#fort perch

[pandoratheprocrasticreator]

i ship vivilara now bc after yakou dies halara becomes the de facto leader of the nocturnal detective agency and while i dont think vivkou would have ever worked as a functional relationship i can see vivia having a crush on yakou not knowing that this man is still not over his wife. anyway wouldn't it be funny if after yakou dies vivia starts falling for halara bc this man is forever cursed to fall in love with his boss

[corpusdiem-seizethedead]

Davey: We’re never going to get this strike to work!

Jack: We can if certain people would help!

Spot: I’m sorry, are you addressing me? Because your authority is not recognized in… Fort Kickass.

[jokest3r]

Vulpes: Meet us if you want the platinum chip

My Six: *shrugs* okay. *goes to the Fort by himself*

Caesar: I'd like you to work with me- *Sniper shot to the head*

[omgeto]

☆ WHEN YOU HAVE SEX WITH YOUR PROFESSOR — NANAMI, TOJI, GETO, GOJO.

summary: you have sex with your professor. for many different reasons.

wc: 4.2k (each of these were meant to be 500 words long so idk what happened)

cw: smutty smut afab!reader who's in university, mutual masturbation, spanking, semi public sex, toji is not a professor but a gym coach who rails you in a supply closet, but theres a lot of sex on a lot of desks so mdni.

an: theres actually a smidge of plot in this just a tiny bit if you do a deep squint, but the smut id personally say is my best yet. so give it a chance people, but come for the smut stay for the dialogue. hope you enjoy! not proofread ignore mistakes pls

☆ NANAMI

nanami kento, was the strictest teacher you have ever had. you couldn’t get away with your usual tricks that you did with some of your other professors — strutting past their office during office hours in your skimpiest clothes to get a better grade. it was as if nanami was immune to all your devices.

but with a big exam coming up, you knew you had to make something happen since studying was not your forte. so you were prepared to do anything to get that A.

“come in," his deep voice calls from inside.

as you enter his office, you are met with the sight of your professor, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, reviewing a stack of papers. he glances up at you briefly before returning his attention to his work.

"what can I help you with?" he ask, his tone professional.

“i wanted to see if we could talk about the exam you set for us tomorrow,” you start to say, his eyes still focused on his papers, not sparing you a glance. “i was thinking we could figure out a way for me to get extra credit… sir.” 

you had his attention now. technically you’ve always had his attention ��� yes nanami was different to all the other professors you’ve ever had but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t a man at the end of the day. 

he always noticed the way you’d sit in his classroom, your pouty mouth always gnawing at your pencil as you never had a clue what was going on. nanami always had to hide his dick feeling tight in his trousers whenever you walk into his classroom. little did you know that you actually would’ve failed his class a long time ago, but because he just couldn’t let go of the sight of how your pretty tits bounce everytime you raise your hand, he always made you pass. 

“well what are you willing to do for that extra credit?” he says, his tone slightly amused.

“whatever you want” you respond a bit too eagerly, you were coming onto him hard. but it was working, you could already see the crack in his usual stoic facade. “c’mon professor nanami, i need to pass this class,” you practically beg. 

“oh yeah, you definitely need to pass this exam, you’re one more failed exam to flunking my whole class,” he affirms — lying through his teeth. “so i think you should come sit up here, and show me what you’re willing to do huh.”

suddenly, you start to feel nervous. usually you’d have control of the situation, you’d flaunt your ass, fuck your teacher and get an A, easily. but this time, you could see in nanami’s eyes that from when you entered his office — that he was running the show.

you saunter over his desk, and he pushes his seat back allowing you to have room to perch on his desk in front of him. “take off your shirt,” he commands, and you’re quick to fling off your top — that was barely covering anything anyways, “wow no bra, why am i not surprised.” he stares at your hardened nipples smirking as he continues to say, “you know i see your nipples peeking at me through your shit all the time in class.”

“really?” you question coyly.

“you don’t think i see how you practically fuck yourself in your seat when i’m doing a reading,” he continues, his arms folding as if he was telling you off, “a bit disrespectful, right?”

“no i-it’s just i really like the sound of your voice,” you stammer, embarrassed at him calling you out. you couldn’t deny that your professor was hot, everybody thought so and you hated school the only thing that got you through your classes was your day dreams of him fucking you.

“oh really, well i wanna see you get off to it for real this time.”

“wha—”

“touch yourself,” he demands with a grin, “fuck yourself on your fingers, put on a show for me,” he loosens his tie, and unbuttons his cuffs, ready to watch you perform for him, “and if you do well, then we could talk about your extra credit.”

you take off your pants, your hands moving directly to your throbbing pussy — since of course you had no panties on. you press your thumb down on your clit as your fingers work their way into your cunt. you were already soaked, just from hearing your professor speak to you, so it was easy to slide your digits in and out of you. 

nanami’s grin grows wider, loving the way your work your pussy,  “you not gonna play with your tits?” and you take his hint, your other hand sliding up to cup one of your boobs, your fingers pinching and pulling at your nipples. “good girl,” he praises.

you add another finger inside of you, writhing down hard on his desk against your digits. you quicken your pace, rubbing your thumb vigorously against your clit. his gaze on you served as an encouragement, your ultimate goal was shifted, at this point you didn’t care whether he passed or failed you — you just wanted to put on a good show for him.

“you gonna cum for me?” he taunts, the sound of your pussy squelching around your fingers as you drive them in is like music to his ears. you barely even noticed him fisting his dick, stroking it hard — matching the pace of your fingers hammers your cunt.  “you gonna make a big mess for me all over my desk?”

“professor i-” you whine, wanting more than just your own fingers inside of you, “please i need—”

“professor? what was it that you called me earlier?” he teases, “remind me of that and then maybe i’ll give you what you’re begging for.”

“s-sir please,” you sputter, barely being able to string a sentence together. you could feel you were about to cum hard. your fingers were still drilling into your pussy, and your hands were still suctioned on your tit and nanami's dick was taunting you. “i need you.”

“you need me hmm?” he mocks, his eyebrow tilting as he stares at your fucked out face.

“yeah p-please i need your dick,” you beg, your pussy was gushing all over your fingers, as your strokes got sloppier, “i need you i-in me.”

“oh really?” he asks with a smirk, a slight chuckle as you nod eagerly, “well too bad.”

“wha—”

“you really thought i’d put my dick in a slutty student that’s not even smart enough to even pass my class?” he lectures, he tuts his teeth, shaking his head, “now finish off for me and leave office hours end in a few minutes.”

“f-fuck,” you moan out, you could barely even process his words, too busy focused on cumming all over your fingers to think about how he just denied you of what you really wanted, your hand falls off your tit, your head jerking back as your release over his desk. he’s quick to cum too, biting down on his fist to surpress the loud moan threatening to come out

“you really made a mess for me huh,” he observes, swiping his fingers across the pool of cum you left on his desk and bringing it into his mouth, “sweet.” you were at a loss for words, you were just coached through one of the best orgasms you ever had from your professor — and he didn’t even touch you — yet you still don’t know whether he’s gonna pass you or not.

“so about that exam…?” you voice trails, as you put back on your shirt, hopping of his desk.

“i’ll think about it, sit the exam first and i’ll see what i can do,” his voice turns serious, and he nods his head in the direction for you to leave indicating for you to get up out of his office. but just before you're about to leave the room he calls out to you, “oi.”

“thanks for the live show.” 

☆ TOJI 

“why do we always have to fuck in such awkward spaces,” you complain nearly tripping on a basketball as toji holds you upright.

“you know you love it baby,” he smirks, pressing a kiss to your cheek, thrusting up into you further. 

you were in the gym supply closet, having your weekly sex with your university's gym teacher. you don’t even know how your little routine came about but once he started to hammer into you every friday after basketball practice, you’ve never missed a meet up.

“don’t call me that,” you groan out at the use of his pet name.

“why not?” he grumbles, cupping your tits with his hands as he stands behind you, “aren’t you students s’pposed to listen to your teachers and all that.”

you take a sharp inhale as his large hands smother your boobs, his thick things toy with your nipples, “but y-you aren’t a real teacher, in case you forgot.”

“am too,” he mutters like a child.

“a-are not,” you spit back just as childishly.

“am, too,” he persists, thrusting into you hard. pushing you down by your nape, forcing your hands to grip onto some random gym apparatus. he uses his foot to spread your legs apart wider so he can fit right behind you. fucking into you with something to prove.

“you teach gym to a bunch of brain dead j-jocks, wouldn’t say that classifies as being an actual professor toji.” you continue riling him up, biting your lip as his hammers into you harder. “you’re more like a glorified personal trainer than a teacher.”

he drives into you deeper, “oh and your just an uppity bitch, who still ended up fucking this ‘personal teacher,’ in a gym closet,” his mouth moves close to your ear, as he whispers, “so what does that say about you baby?” he presses a kiss underneath your ear lobe, before lightly sucking on it.

his words go straight to your core, him calling you an ‘uppity bitch’ had the exact effect he intended them to have — you throwing  your ass on his dick, fucking him back as hard as he was fucking you. 

he sends a smack to your ass, biting his lip as it ripples at the contact of his palm. his slaps were merciless, having you scream out every time he hits your cheek. “how’s this for a glorified personal trainer huh?” he coos in your ear, feeling dignified as you rut against him more feigning for more of his dick in your throbbing pussy. 

“ah you f-fill me up s-so so good,” you mewl out, as his dick pumps in and out of you stuffing you with every thrust. his mouth latches onto the nape of your neck, sucking on it as he ploughs into you deeper, hitting your spot with pinpoint accuracy.

“i know i do baby, i always stuff you good don’t i?” he groans out, your pussy was a vice grip on his dick, had him suppressing his moans whenever you clenched around him, “don’t know why you fuck around with these lame ass boys in your classes, they can’t fuck you like i do. do they?”

“well…” you voice trails in a teasing tone.

“dont f-fucking play with me,” he sputters, feeling himself about to bust all inside of you, “i’m the only one you fucking right,” when he doesn’t hear an immediate answer, he shoves himself into you his hips pushing right against your ass, “right?”

“y-yes fuck, right,” you sigh rolling your eyes at his act of possessiveness — ignoring how you pussy got even wetter at his words. “you’re the b-best i ever had, toji.”

“you’re damn right i am,” he scoffs out giving your ass one final slap as he says, “you going finish all over my dick, c’mon baby coat my dick with your sweet sweet,” and you do just that. you cum with a cry, releasing all over toji, as he shoots into you a loud groan leaving his mouth.

“aww i forgot how loud you get for me,” you tease him as he pulls out of you, turning to look at him with a grin, which he huffs out, “anyways what did i tell you about cumming in me, i'm not one of those cheerleaders you run around with,” you fuss swatting at his chest.

“yeah you aren’t one of the cheerleaders i run around with,” he repeats, “hence why i can cum in you, you know you’re my favourite fuck out of all my students”

“ugh you’re so gross.”

“you say that with my cum running down your legs,” he says, giving you a pointed look, his eyes staring down at your thighs, “i do have another hour till my next class i gotta teach, so i could clean it up for you?” he offers, already going down to his knees, knowing that was a suggestion you would not deny.

