfort.

After a few more steps and going down a couple of stairs, you widened your eyes seeing a literal deli tucked away in this godforsaken out of order subway system. The headlights above the front entrance were lit up, writing Max’s Delicatessen. You saw inside a huddle of people as you entered, gathering everyone’s attention.

When they all turned to look at you, you literally couldn’t tell whether you or the huddle of people was more shocked.

They were all Fives.

There was music playing inside, as the deli was full of different versions of your boyfriend, whether they were customers sitting at the tables, drinking coffee or having a meal, reading the newspaper or having a chat. There were also other Fives working around, waiting tables or cooking in the back.

Nonetheless, they all stopped to look at you.

“Yeah, yeah, Y/N is here, carry on, you guys,” The Five that was holding your hand waved the others off with his free hand, “She needs a moment, stop being creeps.”

“I can’t tell if this is a dream come true or my worst nightmare,” You said, looking around the deli, as Five guided you towards an empty booth.

You sat down as the other picked up again whatever they were doing, still watching you with the corner of their eyes. Five took a seat in front of you, still holding onto your hand on top of the table, using his other hand to rub small circles on your skin.

“I am not the Five that dragged you here, in case you didn’t tell yet,” Five managed to say, “But I’m pretty sure that you did, since I know you’re smarter than he gives you credit for.”

“He did mention that this subway system is the knot to multiple timelines,” You sighed, as Waiter Five set down two cups of steaming coffee on the table.

You watched him curiously, as he looked yet again exactly like Five, wearing just a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, with a black tie, pantsuit pants and a server apron around the waist. He smiled at you warmly, setting down two small packs of sugar and a creamer.

“I’m sorry, my love, we don’t have any Irish Capuccinos around here, since you’re the first Y/N to set foot in here,” He apologetically smiled, “I can only get you a shot of whiskey, if you’d like.”

Of course they all knew your favorite coffee.

“Make it a bottle,” You said, cracking a smile for the first time, causing him to chuckle, before walking away to attend to your order.

“I can’t begin to explain how much I missed your smile, darling,” The Five before you said, as you turned back to him, “The Handler got to the Y/N in my timeline,” He added, as sadness took over his eyes, “I missed you so much.”

“I can’t understand how you’re the same Five that fell in love with Lila,” You said, before quickly adding, “I mean- technically, you’re not, but still.”

“Everyone around here is a different version of me, from a different timeline,” He said, “I’m one of the many that didn’t go down that road.”

“Thank you, I guess,” You laughed, making him smile again.

What a sweet smile it was.

“When I lost you, I was a total wreck,” He confessed, as you couldn’t help but place your other hand on top of his, “I love you so much, Y/N, I could never hurt you like that no matter what. This is all such a fucked up turn of events, but when I saw you coming out of that train, my mind froze.”

“I love you too, Five,” You said, “But I need to wrap my head around what is going on- Everything is insane, I mean I’m right now in the middle of yet another apocalypse, I just found out that you love Lila and there’s just so fucking many of you.”

“I know, my love, I know,” Five nodded, “I wouldn’t dare to ask you accept everything so fast, I know it’s a lot to take in.”

“Can you just… hold me?” You asked, watching as he didn’t waste another second and got up to slide ne t yo you in the booth.

Wrapping one arm around your shoulders to pull you into his chest, he used his other one to caress your hair. You nuzzled your face into his shirt, taking in his scent, as you felt a wave of certitude wash over you. Five held you tightly into his arms, embracing you after years of your absence. He was grateful to have you in his arms once again.

And he was not about to let go anytime soon.

“I’ll always hold you, my love,” Five muttered, peppering small kisses in your hair.

The Five from your timeline watched from behind the window as you took comfort in his arms, but not exactly his arms.

This was only the beginning of his lifelong regret.

[stillfrownyclownlol]

Gonna throw up If I can't talk about them-

Bunch of Aiden analysis under the cut because he's just SO OBSESSED CODED AND NOBODY TALKS ABOUT IT 😭 (I will be very weird about it)

The way it's so doomed from the start. He's already so fascinated by her. It's in the little jump he does when she sits in front of him, like a secret they're both in on, like her sitting in front of him is some obscure way of her inviting him into a conversation.

Why is he like this (not positive but not negative either)

He has such a cocktail of personality traits and, most certainly, mental disorders, and his own history that makes it so, when he's in love, that it WILL blow up in his face.

The fact that he's been homeschooled for his entire life- he has no idea. HE DOESNT EVEN KNOW. He doesnt realize that its not normal. of course he doesn't :( His parents obviously leave him alone for long stretches of time and he doesn't seem to mind this. He hasn't had the chance to develop his social skills at all-

It's why he's so, let's be real, creepy. Ash makes it very clear she's not interested and he just keeps worming his way into her life. He plots so that she'll go on the field trip, he follows her around, he goes to her fucking house on the first day. LIKE, HELLO? RED FLAG?

He's having evil thoughts here I swear 💀

And already so quickly after meeting her he makes Ash his priority. He asks to sit next to her, he engages and makes an effort to talk to her. Tries to joke around with her. Gives her a nickname. Touches her. He's so touchy.

And defends her!!! When Tyler gets pissed at Ash, he honestly goes off on him even tho he KNOWS Ash can defend herself- and he's so...dark about it. There's a threat hidden behind his words. He's MAD here, right? Tell me I'm not crazy, please-

He also very clearly has violence on the forefront of his mind 💀 He's the first one to actively attack the phantoms; not to defend himself, not to defend somebody else (well, he pulls Ash out of the way), but for fun. And he's disappointed when they don't scream. He's sadistic, he likes causing pain, it's something he relishes in.

I mean look at how he smiles!!! None of the other kids have such an...active ENJOYMENT in fighting the phantoms, but for Aiden, it's almost like he finds relief in it, some way to vent out his frustrations. He's eager for a fight, for a thrill.

That's how Aiden sustains himself, he pretty much operates under "I'm here for a good time, not a long time." Everything he does gives him a boost of adrenaline, no matter the consequences. He got into a fight? Eh, who cares about all the bruises, at least it got his blood rushing. Broke a bone while doing parkour or smth? Whatever, the way his stomach dropped when he was falling as totally worth it.

It's a very dangerous mentality to live with, obviously. He's an adrenaline junkie. He's an addict. More than anything else, Aiden wants something that makes him feel alive.

And what makes you feel more alive than love?

Like not to minimise or anything but he's known her for like. 2-3 months- and he's already SO scared of losing her. Like I just don't think he would have had this type of reaction with anybody else besides Ben. He would have absolutely lost his shit if Ash 'died'.

He's a straight up love junkie. He's obsessive. Nothing beats the high love can give you. It overrules everything else. If Ash (or whoever he's interested in) feels bad because of smth, he's done with it.

He LIKED dying. He LIKED the adrenaline rush. But he won't do it again. Not because he had some realization that he didn't want to die, that he still wanted to live and do things, but because Ash was upset. Because this, this rush of care from her part, the way she was so scared of him dying that she was shaking, nothing could fill the hole in his heart better than that. And now that he has a taste for it, he won't let go easy. He will keep on living- if it means Ash will be by his side.

Which is a very dangerous position to put her in. Ash already feels responsible for her friends, and she doesn't even know that Aiden has "put" his life in her hands, not that it's her responsibility, because it isn't, but she will certainly feel responsible if Aiden does something FOR her.

Like He's so fucking obsessed and he doesn't even realize it- like look at how he sees her 😭 THE HEAVENLY GLOOOOOOW, LIKE SHES AN ANGEL AND HE THINKS SHE CAN SAVE HIM. BABY SHE CANT, YOU HAVE TO SAVE YOURSELF.

He could spiral so fucking bad. He could do some absolutely heinous things. Because he just doesn't know. He doesn't know how to love truly, yet. For him love really is that rush of adrenaline, the knife carving out his heart, he could be putty in her hands, or her executioner. This love that can be so obsessive, that he NEEDS it to function, like its water, like its the air he breathes. Its a compulsion, a fixation, a longing that burrows into your very soul. Ash doesn't even know what she's getting herself into-

Godddddd, it makes me so sick/ pos, it's SO FUCKING INTERESTINGGGGGG. I LOVE THEM SO MUCH.

I literally cannot function around this drawing 🫠

The. The hand. That way he's grabbing her. He's pulling her back. Towards HIM. like "this is mine. And I'm not sharing." And that little fucking look in his eyes, he just looks SO fucking pleased with himself. And Ash looks so...resigned. they're so doomed-coded, i love them so bad.

I don't know how I was supposed to NOT make a killer au, when he's just...like that around her.

Love is a wonderful thing. But love is also cruel, it is vicious, it is possessive and obsessive, and it will leave carnage in its wake.

Romantic love is an obsession. It possesses you. You lose your sense of self. You cannot stop thinking about another human being. -Helen Fisher

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (33/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: The first encounter after.

Warnings: angst, some fluff

Word Count: 3.2k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: kisses to all of you. I love you so much. feedback is appreciated!

Although Raphael stood outside your front door in the middle of the night the other night, shouting in the hallway and insulting you, tonight was a lot worse. 

You lay awake in bed for hours, tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling in the hope that the explanation for Charles' behavior was written up there. But the only thing you could see was the moonlight shining gently through the window, right on the empty side of the bed. 

It felt wrong to lie here alone and have the whole mattress to yourself. You lay as close to the edge of your side of the bed as you could, trying not to breathe in Charles' scent still clinging to the sheets or feel the chill his absence left behind. In such a short time, you got so used to his closeness that you were so cold without it that you had to pull the comforter up to your chin. 

But none of this helped you fall asleep or think about anything other than the man you would have loved to have next to you, lying just a few meters away from you in the living room. 

You've admitted to yourself that you would do anything for Charles, that you want to be someone for him to hold onto when the ceiling falls in on him, or to push him to be better, even if it costs you your heart. Even though you both emphasized several times that you were just friends - best friends, even - you always carried that little piece of hope with you. And although there had been several moments that dampened the spark, it never fully went out. 

Until last night. 

Charles seems to have clearly drawn the line of friendship, which you had previously only drawn very gently with a pencil, in thick, dark black. 

"All I want from you is your friendship."

There's a huge difference between agreeing to a friendship and being told that it's the only thing you want from someone. Whether you push aside the sexual tension for the sake of friendship to protect it, or deny every possible scenario, every moment that was more than just friendship and act as if nothing ever happened. 

The distance you needed last night to come to terms with your feelings and the final rejection was to buy you time. Time to extinguish the spark of hope inside you and get rid of the ashes before the fire takes you over completely and destroys you. But Charles had taken your escape from bed upon himself. 

You could never feel uncomfortable in his presence. And you had wanted it too. You even wanted more than he gave you at that moment - much more. You would have given him everything without hesitation - you would have given yourself - if he had asked for it. 

You almost feel a little ashamed of how quickly you fell in love with him, especially since you closed yourself off from your feelings for so long and lied to yourself. For seven days, you blocked out the voice inside you that kept shouting hypocrite so that you wouldn't have to admit the truth. And now, when the tears have dried on your cheeks and you can think clearly again, you also know that it would have been smarter if you had listened to that voice.

You love Charles. The Charles who only wants your friendship and has unconsciously broken your heart, which you were supposed to protect.

And you want to keep it that way. You would never let him know what he has unintentionally done to you. Not because you don't want to give him the satisfaction - you're pretty sure he'd feel bad about hurting you like that - but because, firstly, you don't want his pity and, secondly, the truth that you love Charles would ruin your friendship. If Charles knew how you felt about him, he would no longer be able to see you as a friend, just as someone he can't give what they need. 

He shouldn't feel obliged to be friends with you.

You press your face into the pillow. How pathetic to love someone who wants nothing more than friendship from you. Someone who has opened their home to you and you have misinterpreted their every word, every moment and every touch. 

Not even when Raphael cheated on you did you feel as sorry for yourself as you did in this moment. Although your relationship has lasted longer, in none of the countless moments have you felt as strongly for him as you have for Charles for days. And although those few days were emotionally challenging and exhausting, and at times you would have loved to bang Charles' head against the wall or pull him into bed, they were so breathtaking and fantastic that nothing and no one would ever come close to Charles.

You smack your palm against your forehead. The chances that you would die alone increase with every moment that you hope that Charles might eventually return your feelings.

You need to get over these feelings, there's no doubt about it. Since you've both already established that you can't be without each other and it might hurt Charles if you were to end this friendship - "I don't think you realize how important your are to me" - there's no other option but to throw yourself fully into this friendship and erase this boundary you've been walking on. If there is no boundary, there is no beyond. Just friendship, nothing more and nothing less.

Before you can really think about whether the idea is as good as you think it is, you swing your legs over the edge of the bed. According to the time on your cell phone, Charles could already be awake, so you shouldn't wake him as you walk down the hall to the bathroom. Besides, you can't hide in your room forever, so you decide to just get the first encounter over with. Come what may. 

As you pull a sweater, which you make sure is actually your own, over your head, you pause for a moment. Would it be weird if you were face to face? Would you even be able to get a word out? And if so, what would you say?

"I think it's good that we're going back to the beginning, where we didn't share a bed or touch each other. We should leave so much distance between us that outsiders would question whether we're even friends."

Definitely not. 

Of course you need to protect yourself and the distance that's been between you since last night certainly helps you get over your feelings, even if it's strictly speaking the last thing you want. But what you want most of all, what you desire and long for - you can't have that, unfortunately. 

If this friendship was the only thing you could get from Charles, you would gratefully accept it. Having a piece of him is still better than nothing.

You slip into a comfortable pair of sweatpants and fluffy socks before sticking your head out of the room. Although nothing can be heard, you leave the safety of your four walls and almost sprint towards the bathroom, where you brush your teeth and comb your hair. The dark circles you see in the mirror are the result of a sleepless night, so you try to conceal them a little, hoping that Charles won't recognize them and then realize how much his absence has kept you awake and bothered you.

Semi-satisfied, you enter the hallway and trudge towards the kitchen, passing the closed living room door. Apparently Charles is still asleep, which is why you quietly take boards and pans out of the cupboards in the kitchen to conjure up a decent breakfast on the table. Maybe that's your thing - trying to bypass strange conversations with a good breakfast, even if until today breakfast consisted of croissants and pain au chocolat.

As you dice two bell peppers and small tomatoes, you hear the living room door open. You look up from the chopping board in front of you and see Charles standing on the doorstep to the kitchen. 

"Good morning," you smile, hoping your smile looks as genuine as you imagine it does. "Would you like an omelette? The bell pepper and tomatoes are ready." Without waiting for an answer, you open the fridge and take some eggs out of the carton before placing them on the kitchen island next to the peppers. "I wanted to make you a coffee too, but I didn't know when you'd wake up and it would be a shame if it got cold."

Charles' gaze wanders from your face to the food in front of you before he looks at you in confusion. "Uh, yeah. Thanks." He scratches the back of his neck nervously before pointing weakly towards the bathroom. "I'm just going to freshen up. I'll be right back."

"I'm here," you say cheerfully, trying to ignore the fact that his hair is sticking out of his head in a disheveled mess and how ravishing it makes him look. "I'm not going anywhere."

As you hear the bathroom door slam shut, you exhale in relief. So far it's gone better than you expected, even though it's been less than ten sentences and you can't interpret Charles' confusion. Did he expect you to stay sadly holed up in your room and not dare to leave? Or was he confused because you were preparing breakfast for him?

Lost in thought, you fry his omelette in the hot pan and make coffee, which you place in a large cup on the counter in front of you. You serve the finished omelette on a plate as Charles returns to the kitchen. He hesitantly sits down opposite you and examines the meal in front of him. 

"Everything all right?" you ask him with a raised eyebrow, supporting yourself with your hands on the worktop. "Does it look that awful? I know I'm not a five-star chef, but I don't think it looks that bad."

Charles opens his eyes and shakes his head. "No, no! Everything's fine. It looks great." He picks up his knife and fork and smiles at you. "Thank you. I wasn't expecting that."

You wave it off before turning around and washing your hands in the sink. After all the thoughts you've had this morning, you've lost your appetite. "No problem. We live together and friends cook for each other." You know that's not what he meant, but you don't want to talk about last night. About his touch, his thigh between your legs, the look on his face when he told you he was going to sleep on the couch.

Charles clears his throat, but doesn't respond either. "How did you sleep?" he asks instead, before shoving a piece of egg into his mouth. 

You turn back to him. "Just fine," you lie, hoping that the concealer under your eyes is doing its job. "I was a bit cold, but I was fine. And you? How was the couch?"

Your roommate shrugs. "Definitely more comfortable than the one in the other apartment." He takes a sip of coffee. "But I'll still be glad when my bed arrives soon. I got an email saying it should be delivered in the next few days."

You look at him in confusion. " On Christmas?"

Charles shakes his head. "After Christmas. I think it's the day Lando invited you and me to party."

He doesn't even say it. The us. The idea that there could be more between you than friendship seems that absurd to him. You try not to let on how much this is affecting you. 

"Okay." You chew the inside of your cheek. "If you want to go partying with Lando, I can stay here if the bed hasn't been delivered yet," you offer. "Then you can have a nice evening."

Charles raises an eyebrow. "Why would you stay here when it's my bed?"

Maybe because you don't want to see Charles flirting with other women? Or even going home with them?

You shrug your shoulders. "I don't know how much you want to stay here and sit around waiting when you could go out partying with your friends. After all, you said yes to him."

Charles places his cutlery on the plate in front of him a little more firmly than necessary. "What's that supposed to mean? Don't you want to go out at all?"

"I didn't say that." You cross your arms in front of your chest. "I just offered. Because friends do each other favors." Because friends help each other.

"Then why do you want to stay here so badly?" he asks, annoyed. "Don't you want to spend the evening with us? Or rather, with me?" There is an angry glint in his eyes.

"I didn't say that!" you defend yourself. 

Charles gets up from his chair and circles the kitchen island before standing directly in front of you. "Why are you distancing yourself from me like that? Am I so awful that you don't even want to spend the evening with me anymore?"

Quite the opposite. You would love to cling to him and never let him go again. But the thought of seeing him with another woman makes you feel sick. But you can't tell him that, so you stare at him silently. You can feel tears stinging your eyes. 

"I'm sorry that you feel uncomfortable and I'll do everything I can to make sure this friendship doesn't go down the drain," he sighs softly. "If it means never touching you again, then that's what I'll do. If you want to go back to the beginning, then that's what I'll do. But please -" His voice is more of a plea than a request. "Please don't shut me out of your life. It may sound selfish of me, but I can't - please stay with me."

The angry glint in his eyes has gone out, instead you see tears flash and all you want to do is wrap your arms around him and hold him so tightly to you until neither of you can breathe and you would die a happy death because it would be in his arms. 

But you have to protect yourself, your heart, which is why you only smile slightly at him. "I told you." Your muscles ache, you have to restrain yourself so much from touching him and showing him that you're exactly where you want to be. "I'm not going anywhere." 

Charles breathes a sigh of relief and turns away briefly so you can't see him wipe the tears from the corners of his eyes before turning back to you. "All right then." He stands up straight in front of you and tries to play the tough guy, but his shaky voice betrays him. 

You look uncertainly at the plate still on the worktop. "Besides, I don't want to miss your mother's Christmas dinner. I think she'd haunt me and decapitate me if I didn't show up."

Charles laughs. "I'm afraid so, too."

You stand facing each other in silence for a moment until something occurs to you. "You said to your mother yesterday that we had a lot to do today. Was that serious or just a white lie so we could get home quicker?"

Charles bites his lower lip for a moment before reaching for his cell phone, which is lying next to the plate on the worktop. He presses the button on the side twice before sliding his finger across the screen. After a minute, he looks at you. "I meant that for real. I thought maybe you and I could do something today so you wouldn't lose your photography skills."

You give him a mock scowl, but can't help smiling. "And that would be?" He holds out his phone to you with the weather app open. The weather forecast for today is unusually good, almost twenty degrees. You look at him, confused. "Okay? And what does that mean?"

Charles puts his phone in the pocket of his black jogging bottoms. "I thought maybe you and I could go out on the boat. My fans haven't received any new pictures of me for a few days. Maybe you'd like to take some of me?" he suggests. 

You look at him, puzzled. "You really want me to take photos for your Instagram account? Your official Instagram account?" you ask skeptically. When he nods, you tilt your head. "What happened to 'I'm trying to protect you'? Have you thrown your principles overboard now?" 

"Was that pun intentional?"

"Maybe."

He rolls his eyes. "Listen. Kika has already tagged you in her pictures, so I think it would be fine if you took some of mine too. I don't necessarily have to tag you in them and push my luck. But you're good at what you do and Joris doesn't have time for me at the moment to take professional photos with me. And on the way to the harbor, I'll keep a low profile so that no one else sees you and me."

You purse your lips. "So I'm just your second choice, hm?"

He comes a little closer to you, but doesn't touch you. "You're always my first choice." His breath brushes over your face. "So, what do you say? Spend the day with me on a nice boat?"

"Depends," you reply, raising an eyebrow. "What's in it for me if I can't get any publicity from you?"

Charles has to grin. "There's a chef on the boat who will prepare anything you want."

You pretend to think for a moment before shaking your head. "Not good enough for me."

"There's a great bar where you can get drunk," he continues to offer, but again you wave his offer away. 

"Nope."

Charles takes a deep breath before running a hand through his hair and then leaning so elegantly against the kitchen island and leaning towards you that your heart skips a beat. "I'll let you steer the boat." As your grin widens and almost reaches your ears, it's obvious he's got you hooked. "So, would you like to spend the day on a boat with me, mon amo - ami?" he quickly corrects himself. 

You heard him anyway. And inside you wonder whether he calls all his female friends that. Maybe it's a habit he has that he's trying to break just for you. So that you don't feel uncomfortable, even though it triggers the complete opposite in you, which you try to ignore.

"As long as I'm allowed to steer the boat," you reply.

Charles' hand, which is hanging at his side, twitches briefly, as if he's trying hard not to lift it up and place it against your cheek.

"Deal."

[simpee9000]

Not Just Friends - 1 -

Prologue : Next Part : Not edited : 3.6k words : M.List

Childhood best friends turned into something more, at least with the label. Katsuki Bakugo, a fast-rising hero and fast-learning guy who is ever so slow in getting attached to and loving someone. Even three long years into a relationship, and your friends even forget you're even dating. Nothing happening, spare a few kisses.. like 3 kisses, during high school. Graduated and living together, and you guys have done absolutely nothing to further the relationship. Are you sure you're not just friends? CW: Smut, brief domestic violence discussion, virginity loss, aggressive flirting from creeps, gore with pro hero stuff (lmk if i missed any) Applies to all chapters regardless of it is in said chapter.

"How was work?" You asked, putting your coffee cup filled with tea down on the coffee table aside from the couch. Not looking up from the chapter book that rested in your hands.

A sigh was all that left his lips as you heard him kick his boots off and hang his keys next to the door.

"That bad?" you asked, looking up at the ash blonde who was now rubbing his face roughly as he made his way over to the couch you were laid across. He hummed in response. With you laid across the couch, back rested against the armrest, you pulled your feet in to make room for him. He sat down roughly, instantly sinking all of his weight into the couch. He looked at you briefly, "You don't gotta do that y'know?"

"Do what?" you peered at him confused. He just rolled his eyes lazily and grabbed your legs to stretch them out again, placing them over his lap. He didn't look back at you, just closed his eyes and leaned his head back, resting his hands on your calves. It was hard to mask the surprise on your face, normally after a rough day he would take a shower and prefer to be alone for the night, maybe making dinner for the two of you and watching a show. Yet he hardly ever asked for physical touch.

"Do you want to watch a show?" you asked, trying to determine the type of help he wanted.

He sat silent for a moment, "How was your day?" He leaned his head to the side, looking at you.

You fought over the questions that came up, confused about why he chose you as a topic. But you chose against bringing them up, "Just did some quick testing for new equipment, I'm about to be finished with your new gloves too. They just finished the first stage of testing," you smiled, hoping the good news would make him happy. After all, he asked for new gloves close to a month ago.

He just stared at your face for a while before you realized he wanted you to continue. The words caught in your mouth as you analyzed the look on his face for a moment. Thinking that maybe this was the 'look' your close friends always talked about. The face that showed how truly in love he was with you.

"I also finished Z's stuff," Izuku, "so today was a productive day. Yet it was easy too, all I really needed to do was your stuff and his. After that it was just paperwork," you added on. Picking up the throw pillow on the couch and placing it in your lap to play with the tassels on the edges. Avoiding the overwhelming look he was giving you. "Came home only an hour ago, showered, and picked up my book," you looked down at the book that was placed on the couch beside you, where you placed it when Katsuki sat down.

You normally came home an hour before him. He always sent you a text saying he'd be home soon, so you packed up from work and headed home after receiving it. It was one of the best perks about being head of your technical support department. It maximized your time with him. Leaving the house shortly after him every day, and coming home only an hour before him. Kept you productive and caught up at work every day, never stressing about due dates because of how often you were at work.

"That's nice," Katsuki finally spoke, eyes soft as he looked over every feature on your face. When you looked up you saw the dark circles that surrounded his eyes.

"How was your day?" You asked softly, trying to tell him he didn't need to answer.

He squeezed your calf, looking away from you for the first time since he sat down. "Rough," he said, voice slightly cracked.

"What happened?" you pushed.

He sighed, "A young couple was caught in a bad villain attack, she didn't make it."

Katsuki always took deaths hard, as any hero did. He saw himself as a complete failure after every death. It's only happened personally to him a couple of times and he always took it just as roughly. Often following you around the apartment after getting home, gluing himself to your presences.

No words would help him. All you could think of was trying to console him in any way possible. So you got up from your spot, shifting your body so you could lean your head against his shoulder. Feeling him instantly rest his head against yours. You fumbled for the TV remote, putting on one of his favorite movies before you fully rested against him. Wrapping your arms around his, hugging him close.

Moments like this were far and in between for the two of you. You hardly hugged, only on the bad or good days. But despite that, he still felt like home. You wished this would be the daily but were okay to settle for what he was okay with. Never wanting to push him too far.

This.

This was your normal for the bad days. The good days just had a celebratory hug and that was it.

-

A couple of days passed and you were out with friends. With you forcing Katsuki to come out as well. After all, the group has been inviting him for the past six months. Izuku, Uraraka, Todoroki, Tsuu, Ida, Momo, Mei and her friend Nana were all there. All of you were sat in Izuku's living room. Izuku was across the coffee table from you, seated in a matching lounge chair as the one Katsuki was in behind you. You opting to sit on the floor in front of Katsuki, wanting to be closer to the girls who also chose to sit on the floor. Uraraka seated in front of Izuku, Mei, and Nana seated in front of the TV but facing the group, Todoroki, Ida, and Momo all sat on the couch, and Tsuu was on the floor beside you.

The conversation naturally divided, the boys choosing to talk about the new ranks and techniques they've learned and the girls talking about whatever. You shifted focus between the two conversations, keeping track of the hero equipment the boys might need. You were deeply invested in the rant Izuku fell into about how he'd need new gloves to combat his new move.

Your attention was snapped to the girls when your name was called out. All of them awaiting your response. "Sorry, wasn't paying attention," you blinked at them.

"Oh, Nana was just talking about her relationship problems, and you're in one right?" Mei asked, helping Nana out since this was the first time she's hung out with the group and she was rather shy.

You furrowed your brows, "Yeah? Whatsup?" After all, they did just ask if you were in a relationship right in front of your boyfriend. Maybe Mei was filling Nana in.

"So," Nana started, messing with her hands, "my partner is um, sorry I don't know how to explain it well." Mei shot Nana a smile, nodding at her to go ahead. She took a deep breath, "So, my love language is physical touch and they aren't very strong on it. And I just don't know what to do, like should I try to work it out or is the relationship dead? I've had a relationship like this before and it died off fast."

"I say it's dead," Mei added. Uraraka and Tsuu nodding in agreement as well.

Momo sighed, "I think communication is needed first, then decided. Try to work around it first."

You looked between the girls, "I agree with Momo, not trying doesn't solve anything. Plus if you could work around it with your second strongest love language, I think it could still work, if they really couldn't meet halfway with physical touch."

"What do you mean?" Nana tilted her head at you, and all of the girl's eyes shifted to you.

You flushed, "Well for me, like in my relationship," you cringed at the idea of bluntly talking about it right in front of him. Hopefully, Izuku's ramble would keep him from paying attention. "My biggest love language is physical touch, but he doesn't quite like it so there isn't a lot of it. So," you struggled to find the words to properly explain how your relationship was working, "My second favorite is quality time, I guess, and we spend a lot of time together. The other three are also up there, He often cooks for me and stuff, buying me random things too. And our relationship works just fine," you shrugged.

Mei frowned at you, "How are you still with him if he doesn't do your favorite thing?" disgust listed in her voice.

"Well I'm okay with whatever he is okay with," you brushed off her disdain.

"I don't know how you do it either," Tsuu agreed.

"Nana, maybe you shouldn't listen to her," Mei shrugged, "A relationship won't work long-term if that's how you go about it. Maybe just talk to them first but if they can't meet halfway leave."

"Yeah," Nana looked around shyly, giving you a sympathetic smile.

You leaned back into Katsuki's chair, giving up on the conversation as the girls carried it away. Only then did you notice that Katsuki was tapping his foot aggressively. When you looked up at the blonde, his hands were clenched and folded into his chest as he stared straight ahead with a frown.

He was clearly done with the group outing.

You stood up, gaining the eyes of everyone in the room. "Kats and I are going to head out," you announced. Walking over to grab his and your coat. Katsuki getting up as well to meet you at the door.

"Oh lemme walk you out," Izuku jumped up, walking to you guys as the rest waved and said their goodbyes from their seats.

Izuku walked the both of you to the elevator, "You're leaving earlier than normal, everything okay?" Izuku whispered to you.

"You know Kats doesn't like outings," you smiled at him, "Nothing to worry about." Izuku eyed you, knowing what you said wasn't entirely true.

Izuku stood straight up, having leaned down to talk to you, once you reached the elevator. "I'm glad you made it this time Kacchan," Izuku beamed.

Katsuki grumbled in reply, facing away and walking into the opened elevator.

The lack of a 'shut up' confused the both of you. So you turned to huge Izuku goodbye, taking the green-haired boy out of shock. "Nice seeing you 'Z, I'll start working on your new gloves," you smiled.

"Thank you, I'll text you everything I want added," he smiled, "Goodnight!" He waved goodbye before walking back to his door. You turned around to a grumpy Katsuki holding the elevator door open for you.

"Sorry," you mumbled, quickly stepping inside. When the door closed you took the chance to question his, "Whatsup?"

"Nothing," he crossed his arms again.

"Come on Kats," you crossed your arms as well.

He sighed, "Your love language really physical touch?" he looked at you briefly, allowing you to see the embarrassment that coated his cheeks.

You paled at the realization he heard the entire conversation, "Yeah," you admitted, "not a requirement for me though."

He just let out a louder sigh and brought his hands to his face, rubbing his eyes aggressively.

"Kats?"

"What?" he grumbled.

"You okay?" you leaned closer to him, trying to see his face.

"Yeah," he dropped his hands, and stared at the number above the door, watching it tick to the ground floor.

"No you're not-," you tried, being interrupted by the elevator door opening, Katsuki rushing to the parking garage to leave.

Abruptly ending the conversation.

-

The drive home he blasted the radio, not giving you the option to turn it down and talk. Rushing inside your apartment as well. Quickly hiding himself in his room. You turned around with a scoff when he shut the door right in your face, going to your room for the night as well.

The next morning he left without a goodbye, all you heard from him was the front door shutting behind him.

Throughout the work day, he also ignored your messages. Leaving you alone for lunch rather than sharing it with you like he normally did. Not even texting you when he'd be home. The only thing you got from him was his calendar update, which wasn't even intentional. Seeing how he had moved his meetings for the day to fit in a meeting with Izuku last minute for the day.

So without any notice from him, you headed home near 6 in the afternoon. Which was normally the time you came home, so he should be home in an hour. Taking your shoes and coat off when you entered the apartment. Putting your keys away as well. Walking down the hall to your bedroom. Running into the ash blonde leaving his.

He paused for a minute, hand left on his doorknob as he looked at you. You crossed your arms impatiently, for one he was in the way of your bedroom and he also ignored you for the past day. He shut his door eventually, still blocking the hallway.

"Sorry," he muttered.

You drop your arms to your side, "Why?"

"Just felt weird," he mumbled, looking down at your shoes.

"Not going to tell me?" you furrowed your brows. He stayed silent. "Fine," you sighed, "Could you move? I want to shower, I'll be in the living room soon."

He stepped out of the way, moving to the side of the small hallway.

So you did just as you said. Walking into your room to grab clothes then going straight to the shower. Washing the day away as you washed your hair. Thinking over Katsuki's behavior since last night. And his reluctance to talk about it.

When you got out of the shower and dressed, you walked to the living room.

Katsuki was busy cooking, chopping vegetables, and dropping them into the pan. Adding meats and sauces as well. His brows were furrowed and his nose was scrunched. His thinking face. He was in his own world. Breaking out of it when you opened the fridge to grab a drink.

"'M makin' curry, keepin' the spices separate, don't worry," he grumbled over his shoulder.

He was going to play off his behavior like it was normal.

"Okay," you spoke, making your way to sit on the stool placed on the side of the island, seated right in front of him. You took a drink of your drink, "So you had a meeting with Z today?"

His knife paused for a moment, hovering over the carrot he was cutting. He glanced up, "Huh?"

"Your calendar?" you hinted, " I saw that you arranged a meeting with him last second. What did you need to talk about with him?"

He looked back down, "Nothin," he resumed cutting. You shot him a glare. One that, with so much time spent together, he could feel it without even looking. His shoulders sagged, giving in, "Just went over some tactics. I also went to him about a, um," he coughed lightly, "A support item in a way."

You perked up, filled with questions, "How come you didn't come to me?"

"I was askin' him if I should, was trying to see if it was even a good idea," he shrugged.

"What is it?" you crossed your arms, placing your forearms on the counter and leaning on them.

He finished chopping the vegetables, scooping them all into a pot, and letting it simmer. He turned back to you, leaning onto the counter. "So you know how I keep breaking the watches you buy me?"

"Yeah?" you questioned, not knowing how this involved work.

"Well, could you make me one?" he looked at your face. You were waiting for him to continue. "Like make it fireproof, waterproof-"

"Youproof?" you smiled, summing up what he was going to say.

"Yeah," he sighed in relief, glad he didn't have to explain every detail. "But I want one more thing added to it if you can."

"Kats, I can do literally everything," you smiled cockily.

"Can you make it disable my quirk?" he looked down at his hands.

"Why?"

"Just nice to be relaxed without it, can also help with my training. Then could you also make it so no one can try to cancel my quirk? All these quirk-removing things nowadays," he fumbled with his hands, mumbling out his words.

"Probably, I can definitely make it cancel your quirk, but making no one able to cancel yours, will be a bit hard. I'll make it combat most," you suggested.

"Okay," he sighed before looking at you, putting a finger in your face, " Also make it so only I can make it cancel my quirk. Like, put a password or some shit on it."