“if you insist.”

he starts to suck against your thighs as you lean against the wall, sandwiched between a goal post and a hockey stick, but just before his lips latch onto your pussy, he looks up to you with a pout, “do you really think gym coaches aren’t teachers?”

“oh shut up toji,” you mutter, pushing his head to your cunt.

☆ GETO

you storm into your professors office, pissed off. professor geto was the worst teacher you’ve ever had. he was cocky, arrogant and most of the time he didn’t have a clue what he was teaching. 

“ah miss know it all,” he muses, his personal nickname he created for you during his first semester of being your professor, “to what do i owe the pleasure this time.” you were no stranger to geto’s office, you were practically the only student that actually used his office hours. geto didn’t mind it though. the unplanned visits, your impoliteness — he was amused by it. 

“could you explain why you gave me a B, on my last paper?” you interrogate, waving said essay in his face furiously, “when we both know that this is easily worth an A.”

“i just think you could do better,” he shrugs nonchalantly, “i just think you haven’t harnessed your true potential, that’s all.” geto knew you were smart, the smartest person he’s ever taught. he just needed to get you in his office. and he knew a below average grade on an essay, that didn’t even matter, was the way to do that.

“and what do you know about potential?” you mutter, more to yourself than anything, “i don’t even know how you managed to get this job.”

he rolls his eyes at your comments, “do you really want this A?” 

"of course i want the stupid A," you reply, your tone determined. "i've put in the effort, and i've met all the requirements for this paper. there's no reason for you to give me a B except for your own personal bias against me."

“personal bias? some may argue that you’re actually my favourite?” geto leans back in his chair, a sly grin on his face. "but alright, then. here's the deal," he says, folding his arms. "if you can convince me right now, in this very moment, that you deserve an A for this paper, i'll change your grade. but you'll have to persuade me.”

“persuade you?” you retort, “what you want me to do a powerpoint presentation or something…?” 

he chuckles, shaking his head at your naivety, for someone so smart you somehow lack social awareness, “no i wanna see if you taste as good as you look.”

“you mean…” your voice trails, finally catching on to what he was getting at.

“come lay down on my desk,” he says casually as if this was a usual ordeal between the two of you. he could see you hesitating, “you do want that A right?” 

your feet were stuck in the ground, you never wanted to be one of those girls — ones that had to fuck a teacher just to get through university. but, regardless of your below A grade, you were more curious about what it would actually be like. especially with a professor that looked like geto. 

you lay down on his desk, nervous, you could feel his breath on your stomach as he slides down your jeans. he was kneeling down, his face at the same level as your pussy. he toys with your underwear, pulling at it and snapping it against your skin, giving you a smile of approval in your choice of panties. but just before he pulls them off you he asks, “you sure you want to do it smarty? you can run back to your dorm if you want?”

“anything to get the A,” you grit out, basically lying, since getting your grade improved was the last thing on your mind as he pulls off your underwear. 

he takes his hair — that was usually tied up in bun —  down, releasing his long hair, “just in case you need something to pull on,” he smirks.

his fingers slide across your wet slit, spreading your lips. he presses a kiss on your clit, slightly nibbling on it before working his mouth down to your pussy. you gasp at the contact as he latches his mouth on you, his tongue darting into your cunt at a quick pace. 

geto hums in satisfaction as you hands immediately go to grab his hair, pulling at it as his tongue gives you long strokes, lapping up all the juices already spilling out of you. “i didn’t think my star student would be this needy, if only the class could see you now.” he taunts lifting his head up, “i guess they wouldn’t be surprised though, your as hungry for my tongue as you are to answer questions in class,” he finishes with a chuckle pressing a kiss to your thigh.

but you’re quick to silence him, clenching your thighs against his head, “s-shut up,” you whine, thrusting your hips up in his face to meet his tongue. your head was swirling, you could barely remember how you ended up on your professors desk in the first place. but all you were focused on was clawing your fingers through his scalp as he slurps and sucks on your pussy.

“oh m-my god,” you murmur, soaking his face. he could tell by the way you pushing his face deeper into your cunt, his nose forced into your arousal that you were close.

“ready to let me taste you” he asks, his voice sending vibrations over your pussy, “wanna taste you so fucking bad.”

“fuck d-didn’t think it’ll be this g-good,” you whine out. he brings his thumb to you clit rubbing it as fast as he could taking you over the edge. you moan out, practically squealing, as you squirt all over his face. he smirks, trying to get as much as it as he can.

“i didn’t know my star student could squirt,” he teases, his mouth glistening with evidence of you, “or should i call you my star squirter.”

“haha, very funny…” you deadpan, becoming slightly shy at seeing him lick his lips wiping the last remains of you off of him.

“i guess my theory was right,” he concludes.

“what theory?” you ask, puzzled, forgetting the whole reason you let him eat you out in the first place.

“you do taste as good as you look,” he comments with a pleased grin, already reminiscing about you squirting all over his face.

“so about my A?” you ask pulling up your jeans, and collecting your things.

“yeah i’ll expect your rewrite on my desk by friday,” he shrugs, going back to his nonchalant persona.

“rewrite? did you not promise me an A if i can ‘persuade you,’ at how badly i want it?” you question, going back to your original state of being pissed off, “did i not persuade you mr ‘you do taste as good as you look.’ this is so unfair”

“ask me if i care about fairness?” he smirks, a laugh leaving his lips as he watches you storm out of his office, “hey! you left your underwear,” he calls out behind you, his laugh growing as you say nothing, putting up your middle finger at him and slamming his door shut.

☆ GOJO

“do you want to lose your job?” you chastise, “shut the fuck up.”

“but i can’t help it,” he purrs, nuzzling into your neck to suppress his non stop moans and whines that he was doing as he pushed his dick in you, “your pussy’s just too good.”

you were leaning against the desk of your professor gojo’s lecture hall, your legs wrapped around his bag as he hoisted you up, grinding his body against yours as his dick drives in your pussy. 

it was after hours, and gojo forgot to lock his classroom doors. as soon as your peers left the room he was quick to put his lips on yours, throwing all the stationary on his desk on the floor in the most dramatic fashion ever. 

you don’t know how you got entangled in a relationship with your teacher. since you didn’t actually benefit from it, and he was needier and clingier than an actual student your age. but the mind blowing orgasms he gave you every now and again made you forget all of his ‘bad qualities.’

“c’mon don’t tell me it’s not making you feel wetter,” he murmurs in between kisses, “the idea of someone walking in on me fucking your pretty little pussy.” you ignore him, your arms tightening around his neck as you bounce on his dick. “tell me that doesn’t make you hot,” he eases his dick out of you slightly, drawing both of your attention to his member already covered in your juices. his eyebrows raise when you look back at him as if he’s just proved his point.

“whatever, i guess the idea of us getting caught isn’t that bad,” you lie, knowing it was causing you to get better, “but if we do get caught then it's your ass gojo.”

“aww you’re so thoughtful,” he coos, “you really care about me and my job, will you miss me if i get fired?”

“well i’ll miss my on campus dick,” you mutter, scratching at his back, as he thrusts into you deeper, “but i’ll be able to replace you quickly i guess.”

“oh how you wound me,” he mocks, pulling you into a deep kiss, desperate to taste you. that was gojo’s favourite thing to do to you, of course your pussy was great, but your lips were his favourite thing. sometimes he’d even drag you out of the hallway into his office —not a care in the world if anyone was around— and pull you into his lap just shove his tongue into your mouth and fondle your tits.

for a lousy professor, gojo sure knew your body well. he knew every spot to hit, every place to kiss, every stroke to make and you loved it. the scratches you were giving him on his back, encouraging him to go deeper, stuffing you to the brim. “f-fuckk you take me so so well,” he moans in your ear, whining and grunting as you tighten your hold around him. 

“i’m close,” he mutters, his pace slowing. he lowers you down so your back is laying on the desk and he swoops his mouth down to your tits. enveloping your left breast with his mouth, greedily suckling at it. 

“wow already?” you taunt, “you’ve really lost your touch professor, when i was an undergrad we could go at it for days.” his mouth pauses, as he looks up at you with a pointed look that reads as ‘girl really? as if you aren’t close.’ he wasn’t wrong, from his deep long strokes in your pussy, and his tongue twisting on your nipples, you were ready to cum all over him.

“gojo shit,” you curse, your hand coming down to your clit, flicking at it fast to speed up your orgasm. but gojo slaps your hand away, almost offended that you would try to cum off of something other than his hands and mouth. he bites down on your nipple, punishingly and that sends you overboard. you let out a shriek as you cum all over his dick, your hand quickly coming over your mouth to suppress your whines.

“what happened to being quiet huh?” he mocks your warning from earlier, “don’t want to get caught, do we now?” but he’s quick to let out a deep moan, as he releases into you, spraying your walls with all your cum. he slumps over you, exhausted, and wanting to just feel you — gojo was always needy after sex.

after you both come down from your highs and clean up — thankful that nobody stumbled across you. gojo pulls you into his lap, dabbing kisses all over your neck, “so when you gonna let me take you out, outside the classroom?”

“y’know that’s not allowed right?” you remind him, looking at your professor as if he’s lost his mind, “what we’re doing now isn’t allowed, but out in public is a no go, gojo.”

“not allowed?” he retorts, as if it’s news to him, “i thought it was just heavily frowned upon?!”

an: sooo what did you think? which one was your favourite. me personal lame gym coach toji really did it for me. tagging my girl @jabamin mainly just for nanami. but yes ALSO IDK WHY I MADE THE READER DUMB IN THE NANAMI FIC, but I juxtaposed it by making you super smart in the geto fic so it balances it out. anyways lmk what you thought, thanks for reading!! DONT USE MY DIVIDERS

[literaryvein-reblogs]

some words for worldbuilding (pt. 1)

Air

billow, breath, bubble, draft, effervescence, fumes, puff, vapor

Arena

aquarium, bazaar, coliseum, field, hall, mecca, stage

Building

abbey, architecture, armory, asylum, bakery, bar, booth, cathedral, club, construction, court, department store, dock, edifice, emergency room, factory, food court, fort/fortress, framework, garrison, greasy spoon, hacienda, hangout, headquarters, hotel, inn, institute/institution, jetty, laboratory, mansion, mental hospital, monastery, mosque, museum, nursing home, office, pavilion, penitentiary, plant, prison, rampart, repository, ruins, sanctuary, shrine, skyscraper, stockade, storeroom, structure, temple, theater/theatre, treasury, warehouse, wharf

City

capital, metropolis, town, village

Furniture

altar, banister, bench, booth, bunk, cabinet, chair, couch, crib, davenport, dresser, furnishings, futon, jetty, lectern, partition, perch, platform, pulpit, rail/railing, screen, secretary, stand, wardrobe

Geographic division

area, county, desert, dynasty, kingdom, outskirts, quarter, sector, suburb, territory, tract, zone

Habitat

abode, ecosystem, environmentalist, habitat/habitation, harbor, home, land, nest, paradise, premises, refuge, settlement, tent

Habitat, human: accommodations, apartment, barracks, cabin, castle, condominium, convent, domesticity, dungeon, element, encampment, estate, grange, hacienda, home, house, housing, hut, jail, lodging, madhouse, monastery, neighborhood, old country, palace, prison, reservation, resort, sanctuary, shanty, suite, vacancy, villa