"Trust me, I was going to anyways," you laughed.

"Good," he grunted, turning back to the food on the stove.

"How come you needed Z for that?" you asked after a bit.

"Didn't know if it'd kill me or something," he shrugged. You wished you could have seen his face but his back was facing you.

"Also, Kats," you called. He turned to face you, "Answer my texts next time, hard to tell if you're alive or not," you frowned.

"Sorry," he mumbled, looking back to his food.

The conversation died at that, switching to him talking about what he was cooking. Filling up the silence with meaningless words and the scraping of food being placed in a bowl for you.

He placed a bowl in front of you and sat beside you. You could have eaten at the table but walking didn't seem like something you wanted to do, despite it only being a couple of steps away. Shaking your head when he asked if you wanted to eat at the table.

After a few bites of food and small talk about the other day, your phone buzzed. Face up on the table between you two. Lighting up with an unknown number

xxx-xxxx

Hey! This is Nana from last night. I got your number from Mei, I apologize if you don't appreciate that-

You opened your phone to read the rest, leaving it on the table as you continued to eat.

xxx-xxxx

Hey! This is Nana from last night. I got your number from Mei, I apologize if you don't appreciate that but I felt the need to text you. I saw how uncomfortable you were last night, talking about your boyfriend. And how he doesn't like touching you. I hope you know it's okay, and people are there for you. I was in a relationship like that once, and it was hard but it ended and I'm okay now. I remember how uncomfortable I was talking about him, making up excuses for how our relationship worked. How he refused to touch me, unless it was.. harshly, for lack of a better word, and degraded me. Reminded me of how you were talking about your boyfriend. Just know I'm here for you, and you're beautiful and strong.

You read over the text a couple of times, trying to make sure you understood what she was saying. After you were one hundred percent sure, you looked up from your phone, glancing at Katsuki, who was staring at your phone like he wanted to kill it. Holding his spoon like it shot his foot.

"She thinks I fuckin' beat you or somethin'?" He looked at you.

You looked back down at your phone, "Think so."

"The fuck?" he put his spoon back into his bowl roughly, "The fuck did I do?"

"I don't think she realized I was dating you," you defend.

"Still? How in the hell?" he glared at your phone, "Just cause we don't touch a shit ton that means I fuckin' beat you?"

"Kats-" you reached a hand out towards him.

"No," he stood up, "That's fucking bullshit. It's not that bad that we don't, right?" He looked at you "Right?"

"Right," you confirmed, "She misread the situation that's all. Now eat," you pointed to his food. "I'll let her know she was wrong, and that we are fine and happy."

"Are we?" he asked, voice soft. You looked at him, the words stabbing at your heart. "Are you?" he reworded, voice on edge.

"Katsuki, what?" you looked at his eyes. He looked lost. "Katsuki," you spoke softly, "Of course I am, I'm with the best. Why wouldn't I be?"

He brought his hands to his face, rubbing at his face as he always did. "Okay, just," he grumbled, "Fuck, I don't know." He went quiet, sitting down and finishing his bowl of curry before washing his empty dish, and taking yours when you were done.

He was overwhelmed and frustrated, so you stayed quiet as well. Texting Nana back instead.

-You-

Hi! I appreciate this but the situation was completely misread. I was just uncomfortable because he was sitting right behind me. The ash blonde, number two hero Dynamight. Felt weird talking about my relationship with him right there. I'm very happy with him, so nothing bad is happening. Thank you for your concern, and I'm glad you got out of that bad relationship. I hope your new partner fixes their behavior.

Nana

I am so sorry then. I had no idea! I shouldn't have assumed. I should have asked a bit more about it before I jumped straight to that conclusion, I am so sorry!

"I texted her," you told Katsuki, "She feels bad and had no idea I was dating you."

He grunted in reply, walking on scrubbing the dish in his hands. "When can you get my watch done?" he switched topics.

"Maybe a month, with the whole people can't cancel your quirk," you shrugged, "Could you write me everything you want added to it?"

"Yeah," he mumbled, "I'll leave a note on the counter for you tomorrow."

-Next Part-

In them m.list of this fic comment if you want to be added into a tag list <3

I'll no longer add people to the taglist if they haven't commented there. It's too much to keep up with all the new part. Hope you understand <3

[thedragonkween]

King Baldwin IV Headcanons! ♔🤍♕

A/N: So, here we are. I could not resist this mysterious and tormented king's charm. His silky voice makes me dream! These are some headcanons I've collected off the top of my head. The Reader is implied to be female and married to Baldwin IV. Please, do feel free to hit my inbox to ramble about our king because I'm literally dying of pining and yearning.

tags: female!reader x baldwin iv of jerusalem (from kingdom of heaven); reader is married to baldwin iv of jerusalem; fluff; slight angst towards the end

wc: 1150k

reccomended songs to listen to while reading: "Summertime Sadness" by Hildegard von Blingin; "Right Here" by Ashes Remain; "Blood, Sweat, Tears" by BTS (orchestral version)

"Many are the tales of the King Baldwin IV of Jerusalem and of his Queen. Despite the varying accounts of their deeds, each one of them agrees on one aspect: the King of Jerusalem loved his Queen dearly, and the world is richer for it".

Baldwin IV is mysterious, intense, valiant, noble and utterly devoted to you, his Queen. But what does this devotion look like?

Firstly, he would believe in you like no other and would always be ready to give you his best advice whenever the weight of your responsibility becomes too much. Foreign rulers would soon learn of your qualities - there would hardly be a piece of correspondence where the King of Jerusalem does not praise the intellect and insight of his dear wife. He would glance at you from time to time, while you both work at your desks sharing the burden of paperwork, silently thanking God for having sent him not only a beautiful, but reliable life companion as well.

He values your opinions greatly and has the utmost regard for your views on political, military and state matters. Disagreements happen, yet your overall values are aligned, which is why Baldwin understands your vision and where your point comes from. During the discussions regarding complex decisions, he would let you speak and explain, then he would offer his honest thoughts on the matter, should he see another, different way from yours. 

Playing chess is a favorite way of spending quality time together in your chambers, away from the chaos of the court. If you know how to play and are proficient at it, he would delight in the thrill of challenge, as he would finally have found a true equal. If you do not know how to play, he would teach you with patience, taking pride whenever you make an unexpected and astute move. He would be such a nerd while he explains the rules to you and would be delighted to see how your mind works when devising a plan.

"Congratulations, dove. You have a checkmate."

I can also see Baldwin taking you on long rides, if his health allows it. He would sweetly check the reins and saddle on your horse before mounting on his steed and leading you away to enjoy the cool early morning breeze, before the heat of Jerusalem becomes too sweltering. You would have a nice and secluded spot to enjoy and to pretend that you are a couple of young lovers without responsibilities and crowns weighing on your heads.

Your presence brings him safety and comfort, which is what would convince him to remove his mask when he is alone with you and the physicians. He would especially love to rest his head on your la as you gently caress his curls while the physicians tend to his skin. It is a sacred moment. He does not know how he went so long without your presence during this delicate time. Speaking softly to each other, you would distract him from the pain with talk of your hometown, fairy tales from your culture, or even simply reflecting on a happening of that day. On these occasions, you learn how to best take care of him, watching the physician tend to his arm while you tend to the other, delicately dabbing the cloth over his wounded skin. Baldwin feels so protected and safe in your presence. He thinks you are God’s greatest gift to him.

Now, jealousy. Baldwin knows he boasts the honor of having an exquisite flower such as yourself to call his own. As do powerful men and courtiers from distant lands. Many covet your loveliness as one would a precious gem. Should one of these foolish people try to take you from him or even stare at you for too long to be considered proper, they would be met with a pure force to be reckoned with. Should a knight’s eye linger on you for too long, he would be quick to put him in place in his signature glacial, elegant way. Before long, everyone learns not to disrespect the Queen consort of Jerusalem.

“Perhaps you would have understood my point, had you not been so insolently ogling my wife”. He takes out his whip. “On your knees. You will pay for insulting the Queen”.

He would protect you with his life. He swore to protect Jerusalem and, as its Queen, that includes first of all you. Should a courtier doubt your devotion and mistake it for thirst for power, or should he learn of an orchestrated attempt on your life, he would waste no time in employing his best forces in your service to defend you.

His enemies and templars alike fear him, yet with you he is as gentle as the morning breeze that gently caresses Jerusalem. This powerful king who makes armies tremble and kingdoms shake is the same person who holds and kisses your hand (when in public, bringing your fingers to the lips of his mask), who silently admires your loveliness from afar and sighs to himself, who longs for your warmth after a tiring day. 

He would write you letters. Lots of them. And not always when he is away. Maybe he just liked the way the sun reflected in your eyes that morning. Or maybe when you helped a servant, he was moved by your kindness. Your every action inspires him, so much so that he has to let out his thoughts on paper. You have a pretty wooden box brimming with delicate papers penned by Baldwin in your honor. He is not only the King of Jerusalem, but also the king of pining, of yearning. Even when he has you near, he yearns for you.

I love to imagine him letting you accompany him to battle. He would love it too, in theory. You make him so strong, the both of you would be quite the sight, meeting your enemies head on, as one, donning your best armors. Yet, at the same time I cannot imagine him resting easy knowing that a loose arrow, a desperate soldier seeking glory for killing the Queen of Jerusalem, or fatigue and sickness could take you from him. It pains his heart to be parted from you, yet he cannot risk your safety. Instead, Baldwin would trust you with ruling the kingdom. He has absolute faith in your intelligence, willpower and cleverness, especially after all he has taught you about running the realm. He longs for you every second he’s away from Jerusalem, yet his heart is at peace knowing his kingdom is in the most capable hands.

When he feels that his time on this Earth is nearing his end, he calls for his most trusted advisors, including Balian and Tiberias. He would ask them, almost begging, to protect you always, at all costs, when he is no longer there to do so. Balian and Tiberias would exchange a quick glance to each other, vowing to respect their King’s wish until the very end.

“Protect her. Please.” “Always, my Lord”.

Poems, songs and stories would be written in honor of your love even centuries after your passing. Many tales would speak of Baldwin IV of Jerusalem and his Queen. Different pieces of art, such as paintings and ballads, would inspire people from all over the world to find a love as devoted and unshakable as yours. Until the very end.

All in all, to love Baldwin means knowing your time together is limited. As is the time of all creatures on Earth. He would beg you to go on after his passing, to live for him. He shall wait for you and protect you from above. Until the very end.

[bomber-grl]

SAL FISHER RELATIONSHIP HC ! ₊˚⊹

₊˚⊹ PAIRING(s): Sal fisher x Gn!reader

He’s so sweet it hurts

Honestly, Sal is the best boyfriend ever, he’s always there for you and he always knows the perfect things to say when comforting you.

The two of you met because of the ghosts and the whole cult thing while at high school.

You were the more outspoken one out of the two of you since Sal was mostly against violence even when Travis was brought into the convo.

I can definitely see Sal being the first one to approach you.

It all started when Sal started becoming increasingly interested in you to the point that Larry and even ash started teasing and encouraging him to talk to you.

He would fluster, occasionally and say the wrong words out of nervousness however with luck, he managed to get your number.

It was hard not to fall for him, especially with how lovable he is.

He’s so genuinely nice and actually cares for others.

Of course, you eventually see his face, and although he was neutral about it since he trusted you he was still a bit nervous.

Definitely warms his heart when you not only accept his face but also kiss it.

He flusters and stutters so badly afterwards.

Continuing from that, he’s definitely the type to tease lightheartedly

Definitely not in the beginning though

So when you first started teasing and provoking him, causing him to get super flustered

He wouldn’t really know what to do except accept it, so imagine your surprise when he turns the tables once day and makes you a blushing mess

Most times when you hang out, you usually hang at the apartments in his room, or when sals an adult you’d hang out in his room in the house

During these hang outs you guys would usually listen to some music or just enjoy each others presence

Most times it’s just you and sal cuddling and ngl he smells rlly good

Like I’m not even joking and when you mention this, he can’t help but laugh and just tells you do too

However, when you guys hang out with Larry (which is more often than not) you guys end up in more than sus situations 😭😭

Then Larry is all like “I’ll leave you guys at it” and dips

Like??? We’re not doing anything 😭🗣️

Anyway

While you’re at high school ofc Travis has something to say, and if you’re a guy then he obviously calls you the f slur and a lot of homophobic nonsense

And if you’re a girl Travis still calls y’all homos in a negative way, and always says shit about you two

And I don’t think I need elaborate further about how Travis would probably hate crime you if you were non-binary, gender fluid, or basically anything under the trans umbrella

(Basically any gender identity that isn’t your assigned one 😭

Larry, ash, and Todd all get pissed at Travis , and they always come to the both of your guy’s defense

And ofc Sal is bit lenient towards Travis, well only ever when Travis is talking shit about him

If Travis talks shit about you he’d be pissed

But ofc younger Sal is less violent and more open so he’d obvs be kinder

Anyway, we all know what happens at the apartments and if you live there-

Let’s just say it pains Sal so much to have to kill you

I mean him having to kill all the people he grew up with and the people he cares for is horrible but he knows he has to

However, if you don’t, well let’s say you know about the cult and why he did it

Still doesn’t stop you from trying to find a way to get a lower sentence and from trying the convince ash of the truth

When sal dies, let’s just say you feel so alone

Of course you have ash by your side but it’s just horrible

Eventually you’re the person that sals soul would enter and you’d defeat the cult that way

But let’s all pretend that they were able to defeat the cult without having to kill the innocent tenants

Making sal a free man

Well if it were that way, you and Sal would be together for a long time, and if you both wished it, married too

———

Art credits : @/toasterdoodle22

[echantedtoon]

Perhaps In Another Life

This is inspired by a similar post by @o3o-aya and I wanted to put my own take now. Zenitsu/Muichiro/Tanjiro in Gyokko's, Kyogai's, and Kaigaku's parts are left up to interpretation as platonic s/os or are 18 just for this post.

Summery is the reactions of the Upper/Lower Moons watching you run back to your Haishira s/os upon their defeat. Will stay sfw etc.

Warnings for yandere themes, kidnapping mentions, death, etc.

KOKUSHIBO:

He hadn't felt such clarity until he met you. Your unrelenting kindness and compassion towards everyone regardless of who they are or what they're condition was is what attracted the affections of the stoic and fearful Upper Moon One to you.

Even when you discovered who he was. Even when he at first threatened to eat you alive. Even at the expense of your own life. You still only smiled at him with your kind eyes.

Such things as this should not have wasted on someone like your husband who was his enemy. Let alone the man was blind. He could never see you for who you really were. Who you could be. With everything Kokushibo could give you, make you be.

It hurt everytime you cried begging him to let you go back to your husband. Promising him you wouldn't tell anyone else.

Perhaps that's karma for his sins.

Turning to dust and ash.

Watching you run back to your husband. The one who wouldn't ever see your eyes. Clutching his sadly smiling from as the Stone Haishira took his last breaths.

A scattering of longing failure etched into his soul. Perhaps in the next life he will have the chance to see those kind eyes once again.

DOUMA:

You would never forgive him. Not for taking the life of your sister-in-law. Not for taking you away to this cursed place. And definitely not for taking you away from your wife.

Douma sees what he's doing as nothing wrong and if he does he doesn't care. You are a goddess to him. A goddess he makes his followers worship alongside him even how disgusted you are by his actions vowing to never give him the same love and care he craved after taking you from your wife.

Which is why when he met her during final battle, he didn't hesitate to get rid of the object between himself and your affections. Funny how fate had other plans.

Those dam brats!

He wants to curse them out. Smile and laugh as he falls apart. But he can't. His decapitated body is melted far beyond his abilities. He can't even yell out to you to stop and come back to him as you run past. Kicking what's left of him over as you run into the arms of your injured wife. Hugged in a giant hug by those brats who killed him.

He finally knows what rage feels like and now there's nothing he can do as the world goes black.

AKAZA:

He never meant to hurt you. He would never harm any woman, especially not someone he loves like you. You were too kind. Too innocent.

He didn't think that Water Haishira deserved you. He didn't deserve the kindness and patience you poured into him just to make him smile one time at you after so many hours. Or finally hug you only when you're ready to give up! That wasn't a relationship to him! He'd give you the entire world on a silver platter to see you smile at him

Only you never did because that smile was never his to take. There was already one waiting for him and he happily ran into his fiance's arms as you ran into your own.

He loves Koyuki..but he's also loved you. He regrets looking back at you embracing your fiance and making you cry.

He hopes to be able to meet you in the next life to do nothing else but apologize and hopes you forgive him.

KYOGAI:

It's hard for him to hate you after showing him that he wasn't worthless. All he wanted was to be acknowledged by someone.

He never wanted anything more than to just stay in that comfort that you provided when you first wondered in a while ago.

That's why he couldn't bring himself to be angry when Tanjiro and you hugged like it had been years since you were taken and cried as he held you tightly.

He hoped you both would be happy as he could now rest with his art recognized more than ever before.

GYOKKO:

THAT BRAT! HOW DARE HE?! DAM YOU DAM YOU DAM YOU!!

The mantra is repeated over and over and over again in what's left of his mind as you cower behind the turquoise eyed Haishira currently slicing him in the fit of rage and spite only a spurred loved one could hold.

"Don't ever reborn."

OH he swears too! Even as the last vision of his sight is sliced to nothing, he vows to return over again and take revenge even if it takes a thousand lifetimes!

KAIGAKU:

He's greedy. He does anything to benefit himself and that applies to how much greed and resentment he would have if you had chosen Zenitsu over him.

This festering carries over when he turns to a demon, his greed amplified to the point he takes what he wants. Which was you. That puny, whiney little snake didn't deserve you! You don't need him! He didn't care if you cried over Jigoro's death and got angry if you even mentioned Zenitsu let alone beg to go back and see you again.