Habitat, rural: barn, burrow, conservatory, desert, farm, forest, grange, jungle, sanctuary, wilderness/wilds, wood/woods

Land

abyss, avalanche, bank, bay, bed, bluff, campus, cape, cavern, cliff, compost, cove, crevice/crevasse, dirt, downgrade, dune, elevation, estuary, expanse, field, fossil, garden, glacier, gorge, green, ground, gulf, harbor, hillock, inlet, knoll, landscape, lawn, lot, marshy, menagerie, mine, moat, mound, mountainous, nature, outlook, park, patio, pit, plateau, plaza, porch, prairie, projection, property, quagmire, ravine, ridge, savanna, shelf, soil, stack, table, trench, tundra, valley, well, wood/woods, yard

Nation

country, home, land, nationality, soil, state

Personal item

adornment, amulet, beads, best-seller, briefcase, cache, cargo, charm, contraceptive, disguise, effects, equipment, favorite, gem, glasses, handbag, jewelry, knickknack, luggage, marionette, memorabilia, necklace, novelty, object d’art, odds-on-favorite, paraphernalia, pledge, possession, pride, puppet, purse, resources, ring, souvenir, stuff, supplies, sustenance, thing/things, trappings, trifle, valuable

Planet

cosmos, Earth, galaxy, moon, planet, sphere, world

Region

capital, commonwealth, quarter, region, settlement, suburb

Room

alcove, attic, bath, bedroom, boutique, cellar, den, enclosure, foyer, gin mill, hall, lavatory, loft, outhouse, parlor, restaurant, saloon, shop, stage, store, tenement, theater/theatre, vestibule

Shape

angular, beaten, billowy, checkered, concave, conical/conic, crescent, curly, deformed, elliptical, flat, gnarled, kinky, misshapen, obtuse, round, shapeless, spiral, straight

Vehicle

camper, conveyance, motorcade, transport

Vehicle, air: aircraft, armada, blimp, dirigible, helicopter, shuttle, UFO

Vehicle, land: ambulance, bicycle, car, cherry-picker, dolly, excavator, model, traffic, truck

Vehicle, water: armada, boat, craft, fleet, sailboat, yacht

Water

abyss, aqueduct, basin, beach, blackball, brook, cape, channel, condensation, creek, deep, estuary, fountain, gulf, heading, inlet, lake, oasis, pond, promontory, reservoir, sea, spray, strait, tide, wash, wave, whirlpool

NOTE

The above are concepts classified according to subject and usage. It not only helps writers and thinkers to organize their ideas but leads them from those very ideas to the words that can best express them.

It was, in part, created to turn an idea into a specific word. By linking together the main entries that share similar concepts, the index makes possible creative semantic connections between words in our language, stimulating thought and broadening vocabulary.

Source ⚜ Writing Basics & Refreshers ⚜ On Vocabulary

[fear-is-truth]

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐎𝐎𝐋 part II — nicholas alexander chavez.

summary — 80’s au. popular, rich pretty boy nicholas alexander chavez has laid claim on you / wc: 1.0k

tags — f! reader. mentions of alcohol. nic being a lil tipsy n cute. teensy moment between cooper & reader but platonic

read part I here

The pool party had spilled well into the evening, and the once-golden sunlight had been replaced by the soft glow of string lights scattered around the patio. The music still played, and the air was warm, thick with the scent of chlorine, alcohol and the buzz of laughter.

Nicholas, a little tipsy by now, had dragged you onto one of the lounge chairs near the pool, insisting that you sit with him. You were perched sideways on his lap, head resting against his chest, his arm slung protectively around your waist. He was laughing loudly, completely unbothered as he took in the scene around him. From where you sat, you could see a couple of girls near the edge of the pool, throwing side glances your way—obviously irritated. One of them flipped her hair and whispered something to her friend, both of them glaring as if they could will you out of Nic’s lap and into the pool. But he didn’t seem to notice nor care, as his attention was solely fixated on you. He just chuckled, thumb tracing lazy circles on your hip as he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the side of your neck.

“You’re the best part of this whole party, you know?” he murmured against your skin, voice low and a bit slurred from the drinks he’d had. You tilted your head to look at him, brushing his curls from his forehead.

“That the booze talking?”

“Nope,” he replied, a lopsided grin spreading across his face, before pointing to the place where his heart was. Then, as if making some grand announcement, Nicholas straightened up slightly, cupping his hands around his mouth to form a megaphone. “Hey people! See this hot babe right here? That’s my girl!” he hollered to no one in particular, pointing at you. People turned to look, some laughing, some raising their glasses in response. A loud wolf whistle from the crowd. You groaned, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks.

“Oh my God, Nic.”

He laughed, tipping his head back, and it was impossible to stay mad at him when he was like this. “Just telling it like it is,” he said, squeezing your waist affectionately.

“You’re mine, and I’m all yours.”

“Sappy.”

As much as you were enjoying it, you could tell Nicholas was a little too far gone with the alcohol, and he could probably use some water. You extricated yourself from his embrace, standing up as you gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “I’m gonna grab you some water,” you said, brushing a hand through his hair.

“Be right back.”

You slipped inside the kitchen, the muffled sounds of the pool party fading as you sought a break from the noise. As you rounded the corner, you didn’t notice Cooper standing near the fridge, and before you knew it, you bumped straight into his chest.

“Whoa, whoa, easy there,” his hands gently landing on your shoulders to steady you. You blinked up at him, bewildered, then laughed in embarrassment.

“Sorry… didn’t see you.”

“Always in a hurry, huh?” He teased, his grip light but steady before he let go and stepped back.

“Just grabbing some water for Nic,” you replied, moving toward the fridge. “He’s getting a little too enthusiastic out there.” Cooper chuckled, nodding toward the lounge area visible through the glass doors. “Yeah, I heard him. So did the whole neighbourhood, probably.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t keep yourself from smiling. “Yeah, well, you know him. Subtlety isn’t his forte.”

“Nope,” Cooper agreed, pushing off the counter and opening the fridge for you. “But hey, put any other guy were in his shoes, they’d wanna let the world know too.”

“Well, how ‘bout you?” you teased, grabbing a bottled water from the fridge before closing the door. “Sure I would.” He replied matter-of-factly, his expression softening before adding thoughtfully, “If I was bisexual, though. But I’d probably make less of a scene.”

There was another pause, but this one felt different. You both just stood there, sharing the space, and it was… comfortable. Cooper, for all his teasing, had always been the steady one in your life— a permanent fixture. It wasn’t something either of you ever really acknowledged out loud, but in moments like this, the quiet between you said more than enough. You both burst into simultaneous laughter, you doubling over in stitches. Chortling, he reached out, giving your shoulder a light pat.

“You better get back out there before your man does something stupid, I don’t wanna be the one to haul his ass out of the pool again.”

As you turned to leave, Cooper’s voice called out one last time. “But hey, if he ever fucks up—” his voice took on a playful edge, though there was a hint of seriousness in it, “—I’ll kick his ass. No questions asked.”

“Thanks, Coop.”

“Anytime.”

His words stayed with you, lingering in the back of your mind, but as soon as you stepped onto the patio, your focus shifted completely. Nic’s eyes immediately found yours from across the pool, his whole face lighting up like a kid on Christmas morning. “There she is,” he crowed, reaching out with grabby hands as soon as you got close. You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help smiling as you handed him the bottle of water. He didn’t take it, though—instead, he tugged you back onto his lap, pulling you into his arms like he’d never intended to let you go.

“Missed you so much, baby,” Nicholas mumbled into your hair, arms wrapped tightly around your waist. “I was gone for like five minutes,” you laughed, leaning back against him, feeling the warmth of his body and the way his hands lazily trailed up your sides. He grinned down at you, brushing a few strands of hair behind your ear.

“Five minutes too long.”

You unscrewed the cap of the water bottle and raised it to his lips, but Nic turned his head to the side, pouting.

“Nah, where’s my kiss first?”

You rolled your eyes but leaned in anyway, pressing your lips to his. As soon as you did, you tasted the faint tang of alcohol on his breath. When you pulled back to catch your breath, you giggled, wiping the edge of his mouth with your thumb. You raised the bottle again, and this time, he took a long sip, still watching you with that tipsy, adoring look in his eyes. “Better?” you asked, brushing your fingers through his slightly damp hair.

“Much better,”

MLIST.  fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content

[mortalityplays]

dwarf fortress fucks so hard. my current fort has an occasional patron who is an 86 year old owl lady named 'the frozen one' who spent the first couple of years just perching in trees and watching my dwarves. a two headed fire breathing ettin came to lay siege to the place before I had a proper military established, and while I was freaking out trying to lock doors she just. floated down and tore him in half. when I checked her inventory, all she had was a plain brown dress, socks, shoes, and a pair of gloves. she just ripped him down the middle like a phonebook with her bare talons.

later while checking out other visitors I discovered that almost every bard in the fortress had been her apprentice at some point. eventually she came inside to check out the taverns, and now she just sits around watching performances and getting into arguments about them, feeling nothing. I love her so much.

[thesecondhandwoman]

HEXED HEART

Ambessa x f!reader

Summary: Recently, Piltover has fallen weak ever since the hexcore stopped working, and the scientists who may have been able to fix it (Heimerdinger, Jayce, Viktor) had disappeared, leaving Ambessa frustrated. However, when she heard news of you, an intelligent scientist, possibly having the skills to fix it, she immediately took action. Even if it meant using a hint of sweet manipulation.

The remnants of Piltover smoldered under the weight of its own hubris. The once-bustling City of Progress was a shadow of itself, its streets quieter, its golden spires tarnished. The Hexcore had faltered, leaving the city vulnerable, its famed defenses useless.

In her laboratory perched high above the city, you worked tirelessly. The other brilliant minds—Heimerdinger, Jayce, Viktor—had all disappeared, leaving you to hold the fort. You were the last hope of Piltover, though the burden had grown suffocating. Every attempt to stabilize the Hexcore had failed. You stared at the latest iteration of your work, frustration and exhaustion gnawing at your edges.

The heavy thud of boots startled you from your thoughts. You turned to see soldiers, clad in Noxian red and black, entering your lab. At their helm was her. Ambessa Medarda, the warlord who cast a shadow wherever she walked. She was as commanding as the stories claimed—tall, statuesque, and radiating an aura of power that seemed to fill every inch of your lab.

She appraised you with sharp, calculating eyes, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.

“I’ve been watching you,” she said, her voice as smooth as silk but edged with steel. “Piltover’s lone genius. Working herself into the ground to save this broken city.”

You squared your shoulders, attempting to summon the confidence that exhaustion had stripped away. “If you’ve come to ridicule me, I assure you, I don’t have the time.”

“Oh, I didn’t come to mock you,” she said, stepping closer. Her soldiers fanned out, blocking any potential escape routes. “I came because Piltover’s failures can serve Noxus. You can serve Noxus.”

Your blood chilled. “I don’t serve anyone.”

Ambessa chuckled, low and amused. “Not yet.” She closed the distance between you in a few strides, her imposing figure towering over yours. “But you will.”

Before you could retort, she reached out, her gloved hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The touch was startlingly gentle, disarming. You stiffened, but Ambessa merely tilted her head, her gaze softening, her smile turning warmer.