He fully intended to kill Zenitsu and bring back his body to you to show that you can just forget about him.

But now there was. Falling down to ashes and soot. Zenitsu had caught your form before you all could fall down and now you both were being carried away from him crying and clinging onto each other like a lifeline.

Meanwhile his own lifeline faded to nothing but darkness. Cursing you both and what could've been.

NAKIME:

(Sorry if her's is short. Im not used to writing for Nakime.)

She knew that it was only a matter of time after Yushiro took over her mind and Muzan exploded her to nothing. She had tabs on everyone including you as Sanemi clutched onto you and refused to let you go. One of the very last things she saw before she was no more. At least she could be at peace knowing you were alright and with someone you cared about.

HAIROU:

Many memories have been lost forever to Hairou thanks to the repeated battering he gave himself. But he'd never forget the way Shinjuro treated him, so what better way to get revenge on the Rengoku family than stealing his daughter-in-law from him.

Except falling for you and deciding to keep your for himself definitely wasn't a part of the plan. Even with how much you begged and pleaded with him to be let go back to your husband, the son of the man who caused him so much suffering. No. No he'd rather keep them suffering than to admit defeat and allow them any kind of peace of mind.

So when the inevitable happens and he's forced to live the new trauma of the copy of his greatest enemy hug his precious wife close to him and kiss away her sorrows, he curses the entire bloodline from now until the very last member takes his breath.

Im going to do a second part with the other moons next. Bare with me there.

[absolute-flaming-trash]

Pairing: Yandere!Mahito x AFAB!Reader

SFW (ish)

Word Count: 2'060

Warnings: Yandere, Previously established (forced) relationship, Invasion of privacy, Nudity, Threats, Implied stalking, Nonconsensual touching, Reader eats shit in the tub (as in they fall).

Additional Notes: Reader is a foreigner in Japan.

You decided to leave the door open this time.

There wouldn’t be much point in shutting it, you had decided. The door to the bathroom was there for privacy, and while this wasn’t your home, you were alone so shutting it would’ve felt redundant.

The scent of eucalyptus filled the air as you sat on the edge of the tub and poured a generous amount of foaming bath soap into the water as it filled.

The house you were in was more Western-styled than the rest of the neighborhood. Part of you found it funny since, if someone were going to move to another country, you’d think they’d embrace the cultural differences that came with it - including home design.

That being said it did make a few things easier for yourself since you were also a foreigner, however you hardly ever complained when it came to your line of work.

Your job was a simple one. While the residents were away on vacation, you’d stay and take care of their home as well as whatever plants or animals that occupied it.

The owners got peace of mind while they were away and you got both a free place to live and paid to do almost nothing. Wins all around, in your opinion.

The cat you were looking after sat just outside the entrance to the bathroom, the tip of its tail twitching back and forth as it watched the water level in the tub rise.

“Don’t worry, Ashy, this isn’t for you.” You said as you put the cap back on the soap bottle and tested the temperature of the water with your right hand.

Ashes, the sleek Russian Blue feline narrowed her eyes in apparent scrutiny and her tail thumped against the carpet a little harder. The sight made you chuckle lightly.

“It isn’t, I promise.” The assurance in your tone was the same one would use when talking to a toddler. “See?”

You stood from the tub and began undressing, making quick work of your shirt and pants. Your amusement only grew when Ashes immediately got up and walked away, presumably to find a place to lay down that wasn’t near temporary bodies of water.

Once the water was about six inches from the top you shut it off and removed the rest of your clothing. The sigh that left you was low when you stepped in and settled amongst the bubbles, the hot water enveloping you in a gentle embrace that made your eyes close and your head rest against the edge of the tub.

The bathtub was nice - nicer than anything you had ever previously owned. It was long enough that you could properly stretch your legs out while being deep enough that the water came just above chest level. The only thing that could have possibly made it better was if it came with jets, but you certainly weren’t complaining with how things were.

Taking in a deep breath, you sank under the water and resurfaced a second later, letting out a long exhale while wiping the water away from your eyes.

It felt good. Being surrounded by warmth and not having to think about anything you had to do.

“Well, this is an interesting sight.”

The unexpected voice caused you to startle - jerking up straight in the tub while your head snapped towards the doorway.

It was him again. The stitches lining his skin were unmistakable, as was the mirth in his bi-coloured eyes while he leaned against the frame where Ashes had been only a few minutes ago.

Indignation quickly came up to replace the majority of the embarrassment, and you scooped up the bubbles around you to cover your chest.

“Get out.”

“Why? I’d say the open door was more than enough of an invitation.” 

Mahito’s nonchalance was infuriating and your knees drew up as he approached the tub.

“Well, it wasn’t.”

Mahito giggled, both at your answer and your vain attempt at more modesty. He stopped about three feet away from the tub to lean against the sink and he shrugged “Could’ve fooled me.”

“What are you doing here?” Your tone was sharp, no-nonsense, although most of its bite was reduced due to your current state.

“What am I doing here?” Mahito parroted back, idly going through the items on the bathroom counter - picking through your perfumes and skin care products. “I’m talking to you, aren’t I?”

“That’s not what I meant.” You snapped, irritation further clouding any mortification you felt. “You couldn’t find someone else’s house to break into?”

“Now that’s just it.” Mahito looked back towards you, a shit-eating smile on his face. “This isn’t your house.”

Fury and annoyance burned in your cheeks and Mahito giggled.

“You look like an angry, wet cat.” He said, toying with a bottle of your perfume. It was one of your favourites, cherry scented. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“I’d be lying if I said yes.”

“Awwee.” Mahito cooed with faux, overexaggerated hurt. “That isn’t very nice.”

“How did you even find me?” You asked, deciding to break off from the line of dialogue that was clearly leading nowhere. “The last place I was in was on the other side of the city.”

“Yes, it was.” Mahito sighed, like the reminder itself was exhausting and he pouted. Like an actual child. “Rather upsetting of you to not tell me you were moving around.”

Your teeth dug into the flesh of your cheek. “That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Your questions are boring.” He replied, “In any case I’m glad I’ve found you again, you’re definitely a sight for sore eyes.”

Something curled in your gut at his words. It felt heavy, like sludge, and your lips pulled back into a sneer. “Horrendous.”

Mahito chuckled once more at your comment, clearly unbothered. “Now, now, is that how you treat a guest?” He set your perfume back on the counter and took a step forward to crouch next to the tub.

Your arm came over to cover your breasts automatically and he rolled his eyes.

“You know, there’s no point in covering yourself. I’ve already seen everything.”

Pure, unfiltered mortification burned in your face and you glared at him. “Go to hell.”

He feigned shock, placing a hand over his heart. “How rude, and here I thought humans were more welcoming to their guests, especially in this part of the world.”

He chuckled again, his glee-filled eyes fixed on yours. “But I imagine that’s lost on you.”

“You’re not a guest.” Your reply was harsh, angry embarrassment still driving your words.

“No?” He leaned over the edge of the tub, getting far too close for comfort. “Then what am I?”

Dozens of answers sprang to mind. He was awful, for one. You often wondered if the stitches that ran along his skin were the only things that kept the rot in his soul from physically bubbling to the surface.

Repulsive was another. Abhorrent. Nauseating. Terrifying. Incredibly unwelcome in ways that caused words to fall short.

“A pain in the ass.” Was the savory answer you chose.

Mahito let out a bark of laughter - the sound loud and harsh in the acoustics of the bathroom and it caused you to flinch with how close he was to your face. Internally you were thankful when he drew back to sit cross-legged on the tile.

“A pain in the ass, huh? Can’t say I’ve heard that one before.” He said, his smirk widening. “You know, it’s always fun when humans try to be feisty.”

The fruit was low-hanging, but you took it anyway, albeit reluctantly. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” His grin widened to the point it was a marvel his stitches didn’t rip. “It makes it more enjoyable when they realize nothing can save them.”

The heavy feeling in your stomach quickly turned to ice. You sank a little lower in the tub, although warmth did nothing for the goosebumps that blossomed along your skin at the threat.

But that wasn’t quite right, it wasn’t a threat. No, it was fact, and he stated it like one. Mahito enjoyed destroying people, peeling back layer after layer - both physical and psychological - to see what was underneath. It was entertainment disguised as research, since - even despite being shown what he was capable of - you refused to believe even someone as vile as him got any knowledge out of what appeared to be pure torture.

Mahito sniggered at the look on your face and he waved a hand dismissively

“Oh relax, nothing’s going to happen to you.”

The unspoken ‘yet’ at the end of his sentence lingered in the air, mixing with the scent of eucalyptus and poisoning it.

“Anyway, that’s enough of that.”

You looked at him quizzically as he stood back up, but the confusion was short-lived as you saw him reach for the hem of his shirt.

Your eyes widened to the size of dinner plates.

“Uhm, what the hell are you doing?!”

“There’s more than enough room in there for two.” The casualness of Mahito’s voice was slightly muffled when he pulled his shirt over his head. “And it’s been a while since I’ve had a bath, the hot springs aren’t exactly close, you know?”

He wasn’t wrong. The house you were looking after belonged to a couple, and it was clear the bathtub was bought with the intention of having more than one person in it, but the mere thought of being near Mahito that way made you want to vomit.

When he stripped out of his pants your eyes immediately moved to the bubbles surrounding you. It was a hopeless situation since, even if you did move to get out, not only would he truly see you in all your glory, he’d likely drag you right back in anyway.

When he stepped in, the water was displaced so greatly that some of it spilled over the edge and onto the tiled floor. A grimace crossed your face and your eyes narrowed at the bubbles. You’d have to clean that up later.

Mahito was quiet for maybe a minute maximum, shifting around here and there and displacing more water onto the floor until he sighed dramatically.

“This isn’t comfortable.”

The urge to snap at him that he was more than welcome to get out clung to the tip of your tongue and nearly leaped off of it, but any kind of response was replaced with more of that awful but familiar embarrassed outrage as you felt cold fingers wrap around your wrist and pull you forward.

It threw you off balance horribly, and your free hand shot out instinctively to catch your fall a moment too late. Water went up your nose when you went underwater for a brief moment and you came up just as fast as you went down, coughing and sputtering as Mahito pulled you against him - twisting you so you were settled between his legs with your back against his chest.

His giggle mixed with the ringing in your ears.

“Whoops.” He said, apology non-existent. “But this is more comfortable, don’t you think?”

You didn’t want to think. You didn’t want to think about any of it. Not the way one of his arms was wrapped around your waist, locking you in place, or the way the bone in his chin dug into the muscles of your shoulder.

Each cough from you made more water spill onto the floor and Mahito sighed again while he smoothed the wet strands of your hair away from your face.

For a moment you wondered if this is what Ashes felt like whenever you bathed her.

“Humans are so fragile, it’s a wonder there’s so many of you.” His words were muttered like he was thinking out loud, and it was very likely that he was. “A bit of water and your soul is already down to seventy percent.”

It was more than just some water, you wanted to yell at him. It was the fact he was here in the first place, the fact he was holding you naked against him so you could feel as much of him as he could of you.

The fact that you were beginning to realize that no matter what house you took care of, he’d always be there.

And there’d be much more than water to clean up after.

© absolute-flaming-trash 2024. Do not repost, modify, copy, or claim.

[lostinforestbound]

It's here after many weeks, the 10k one-shot to celebrate 200 followers, but I suppose it's also to celebrate 300 followers as well! I meant for 300 to be a different celebration but that's okay! I'm sure I'll make something else for the next milestone!

Requested Tags: @dutifullylazybread @heytheresunflower @barbwillbrb

Rolan/GN!Tav

I Shouldn't Love You Like You Are Mine

Rolan has too much to do with so little time. Becoming the new Master of Ramazith's tower is proving more complicated than the wizard have ever thought. On top of it all, he has a deep infatuation with Tav, the hero who saved him and his family many times. He knows he has no chance with them, so he has settled on hopelessly pining and dreaming. One day, Tav rushes into the shop in a panic, and he could have never in his wildest fantasies expect what they request of him.

Word Count: 10k (Don't like Tumblr? Read on AO3 instead!)

Relevant Tags: Rolan's POV, Makeout Diversion, Smut, Lorroakan Bashing

Beta Reader: @el-tur-el (Thank you so much for your help T!!!)

NSFW under cut, Minors DNI

The air is stale, the scent of electricity still strong in the space that surrounds him, the taste of blood on his tongue from when his sharp teeth gashed the inside of his mouth. He's sore, bruised, burned, somewhat electrocuted by the way some of his muscles spasm still, but he's alive. Tav is long gone with their companions, and all that is left is him and a dead man.

When staring down at the body of his spine-broken master, Rolan is not sure of how he's supposed to feel. At first, he felt a genuine joy that he had not felt in many years. The adrenaline was still high at the time, and he proudly remarked that he would turn the tower inside out to find its secrets and share them with the world. He always has been ambitious, that is what got him this far, after all. Tav seems happy for him, and he ignores how it made his heart pound even more.

As he stands alone in the room, he questions whether he's supposed to feel something now that the joy has faded within the span of minutes. Some kind of liberation? Or perhaps his emotions are fighting each other in his psyche, making him feel everything and nothing all at once. The man who tortured him, who beat him like he was a misbehaving dog he didn't even want, who refused to teach him anything about wielding the weave, lays dead by his feet. He can't help but think that he looks pathetic now, face twisted in permanent fear even after death.

He spits on his face as a final 'fuck you'. He hopes he rots in the deepest pits of the hells that he was once dragged to.

Running his stiff hands down his face, he tries to think of what to do first. He has to get rid of this body, it can't stay here lying around. It will decay and stink more than Lorroakan already has. Grabbing a fistful of the dead man's hair, he drags his body towards the balcony. He could throw his body over the railing, it would be insult to injury, but no. He will do something much worse.

He digs into the stray backpack at the edge of the railing and takes out a disintegration scroll, one that he knew Lorroakan hid out here as a backup plan in case a fight doesn't go his way. Without thinking too much on it, he casts the spell on the body, and Lorroakan disappears into ash.

His former teacher was now erased, made into nothing, and no one will remember or miss him. A fate worse than death, in Rolan's opinion.

Almost numbly, he heads back inside the main room and tries to find cleaning supplies. There's so much blood on the floor, and it did not help he made a trail while dragging the body. He wishes Tav was still here so he could demand they clean their mess up, where he wouldn't notice his tail flicking back and forth in irritation. Would they bother listening to him? Maybe not, but at least they would be there, just a little longer. Just enough time for him to pine once more.

Lia is right, he's a very selfish creature.

A couple of mage hands bring a bucket of water and an unused mop over. He is taken aback, as he thought they would have disappeared in Lorroakan's absence. Although, these could have been Ramazith's, wherever that wizard is now. It doesn't matter, either way. They're his now.

He dunks the mop into the water and starts swiping across the floor, noticing how as he cleans, the white cloth of the strands turn red. There's so much godsdamned blood, it will take him forever to clear the mess. There's a lot of blood on him, too. Specks and splatters of blood paint his hands crimson, long dried onto his red skin. His mentor's blood. Lorroakan's blood.

He helped murder a man, today. He killed someone. His blood is on his hands as much as it may be on the Nightsong's. Or Tav's.

An unsuspected shudder runs through his body, and he feels sick. He chalks it up to his adrenaline rush going down too quickly, ignoring the feeling as he swipes the mop across the floor.

The hairs on his neck stand on end as he feels the crackle of the weave, warning him someone is coming through the portal. Part of him hopes it would be Tav; he wants to talk to them again. Maybe they can help him with the cleanup, laughing about how they left him here without realizing it. He would stumble over his words like a fool, trying to be impressive in his pathetic state.

It's not Tav that arrives though, he recognizes Lia's quick footsteps anywhere. She's always been the fastest between him and Cal; they both could never beat her in a race, but he swears he lets her win.

"Rolan!" She shouts, quickly coming up to him along with Cal, whose heavier footsteps are right behind hers. "Finally! You kept talking up this tower and now we get to see it-"

"Wait, is that blood?" Cal immediately interrupts, face falling.

He must look horrendous, Rolan realizes. He got so busy cleaning the floor that he didn't even bother washing up first. Based on when he looked at himself that morning, the bruises should still be very prominent. Shit.

Lia bristles when she cups his face, looking at his injuries. "What is this?"

The silence that falls between them is telling. He knows she figured it out a long time ago, but she wants to hear him say it. "I'm fine, Lia. He was a horrible mentor, but it's not my blood on the ground."

"Tav told us they helped you kick his ass." Cal comments, trying to lighten their moods, "Looks like you did just that if this blood isn't yours."

"You should've killed him earlier, idiot!" She spits.

"I know, I know." He mutters, trying to speak even as Lia turns his face around to see the damage. "It's good to see you two."

"We missed you, brother," Cal says, gently moving Lia away and hugging him. "Please don't do that again. It was hard, without you."

Rolan lets out a sigh he didn't know he was holding, hugging Cal tightly. Lia joins in quickly after. When was the last time they held each other like this? He doesn't remember.

It feels nice.

While it doesn't last long, it is more than satisfactory for him. They help him with the clean up, Lia helping with the blood while Cal sweeps the floor with a broom. They take on more workload than Rolan wants, but he can't argue with them when they practically plead for him to rest. To be honest, he's unbelievably sore, and maybe sitting down for a bit wouldn't hurt.

It only takes his body a few minutes until it's antsy again, so he joins them quickly after.

And then he never stops moving.

He cleans, reorganizes, and keeps walking despite his beaten body screaming at him to stop. He can't stop, because if he does, he knows he will not want to get back up. He'll crash, and he can't afford that.