“You’re exhausted,” she murmured, her tone shifting to something softer, almost tender. “This city doesn’t deserve you. They’ve wrung you dry, haven’t they? And still, no thanks. No progress.”

Her words hit a nerve, and she saw it in the flicker of your expression.

“I—” you began, but her fingers against your jaw silenced you.

“You deserve better,” she said, her voice a near whisper now. Her thumb traced the line of your jaw, her touch featherlight. “A mind like yours shouldn’t be wasted on people who only know how to take. I can offer you more, darling. Resources. Freedom. Respect.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of her gaze pinning you in place. It was intoxicating, the way she looked at you—not with disdain or pity, but with something that felt dangerously like admiration.

“You just want to use me,” you said, though the words came out weaker than intended.

Ambessa smiled, a sly curve of her lips. “Of course, I do. But I’ll give you what Piltover never could. I’ll make you feel like the treasure you are.”

Her hand slid from your jaw to your neck, her thumb brushing over your pulse. You were hyper-aware of her closeness, the warmth radiating from her as she leaned in. Her lips grazed the corner of your mouth, a ghost of a kiss, before trailing along your cheek to your ear.

“Do you feel it?” she murmured, her breath warm against your skin. “The power we could wield together?”

You shivered despite yourself, torn between resistance and the allure of her promises. She was weaving a net around you, each touch, each word drawing you tighter.

Her hand slid down to your shoulder, her fingers kneading gently, soothing the tension that had built from days—no, weeks—of relentless pressure. You hated how easily she read you, how her touch seemed to draw out the ache you’d buried beneath sheer determination.

“I don’t… I can’t just abandon Piltover,” you stammered, though the conviction in your voice wavered.

Ambessa chuckled, a rich, velvety sound that sent a shiver down your spine. She pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, her expression equal parts understanding and predatory.

“Who said anything about abandoning them?” she cooed, tracing her fingers along the edge of your collarbone. “Think of it as… redirecting your efforts. Piltover has taken everything from you. Why not take something back?”

Her lips ghosted over your temple, and you felt a strange, heady mix of indignation and desire. Every instinct screamed to resist, to fight back against her intoxicating manipulation. But her words had rooted themselves in your mind, growing like thorns around your resolve.

She pressed closer, her presence overwhelming as her other hand cupped your cheek. Her thumb brushed over your skin with a tenderness that contradicted the raw power she emanated.

“I see the brilliance in you,” she murmured. “The kind of brilliance that could reshape the world. But brilliance needs the right soil to grow, and Piltover has done nothing but starve you.”

Her lips found your jawline, a soft, lingering kiss that left your heart pounding. You hated how your breath hitched, how her words sank deeper, wrapping themselves around your doubts and frustrations like a vice.

“I could give you everything,” she whispered, her voice dripping with promise. “Imagine a lab equipped with anything you could dream of. Resources, soldiers to protect you, and the freedom to create without petty councils and politics dragging you down.”

You hesitated, your mind a whirlwind. “And what would you demand in return?”

Ambessa leaned back just enough to meet your gaze, her smirk sharp but her eyes still softened with that feigned tenderness. “Only your cooperation. Your brilliance, dedicated to something greater than this dying city.” Her hand slid down your arm, fingers curling gently around your wrist. “And, of course, you—with all your fire and passion. A partner. An ally.”

Her lips found your wrist, pressing a kiss to the delicate skin there. It was such an intimate gesture that it left you reeling.

“You’re lying,” you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction.

Ambessa smiled again, her confidence unshaken. “I never lie, darling. I may manipulate, I may seduce, but I always tell the truth.” She lifted your hand to her lips, brushing another kiss over your knuckles. “You’ll see. The only chains you’ll wear with me are the ones you choose.”

You trembled, torn between the iron will you’d cultivated in solitude and the dangerous allure of her promises. Her every touch, every word, was carefully calculated, but there was a kernel of sincerity in her eyes that was impossible to ignore.

And then, her tone shifted, low and husky, her lips brushing against your ear. “Or you can stay here,” she murmured, her voice laced with a mockery so subtle it felt like silk slipping over a blade. “Alone. Frustrated. Watching this city crumble around you while you waste away in obscurity.”

The weight of her words settled over you like a storm cloud. The enormity of your failure, the futility of your work, pressed down harder than ever.

Ambessa saw the flicker of doubt in your eyes and leaned in, her lips brushing over your cheek again, her hands sliding to your waist. “Don’t think of it as surrender,” she whispered. “Think of it as liberation.”

Her lips finally found yours, soft and coaxing, her hands firm yet tender as they held you in place. For a moment, the world around you faded, leaving only the intoxicating warmth of her touch, the relentless pull of her presence.

When she finally pulled back, her smirk returned, triumphant but still laced with that maddening, feigned care.

“Take your time,” she said, stepping away as if to give you the illusion of choice. “But know this—I won’t wait forever. And neither will Piltover.”

She turned, her soldiers falling into step behind her, and the door shut with an ominous finality, leaving you alone in the silence of your lab.

Your knees buckled as you leaned against the nearest table, your mind spinning. You hated her, hated how easily she unraveled you. But you couldn’t deny the truth in her words.

And deep down, you wondered if the world Ambessa promised might be worth the price of your pride.

The silence of your lab was suffocating in the wake of her departure. You stood there, still trembling, your hand resting against the edge of your desk as if it might hold you together. You could still feel her touch, lingering like a brand on your skin, a reminder of the impossible decision she had presented.

Stay… or go?

You hadn’t realized how much you had needed an escape, how desperately you had longed for someone to see you beyond your failures. Ambessa had touched that part of you with ruthless precision. She had peeled away your pride, exposed the vulnerability that you’d spent so long burying beneath equations and inventions.

And now, you stood at the precipice of something you had once sworn to avoid.

The thought of continuing alone in Piltover, watching everything you had worked for crumble—your research, your hopes—seemed unbearable. The weight of it all crashed down on you like a ton of stone. Ambessa’s words, laced with promises of power, resources, and recognition, were beginning to sound like the only way out.

You closed your eyes, feeling your resolve slip through your fingers like sand.

Her touch had been gentle. Too gentle, and that had terrified you. She was a master at breaking down walls, and the way she had looked at you, with a mixture of admiration and something darker, had set your pulse racing. You had wanted her to touch you.

No, you needed her to touch you.

No more endless days in solitude. No more futile attempts at saving a city that didn’t care.

With a shaky breath, you made your decision.

Later that night, you stood before the door to Ambessa’s private quarters, your hands clammy, heart hammering. You’d walked here with purpose, though the journey had felt like an eternity. Every step had only brought you closer to the inevitable—an alliance forged in the heat of desperation. You knocked once, and the door opened before you could even pull your hand back.

Ambessa stood there, her expression unreadable as her eyes traveled over you.

“You’ve come.” Her voice was steady, but there was a gleam in her eyes that hinted at the satisfaction of a predator about to claim its prize.

You swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing down on you, but you refused to let it show. “I’m here,” you said, your voice firmer than you felt, “because I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

Ambessa stepped aside, her lips curling into a smile. “I knew you would come around.”

As you entered, the lavish, dimly lit room seemed almost too luxurious for someone like you, but there was something intoxicating about it. The rich silks, the scent of something sweet and foreign in the air—everything spoke of power and control, the very things you had been so desperate to grasp.

Ambessa closed the door behind you with a soft click, and then she turned to face you, her eyes now intense with anticipation. “Tell me, darling… what is it you truly desire?” she asked, her voice low and coaxing.

You hesitated, but only for a second. Then the truth spilled from your lips. “I want to be… seen.”

Ambessa stepped toward you, a predatory smile playing on her lips. “Oh, I see you,” she purred. “I see you more clearly than anyone ever has.” She reached out, her fingers grazing your cheek with deliberate slowness, as though savoring the moment. “And now, I’ll make sure you’re never unseen again.”

She cupped your face gently, tilting your chin upward, and her gaze softened, as though she were savoring the power of the moment. “You were always meant for something greater than this city. But you needed a catalyst… someone to help you realize your true potential.”

Her touch was almost tender, but the undercurrent of control never left. She leaned in, her lips brushing your forehead with a softness that contrasted the fire in her eyes.

“I can give you everything,” she whispered, her voice filled with honeyed persuasion.

A heat bloomed in your chest, rising to your cheeks, but it wasn’t embarrassment—it was the burning spark of surrender. Every part of you that had been torn between resistance and the seductive pull of her power now bent toward the inevitable.

You nodded, the words tumbling out in a quiet confession, “I’ll help...”

Ambessa’s lips curled into a triumphant, almost possessive smile. “Good.” She leaned in, her mouth capturing yours in a kiss that was both commanding and consuming. It was gentle at first, a slow burn that deepened with every press of her lips, every brush of her tongue. She held you with an intensity that made your knees weak, her hands roaming with practiced care, tracing your sides, your back, pulling you closer until you could feel the heat of her body against yours.

When she pulled back, breathless but satisfied, her fingers trailed down your spine, sending shivers of anticipation through you. “You belong to me now,” she said softly, her voice wrapped in a possessive sweetness. “And I’ll make sure you never regret it.”

You trembled, feeling the weight of her words settle over you, and for the first time in a long while, you realized you didn’t mind. You were hers. Completely.

In her arms, under her gaze, you were no longer the scientist who had failed. You were a tool—her tool—ready to be shaped and molded into something greater, something powerful. You had agreed, out of weakness, yes—but in that weakness, you had found something that felt like freedom.

And as Ambessa’s lips met your skin once more, tracing the delicate curve of your jaw, you wondered if this, this was what it meant to truly be seen.

[lowkeyrobin]

hawk x reader (theyre dating) and he asks about her scars? (theyre from sh) maybe it can be titled you drew stars around my scars? idk! if youre noit comfortable with this im so so sorry!

ooo sure yeah! ; and dw I'm cool w this kinda stuff, sometimes I just don't do it cause I can't think of a proper idea and stuff lol i can never make them super long or anything so i apologize ; but thanks for requesting, hope you enjoy! ; also I do only do gn / they/them readers so everyone feels included/ that's what I'm comfortable with just as an fyi

HAWK MOSKOWITZ ; you drew stars around my scars

summary ; after finding your scars, eli draws stars around your scars

warnings ; language, self harm / relapse

word count ; 522

masterlist

You stand beside Hawk in your Miyagi-Fang / Eagle-Do / whatever the fuck gi, hands behind your back as you listen to Mr. LaRusso and Johnny ramble on and on about the Sekai Taikai. You'd zoned out after a while, not being interested on going to Spain for some karate championship. You couldn't even get into the All Valley, whoever thought you were tough enough to take on the world was mentally deranged.

You already knew who was going, the core four, Miguel, Sam, Robby, and Tory, Hawk, and one lucky other candidate, probably Kenny or Devon, maybe Demetri. You didn't mind knowing you weren't going to go, but felt bad to not be there for Eli. You knew this meant a lot to him, at least, as karate always meant everything to him after he picked it up.

After the conversation ended, you head to the side with Eli as he wanted to spend some time with you while practicing. You were on defense while he worked on offense.

You work with a straight face, off in another world while your boyfriend threw moves at you that you half ass blocked. Eli notices something concerning, plus your half assed moves and your zoned out look, quickly stopping with a worried look.