At the end of it all, he enters Lorroakan's room without thinking and is frozen in place. He's been in here before, but never for good reasons, only beatings. Is this not his room now that the original master is gone? But it reeks of his old mentors stench. He scrunches his nose as he looks at all the personalized decorations. They're hideous, all of the colors too bright to stare at, and most not matching with each other in terms of palette. There's not even a real theme and it makes him irate.

He remembers being beaten on this very floor for messing up a verbal component.

Enraged, he marches up to the bed and tears off the sheets, making a point to dig his claws into them so they would rip. The pillows are next, tossing them across the room and onto the floor. He'll need to replace every damn thing if he wants to use this bed. To use this room.

Unwanted memories start to flood into his mind as he tears the place apart, most of them being on the ground, where Lorroakan said he belonged. Beaten, burned, electrocuted, sometimes poisoned. A place where he was at his most pathetic. He often has nightmares about those late nights, but some of the worst ones were Tav walking in and seeing him like that, utterly broken on floor. They would never see him the same, and he doesn't know whether he prefers them to be disgusted by him or to feel pity.

He's close to a breakdown, having trouble getting air into his lungs before Cal and Lia comes in. "Rolan?"

With a slow sigh, he turns to look at them. "Why are you two up?"

Lia's eyes trail around the destroyed room, seeming to note the claw marks on the bed sheets discarded on the carpet. "Couldn't sleep." She says simply, giving a knowing look.

"Can we sleep with you?" Cal asks, rubbing the back of his neck, "Like when we were kids? Just for one night."

His jaw moves to start a pointless argument, but then snaps shut. They're both not children anymore, they can sleep by themselves. He can sleep by himself. However, he cannot deny that he craves the affection it would bring. He hasn't been this long without them, no matter how much he complained about them being clingy before.

"All right." He says quietly after taking a deep breath, "Not in here, though. Come."

He quietly leads them to the comparatively bland room Lorroakan gave him in Sorcerous Sundries. It isn't terrible, but he realizes that the bed is way too small for the three of them. Thankfully, he had a remedy. He adjusts an enlarge spell and makes the bed wider, and they all settle down on top of it easily.

Lia makes him stay in the middle while she settles on his right side, Cal climbing over carefully to lay on his left. Honestly, he misses having them so close.

"Rolan?" Cal speaks up as Lia pulls up the blanket.

"Hm?"

"Can you make a light show for a little bit?"

Rolan can't help but smile, slowly closing his eyes before opening them up again and raising his hands. "Any requests?"

"Make it look like flowers blooming." Lia says instantly, draping an arm around his middle.

He huffs before murmuring a few words, a burst of colors appearing in the air. Like asked, they take form of flowers blooming, petals falling near them gently. It's gorgeous.

It fades after a minute though, the exhaustion finally catching up to him as he falls asleep. If Cal and Lia were bothered by it not lasting, they don’t say a word.

For the first time in years, his night is not plagued by nightmares.

---

As soon as he wakes, Rolan does not stop moving.

He's the new master of Ramazith's tower, there is so much to do with so little time. The Absolute's army is on its way and he needs to gather everything he can to protect his siblings, and to protect Tav.

Tav doesn't need protecting, he knows that all too well, but he needs to do something. Anything at all. He needs to prepare the arcane cannon, but there is so much research to be done. On top of it all, he wants to be able to focus on his studies, but then run a shop at the same time.

He barely eats the toasted bread he haphazardly made for himself, too distracted by the logs Lorroakan left behind. There's so many customers he needs to take care of, including deliveries. Maybe he could repurpose the animated armor to make the deliveries, but that could be shaky as they're unstable. Well, Lorroakan's magic was always weakly done...he could rework the sigils. He'll have to rework everything in this place, actually.

Gods, everything is such a fucking mess. He knows he needs help, but respectfully, he wants everything a certain way and his siblings won't be able to give him what he wants. Tav would be able to understand-

He stops reading, surprising himself with his thought. Tav? Why would he think Tav would know how he likes things? It's ridiculous. But he can imagine it, them carrying books around with whatever means and placing them in alphabetical order, then by subject. They would tease him about being so stingy with what books go where on the bookshelf.

And they would laugh. Not quite at him, but laugh nonetheless. It's such a perfect sound in his ears, and the thought of it makes the tip of his tail flick about. Damn it all!

He's been thinking about them a lot, unfortunately. Ever since the Shadow Cursed Lands, where they succeeded in saving his siblings where he could not, an infatuation began to settle in his heart. He had half the mind to possibly confess, but immediately pushed it out of his mind. There was no possible way they would feel the same. He's too bitter, too arrogant, and he saw the way they looked at Gale, someone who is much more accomplished than he is. It is a fondness that he never received once in his life, and certainly not by them. He was jealous of it, but jealousy is an ugly little trait to have, so he gave up on dwelling.

The feelings never went away, no matter how much he wants them too.

He wants to say more to them, especially after they saved his sorry tail again during the fight up in the tower. They left before he could, he was too dazed staring at the mess the Nightsong made of his former master. He regrets being too out of it to say anything proper.

What would he have told them anyways? He doubts anything worthwhile. Probably a weak apology and an even weaker attempt to express his feelings. In the end, they would reject him, no doubt. He messed up too many times, back in the Shadow Cursed Lands, even if they accepted his apology for lashing out.

So he continues on and tries to forget, organizing the scrolls at the front counter of Sorcerous Sundries. His nose scrunches in irritation at the disorganization of it all. Was Lorroakan always like this? They aren't even categorized in the right sections, its horrendous. Diabolical. A sin on this shop.

Frustration straining his brow, he lays them flat on the counter to decipher where they should go, ignoring the ache that sits subtly in his bones. He hasn't had the chance to heal himself, so the bruises are still very prominent. It doesn't matter, he can take care of it later.

He knows deep in his heart that later will never come.

In the middle of his thought, one of the front doors burst open. Someone runs in and...well, he doesn't recognize them, but he does see the illusion aura that surrounds their figure. He's about to yell at them about their audacity, but their disguise instantly fades when they close.

It's Tav, in all of their wonderful glory.

"Tav?" He asks dumbly as they rush the to the counter.

They urgently hop over the counter and grab his wrist, and he actively has to suppress a wince by the force. "I need help. Hurry!"

Without a chance of responding, they drag him along towards one of the rooms along the side of the shop. They practically throw him in there.

The door slam briefly echoes in the room, and he barely has time to react before the back of his thighs meet the desk inside. He hisses, the bruises still fresh, “What in the hells are you doing?”

“I need a diversion. I was disguised but the Flaming Fist followed me.” They state, starting to open up the front of their tunic to make a mess. “Let me kiss you.”

He hates how the tip of his tail stands at attention, and thank the gods they don’t notice it. “What.”

“We’re kissing. Now. Just-“ They groan, loosening their shirt more to make themselves look like a mess. “-I need to make it look like I was busy. Rolan, please?”

He should say no. Everything is screaming at him to say no. But he is a weak man, and he’s dreamed that he could have them in his arms. Or be in their arms, it didn’t matter to him.

As soon as he gives a nod, they grab the front of his collar and pull him in, kiss searing. It takes everything in his being not to moan at the contact, especially when they loosen his hair properly to make it fall past his ears. They don’t touch them, much to his relief.

Pretending to put on the same act as them, he presses into them enthusiastically, letting their tongue in when it pries at his teeth. He fell out of control so quickly that he doesn’t know how to pick himself back up. He had half the mind to let them have their way with him. Blood rushes down south when their hand slides up his clothed stomach, sweat beading on the back of his neck as the muscles tense and quiver. Their touch was firm, demanding, and the voice in his head screams at him to not deny them for a moment. How long has he been waiting for something like this to happen?

Before he could panic about his dick twitching in interest at their ministrations, the door flies open. It startles Tav enough to where they bite his lip on accident, making him jolt.

A group of Flaming Fist freeze at the door, taking in the scene before them.

Rolan reacts quickly with his typical sneer, sitting up straighter and trying to ignore Tav being between his legs. “Do you mind?”

“Well, sir-“ One starts but the other, a commander most likely, cuts them off.

“There’s a suspected thief that we believe ran into here.”

“So you decided to almost break down one of my doors?” He questions, making a show of magic to fix his hair up. Tav moves away with their arms crossed in front of their chest, looking annoyed.

“We apologize, sir, but this thief is-“

"Excuse me?" Tav states, putting on an offended face. "How dare you! I am not a thief! I've been in this shop for a while now, unless you are accusing me of stealing from here?"

Rolan comes in before the Commander starts to retort. “My partner, no, my associate could not have been a ‘thief’ as they have been here with me for the past fifteen minutes. And this chase happened how long ago now?”

One of the other Flaming Fists glances up at the clock in the room. “…Five minutes.“

The man to their right smacks them upside the head.

“And what did they look like?” Rolan continues.

“A pale half-orc, short hair with a blue blouse, but-“

He raises a hand to silence them, as if they were misbehaving children. “Then I believe we are done here, as my associate is wearing nothing of the sort and does not look like what you described. Now, unless you are here to buy something or set a donation for the rebuilding fund of the shop, you will kindly leave the premises of Sorcerous Sundries this instant. I expect a formal apology by the end of this week.”

In all honesty, it's funny how lost these Flaming Fist look. They seem unsure of what to do. As Tav scoffs and looks away, it seems as though they're trying not to laugh. He has to fight the smile that's teasing the corners of his mouth, staring at all the blustering Fists as they figure out what to do. Reluctantly, frustrated and angry, they exit out of the office and leave the shop with their tail in between their legs.

He brushes himself off when the heat dies down, finally able to compose himself. “What the hells were you doing? Are you mad?!”

They finally let out the laugh they were holding, straightening themselves out. “I blew up a Fireworks shop. An Absolute Cultist was running it! Who knew? To answer your second question, maybe a little bit. It's been a tough day.”

"And you thought you could just run in here while I was working? Making the Flaming Fist dirty my floors after I just had Cal clean it?!"

"I'm sorry Rolan, I panicked. I wasn't thinking." They say, seeming genuinely apologetic.

He could barely focus, mind still catching up with the events. Is he truly this easy? All they had to do was demand a kiss and he would follow them, like a lovesick puppy? He's ashamed of himself, and he didn't even notice them speaking again.

"Rolan?"

"What?"

"How are you?" They ask sincerely.

He straightens himself up and gets back into his usual facade. "I am well enough. This shop and the tower is a horrid mess, so I've already been spending time reorganizing the texts. Lorroakan barely knew his alphabet. They were not even organized by subject!"

They laugh at that, and gods, the sound makes his heart pound, but afterwards they frown at him, eyes scanning to his face. "You're still bruised."

"I haven't had the time to take care of them. There is too much to do."

They dig into their pack and hold out what he recognizes as a superior healing potion. "Here. If you're going to work, at least heal up. Did I hurt you earlier?"

He slowly takes it, perplexed, "It is nothing I can't handle."

"I'm sorry." They murmur.

"I appreciate your apology, and I forgive you." He states, uncorking the bottle and drinking down the potion.

Instantly, the deep set ache and soreness of his form fades to something less painful. Its like a warm hug, and he feels energized.

They give him a soft set smile as he places the bottle down on the desk. "You look a lot better."

Gods, if he could, he would crush the fluttering feeling the compliment gave him. "Excuse you, I always look better. Now, besides that whole mess that you created, was there anything else you needed from me?”

"I want to make purchases...and barter?" They squeak out.

He sighs heavily, opening the door back up for them, "Of course you do. All right, what do you have for trade then?"

They head out to the counter with a skip to their step. "I promise it's worth it!"

---

Tav ended up having plenty of things to trade, including heavy set armor, rings, and magic items they don't need anymore. Thankfully not all fortune is lost, as they give some coin for high level spell scrolls. A Globe of Invulnerability...how interesting. He knows they are out and about adventuring, but what would they need that kind of spell for? How do they even have the gold to afford it??

They were out the door before he can ask them, clearly in a hurry to get somewhere. "Thank you Rolan!"

A little defeated, he continues on with the rest of his day. Organizing, organizing, and even more organizing. This place is such a shit show, it will take him ages before everything is how he wants it to be. Cal always teased him about having his socks color coded in his drawers.

He plops onto a fresh bed at the end of the day. This was Lorroakan's bed, but Cal and Lia helped him out with cleaning the room. New mattress, new sheets, new blankets, and even new pillows. They tore down the hideous tapestries and paintings he had, and he plans to change the wall into a new color. He still needs to personalize the room to how he likes, but now it was his. No trace of Lorroakan is found here. He idly wonders how Tav decorated their room, or if they have a home to go back to. They're still a mystery to him.

As he lays there, staring at the patterned ceiling, he finds it strange he has a room to himself. It's nice, and he's never had more privacy than now. Sometimes Lorroakan entered in his room at odd hours to start a lesson at his leisure. If he wasn't a light sleeper before, he is now due to the man's random visits. Now here he is, laying his bed, with his nights uninterrupted for the most part.

He has privacy.

...He’s pent up, isn’t he?

Through all the beatings and stress, he never took time to himself and get off. He was worried about getting caught by his mentor. On top of it all, he was too exhausted and hurt to even do much for himself, some nights barely having energy to bathe. But now…

With a sigh, he summons a mage hand to grab a book for him. When was the last time he read a smut book? Half a year, maybe more? Even then, he wouldn’t indulge too much as he never had a lot of privacy. With this large bedroom, the walls being silenced, and the time he now has, he will indulge for a little bit. For one night.

As he reads, there’s not much to go off. This one is poorly written, but he can at least give himself an idea. His mind sketches out a neutral form, no identifying…parts, yet. He’s indecisive, but he’s sure he’ll come up with someone satisfactory for the night.

Usually, his fantasies contain anonymous people with no face, or they wear a mask. It’s less embarrassing than thinking of someone directly. Sometimes they take him from behind, pinning the back of his neck to a table while they rail into him. Others he has someone under him, thrusting into them and littering bites on their neck.

For now, he imagines a person of no specific gender yet, holding him close in a crushing grip and devouring his mouth. It leaves him no room to breathe as he’s pinned to the wall, their thigh between his legs pressing up against his growing erection. Heat gathers south embarrassingly quickly, the tent of his pants tightening. What is Tav like in bed?

As soon as that question pops into his head, the blank person he tried to fantasize about turns into Tav. It shocks him how vivid it is, and he immediately sits up, book falling flat on the mattress as he drops it. No no no, absolutely not. They’re a friend.

A friend who pulled him in by the collar to kissed him with reckless abandon. A friend that was ready to pin him down on his desk. A friend who stroked a finger along his jaw to help him relax into their mouth.

Hells.

His fingers trail down his stomach and into his trousers, taking himself in hand. What’s the harm of indulging in this? They kissed, after all. All of their wonderful features are fresh in his mind. As he teases the underside of his shaft, he imagined it was their hand instead of his own. Precum was already beading at the tip, and he uses it to slick up his cock. He still feels their hands on him, pressing and demanding. He wonders what they would’ve done if they had more time. Are they gentle or rough when they stroke? He’s not sure whether he prefers one or the other yet.

None of this would happen, they have many suitors at their disposal. But damn it all, he could dream that they chose him, in the end.

Gods.

He covers his mouth tightly with his free hand, almost painfully as he thrusts up into his other one. This room is covered in silencing sigils, it’s not like anyone would hear him from the outside, but even he doesn’t want to hear his shameful sounds.

He feverishly switches to a different fantasy, this one containing Tav once more, though this time he isn’t complaining.

They’re both deep in the woods, away from the Tiefling party. They saved them all from the goblins, they deserved some compensation, did they not? Tav is pressed against his back, one hand putting two fingers in his mouth, rolling the muscle of his tongue between them while the other jacks him off. He’s utterly helpless, Tav taking control of his pleasure for him in the best ways as he helplessly grips the bark of a tree. They would tell him how good he was, how much they wanted him, how lovely his moans were. That he was handsome, strong, and worthy.

That they loved him-

Strings of white decorate his stomach, his climax coming with a stuttered gasp. It came more quickly than he thought it would, and his body spasms with how intense it is. The cry that climbs up his throat stops short by his hand.

He massages himself through it, feeling dazed and utterly pathetic. How dare he think about Tav in this way, as if they were an object for his pleasure? They’re not his, and he’s not theirs, no matter how much he wants to be. What would they say if they saw him like this, desperate and lustful even after his orgasm?

Gods, he wants them so badly, and he knows he can never have them.

Catching his breath, he feels disgusting. Filthy. He shouldn't think of them at all, he hasn't earned that right to them. It's pitiful.

To remedy his sin, he gets out of his bed and heads to the washroom. It's grand in comparison to his lowly basin in the shop, and he's unsure where to start now that he has access to it. Firstly, he takes out a Create Water spell scroll and casts it, filling the entire tub with water. He then modifies the Produce Flame spell to heat up the water. That will do for now, he'll figure out how to make the process a lot quicker later.

He takes off his soiled nightwear, stepping into the water with a slight hiss. All right, maybe he made it a little too hot, but it's nothing he can't handle. Lorroakan has burned him worse. As soon as he gets to the hip line, he pours lavender oil into the steaming water and sinks in completely. He's heard of the scent being beneficial for sleep, mostly from Tav. He wonders if they are an herbalist- no, no, he isn't supposed to be thinking about them.

Emptying his mind is proving harder than he thought. No thanks to his previous transgression, Tav's face plagued him. Questions pop up without him wanting them to: how does Tav look when flustered? Are they experienced with intimacy? Do they like pain? Are they sweet? What is their perfect date? How do they show their love-

He dunks himself fully into the water before the thought could finish, and he feels the sting of the hot water against his face as he sits under the surface. Finally, his mind is silent, so he holds his breath as long as he could. It's oddly soothing, just being alone under the water. A perfect escape to everything around him. He may just have to do this more often.

Unfortunately, he has not done any training to hold his breath, so he has to come up for air within thirty seconds. Perhaps he should practice, but that's for another time.

Now that his hair was thoroughly wet, he begins washing and conditioning his hair, giving himself a scalp massage while he was at it. He didn't trust the mage hands to do it for him. They were floating in the corner, waiting for a command. Can mage hands pout? It feels as though that's exactly what they're doing. Why are they so eager to help anyways? He should dismiss them when he has the time.

After dunking under the water again to wash out all the products, he exits the bath carefully, using Prestidigitation to instantly dry himself. Ah, what would he do if he didn't have that spell on hand? It is incredibly convenient. Can Tav use magic for mundane tasks?

He pauses as he slides on a robe. Gods damn it, it's happening again! That didn't last too fucking long, now did it?

With a groan, he marches back into the bedroom and towards the balcony, pushing the doors open. The night hair hits him immediately, sending a brief chill through him before calming. With a heavy sigh, he goes to the railing and leans against it, watching the silent city of Baldur's Gate. The lanterns have long burned out, and the stars are blooming above him, but he can't relax. He's desperate for Tav, and it's pitiful.

Pressing his forehead on the cold stone, he realizes what a miserable, selfish, wretched creature he is. After all of those things, he's somehow still hopeful. Why else would they kiss him like that? Is he reading too much into this?

Though, perhaps, instead of dwelling on unwanted thoughts, he should just let them go. Lia always did say he thinks too much. Cal mentioned it could be quite damaging on one's psyche.

So he lets the thoughts flow. All of the domestic ones and all of the lustful ones, too. He flickers through memories of he and Tav's interactions, thinking of what could have been and where he went wrong. The shouting, the aggression, the drinking. Gods, the drinking. He hasn't touched wine in a while because of it.

Then he lets it all go.

He raises his head, taking a deep, long breath of the fresh night air. He's in Baldur's Gate. They all made it. The Absolute's army is about to knock on their door, but just for tonight, at least in this moment, he's calm. He's okay.

Maybe he'll be okay later, too.

After an hour, he makes it to his bed and lulls himself to sleep, pulling up the thickest parts of the blanket to hold. It manages to lull him to sleep. A success, in Rolan's tired mind.

There's so much to do with so little time.

---

A tenday has passed and Tav has not returned.

It's for the best that they don't come, as they continuously plague Rolan's mind. He can't stop thinking about them, no matter how much he distracts himself. Most of them are lustful and depraved, some of which make him feel utterly ashamed. He has no right to think of them in this way.

Though, it's the other thoughts that confuse him the most.

They're domestically blissful. He imagines waking up in bed with them, nuzzling into their hair as they convince him to stay a few more moments. He imagines dates, lacing his fingers through theirs while telling them how stunning they are. He imagines it's their body that he pulls close late at night, and not a spare pillow he squeezes to his chest.

He hates these thoughts more than most, as it makes him silently grieve what could've been if he weren't such an arrogant prick. What if he was nicer to them when they first met? Would they have approached him a third time at the party and invite him to their tent? Embarrassingly, he's been losing more sleep than usual over the what if's, and it's making him sloppy with his work. Papers were scattered, he keeps losing his books, and ink stains have been appearing on his robes more and more lately. Unacceptable.

Is he truly this pathetic, losing sleep over domestic thoughts with someone unreachable? Is he that lonely? Does he crave company that badly? It is a wizard's curse, surely.

He thought he got over this, but it seems he needs more than one night to 'let go' of them. Damn it all, why can't this be easier?

He shakes his head, regaining his focus of the task at hand. Rearranging the scrolls once more, he stands onto his feet again and brushes the dust off of his robe. He proudly places his hands on his hips. Finally, after so many days, he has the counter exactly how he wants it. Everything is organized, not a speck of dust in sight, all of it is beautifully-

One of the doors slam open again by a gust of wind, and rage fills him to the core. Why, oh why are the gods so against him? Now there's dirt of the floor, he just made Krank sweep it all out!

The anger disappears instantaneously when he sees Tav rush through the door, sweat beading on their brow and their face flushes from exertion. Extremely similar to how they appeared last time-

Oh no.

As they rush past the counter to the same room they both in before, he starts following them without thinking. What in the hells was he doing?! This can only lead to something terrible for him, even if Tav would be none the wiser. Why does he torture himself like this? He finally has everything he could ever want, yet he greedy for more. For the one thing he can never hope to have.

But they need him, and he could never deny them.

He quickly enters the room after them, shutting the door on his way in. Thankfully this room is more presentable this time around, but he doubts Tav will notice it. They have never been one to look at the finer details. At least from what he has seen, it's not as if he spent much time around them. That thought makes jealousy swell in his chest.

"I need help again." Tav states, rustling up their clothes.

"I can see that," He sasses, but Tav is already pushing off the mantle that sits on his shoulders before pulling him into a kiss, hand fisting the front of his robes.

What has he done to deserve this punishment? Are the Gods testing him by dangling his one desire in front of him? They should know he's too weak to resist their touch.

He gasps into their mouth when they pin him to the wall, free hand grasping the back of his thigh. They easily put their leg in between his, which puts him in a daze. Is this truly an act if they would go this far, or are they testing his boundaries? The worst part about this is he never wants them to stop. He wants them to keep going and reduce him to a pitiful, breathless mess.

They're already succeeding in that, it seems.

When he feels them try to pry his teeth open, he lets them, tangling his tongue with theirs. The noise is so lewd in his ear, a blush immediately rising to his face at the intimacy of it all. He thought about this situation constantly, both through the actual memory and then to his fantasies. Though, fantasy is nothing compared to their real hand tracing the skin of his exposed neck, mapping out the dips and curves of his adam's apple. Images flash through his mind of them choking him, not to hurt, but to claim. He honesty hopes they would do so, but alas, their hand trails up to cup his jaw instead.

This action only made him more flustered, and while he doesn't understand why, he accepts it all the same and leans into their hand. No one has ever touched his face like this in many, many years. Usually it was hit or slapped, no thanks to his teacher. Even when their touch is as gentle as a dove, he can't help but flinch when their thumb strokes along his cheekbone. They pull away from the kiss, catching their breath with a question on the tip of their tongue.

As if the world is playing a joke, those same Flaming Fists burst the door open. They look surprised once again.

"Again?!" He shouts at them, bristling and baring his teeth.

"Do you fucking mind?" Tav yells after, giving them a hard-earned glare.

The Flaming Fists do not bother arguing again, turning heel and leaving the shop without another word. They look foolish, doing their walk of shame. At least they were quick about it, Rolan did not feel like giving them another lecture.

"How do you do, Rolan?" They tease, a hand still fisting his sleeve.

It is a miracle how he keeps his composure. "Well enough, I suppose. Now, as I said earlier, again?"

"There's a perfectly good explanation."

"Then?"

"They were assholes so I stole their money."

"I'm inclined to agree. They are quite intrusive in their searches. Though, must have you lead them here again? I just had Krank clean the floors of the shop from bottom to top!" He complains, running a hand down his face as he stabilizes his footing, "Now I'll have to command him to do it all over again. At least the bottom part."

"I know, I'm sorry to do this to you again. I can make it up to you!" The say quickly before taking a pause. "Wait, you reanimated Krank?"

"Despite being Lorroakan's, he still had his uses." He drawls, suddenly feeling trapped in their space. "Clearly weaponry is not the armors calling, so I have him clean the floors in the morning and at night. There hasn't been any complaints."

"It's animated armor, Rolan. It can't complain."

"I meant complaints from the customers, you absolute dunce!" He snaps and immediately regrets it, but Tav bursts out in a fit of laughter at his insult.

Never has he understood what was so funny about them being insulted. Does he look like a fool doing so? Are they laughing at him? He should be angry over it but he most likely deserves it.

"Well, I feel terrible for dragging you in here twice," They giggle, wiping a stray tear from their eye. "So I want to make it up to you."

"And how do you suppose you'll do that?" He challenges.

"Well, we already got the first part of it started, if you're interested." They tease, voice low.

Oh gods.

"We could take it further. I can feel your little friend down there, and I'm more than happy to help." They murmur in his ear.

A cold sweat hits him in that instant. This is his worst nightmare. He wants it, gods does he want it so badly, but if he accepts it there will be no turning back for him.

They attempt to cup his cheek but he turns his face away, gently pushing them.

“Rolan?”

“I can’t do this.” He says, unable to look them in the eye, but he feels the way they tense.

Before they can start apologizing, he continues, “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you since the Shadow-Cursed Lands, I think. I adore many things about you. But you keep holding me like this, kissing me, and it's starting to make me believe that there will be more than this, one day. When The Absolute is gone, and Baldur's Gate is safe, you would do me the honor of considering me as a...companion."

"Oh, Rolan..."

"I refuse to be a side piece, someone who will be at your beckon call whenever you're bored. You’re tugging at my heart as if it’s your plaything, and while I know you have not done this on purpose, I can't handle it anymore."

He exhales sharply, tilting his face up when he feels tears sting his eyes. "Please, do not torture me like this and just go. Leave."

When he’s met with silence, he swallows and blinks away the wetness of his eyes. He knew that he never had a chance, and that their affections were never real. How could his savior ever look at him like he looked at them? But that diversion of theirs was so wonderful, and for at least a temporary moment, he felt wanted. Desired.

Loved.

He knew he couldn’t continue. It is selfish of him and he would’ve been setting himself up for heartbreak.

Tav leans in close, eyes tender as they tilt his chin back down. “Rolan…I’ve been a fool. I thought I was being obvious.”

He finally can look at them in the eye. “What?”

They can't help but chuckle, but it is a good natured one, “I’m in love with you too, idiot. Why do you think I would keep seeing you in this way?” They ask, tucking some hair behind his ear. “I'm so sorry, I should have been more forward with you. I never meant to hurt your heart like this, you mean too much to me."

He must be dreaming, he has to be, but he can feel the of their body pressing against him. They want him too, and it makes his heart want to burst out of his ribcage. He isn't aware of the blush that rises in his face at their confession, making his already red skin grow crimson.

They carefully cup his face again, pressing their forehead against his, being mindful of his horns. "I'm sorry Rolan, truly. Could you ever forgive me?"

His adam's apple bobs with his swallow, but his face remains a stern look. "...Your apology seems genuine, and I forgive you."

"Well good, I was worried that I just fucked up my chance." They huff with a smile, gently pinning him against the wall once more. "Now, would you like me to try this again and kiss you?”

“Please.” He whispers instantly, tail coiling around their leg.

It was unclear who pulled in first, but what mattered is their hands were all over each other as they kiss fiercely. He felt one of their hands move back and grip the base of his tail. A pathetic whimper escapes his mouth, pleasure shooting up his spine. Tav happily nips his bottom lip in response before pulling away. “I want to see your bedroom, Rolan. Now.”

"As you wish." He responds breathlessly.

Using Dimension Door, he teleports the both of them to the top of the stairs of Sorcerous Sundries, pulling them through the portal and into the tower. This is a totally inappropriate use of one of his higher level spells, but his mind is in a sexually charged place. He'll chastise himself for it later.

His grip on their hand is tight, sweat gathering there as he teleports them again to the bedroom. It isn't customized to his liking quite yet, but it at least has the colors he wants. Deeper blues mixed with other calming colors to help him sleep. He doubts Tav is admiring the features with the way they pull him onto the mattress.

When they both settle in the bed, Tav quickly gets undressed, unclipping the armor and ripping off their under clothes in one fell swoop. Whatever he though their body looked like in his dreams, the real thing is so much better. Any little scar or texture change, he either wants to trace with his fingers or with his tongue. As they lay back and spread their legs, he reaches for them.

They gently smack his hand away when he tries to touch their chest, smirking. “No. You will sit back all pretty and watch.”

His mouth goes dry, surprised at the sudden command, but would he truly be a student of the Weave if he did not know how to listen to directions? He does as told, sitting back on his feet.

"Do you have oil in here?" They question.

"Right side, top drawer."

They crawl over and grab it, settling back into position as they drizzle the product onto their fingers. They make a show of it, too, playing with the substance between their fingers before their hand trails down in between their legs, locking eyes with Rolan.

He swallows as he watches them open themselves up, all for him. It sends his mind reeling with lust, and he’s still not allowed to touch. Torture, is what it is. They have him exactly where they want him, and he is not complaining one bit. Not in his wildest imagination could he have though of this scenario. It's incredible. They're incredible.

As they go on languidly slow, he starts feeling hot all over. His clothes feel too suffocating around his body, his trousers unbelievably tight. It takes everything in him not to palm his growing erection, biting a lip to stifle a small moan that threatens to escape his throat.

“I want to watch you take all those layers off, Rolan. It’s not fair if I’m the only one naked.” They demand, hooking their fingers inside of themselves and groaning.

He responds by finally taking off that mantle that sets heavy on his shoulders. They watch him unblinking as he instantly gets his robes off, seeing the tent in his smalls that expresses his want. It looks painful. He throws the robes, shoes, and smalls off somewhere in the room, his cock now in the cold air, leaking.

They smirk at the sight, now curling three fingers in with a long winded moan. “Gods, I can’t wait to have you in me. I bet you feel so good, look at that…”

Have they always been this good with their words? They always have in his pathetic fantasies, but the real thing makes him twitch in need. He wants to touch them, feel their skin against his in a blaze of pleasure.

Alas, he has to wait.

Finally, they take their fingers out of themselves and sit back up. “I’m ready for you.”

“I want to touch you, Tav.” He admits, fingers twitching on the top of his thighs.

They crawl over to him and sit in his lap, breathing hard as they wrap their arms around his shoulders. “You may.”

He takes some small amount of comfort in that they’re as hot and bothered as he is, watching their flushed face before they crash their lips into his own.

He whines into their mouth, his cock trapped in between their stomachs. The friction is positively divine and he already thinks he may be close with the way their fingers trace the ridges on his back. They're mapping them out, pressing against the wing impressions on his shoulder blades and then trailing them down his spine. As soon as they reach the base of his tail, they tug on it once more.

A gasp shudders out of him when they grind against him. “Tav, if you keep doing that, I won’t last much longer.”

They hum in approval, sucking a hickey into the base of his throat. “What if I promise to make you come again?”

“Tav, please—”

“Okay okay.” They relent, moving back a little to give him some breathing room.

They stay in his lap as they pull him in for another kiss, and he joyfully obliges. Their tongues dance as he gropes their chest, mostly wanting to feel the unique textures of their skin. They’re perfect, to him. He wishes they were some sort of god, because at least then he would have an explanation for his need towards them. This unrelenting desire that he has pleaded for every night when he dreamt of them.

He has so many dreams, one that wake him in a sweat and painfully hard in his trousers. He made a theory that indulging would help the process of forgetting his desires, but it seems as though his hypothesis was wrong. Dead wrong. His dreams of them only became more vivid, some tricking him into thinking it was real. He mourned when he woke up those mornings, wondering why the Gods were torturing him with their image, their body, their face, their laugh.

Hells, he hopes he's not dreaming right now, they feel too real. He can feel them biting and tugging his lower lip, so he concludes that they were, in fact, here with him. Making him feel so much better than his wildest fantasies. Their nails bite into the back of his neck as they briefly deepen the kiss, before pulling themselves away, a string of saliva connecting them. For at least a moment, he catches his breath.

With a solid push to his chest, he falls back onto the bed with a soft thump. He pushes himself back up onto his elbows quickly, breathing harsh. At first, he’s worried he screwed something up. Did his nails hurt their skin? He should have blunt them this morning. But then they straddle his waist and take hold of his drooling hard-on, ready to sink onto him. “Hold still.”

As they lower themselves, stars burst behind his eyes as he takes them fully, their walls squeezing around him so deliciously. He bites back a moan that tries to work its way up his throat. Squeezing his eyes shut, he manages to hold himself together when they seat themselves onto him.

“Gods, you feel so fucking good Rolan.” They moan, clenching briefly around him until they finally relax. They do a test grind, and he knows he's hitting all the right places within them with the way their eyes flutter.

“So do you.” He says breathlessly, a light sheen of sweat already decorating his skin, pupils blown wide as his tail flicks about. The appendage instinctively reaches for something to hold onto. Anything at all. In the end, he settles with wrapping his tail around their waist, keeping himself grounded. They smile down at him when they feel it squeeze them.

He tries to reach for for their sides shakily, but they are more put together in this moment, and much faster. They take his hands, lacing their fingers through his, and pin them each besides his head. He’s only met with a grin before they start riding him with reckless abandon, gripping his hands unbelievably tight.

A groan that trails off into a whimper escapes his throat, hips subconsciously thrusting up into their tight heat. It felt positively divine feeling their walls clench around him, purposely teasing. They’re grinning, even when they toss their head back and moan. He squeezes their hands for dear life, already losing himself as their skin meets his. “Ah— Tav—“

“That’s it baby, I want to hear you.” They pant, leaning down and kissing him soundly. He lets their tongue pry his lips with ease, begging for a taste.

“I won’t last if— gods—“ he cries against their mouth, toes curling in the sheets.

“I don’t care, let me feel you. I want it.”

He curses when they clench around him again, clearly wanting to milk him dry, but he manages to stave his orgasm off. At least for a little bit. This felt so fucking good, he never wants it to end. But with the way they roll their hips, he’s not going to last. He wishes he could have last longer, giving them their pleasure the way they deserve after all of their hardship. They saved him, saved his siblings, saved the tieflings. Twice. Then they saved him for a third time. They did not have to, they could've walked away and let him lay with his poor choices. They didn't, and he's never seen them more angry than when they saw his bruised face.

His stomach suddenly tightens, giving him that impending warning he knows all too well in recent days. “C—Close, I’m close—“ he rasps.