God damn gi was so loose on your arms.

"Y/n? You okay?"

You quickly blink and nod, definitely not reassuring to him at all.

"Are you sure?"

"Yup"

As you sit down in the car with Eli, you stare out the window, waiting for him to take you home. You were quiet and distant, having barely spoken a word to your boyfriend.

You'd been growing distant for a while, the lack of sleep, the urge to hurt yourself again. It ate away at you like a parasite, a leech sucking away your energy and positivity.

As he sits down in the drivers seat, he looks at you, a soft, concerned look upon his face.

"Are you okay?"

You nod, pulling your sleeves down over your arms.

"Did you relapse?" He asks quickly but softly, worried about your health.

You stay silent, knowing you couldn't admit the truth but also couldn't lie to him.

"Y/n..." He softly rests his hand over your arm, pulling your sleeve up. You stay silent and limp, giving in to him. "How- Why?"

You shrug. "They're scars. They're old."

"How old?" He asks, wondering how long he'd gone without noticing.

"Months" You reply, leaning your head on your hand, elbow perched on the arm rest on the door.

He calmly grabs a red Sharpie from his console, opening it before grabbing your forearm carefully. He presses the marker to your skin, causing you to look over with a raised eyebrow.

"What're you doing, Eli?"

He smiles, continuing to draw little doodles around your scars.

"Drawing stars and shit, making it look all nice for my favorite person"

Your solemn expression morphs to a smile as you watch him draw little stars and hearts and flowers around your scars. Drawing wasn't his forte, but it was the thought that counted.

"I love you"

"Love you too, Moskowitz"

[koenigami]

➵ WRIOTHESLEY synopsis : how does one express such a strong feeling like love when someone like him is involved? wc : 1k tags : fem!reader, fluff, smut, emotional reader who is very bad with words of affirmation

you don’t get how he does it so easily. how he manages to make your heart beat faster, your face heat up, body react and get aroused. his words hold such a great power over you, especially so because he has proved to you many times that they’re not empty promises. 

wriothesley has shown you his love in all kinds of forms and ways. whether that be in your bedroom, or in more appropriate situations. 

and you’re so jealous. 

because as he keeps one hand on your ankle, with your leg perched on his shoulder, while the other is putting the slightest pressure on your abdomen - you wonder why you can’t convey your feelings to him the way that he does. directly. honestly. in the heat of the moment and without any filter. but you simply can’t. 

expressing your feelings verbally has never been your forte. and in moments like these, where your lover keeps praising you, showering you with “i love you’s” and petnames until all you can do is try not to combust, you hope that he knows that you feel the same. 

the invisible veil of embarrassment and shyness always wraps around your mouth multiple times, nearly gagging you, and preventing you from revealing all of you. inside and out. because while you’re both as naked as on the day that you were born, you still feel as if there was a thick layer coated over you that is keeping wriothesley too far away from you. 

every time his cock hits your inner most part, making your throat tighten up and your eyes roll back into your head, you’re not able to tell him how good he’s making you feel. when his hand slips lower, his thumb pressing against your wet swollen clit, jerking the little nub back and forth, you can’t tell him that you like it just like that. that only him can make your body shake like this. that you’re only at his mercy. 

you feel wriothesley’s lips on your skin. sweet and light kisses are spread along your lower calf, and the intimacy, the gentleness is making you tear up. 

having him inside you is not enough. his hands on your body are not enough. his skin against yours is not enough, because it still feels like you’re miles apart. 

“fuck, sweetheart. quit squeezing me so tight or else-” 

a quiet sob rips through the room and wriothesley’s sex dazed mind sobers up in an instant. your leg hits the mattress when he carefully drops it down, and leans over to have a look at you.

“love?” 

wriothesley’s about to stop everything at the sight of the tears trailing down your cheeks. are you in pain? did he hurt you? was it too much? 

all those questions evaporate when he sees you stretch your arms out towards him, grabby hands hovering in front of his face as you keep crying like a toddler begging to be picked up. 

“c’mere.” is all you can get out, yet it is enough for wriothesley to know what is truly going on. the empty space between you is quickly filled with warmth. with him. 

chest against chest, he lies down beside you, his still hard cock slipping out of you, as he wraps you up in the comfort of his arms. 

“i’m here. i’m here, my love.”

whether it’s your tears or snot that are wetting his neck as you nuzzle into him, he could not care less. everything about the past hour is forgotten. the heated kisses and frantic touches, as well as the moans and groans that filled your bedroom-

everything is irrelevant because no orgasm could ever satiate the need that you’re feeling right here and now. 

“wrio-”

“i know, baby. i know. i‘m not going anywhere, ‘m right here.” his hand strokes the back of your head, his fingers delicately combing through strands of your soft hair. a lopsided smile curves his lips when the arms around his middle tighten the slightest bit, and a wet kiss is pressed against the middle of his throat, right below his adam’s apple. 

what you see as a weakness, is for wriothesley one of many reasons to love you even more. you don’t need words to show him that your heart has only space for him. you don’t have to tell him how much he means to you, and how good he’s being to you when he can all discern it in the way your body’s speaking to him. you gravitate towards him as if he was your own little sun. 

his thumb swipes over your cheek when you eventually pull back to look at him. teary, doe eyes stare right into his soul. into his heart. and it’s the prettiest sight that a human being like him could have ever dreamed of. so many things have gone wrong in his life, yet so many went right, with you being his biggest blessing. 

and you prove it over and over again. because he swears that his heart has stopped beating at a normal pace ever since you stepped into his life. you have rekindled his brain. his entire being. 

“wriothesley.” your hoarse voice cuts through his thoughts, and he coos sweetly at you when you sniff and rub the corner of your eye with your palm. a kiss on your forehead, and another on the tip of your nose, and you feel like you’re holding the entire world in your arms. 

“i love you. so, so much.” you croak, cupping his cheek and feeling the light stubble along his jaw as if to distract yourself from the light shake in your hands and the overwhelming fluttering of your heart. 

“hm. i love you too.” wriothesley breathes, his hand wrapped so gently around your wrist as he guides it towards his lips, sealing his words with a final kiss on your palm. “so, so much.”

[brotherblaze]

heat death —jason todd

—summary: There's an unexpected detour on your date. You have a feeling Jason would normally rather pry his teeth from his mouth than let you meet a dead boy, but tonight, he wants to make peace.

—cw: discussion of past character death, no gender mentioned for the reader.

—wc: 2,7k

—note: part 2 to this; can be read as a standalone

Sometimes, Jason has to return to Gotham for a few days.

And it’s fine—it’s not like you’re so co-dependent on him that you can’t survive without hearing from him for a couple of days. (Your cat, not so much. How long can an animal sit in front of your apartment door, waiting for someone to step through? For a long time. You find yourself thinking back to that Hachiko movie.)

But he always makes up for it in style.

When you meet him in the lobby of your building at 6:53 PM, after he gave you only three hours of notice (and the instruction to wear that red dress he likes so much), Jason Todd looks dashing. He’s dressed in black slacks and a white dress shirt, the two topmost buttons undone. His hair—as if he’d decided to slick it back and then changed his mind.

Next to him, is a dark-haired woman in a long tailcoat. Kind of like the ones tacky magicians like to wear.

Jason’s face lights up when your eyes meet and your heart swells and leaps into your throat all the same. Like this is your first date again. In a way, every date with Jason Todd feels like the first again, the butterflies swarming your chest, perching briefly on a rib to then take flight again at a moment’s notice. Jason has crossed the space between you in three long steps and is pulling you into his arms. He’s warm and he smells like sandalwood and citrus.

“I’m sorry for going radio silent; I wanted to call so many times.” He presses his lips against your cheek.

“I assume Scarecrow is back in Arkham?”

“Nice and cozy in his cell. You—” he cuts himself off as he takes a step back, arms outstretched and hands hovering so close to your coat-clad arms like he’s afraid to touch you, and gives himself a moment to look you over. “Look incredible. I kind of want to go back upstairs and—”

The woman clears her throat.

Jason’s cheeks flush red. He straightens and angles himself so you can see past him. “This is Zatanna.”

“Nice to meet you.”

You accept her outstretched hand. “As in Zatanna Zatara? The Zatanna Zatara?”

“You’re a fan?” Jason asks with a wolfish smile, as if red is not still lingering on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. You almost want to jab him in the ribs. Zatanna beats you to it. “Ow.”

“What, I can’t like space and magic?”

“No, no, I didn’t say that.” He holds his hands up in mock-surrender. Silver rings glint on his fingers. “But speaking of magic, Zee is gonna take us where we need to be.”

You could ask where you’re going. But Jason is keen on keeping his tongue behind his teeth whenever he plans date activities. The most you’ll get is a vague gesture; and very carefully thought out instructions on how formal you should dress.

“If I get in trouble with Batman for this, I’m throwing you under the bus,” Zatanna says, rolling up the sleeves of her jacket.

“A: Superman cleared it and Red Tornado is on monitor duty. B: I got Two-Face to hold down the fort with B. And C—” Jason checks his watch, “we have a reservation at 8:30.”

“Okay, okay,” Zatanna says. She flexes her gloved fingers. Sparks fly. “Ready to go?” She asks the room but she’s looking at you. You nod and slide your hand into Jason’s just in case. “Great. Now, please close your eyes and remain calm.”

In your peripheral vision, Jason closes his eyes immediately—you don’t think you’ve seen him do something so voluntarily even with his family. It’s as if he trusts Zatanna completely. His hand is warm around yours and you give it a gentle squeeze. He squeezes back.

If he trusts her so implicitly, you see no reason to doubt her, and close your eyes.

The timbre of Zatanna’s voice is lovely as she casts her spell. It wraps around you like a soft cloud and for a moment you’re weightless before it places you back down just as gently. There is no vertigo, no motion of falling or flying. If only you could understand what she’s saying.

The city fades from your senses all at once. Cars aren’t honking and the aircon in the lobby isn’t blowing warm air against the back of your neck. The air doesn’t smell like flowery air freshener. 

Instead, there is birdsong and the rustle of leaves.

You blink slowly, try to reorient yourself wherever Zatanna has placed you. The room is dim. The air is warm but not overly stuffy. Trees line your view of your surroundings. A concrete path meanders through the grass. You turn to look at Zatanna, to ask where you are, but she’s nowhere to be found.

Jason—Jason is still there, next to you, your hand clutched in his. He looks you over as if he’s trying to make sure you’re okay. When he’s satisfied with whatever signs you’re displaying, he brings your knuckles up to his lips.

“Sorry. This was the less nauseating way to do it.”

“You asked a really powerful magician to drop us in the woods?”

Jason chuckles and motions towards the concrete path with the jerk of his head. “Wanna see where the yellow brick road in the floating superhero HQ in earth’s orbit leads?”

Your jaw drops. “Jason, what—”

“Hey, it’s okay.” He runs his thumb along your knuckles. “Like I said: it’s been cleared and Red is keeping watch just in case.”

“So… we’re really in space?”

You shouldn’t get your hopes up. God knows you’ve been burned too many times by shitty exes promising they’d do something or be better at something. But the thing about Jason is that if he sets his mind to something, he will always want to deliver. He’d probably put some Greek hero to shame with his drive.