“Me too. Fuck, you feel so good love.” They murmur thoughtlessly.

That nickname teeters him over the edge, and Rolan came with a cry in his throat. Tav was not far behind, fluttering around him as they came as well.

They breathe hard, resting on top of him and letting go of his hands. They instead use them to hold his heated face and kiss him gently. With his hands free, he wraps his arms around their back to pull them closer. He’s spent, exhausted, but he’s never felt more content as he kisses them.

Before they both could feel uncomfortable, he murmurs the words of prestidigitation and cleans them up as they rise off of his softening cock. They plop next to him on the bed, smiling tiredly.

“You were amazing.”

He laughs at that, wiping sweat off of his face. “I should be saying that to you.”

“Then we’re both amazing, hm?” They tease, scooting closer to his side. "Where did you learn how to fuck like that?"

"Must you be so vulgar?" He exasperates with a groan, making them laugh, "But if you must know, I have done extensive research on the subject."

"Ooooh research! What, did you study anatomy books?"

He groans, covering his face with his hands.

"Wait a minute, you have a smut collection?! This I have to see."

"Absolutely not!" He shouts, his face, neck, and ears now a deep crimson.

They burst out laughing, and as much as he wants to chastise them for it, he ends up laughing with them. He's never felt so light before now, as if he's finally feeling relief for all the trouble he's been through.

Gods, he's truly in love with them, isn't he?

"I can go for a round two, if you're up for it." They say after calming down their laughter.

He snickers at that, pecking heir forehead. "As much as that sounds wonderful, you've exhausted me for the day."

"Then how about some cuddling? Karlach always said I give great hugs."

He hums, pecking their cheek next as they wrap their arms around him. "I think I would like that, very much."

Letting out a deep rooted sigh, he feel all the tension in his body finally leave him. He should be disgusted by all the sweat gathered around them in the aftermath of their activities, but in this moment, he wouldn't have it any other way. There's time to complain about it later. Perhaps he can show them the bath he now uses. Would they be impressed by it? It certainly is better than whatever they have going on in the Elfsong Tavern. He wants to do everything to impress them, make himself worth their while even with the chaos that is their lives. But for now, he's calm.

For the first time, Rolan felt truly free.

"Does Krank know how to clean bed sheets?"

Snorting, he looks at them again. "I haven't made him try. He's decent at mopping and sweeping...somewhat. Why?"

"Just curious. It's cute how you just have a little servant now, cleaning the place."

"Krank is not a servant, he is an employee of my establishment."

"You don't pay him!"

"That is not the point! He works, does he not?"

They laugh, pressing their forehead against his. "Fine, fine, but why not make him clean your room, including the sheets?"

"He will mess them up! I know how to properly smooth it out and make this room look highly presentable."

"Oh, I'm sure you do...anyways, do you have a bath in here? I stink and feel sweaty." He barks out a laugh, reluctantly getting out of their arms and shuffling off the bed. "I do, it's in the next room over."

When he offers his hand to them, they happily take it as he leads them to the side room. The large bath presents itself, though it is empty right now. He should figure out a way for it to be ready automatically in any time of the day, but he'll work out the kinks later. He wants to show them that his fingers have talent in ways they wouldn't comprehend. All of it in the form of a heavenly scalp massage.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

thought you might enjoy this one, raven ;) how about headcanons of rollo and malleus who are crushing hard on g/n reader but the twist is that reader is dating/in love with their mortal enemy...THE OTHER GUY. what will rollo and malleus do? try to steal reader away to spite the other person? I eagerly await to see what you'll do with this prompt!!!

*rubs hand together* They're both emotionally repressed and silly little guys that I will happily torment 😈 This prompt reminds me of fjsbsjxvksnwkw this video…

I can now use Dorm Uniform artworks for the banners, yay--

Curiouser and Curiouser…

Emo Boi era? Emo Boi era.

Malleus is used to being alone. He’s used to it and yet… it has never felt this frigid, with needles of ice that prod his skin and scales with each step, the loneliness seeping into his blood and bones. The chill always comes when he sees you with Flamme—smiling, laughing—or when you turn down his invites to walk alongside him. “I already have plans with my boyfriend,” you’d say, and he’s encased in ice. “Sorry, maybe another time?”

It’s not just him that experiences the consequences of his gloomy mood. His classmates and the immediate surrounding environment also suffer. When Malleus passes, he brings with him angry thunder or hail the size of golf balls, floods the hall or brings a blanket of snow up to your knees. Everyone walks on eggshells, scared to do or say something to set him off.

He retreats from those rejected outings and spends the evenings alone, walking around campus to hit up all the gargoyle spots. Malleus laments to the gargoyles (and to Gao-Gao Dragon-kun), sharing about his romantic troubles. On the days when his mood is so sour he cannot even take his usual strolls, Malleus holes up in his bedroom with a blanket and a tub of ice-cream. He'll pout and indulge in the sweet frozen treat to chase off his sorrows, all while watching historical dramas and soap operas to temper his envy.

He savors the little victories, times when he’s able to have you for a moment of solidarity. Nothing is quite as enchanting to him as seeing how the sun blooms in your eyes when he performs what he considers such minor tricks—sparks of light that dance in the palm of his hand, a flower pulled from midair. (He considers flexing his magic small acts of revenge against Flamme too.)

... How is it, then, that you smile brighter still with him, when he abstains from the miracle of magic? The frustration is enough to make the light flicker out, and the flower crumble into ash. It’s not fair, Malleus thinks, that Flamme should come in to steal away the one I’ve had my eye on long before he has. Dragons can be territorial and possessive creatures—and you’re the treasure he’s guarded for so long.

His retainers awkwardly try to comfort him. Silver isn’t quite sure what to say, Lilia gently reminds Malleus that there will be others that take his breath away (“If you love them, then you must also learn to let them go,” Lilia had sagely advised)… and Sebek is Malleus’s personal hype man. He goes on for hours and hours about how “the human has poor taste in men!!”, shit talking Rollo, and extolling his young master. At one point, Sebek even advises that Malleus reveal Rollo’s misdeeds to you just to prove “the difference in nobility” between the two.

Malleus would be lying if he said he hadn’t considered any and all options. All it would take is the wave of his hand to decimate any rival, mage or no. Perhaps he could spin a curse to drive the others off, or simply whisk you away under the cover of night. But the longer he lingers on the ideas, the more they make his heart ache. No, he cannot bring any of them into fruition—he can't bear to see your happy expression shift to that of fright, the same way everyone else seems to regard him. Caving to his basest desires—it would be proof of the monster they see in him. It would make Rollo right.

It would be discourteous of me to intervene in another's personal affairs. It's his final decision, the mantra he recites to himself over and over and over again. Let go, and move on. Let go, and move on. Yet in his heart of hearts, he has not accepted it, cannot cut away the last of the threads that bind his feelings to you. Malleus is plagued by fitful nights, dreams that manifest as if just to mock him. In them, you're always shrouded in white, at some faraway altar. No matter how fast he runs or flies, he can never reach you. Other times, he's been forgotten entirely, not invited to the ceremony at all. Cast off into the darkness or a bog or an enchanted wood to stew and brood all alone.

He'll wake in a cold sweat and with an agonizing roar that shakes the entire castle. When Lilia and the others rush to his chambers to check on him, they find it in disarray. Items are thrown everywhere, the comforter cast off and the bed a mess from tossing and turning, ugly claw marks running across his curtains... The chandelier has fallen, the green-tipped candles of it catching the fabric on fire—and there he is, kneeling amid the flames, clutching at his head, his heart.

"Leave me be," Malleus snarls at his retainers. He knows the flames will not harm him, and they know it too. The least he can do is spare them from witnessing him in such a pathetic, distraught state. It’s over, isn’t it? He, the fearsome dragon, has lost to some self-righteous “hero”. His fairy tale’s happily ever after is impossible.

He’s coping… coping and seething—

At first, Rollo thinks you must be mad, or playing the part in some cruel prank. How can anyone genuinely be attracted to such a repulsive, despicable villain like Malleus Draconia? He cannot fathom it—yet the longer be observes, the more frightening the truth becomes: those feelings of yours are genuine. Rollo then concludes something even more wild: that Malleus as bewitched you, cast some sort of dark magic that clouds your common sense. After all, how can you not see that Malleus is so very, VERY wrong for you?

Whenever possible, Rollo tries to preach, to warn you about dealing with the devil (yes, he outright calls Malleus that) and giving into temptation. He furiously implores you to reconsider, to think of your soul and to salvage it. Alas!! His words only fall on deaf ears. He curses, thinking Malleus’s enchantment far too powerful for him to overcome through typical means. Still, Rollo shall not relent.

His digs and sleights directed at Malleus seem to only become more hateful. When they cross paths in the hallway, Rollo makes it a point to purposefully bump into him on the shoulder--and you can bet this man doesn't hold bad when it comes to the insults. (Sebek tends to yell back in Malleus's defense, while all Malleus does in response is tut and tighten the arm he has wrapped around you.)

Rollo remains cordial to you (though you're not free from his lectures about how you should "renounce Malleus Draconia's hand"). He's still very much resistant to any sort of affection you try to demonstrate for him, be it verbal, physical, or otherwise, often shooing it away or deeming it "salacious". However, he's quick to change his tune if Malleus happens to be nearby, enduring your compliments and brief touches as he fights a blush from creeping onto his face. The blush is something he hastily conceals with his handkerchief and insists is "just the weather" or "a fever", nothing more than that.

There are instances when Rollo wonders why he's dedicating so much time and effort into saving one puny, pathetic person. His cause is so much greater than that, and yet he cannot tear himself away. Perhaps, he reasons, you are just that pitiful, and he feels sorry for you to fall victim to Malleus's machinations again and again. In his mind, Malleus is the monster that has kidnapped some innocent royal, and he, Rollo, is the saint sent to liberate them. Why is it, then, that he also sees your face everywhere even when he doesn't mean to? It's maddening to gaze into his fireplace and jolt back, thinking he has seen a ghostly face in the flames.

Much to Rollo's chagrin, his aide and vice president (and even the entire gaggle of enchanted NBC gargoyles) offer their unsolicited romantic advice. They demonstrate their unwavering support in other ways as well, often sneaking about to check on their beloved prez and making an effort to speak highly of him specifically in your presence. The gargoyles also (annoyingly) try to set a "romantic ambience" up by singing and tossing glitter down on you and him when you happen to speak. They're the wingmen Rollo didn't ask for--

It's ridiculous that they would think I have even a passing interest in seeking intimate companionship, Rollo quietly seethes. He doesn't understand where anyone would get that impression of him from. But everyone around him, even the folks of the City of Flowers, can see it for themselves. Rollo seems haunted by something, always looking over his shoulder with a longing in his eyes. The line between disgust and desire are gradually blurring, in spite of the man himself not recognizing it for what it is.

Rollo becomes increasingly frustrated that you refuse to listen to him, that you continue to hang all over Malleus like some brainwashed thrall. He doesn't even know what he's mad at anymore. At Malleus, for taking you for himself? At you, for being so stupid? At himself, for not being strong enough to bring you back to your senses? Maybe it's all three. It's become an obsession now, never too far from his mind and always gnawing away at his every thought. This fire under his skin, the urge to sin, sin, sin… He feels like he's going crazy--

When the anger has finally swallowed his sanity, Rollo, numb, comes to a singular dark conclusion: it's not him, it's you. It was always you, because all this time, you were in on this ruse. Of course. It was so obvious. How could he have not realized it before? You must be a mage too, one that had cast a horrible curse upon him, made him go mad with desire. Dangerous—you were dangerous, and he had to be rid of you just like he had to be rid of Malleus Draconia. For the world's sake. For his own sake, before fanning flames converged into another inferno.

And so he calmly takes out a plain white letter and matching envelope, penning an invitation to you. He asks you to come visit him in the City of Flowers, that he will be waiting for you at the top of the bell tower. You appear here as requested, and you’re greeted with an offer most ominous: choose him or Malleus; be his or burn like the wicked being that you are. There’s no humor to Rollo’s eyes, only a fervent fire blazing in the darkness. He awaits your answer, ready to cast his judgment soon after.

[cherryrouge]

depth of field

photographer!y/n x harry

warnings: profanity, negative self-talk, slight sexual content

word count: 2.8k

please read aperture, part I of this fic, before reading this!

alone in her hotel room was a despair-ridden y/n, her clothes from the show thrown about her room, any effort to put them away neatly proved to be futile. she had only worked up enough courage to throw on a comedically oversized david bowie t-shirt and wash her face free of makeup. the only thing she had wanted to do was sleep as she felt that a good nights rest would take away her thoughts of it. but she knew, consciously or not, that her plan was wishful at best. she had spent the past thirty minutes resting in her preferred sleeping position seeing sudden visions of it unwillingly. each time, she’d shake her head and switch into another position as if she could leave the memories in her previous placement. she had quickly grown restless and frustrated in her inability to relax and decided to get some work done. however, with her work, the act of escaping it was impossible. she was practically accosted by it. with each new image she looked at, all from tonights show, she’s met with the reminder of just how close she was to him, to kissing him. if she had tilted her head slightly, she’s confident she wouldn’t be breeching mania over what could have happened. her only reprieve throughout her sifting through photos and wallowing in her sorrows was the images of the fans. she had been half-tempted to send harry a picture of a funny sign she spotted, an action that she would have carried out without a moments hesitation normally, but this time, she choses not to. she felt it to be ill-timing. oh, hey harry, i know we almost kissed in your greenroom earlier today and haven’t spoken since but here’s a funny sign where a fan is calling you a jackass and practically demanding you to play medicine! she groans at the thought of how silly she would look.

silly was a good way to describe how she felt about herself in this situation. silly for having a juvenile crush on her boss of all people, silly for taking that fucking picture, silly for sitting so close to him, silly for looking at his lips, silly for leaning, and silly for even thinking in general that harry fucking styles would actually be interested in her. that last one isn’t even silly, its just plain stupid. how humiliating. she buries her face into her hands, rubbing her thumbs against her temples to soothe a building headache from her incessant overthinking. she closes her eyes, taking a couple deep breaths all while reminding herself that this is not the end of the world. just because something embarrassing had happened, something that left her feeling uncomfortable in her own skin and largely dissatisfied with herself, doesn’t mean that the world in crumbling to ash. the earth would continue to spin, the people in it would continue to go about their lives, and y/n will to. finally calming down, she shifts to another image she took from the show. the focus has changed once again and she is met with harry’s eyes and electrifying stage presence. she can tell he’s dancing wildly in that moment, his limbs displaying as much. she can also tell something is off with him. there’s a distant look in his eye as he looks into the lens. perhaps he had not been trying to look at her, accidentally looking over at the wrong time. but she knew better, and she knew the cause of that look. for a moment, she wonders what he’s doing at this very minute. if he’s been thinking about it too, head in his hands at the edge of his bed, knee bouncing as a way to soothe himself. she figured that thought, like the rest of them, was silly. he, in reality, was most likely soundly sleeping. the only worry in his head being if his fans made it to their places of rest safely and the quality of his performance. with a sigh, she closes her eyes and leans her head back against the headboard. she stays in the tranquil silence long enough to nearly lull her to sleep. however, the blaring noise of her ringtone startles her awake. with a slight gasp and shaking hands, she picks up her phone quickly noting the caller.

fuck. its fucking harry.

“hello?” she answers softly, carefully approaching their interaction.

“hey,” he says, voice raspy from the nights previous activities, “are you busy?”

“um- no, not really. why?“

“i’m on my way to your room. i need to talk to you.”

her mouth gapes at this sudden announcement, “oh, ok. yeah, ok. i’ll see you soon.”

with her confirmation, he hangs up the phone.

fuck. fuck. fuck.

she hurriedly moves her laptop to the bedside table and stands from her place on the bed, throwing her phone onto it before assessing the state of her room. there is nothing graceful about the way she flails about stuffing things into her suitcase to give the room the appearance of neatness. she fixes the bed, pulling the comforter up slightly and adjusts the pillows so they look nearly untouched. she then dashes to the bathroom, taking in her appearance. she lightly brushes out her eyebrows, combing them in to place and fluffs her hair. just as she believes she looks half decent, she remembers the state of her bare legs. she all but dashes into the main room to her suitcase quickly rummaging through it to get her sleep shorts. it’s then that she hears a knock on the door. with the shorts around her ankles and her body contorting to pull them up her legs, she walks to the door. with her heart hammering and her lungs gasping for air, she opens it with her shorts up and on. looking up at him, she is stunned by his state. he looks tired, still good. obviously. even his worst days are better that mosts best. she’s shocked by the intimacy of this moment. how vulnerable he looks. he is the pinnacle of strength, of power, or talent, yet here, standing in front of her, is just harry. finding herself in this moment, she swiftly moves herself out of the way so he can enter. once he’s in the room, he sits on the edge of the bed. taking in her appearance as she shuts the door and walks towards him, stopping at the end of the small hallway, providing some distance between them. her eyes are down, focus on her bare feet again the rugged carpeting of the hotel room. his eyes are fixed on her. the moment of silence that falls upon them is thick with anticipation and anxiety.

harry clears his throat incidentally. the act calling her attention to him. their eyes meet and y/n is all consumed with the need to break the intense silence.

“i’m so-“

“i wa-“

both fall quiet after the clashing of their voices, groveling to clear the hair. y/n softly giggles, an anxious, self-soothing habit she developed when trying to make light of uncomfortable situations. her habit seems to sooth harry a bit as for the first time since he arrived, a smile crosses his features. albeit, a close lipped one. one that could have lead to a full toothy grin has their situation not called for such seriousness.