He nods. “And there’s a compact version of the Hubble space telescope here; it’s as good as the real thing.”

“Really?” You swallow around the lump in your throat.

“Really.”

“Okay.” You take a step forward, off the grass and onto the cold concrete path. Jason is right there, his coat over his arm, offering the other to you. You shrug off your own coat and loop your arm with his. 

You fall into step. There’s no need for talking. Instead, you allow him to guide you, crane your neck when you catch a new chirp from the trees. There’s a woodpecker somewhere, hammering away at a tree.

Something catches in the corner of your eye and you nearly jump out of your skin when you realize it’s human-shaped. You collide into Jason’s body on instinct and he catches you, his arms wound around your torso to secure you in place. The blood rushing in your ears is so loud you nearly miss the words of comfort he’s whispering to you. The white-lensed eye peering from between the trees sends a shiver up your spine to the base of your skull.

Slowly, your senses return to you and you blink rapidly, attempt to turn away from that eye. Jason loosens his grip on you just enough to give you some leeway. You’re clutching his wrists in your hands, nails pressing crescent-shaped indents into his skin. Your fingers feel stiff as you pull away.

“You’re okay,” he says when you can finally hear him again. “What’s got you so spooked, hm? Tornado is in the control room, we’re alone here.” Now that his hands are free, they’re running up and down your back in an effort to soothe you.

“That.”

Jason’s expression shutters off when you point out the culprit. His jaw tenses and he swallows harshly.

You follow his gaze between the trees to get a better look at the thing you saw and oh.

It’s a hologram of Robin. You can make out the emblem on his chest if you crane your neck slightly. A yellow cape hangs from his shoulders.

That’s him, right? He was Robin.

“We don’t have to go over there,” you rush out to say. “C’mon, show me that telescope.” You turn, hand in Jason’s and try to tug him down the road.

“No, I…” Jason pauses, takes a long, even breath in and releases it slowly. He glances towards the treeline where you had been walking towards just moments ago. “We can take a small detour; we have time. I want to tell you something.” He takes your hand in his, intertwines your fingers. At some point, he has taken your coat, now draped over his on his free arm.

You walk side-by-side until you arrive at a small alcove lined with trees and planted flowers.

There are other figures besides Robin there. All holograms. All staring towards the windows, towards Earth.

“This is… everyone in the League and various other teams who’ve…” he trails off, as if he’s having a hard time forcing the word from his mouth. You squeeze his hand. Jason squeezes back. He turns, and you follow, until you’re standing so you have a view of every memorial in the alcove. 

Jason motions to a red-headed girl. She has a swimmer’s build. “That’s Tula. She was… ‘nice’ is such a lame way to put it. She taught me how to swim, y’know. B wouldn’t even let me out into Gotham at first ‘cause I didn’t know how to swim. She wanted to see more of the surface world, so she volunteered. We used to get fro-yo after lessons and go to museums and parks and observatories. She really liked those.

“That,” he places his free hand under your jaw and guides your head to look at the hologram of a man dressed entirely in blue. “That’s Ted Kord. The second Blue Beetle—more of a hobbyist superhero, actually. He was really smart; you would’ve loved to pick his brain. He had this beamgun he’d use. Wanna guess what he called it?”

“Did he name it like B names his toys?”

Jason laughs, the sound short and abrupt but filled with glee. “Oh yeah,” he says with a grin, “I told him he looked so stupid with that thing. But you also would’ve hated him for the pranks he and Booster Gold liked to pull. Everyone was fair game, even B.”

“Naturally, you two got along like a house on fire?”

“Hey, pranks were dickhead’s thing. I was the one who jacked tires to sell them.”

“So, just a little then?”

Jason motions you towards Robin’s hologram as his smile fades. He releases his hold on your hand and you want to object, but his hands find their perch on your hips as he stands behind you. As if you’re a shield he’d like to hide behind so as to not face the memory of a dead boy. He doesn’t say anything for a long while.

You take in the image of Robin.

This Jason, the hologram of a ghost standing in front of you, is skinny, lanky. Short. Two wisps of black hair at his widow’s peak curl towards each other. But… his nose is the same. Jaw a bit less filled out than your Jason’s. If you focus, you can almost place your Jason’s features onto this ghost and try to imagine a cohesive picture of what this dead boy might have looked like when he was still alive. You vaguely recall the newspaper and tabloid articles about Robin—about the change in hair and costume and height. Pictures galore. (Did those ever have close-ups of his face?) About the death of Robin. So many pictures of a smiling child clad in red and black. About Batman in the nearly two years he had no Robin at his side. No pictures of Batman; plenty of pictures of the destruction left in his wake.

You turn away from the ghost, gently pry yourself from Jason’s grip and turn around to face him. He doesn’t meet your eyes.

“I crawled out of my own grave.” He says it like it’s a secret, spoken just between the two of you. Your insides drop, liquefy until all that remains is a void deep in your gut. Aching. “I was dead and then I wasn’t. I clawed my way out of my coffin and through the dirt to the surface.”

The void stems from the pit of your stomach and grows, stretches, swallows, devours the soup your liquefied organs have become and sinks into your bones. It is cold but it is not sharp.

Oh.

“You know,” he says, as you’re lounging in bed on a Sunday morning, “I died when I was 14.”

He’s casual about it. So casual that your endorphin-muddled brain almost misses it, misconstrues it as if he said he’d broken a bone. Almost.

“I got better,” he says as you sit up in a haste, his words finally registering with clarity.

“I—you what?”

“I died. And then I came back.” He leans in, presses a kiss against your temple. “I’ll go get started on breakfast.”

“No, no, wait.” You reach out, grab onto the back of his shirt as he stands. “You can’t just say that and then go make breakfast.”

Jason’s smile is soft as he untangles your fingers from his shirt and he leans down to press his lips against your knuckles. “You’re such a bloodhound when you want something. But I’m a really smart rabbit. And when I’m ready to tell you the whole story, I’ll rip off the scab and you can hunt me down and devour me.”

Oh.

This is him ripping off the scab.

“It was raining. Still can’t stand the smell of wet soil.”

Oh, so that’s why he called that night he came over. There’s a construction site not far from your apartment building where they had broken ground the day prior. It was raining. The fastest way to your apartment is a closed metal box.

“Apparently, I wandered the streets like that.” He tries to smile but all he can manage to form is a grimace. “Bruce’s ex found me. Took me in. Threw me in her dad’s magic bath water to fix me. I stayed there—with the League—for a while. Watched Damian grow up. Took care of his messes. Made messes of my own and cleaned them up.”

Jason folds his arms in front of himself, adjusts the coats slung over one arm. He doesn’t raise his eyes. When you reach out to lay a hand on his bicep, Jason stills, as if he’s a prey animal whose first instinct is to flee.

Oh.

He’s waiting for you to reject him. To sink your nails into him and pry him out of your life, uproot him like a weed and toss him out.

You tilt your head to the side.

“So? That was then. Are you running with the League right now?”

“What?” Suddenly, he finds the courage to meet your gaze.

“Y’know, I accidentally committed academic fraud. Almost didn’t graduate.”

“That’s not the same—”

“And you’re trying to find absolution by what? Trying to goad me into leaving? Didn’t I say I’m stuck to you like glitter?” You level Jason with a look. “Until the Heat Death of the universe.”

Jason’s blood thrums in his veins. His ears are ringing and his vision grows out of focus but you, you remain crystal clear, sharp like the jagged edges of broken glass. He thinks he’ll cut his hand on you if he reaches out. Still, he does, and you meet him halfway with a grip like vice. His tongue is stiff in his mouth and it takes great effort to force it soft so he can speak again.

“Heat death?” His voice cracks.

“I always thought the heat death of the universe would be something super cool like every Sun suddenly turning into a supernova at the same time. But it’s the same thing as the Big Freeze, which is obviously the lamer name and the lamer end.”

He cannot form any words.

“You,” you press a finger against his chest, then flatten your hand so your palm rests over his erratic heartbeat, “said I’m like a bloodhound when I want something. And I said we’ll find each other in every lifetime, every goddamn reincarnation. Because I want you. And in the end, we will watch the universe die together.”

Oh, he thinks.

You want him.

And just for that—he would let you devour him whole.

dividers by cafekitsune

[mothwingwritings]

Can we have Ren/Fox (TPOF) and Mc with a child?Long after Fox decided to stay with MC, they both had a daughter (probably not something with consent and a bit of Stockholm syndrome).The daughter asks her mother how she got the scars and this makes MC have memories of post-traumatic stress.

I was so tickled by this ask that I started manically typing out a response for it nearly as soon as I saw it in my ask box (which at this point, was quite some time ago. Forgive me, I am a mess lul). I wrote the whole damn thing in a fit of passion, excited to release it into the world… But ultimately hated it and thought it was garbo, so I scrapped it and tried again. Wrote a second iteration and thought ‘hell yeah, this is it!!! Sick!’, but then I read it AND HATED THAT ONE TOO AAAHHH!!!

I rewrote this… so much…

But I never give up on my dreams, and you shouldn’t either! Persevere! Don’t give up on yourself! Here’s your daily motivation for the day! Keep writing even it makes you cry!!! :D

Anyway, so I wrote this third one, comprised of new stuff and the stuff I actually did like from the first two stabs, and it ended up being the one. Truly it is a Frankenstein of a fic lol. Regardless of all the reworking, I had a lot of fun writing this and enjoyed the prompt very much!!! I I hope you enjoy reading it just as much. :)

I’m sorry if the writing seems a tad too mature for the reader’s daughter in this, writing children isn’t my forte. ^^;

Due to the nature of this fic, IT IS 18+ ONLY!!! Thank you!

WARNINGS: Incessant mentions of abuse of all kinds for reader and mentions of physical abuse for her child!!! Reader is heavily scarred from said abuse and that’s a main theme in this fic so please avoid if that is upsetting to you. Also, though not the main focus, there are multiple mentions of child abuse in this fic, as well a part where reader goes off verbally on her child, so please be mindful of that as well! Other things of note: reader is a parent in this (which you can probably tell by the prev warning lol), reader getting hurt, blood, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, being held against your will/isolation, mentions of noncon, sad family stuff :(

Diminishing rays of afternoon light splayed through the open window of your quaint living room, casting a comforting orange glow over everything they touched. The light gave the environment an ethereal and nostalgic feel, wrapping you in peaceful warmth as the sun sunk lower and lower. The loveseat you occupied was plush and inviting, and a mug of your favorite tea stood at the ready on the small coffee table beside you, steadily cooling with help from the last hurrah of winter blowing in gently from the outside. Besides the slight chill, the wind brought with it the heavy scent of freshly bloomed flowers, a delightful precursor to the oncoming spring.

Relishing the rare moment of serenity, you couldn’t help but wish that all your days could be this lovely.

You smiled down at your daughter who sat perched in your lap, happily flipping through the newest gift she had acquired from her Father- a thick picture book full of bright illustrations highlighting various exotic animals. As it lay sprawled across her tiny lap, her chubby finger pointed out each animal she took an interest in, her high pitched voice chirping away as she explained what she liked about the creatures. She got particularly excited when she spotted the page full of foxes, jabbing at the red one feverishly as she exclaimed “its daddy!”

Spotting the foxes began her down a path of assigning an animal to not just herself, but you as well. She didn’t find it fair that only her father had kin in the animal world, even though you pointed out that she technically did as well by sharing half the man’s blood. Your revelation did little to deter her, she wanted something new, something just for herself, and she wasn’t going to stop until she found her perfect soul animal. So she continued on, scanning each page in earnest until she found a creature that suited her.

She ended up picking a bunny for herself, supplying you with a comprehensive reason as to why she chose it. As she explained in great length, skimping no details, you couldn’t help but hold back laughter. She spoke as if she were a professor teaching a class, and you did your best to keep a straight face as she yammered on with her shoddy reasoning, deep down knowing she only picked a rabbit because of how cute they are.

After she was done waxing poetic about bunnies, she continued scouring the book, coming to a halt once she reached the wild cat section. She stopped with a gasp, beaming up at you as she pressed her finger firmly against one of the images on the page.

“Mommy this one is you!”

Your eyes traveled to the picture she was rapidly tapping, “An African Wildcat, huh?” You smirked down at the little girl in amusement, “Why did you pick that one for me?”

“Because it looks just like you!”

You chuckled at her enthusiasm, “It looks like me? How so?”

“It has marks just like you do!”

Her innocuous words sent a chill up your spine. Eying the stripes that crossed the cat’s legs, you felt a great unease begin to overtake your body. Her reasoning was not lost on you, the cats coat did quite resemble the jagged scars that covered nearly every inch of your body, and just like the feline in her book, your limbs were the most prominent location of said ‘markings���. You quickly shook your head, not wanting to dwell on it further. In hopes of moving on from the subject, the outpouring of words that flew from your mouth were jumbled and messy.

“O-oh, I see,” you stuttered, clearing your throat to steady your voice, “well you certainly picked a cute animal for me! Thank you baby, it was a good choice.”

She smiled at you innocently, a gesture that usually made your heart melt with affection. But as her tiny hands moved from the book to your arms, that smile did nothing but fill you with dread, the realization that you wouldn’t be getting out of this sticky situation hitting you like a brick to the face. 

“Yeah mommy, the kitty’s marks are just like these ones,” her stubby fingers gently traced the old wounds, a look of reverence reflected on her cherubic features. “They make you look like that kitty mommy,” her little voice cooed, “I like them a lot!”

Your muscles constricted at her words, a slight tremor coursing through you as you involuntarily tightened your grip on her. She took note of this, looking up at your strained features with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Don’t be sad mommy,” she spoke assuredly, “I really do like them! I think they are pretty!”

Her words burned you, scorching the inside of your frozen shell of a body, leaving you feeling sickly and discombobulated. The room around you started to spin in a hazy blur, a wave of nausea making you nearly wretch. Your breathing grew erratic as you tried to calm yourself, inwardly repeating that your daughter was just a child, a little girl barely four years of age who had an incredibly limited view of the world. Her words were not meant to upset you. Her opinions were coming from a place of total naivety.

Yet still, the mental assurance did little to help with the extremely uncomfortable position you now founds yourself in. It wasn’t as if this was her first time noticing your scars. She had mentioned them before, her curious mind trying to piece together the reason that her arms appeared different from your own. Each time she brought your old wounds up you couldn’t help but feel flustered, responding with weak explanations and misdirection to try and quickly brush off her questioning.

The marks came from a silly mistake, or a childhood accident, or from a careless moment when mommy should have been paying more attention. It was always excuses on repeat. How many lies had you told her on this topic alone?

But even if they were lies, it beat telling her the truth. You didn’t want to have to explain where the scars on your body actually came from to anyone, let alone a child, and especially not to your own daughter. How could you possibly word it gently, or in a way that she would understand, when you barely understood why you had them yourself? How could you look her in the eye and tell her that these markings were a permanent sign that you had been very, very hurt and that it was her own fathers hands that inflicted the pain?

Reliving the horrific moments that left your body in such a state was overwhelming enough on its own, but to also have to lay bare her father’s sins, relay to her the unsavory proclivities of a man who she idolized and adored, was not something you were keen on doing.

She didn’t know her daddy like you knew him. She was ignorant to the constant state of concern you lived in, unaware of the worries that plagued your mind and kept you up each night. All the troubles of the hell she had been born into were completely lost on the small, carefree girl.

But honestly that was for the best. You had made an unspoken promise the moment she entered your life that you would protect her no matter what. From the day of her birth onward it became your mission to keep her as happy and healthy as possible.

Ren had broken you, but she did not have to suffer the same fate.

At this point in her life, your daughter knew nothing of her daddy’s profession or ‘hobbies’, and you wanted it to remain that way for as long as possible, if not for the rest of her life. You dreaded each time Ren came home from an auction, terrified he may let casually slip too many details about his ‘lively client’ or that he would carelessly step through the door with the stains of his liaisons still littering his clothes. Your daughter was at an age where she was brimming with questions, and she was relentless in getting answers to each question she asked. Everything had to be explained in complete detail for her to be satisfied, drop the subject, and move on. She was a smart little thing, possibly too smart for her own good. You highly doubted a silly joke or wave of the hand would assuage her whirring mind should Ren grow too impetuous in her presence.

And should her questioning become too pesky, you fretted over what Ren’s reaction to it may be. The more you tried to avoid thinking about it the more you seemed to fixate on the topic, pondering just how much goading it would take from your daughter before his temper would rear its ugly head.  You, above anyone, had firsthand experience in just how volatile the man could be, the scars that littered your body a testament to his turbulent emotions and violent outbursts.

Looking back on it now, it’s a wonder you survived any of it at all.

Ren often told you he loved you, each confession spoken through honeyed words that spilled from his lips easily and often.  And while you didn’t doubt those words (you knew better than to, at this point), you also knew his sweet nothings weren’t merely a term of endearment, they also served as your curse. He loved you, but he also loved your fealty to him, your adoration and worship of him and only him. Should you not reciprocate his feelings as quickly or ardently as he expected, the mere thought of whatever punishment he would concoct was enough to send you into a debilitating panic attack.

There were few things he loathed more than when you flinched from his affection or if you exhibited any sign of distress towards his presence, especially after he had spent so many years going above and beyond to provide for you, devote himself to you. You had learned early on to keel any feelings of aversion you had to his advances, several of your more prominent scars a brutal reminder of that misstep alone.

 If your daughter uncovered the truth and saw her father for who he truly was, if she began to fear him the way you feared him, how would he respond?  If not only his partner, but his own daughter started shying away from him, what length would he go to to correct this behavior?

Dwelling on it made your skin crawl.

But perhaps all of your worries were asinine. Despite his inclination for cruelty, Ren had never so much as raised a hand towards your daughter, even when she did act up. If anything, he was overprotective of her, barely letting her move faster than a brisk jog lest she fall and hurt herself. He hated seeing his little girl experience even a modicum of physical pain, mentioning to you previously that were he able, he’d keep her locked up in a padded room all day and night to prevent any foreseeable accidents or injuries. Surely it was just his idea of a joke, but the insinuation still made you cringe.

It was almost comical, just how greatly the manifestation of his affection for her differed from how he showed his love for you.

His domineering nature shielded her from experiencing any true pain. Every scrape, bruise, and cut she ever received was superficial, nothing that caused major bleeding or left a lasting impression. She had no way of knowing what had been done to you to cause the scars that marred your form, the torment and hell you experienced with each slash, smack, burn. Hell, she probably didn’t even really understand what a scar actually was. All she knew was that her mommy and daddy had strange marks on their skin that didn’t follow any kind of set pattern, weird jagged lines and indents that her soft skin was curiously free from. The mystery of it all was as puzzling to her young mind as it was enticing.

However, some mysteries were best left unsolved, and just as with each other time she brought up this hot topic, you found yourself unable to look into her clear, bright eyes and tell her any semblance of the truth. She may have been forced upon you, but she was your daughter. You loved her, and you refused to be the one to shatter her innocence. You would keep her ignorant for as long as possible, shielding her to the endless nightmare of your daily lives, even if it cost you your sanity.

“Mommy,” her voice jarred you, dragging you from your thoughts, “mommy did you hear me? I said I think they are pretty!”

“T-that’s… I…” You stuttered, struggling to find the right words to say, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended it to. The room felt like it had dropped thirty degrees, your body twitching in response to the sudden chill.

“Daddy told me he gave some of them to you, like this one,” her pudgy, cold finger pressed into the faded heart that resided on your chest, the first of many indelible sins he had etched onto your form. Only the top half of the carved symbol was viewable above the collar of your shirt, so she tugged at the loose hem until she could see it in its horrible entirety.

“Daddy said he gave you this one because he loves you so much,” her voice grew quiet, a thoughtful look in her eye as they drank in wounds you wished you could forget, “Daddy loves me too, right mommy? You think he’ll give me a cute heart someday too?”

You felt as if you had been hit by a train.

“S-top,” the words were forced from your throat, airy and breathless, as if someone was wringing your neck to make them come out, “p-please, just stop talking.”

“What did you say mama,” your daughters sing-song voice responded as her fingers continued to trace and prod your scars, “You are whispering, is it a secret?”

“I told you to SHUT UP!”

As if following your command, your booming voice instantly silenced the small girl. Unused to such a violent outburst from her mother, her happy-go-lucky nature quickly shifted to one of alert, her tiny body going rigid as she stared up at you with fearful eyes.

Seeing her in such a state and knowing that you were the cause of it would normally have killed you inside, making you fall to your knees to beg for the child’s forgiveness. But right now, the thin thread that had been holding you together had snapped, and your words rushed out in a torrent you couldn’t begin to quell.

“Shut up, shut up, shut UP!” You seethed, clasping your hands to your ears to try and block out your own intrusive voice, “Just STOP TALKING about it! What are you even saying? Why would you ever want to look like this?!”

Tears started to flood your eyes, blurring the image of the girl who had quickly jumped from your lap and was now cowering before you. Through your bleary vision, you could see tears were brimming her eyes as well.

“You… You have no idea,” your voice warbled, shaking in equal parts grief and frustration, “You have no clue what you are saying, so just STOP IT. KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK OF IT AGAIN!”

You slunk from the chair down to the floor, burying your face in your cold, stiff hands. The soft blubbering of your daughter could be heard through your own sobbing.

“I-I’m sorry mommy. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Hearing her broken voice began to shatter the spell you had been under, instant regret jerking you roughly back to reality. Your head sunk lower, your body scrunching itself up as tightly as possible to hide from this cruel reality.

Your screams were born from deeply buried feelings of hatred, tucked far, far away as a means of self-preservation. For a moment, you felt as if you despised your daughter, her existence tethering you to this wretched excuse of a life, binding you irrevocably to Ren. But as you lifted your heavy head, glancing up to stare into her young face, a face so very similar to your own, a face contorted in panic and sadness over her mother’s abrupt descent into madness… you realized it wasn’t her that you hated.

It was yourself.

Your daughter didn’t deserve this. She deserved normalcy. She deserved a father that didn’t pose a threat to her. She deserved a mother that wasn’t ruined by his hands. She deserved a happy and untroubled life, not to be stuck being raised in a barbed cage, navigating her way through life with nothing but the shattered remains of a battered woman to guide her.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked under the weight of your overwhelming emotions, snot and tears running freely down your ruddy cheeks and chin, “I’m so, so sorry baby…”

“What the hell is going on?”