“i’m sorry, you begin.” she says gently, gesturing to him from her place in the wall. her arms cross her chest, almost holding herself. the feeling giving her only a sliver of comfort. harry smiles at her and turns his head, pausing to find his words.

“i know this probably isn’t the conversation that you want to be having right now but we should just get it out of the way.” his voice cuts through the quiet of the room. she nearly winces at the sound.

she’s bending under the crushing intensity of his gaze and his silence. she wishes nothing more than to crawl into herself, find a place of comfort deep inside herself where maybe she would find some relief from this moment. he coughs looking to the side, eyes consequently meeting her laptop which had been left open and unattended on the bed side table of the hotel room when y/n was prompted to hastily tidy her room upon his unexpected arrival. it’s a photo of him from tonight’s show, looking down the barrel of the lens. it’s a good shot, though every image turned to gold with her skill so he can’t say he’s surprised. however, it’s that skillfulness that leaves it all on the table -every emotion, every movement, everything- and tonight, more than ever, he can see just how off he was.

“i don’t want things to be awkward between us, love,” he coughs at the end of his sentence, punctuating his own discomfort.

“i don’t either, i’m really sorry-“

“but i also don’t want to forget that it happened,” their eyes meet and for the first time since he’s entered the room, she doesn’t avert her’s elsewhere.

“har-“

“i hope you know by now that i adore you.”

she huffs out a surprised laugh, coming out as more of an exasperated forced exhale, “what?”

“and it’s more than just professional. i’ve tried for months to keep these feelings at bay, but it’s so fucking hard. because you are you. you come into my green room every show with a smile on your face and tell me stories that lift my mood, you shy away at every deserved compliment, you care for everyone around, even the people that maybe don’t do the same for you. you are just so fucking perfect that it’s overwhelmingly difficult to not develop a crush on-“

“harry-“

“please, let me finish, love,” he looks up at her, his dazzling green eyes filled with an unfamiliar look. his face conveying a moony, love-gutted expression. an image she had never seen before but never wanted to forget. she nods her head, eyes wide with a gleam that no doubt mirrored the one in harry’s. he lets out a breath, running a hand through his hair and stands, y/n’s eyes tracking every movement. not wanted to miss a second of this sacred moment.

“i couldn’t help it. everything you do seems to pull me in deeper. you could probably just breath in the same room as me and i’d fall to my knees.” he lets out a small laugh at the sentiment, taking a step closer to her. she softly smiles, although her face conveyed her pleasant surprise at his confession.

“it’s not professional, but i can’t stop it and don’t think i would even if i had a choice.” with every word he utters, he steps closer until he’s stood right in front of her. his tilting down and her’s up. their closeness is palpable. she can feel the warm of his body radiating. her breathing shockingly level, chest rising and falling with every breath. she is hyper aware of his movements, even the slightest twitch of his finger or bat of his lashes registers in her brain. they stand, familiarizing themselves once again with the feeling of being this close to each other. in this moment, harry takes it upon himself to close their distance. a ringless hand rising to plant itself of the smooth skin of her bicep. her breathing hitches, a glazed over expression taking over her features. he brushes his hand against the soft, warm skin before sliding both of his hand to hold her face. his gaze falters down to her parted, rose-tinted lips. his eyes alternate between her lips and eyes as his brings his face closer to hers. y/n sighs at the closeness, at the feeling of his breath fanning against her cheeks, warming them that much more.

“y/n-“

“please,” she nearly whines. in any other scenario, she would be embarrassed by her desperation but she supposes that this isn’t just any other scenario.

at the sound of the whined word, harry lets out his own breathy whine before finally putting his lips to hers. and it is everything. it’s soft, but deep. controlled, but so very desperate. the intensity prompts y/n to move her hands that lamely hung at her sides to rest on his waist. the feeling of her hands finally on him causes harry to sigh and deepen the kiss, tongue prodding her lips for entry, which she easily accepts.

throughout her time of knowing him, she could only define him as one word as a subject: entrancing. watching work as he commands, entices, and seduces his audiences but also watching him exist as a normal person is nothing short of entrancing. feeling him — his energy, his kindness, his care, his touch — is nothing short of entrancing. and now, y/n can confidently say that kissing harry is mindnumpingly entrancing. the only thought in her head is him, the only thing she can feel is him, and the only thing she could ever need in this moment is him. he is all consuming. so much so, she doesn’t feel her change in location until her back is gently pressed into the mattress with his hand on her hip and the other on the pillow beside her head. seeing him in this position, looking down at her as his knee presses into the space on the bed between her legs, his hair swooping down his forehead, jade- green eyes positively sparking with want and need in the low lighting of the room. she finds herself longing for her camera. wishing she could capture this moment, this feeling to keep with her forever. the two take heavy breathes, regaining composure and control of themselves. though that composure and control hangs by a thread. every moment spent gazing at the other solidifies their longing to be close, to be closer, that it is nearly suffocating. harry’s eyes close as he breaths, trying to cling to the last shred of sanity before he surely gives into his ever long internal battle against is yearning for her. but it was a losing cause. and when she brings her hands to skate up his torso to find the resting places on the back of his neck and in his hair, he knows just how helpless a losing cause it was.

harry dips his head down to kiss her spit swollen lips, humming at the sensation. he splits his lips and her tongue dances against his. his hand that was once resting on her hip moves up to her jaw. her hand in his hair clutches onto his chocolate locks, tugging softly, a movement that causing harry to separate himself momentary to groan before attaching his lips to her jaw before making his way down to her neck and collarbones. his hands dip down the the hem of her shirt before pushing under and finding the soft skin of her waist. she mewls and softly sighs under his touch. her own hands carding through his hand and caresses his shoulders. she pulls his face up from where he’s been trailing his lips to be level with her own desperate gaze. he smiles at her expression, wearing the emotions he feels all the same on her beautiful features. his hands on her waist squeeze and caress the skin there.

“hi,” he breathes out with a dimpled smile playing on his mouth. she giggles chirping his words back to him.

the two stare at the other for some moment, the comfortable quiet the falls upon them filled with adoration and bliss. now knowing where the other finally stands, there’s no space for over thinking. not when harry smiles down at her, pushing the hair out of her face. not when y/n gleams up at him with moony eyes. the rest of the night, the two lay in a love-filled haze. cuddled up under the blankets, legs intertwined. they laugh and share anecdotes, dreams and aspirations, until the early hours of the morning until neither can physically keep their eyes open anymore.

walking up to find y/n curled into his side, hand splayed across his stomach, her head on his chest, was the most lovely sight head ever seen. as he brushed his fingers through her hair, he could only dream of the world he would give her if she allowed him to. and god, he hopes she would.

-

thank you all very much for your patience and support as we come to a close on this story. from the bottom of my heart, i am so grateful to feel so welcomed by this community. if you have any ideas about future fics or blurbs for this one, please reach out. i’m looking forward to introducing our next couple.

with love, rory.

[maarigolds]

Since we all know how much of a shitshow umbrella academy s4 was, let's revisit the good old days. Here's my reaction to ep1 s1, which I haven't seen in like 5 years:

We're starting off strong with the sudden pregnancy scene: this is how you get the viewer's attention

Cunty shot of Reggie walking with the seven nannies and the seven baby carriers

Viktor playing the violin while all the other characters are introduced 10/10 stunning no notes

Rehab worker saying "We'll see you soon Klaus" and him immediatly overdosing and being reanimated in the ambulance. Now we know he probably just came back to life by himself!

"You got big, Luther! What's your secret, protein shakes?"

Pogo!!! I missed you, you ape butler!

Baby Viktor leaving sandwitches for Five 🥺🥺🥺

Klaus-Allison alliance going strong since the beginning I see

"Did you see Diego?" "Yeah, with that stupid outfit" "Do you think he wears that thing in the shower?" I love siblings being siblings

Ok I had forgotten about the Allison and Luther thing. Maybe it wasn't ALL great.

"Dad, could you just stop playing tennis with Hitler for a moment and take a quick call?"

"Ok, sorry, I'm just gonna go murder mom, I'll be right back"

Klaus is seriously the best

Bank robbery flashback!!!

"Guns are for sissies! Real men throw knives!"

"That's one badass StApLeR" god I miss five's voice cracks so much

*Ben covered in blood* "Can we go home now?"

Back to the present with Klaus spilling Reggie's ashes lmao

I THINK WE'RE ALONE NOW AKA BEST DANCE SCENE IN TV SHOW HISTORY

No seriously Diego absolutely killing it, Luther doing the hand-krabs, Klaus dancing with the urne

And then boom! Five is back! Honestly iconic entrance

Also Klaus trying to stop a temporal anomaly with a fire extinguisher whyyyy lmao

Five interrupting his speech about the future to look Klaus up and down and 100% seriously say "nice dress"

Klaus responding with "ah, danke"

"That makes no sense" "well, it would if you were smarter"

Also unrelated but Viktor being such a shy wallflower in s1... he's come such a long way!!!

Luther throwing reggie's ashes on the ground "probably would have been better with some wind"

Luther and Diego beating the crap out each other. Viktor: "stop it!" Klaus: "hit him!"

Also Klaus trying to protect Five and him having none of it, too cute

"An entire square block, 42 bedrooms, 19 bathrooms, and not one single drop of coffee" "dad hated caffeine" "well he hated children too, and he had plenty of us!"

"Alright, guess I'll see you guys in another ten years, when Pogo dies" Diego please 💀💀

"You know, every time I close my eyes I see a diarrheatic hyppo about to shit on my face" this was robert sheehan improvising and honestly what the fuck how does someone even come up with that

The Istanbul was constantinople fight was honestly art. This was really the moment I knew I would love this show with all of my heart. Also masterful way to show exactly who Five is in just a couple of minutes

BEN!!! I MISS OG BEN SO MUCH!!! He was baby

Five going to Viktor when he needed help. Honestly we should have gotten more of them being besties it was so good

"The world ends in eight days, and I have no idea how to stop it" and that's how you end a first episode! I'm hooked! Except I'm not cause I know how it ends 🫠

Well this is it. This show was honestly so good in the beginning. I have no clue what happened. At least we'll always have season 1.

[twistofstory]

Counting stars by OneRepublic

Illustration with young Stargazer, plus origins of her name~ Once again a long piece of text under the cut! It dwels into Stargazer's doubts about the future and her determination to live as a dragon she always wanted to be

There was a young nightwing dragoness, fleeing from her old life in the dead of night. She didn't really knew, where exactly she was going, but she most certainly didn't wanted to blow her chance for a better future. Family will do just fine without their rebellious “son”, who is not interested in the future they prepared for “him,” but friends... Big changes don't come without sacrifice, even if you have to leave behind the only dragons who believed in you and saw you for who you really was. She dreamed about this day most of her life, she couldn't have possibly made a mistake, throwing everything away... right? Oh no. ...What was she even thinking? She couldn't become a healer on her own. Where would she even learn? Is there any good healers in other kingdoms? She was fortunate enough to hatch into the smartest tribe of all, how she could possibly get a fine knowledge without them? She had a decent enough life with a foreseeable future, even if she hated it, and now she was, a disgrace, all alone somewhere on the continent - no friends, no stability and even no name! Well, last one wasn't that regrettable. She thought about changing it for a long time, it was stupid anyway and didn't fit her at all. Besides, new name would complicate the search, when her absence will eventually be noticed. She raised her head slowly, uncertain about her next steps, when she suddenly froze. Stars. Countless lights framed the dark sky, shining brighter than the silver scales under the wings of the most beautiful nightwing. During the long flight, she was too focused on her thoughts and the landscape below to notice the splendor spread out above, and now dragoness stood, soaking up the moonlight and the cool night air with every inch of her body. Somehow, she felt a sense of calm, as her doubts started to fade just a little bit. She would never saw the real stars if she stayed. What else awaits her beyond the ash-covered island? Besides, now she knows, how she wants to be called. 

Some backstory for the grumpy healer) Stargazer was a very ambitious dreamer in her youth, and even now, despite her feigned cynicism, deep down she remains the same, espetially sinse she became very confident and comfortable in her skin over the years. She hasn't visited either her family or her home island since leaving and does not plan to do so in the future, but she occasionally remembers her old friends, although she does not believe that she will ever meet them again - after all, several decades have passed.

Stargazer transitioned only socialy; I also had an idea that she was most likely training to sound more feminine (she experimented herself and learned from other transgender dragons/entertainers - before joining the Scavengers, she traveled a lot).

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: At Arm's Length.

Pairing: Yandere!Capitano x Reader (Genshin).

Word Count: 1.0k.

TW: Unhealthy Relationships.

You’re not completely sure that you’ve ever heard your husband speak.

Which, to be completely fair, isn’t quite as surprising as it should’ve been, considering how long you’ve been married. You corresponded solely through letters for the entirety of your prolonged engagement, and your wedding was a rushed affair – the ceremony brief and the reception nonexistent. There'd been vows, but his had been written as a sentimental (albeit, misplaced) reminder of your bethrothal, and your wedding night had been cut short by a sudden need for his presence in Fontaine. It’d been a relief, in the moment, a gentle mercy to punctuate your floral-adorned death sentence. You'd thanked not just the Tsaritsa, but all the many Archons for their clemency, and resolved that your relationship with Capitano would not be an affectionate one.

Now, you can only worry that he’d considered it a mercy, as well.

It’s a needless anxiety, really. Why should you care whether or not he loves you? You certainly don’t love him, and you’ve always known that Harbingers only marry out of convenience, that you’re more of an asset to him than a proper companion. He needs someone to take care of his household while he’s away, fighting for Snezhnaya in some distant nation, not a true partner, not someone it would affect him at all to leave for months at a time. He doesn't need to love you.

You shouldn’t be as nervous as you are, shouldn’t have to keep your hands balled so tightly around your sheets as you wait for Capitano. He’d returned to your estate earlier that evening, his armor dusted with ash and gore and his men visibly exhausted. You’d been there to receive him, but your sole greeting had come in the form of a hand on your shoulder, a light hum of approval before he left you, once again, to tend to matters that he genuinely cared for. Only minutes later, you’d asked a maid to fetch him for you, but that was hours ago, and you’re starting to think that he simply hadn't deemed it worth his time. Capitano is a lot of things, but you’d never known him to be careless. He couldn’t have forgotten, unless he genuinely cared so little for you that he paid you no mind at all.

You square your shoulders, gritting your teeth in frustration, but no sooner than you’d begun to curse yourself for being so naïve, the door to your chambers slowly creaks open, forming an entrance just wide enough to allow your husband through. Immediately, you do what you can to regain your composure, but if he senses your distress, if he cares about your faltering posture, the dark circles under your eyes, his concern is hidden by his ever-present mask. You can’t remember ever seeing him without the damned thing.

For a long moment, he only stands in front of you, silent and apathetic. You sigh, resigning yourself to a very lengthy, very one-sided conversation. “My lord,” You started, bowing your head slightly. “I… If you have a few spare minutes, I’d like to speak to you.”

He doesn’t move, doesn’t respond. Again, you do what you can to bite back your irritation, gesturing towards the remaining space on the foot of your bed. “I'd also like you to sit down, my lord.”

He hesitates, but ultimetly abides you, lowering himself onto the mattress by your side. During his frequent absences, it could be easy to forget how large he is, how imposing he looks in his armor, how effortlessly he’s able to tower over you. You’d always known he was a soldier, a Harbinger, but still. He seems more like a monster, when the two of you are alone together.

You purse your lips, but force yourself to speak. “I’ve been dutiful to you, haven’t I?”

A stilted nod, but little else. Honestly, it’s already more than you expected.

“Have I disappointed you in some way? Failed to satisfy the responsibilities you've left for me?”

He shakes his head, as you had assumed he would.

“I… I just feel like I’ve let you down. You’re preoccupied, and I’m only here to care for your estate. I understand that. I know you don’t love me, but I can’t help but feel that you’ve been… distant, recently.” You pause, letting out a breathy laugh. Hands folded over your lap, your eyes set solidly on the floor, it's hard not to feel a little childish. Like you're playing house with someone who never had an interest in indulging you, let alone playing along. “I mean, I can’t even remember the sound of your voice. That’s not something I’d like to say about my own husband, no matter how superficial our marriage might be.”

He doesn’t react, not immediately. You wait, your patience well-trained to accommodate his reserved nature.

Then, he raises a hand to the bottom of his mask. Your heart skips a beat in your chest, more out of anticipation than anything else, and for a moment, just a moment, you think you might be allowed a glimpse of his face. You want to see his face. You want to be able to turn your husband into something other than a dark, foreboding shadow – present only in his letters, when there's a nation's worth of land between you and him.

But, your heart falls as quickly as it'd started to flutter. There is no face, no features you can assign to your dearly beloved. Instead, a thin line forms across the center of his mask, the metallic surface splitting apart into two jagged, organic pieces; revealing an endless void interrupted only by rows upon rows of pointed, razor-like teeth. All as white as snow, and so, so much sharper than they should’ve been, if he was anything remotely human.

The shock leaves you in a stupor as a long, black, tapered tongue curls out of the nothingness. The flat of it runs over your neck, your cheek, and you don’t have time to shudder before his arm wraps around your waist, pulling you into his lap with no hint of strain. “Love,” He says, but the word is more purred than spoken, stifled and distorted and twisted into something only barely recognizable. It nearly hurts to listen to. “My love.”

He goes silent, after that. His tongue retreats, his mask (mask? face?) sealing back into its idle state, but he continues to hold you, to trace little patterns into your sides with the pointed claws that you'd once believed belonged to his gloves. You only remain still. It’s all you can do to tell yourself to breathe. It's all you can do to remind yourself that he’s still a soldier, that he’s still a Harbinger, and it would be best not to struggle against him.

It’s all you can do to be thankful that your husband chooses to speak so rarely.