You hadn’t heard the front door open, nor had you heard Ren’s jubilant greeting as he entered your home. He had no doubt been upset by the lack of welcome-it was one thing to be ignored by a child, but his doting wife? That was not something he was not apt to look past.

But surely any feelings of annoyance or frustration fled from his mind the moment he entered the room, his eyes falling upon your crumpled, messy form collapsed on the floor. You cursed his arrival, upset that he entered the scene at such a compromising time, right as you were struggling to regain an ounce of composure and properly apologize to the little girl who had done nothing wrong.

“D-daddy,” your daughter’s voice warbled as she barreled towards him, colliding into his waiting embrace. You wiped at your face in a desperate attempt to hide your previous outpouring of emotions, doing your best to avoid eye contact with Ren as his sharp gaze quickly flicked from you, to his daughter.

This had already become enough of a scene without Ren’s interference, it was best to try and begin damage control now. 

“Daddy I-I made mommy cry!” Tears continued to pour from your daughter’s eyes, her face twisting into a look of pure dismay. Her misguided admission of guilt made you recoil, knowing full well it would grant her no favors with the person she seeking comfort from. “I’m really sorry daddy! I didn’t mean to!”

After several endless seconds of silence, Ren spoke.

“… You made her cry?”

His voice was far sharper than it needed to be, further agitating the precarious state of affairs. In most cases he would have offered your daughter leniency, letting her get away with far more than she probably should. However that leniency was null and void if you ended up suffering in the process.  Ren could not forgive anyone that caused you any duress (himself, of course, being the exemption) even if that person was his own flesh and blood.

“What do you mean you made her cry? What the hell did you do to her?��

“I-I don’t know,” she wailed, a fresh wave of tears spurred on by the accusatory tone of her father’s voice, “I just told mommy I thought her marks were pretty and then she started crying! I wasn’t lying daddy, I like them! I think they make mommy look really pretty!”

“Her marks…?” Ren’s look of vexation began to dissipate as the meaning of her words donned on him. He lifted his arm, rolling up his sleeve to reveal his own scars to the little girl. Pointing a clawed finger to them, he leaned down until he was looking her in the eye, “You mean like these?”

As she nodded her head vigorously in confirmation, Ren tutted, “That’s the reason for all the water works? An innocent compliment started all this fussing?” He scoffed, shaking his head, “Isn’t that a little bit… silly?

You tensed at the sound of his barking laugh, your frown deepening as an amused grin spread wider across his lips. You wished that you could say it was shocking for him to have such disregard after finding the two of you in such an agitated state, but it was painfully in character of him to shrug off your misery and suffering as inconsequential.  How he could so nonchalantly normalize this hellish situation he kept you and your child ensnared in, you would never understand.

Your daughter was apparently sharing similar thoughts, as her face began to once more morph into a pre-sobbing scowl. She was no doubt wounded that her father was not offering her the comfort she was seeking, her emotional state already greatly weakened by her mother’s venomous tantrum.

To help quell another round of tears, Ren pulled the child closer, wrapping her up in his arms so that her tiny form was nearly enveloped by him.  “Shhh, no more tears angel,” he cooed sweetly, patting her head gently to appease her, “There isn’t any reason to cry, especially because… Well, you’re right! Mommy’s whole body is pretty, isn’t it? Her marks just compliment the beauty that’s already there.”

Slowly but surely, her tears began to dissipate. Hunched over shoulders loosened, and sniffles and hiccups gave way to even breathing. Like clockwork, her father’s gentle handling soothed her, the same touch that destroyed you offering her salvation.

As if under a spell, the turmoil that had overcome your daughter quickly began to vanish, her sobbing fading into quiet sniffles. Once she was fully calmed, Ren continued speaking, “That’s all you meant to say to mommy, right angel? I’m sorry she took it the wrong way, she’s probably just tired or hungry, you know how mommy gets. She’ll get over it in no time flat!”

Heat spread through your body at his flippant dismissal of your feelings, an indignant blush lighting your cheeks as you gripped your hands tightly at your side. Your previous emotional episode left you all but drained, but your will to fight back against his callous commentary could never truly be contained.

“In fact, I bet she is already over it now,” Ren’s voice took on a jovial tone as he directed his focus solely on you, “Aren’t you, pumpkin?”

With the ball suddenly in your court, you flinched as both sets of expectant eyes fell on you. Your own eyes darted from Ren’s piercing glare, down to your daughter’s wide-eyed look of unbridled hope. You felt much like the rabbit that had been caught by the fox, stuck in a lose-lose situation. Seeing him hunched over her small body as she clutched to him as a life line, openly concerned that her mother may once more reject her while her father remained a bastion of strength and understanding, left you reeling. Either you would get heated again and stay the villain, but possibly hold on to an ounce of your dignity, or concede to Ren and have yet another piece of your soul wither away and die-the price to pay so that your daughter could remain in blissful ignorance for another day.

“Aren’t you, pumpkin?” He repeated himself slowly, enunciating each word. The kindness in his voice serving only as a mask for the threat buried beneath.

“Y-yes,” you responded quickly, shooting them both a smile you hoped was convincing, “I am very sorry, baby. Daddy is right. Mommy is just… tired.”

A serene smile lit her face, your words placating her. Seeing her happy once more helped relieve a bit of the ache in your own heart, making the lie worth it.

“Good, good,” Ren affirmed with a nod, carefully detaching himself from your daughter as he stood, “but you know little one, mommy deserves some love too, don’t you think? She may have been in the wrong, but it’s not nice to make her cry like that. Why don’t you go give her a hug, hm?”

With no further persuading necessary, she quickly padded over to you, hopping on your lap with so much enthusiasm that it nearly knocked the wind from you. Her arms tightly latched around your torso as she smushed her face into your chest, rubbing it back and forth like she was trying to burrow beneath your skin.

“I love you mommy,” her voice spoke clearly, any hint of previous sadness long gone. You sighed, relieved that this dramatic chapter was over as you pulled your daughter closer to you.

“I love you too.”

During this show of affection, Ren had made his way behind you, slinking so deftly you hadn’t even known he had moved until you heard him chuckle softly behind you.

“This is what I like to see,” he spoke with a sickeningly dreamy sigh, “nothing makes me happier than when my two girls are happy.”

He placed his hands gingerly atop your shoulders, trailing them down until they rested on your arms. His thumbs pressed gently against the marred skin, rubbing in a small circular motion in an attempt to subdue you. His claws grazed your flesh, uncomfortably scratching against you as they snagged against your skin.

He planted a firm and lingering kiss to the side of your head, pulling away just enough that his lips grazed the shell of your ear. “There really was nothing to cry about,” he whispered breathily, his words quiet enough that despite your daughters’ proximity, she would have no chance of hearing them. “It’s almost unfair how gorgeous you are, scars and all. But you must know that, right my sweet pet? I tell you all the time.”

Ren took in a deep breath, releasing it in a shaky sigh, “Seeing these scars reminds me of all we have been through, all that we share. They are a symbol of our bond.”

One of his claws pressed down sharply, a small bead of blood pooling around the piercing. Leisurely he began to drag his finger up your arm, a thin red line following in its wake. You shivered at the burning sensation, but deigned to give him any reaction further than that.

“Don’t forget pumpkin, these pretty marks are a reminder of my constant love for you.” He chuckled softly, peppering a few kisses to the back of your neck while his claws slowly sunk deeper, “And right now I am feeling  terribly sentimental, so for old times’ sake, why don’t I add a few more to remind you just how precious to me you are~?”

[konfeitos]

IN HALF BROKEN JAPANESE.ㅤ⸺͏͏ㅤHAWKS X GN! READER

❛ ⠀♡ . ˑ⠀featuring :   takami keigo aka hawks ╱ gender neutral reader

❛❛ ⠀In half broken Japanese, I wrote to you ���してる oh 愛してる ... ⠀❜❜ ⠀or ⠀a partial canon divergency of post-final war arc, you reunite with your lover !

❛ ⠀♡ . ˑ⠀notes  :   dedicated to @falryllghts / @brunette-sketches ! gender-neutral reader. reader isn't from japan and is learning japanese; they're a foreign hero that has volunteered to help with the restoration efforts. established relationship. be gentle with me and my interpretation of hawks. it has been a while since I've written for him. minor spoilers for chapters 424 & 426. not proofread. WC — 2.1k.

A week passed.

Despite the lack of villainous activity, both minor and significant, people still wait with bated breath for any horrid news to drop each morning. It’s difficult for Japan’s citizens to trust the calm that has finally arrived from the end of the war.

All you can do is hope that your presence, along with the other foreign heroes that have volunteered to be here, can help their nerves. 

The second that news spread that Japan was entering a restoration phase after the war had ended, you jumped at the chance to offer your support. A hasty decision that you probably shouldn’t have made considering you had an entire agency to run, but you had full trust in your staff and sidekicks to hold down the fort without you there.

Honestly, you can’t even recall how long you rattled off to your poor secretary on how long you’d be away to come out and help.

That’s definitely something you should be spending your break on to properly discuss with your agency on when you’ll be returning. 

But instead, you started wandering off from the district you were assigned to, flashing polite, albeit awkward, smiles at any heroes you made eye contact with and hoping none of them tried to initiate a conversation. Even with the micro-translator devices that everyone was provided with—which were built by that one support course student from Japan’s number one hero academy—you still hesitated to converse with them unless it was absolutely necessary. 

There was a chance that you could’ve been given the one faulty translator.

And what if you only found out once someone tried to talk to you?

What if it malfunctioned and was set to translate to a different language other than your native tongue?

What if—

Your eyes immediately land on Keigo once you step foot into the district he’s overseeing, cutting your thoughts short.

Finding him in a crowd of people has never been a challenge for you. Your gaze never fails to gravitate towards where he stands like he’s a beacon that calls out solely to you. 

From a single glance, Keigo looks as carefree as he normally does as he watches everyone. 

However, in your eyes, you can easily piece together from his stance that he’s more lost in thought than he probably thinks he is. And the more you inch closer to where he’s perched, the more you can confirm your suspicions.

You note the tension in his stance as he’s somewhat hunched over like he’s actively thinking about the loss of weight on his back. (Which he probably is. His sense of balance has been a recent struggle from what he has told you before you arrived in Japan. He has shared some instances of losing his balance here and there. These stories have always been accompanied by his laughter while you would just sit there and think how you’d help him steady himself whenever he felt off balance.)

The wind starts to pick up a bit; it’s a gentle breeze that’s enough to make you aware of its presence and stir memories in Keigo’s mind judging from the way his gaze grows distant.

His hair, now tousled by the wind, dances around his face. 

If you focus solely on his face, this would seem like one of the many pictures you’ve seen captured of him in the middle of flying that would appear on your timelines. 

You wonder if to Keigo whether this serves more like a stark reminder of the freedom he once took for granted. 

Keigo’s body instinctively shifts forwards almost as if trying to follow after the direction the wind blows in from where he is to the best of his ability. There’s the faintest hint of a bittersweet smile that rises to his lips as he glances up at the sky that remains just out of reach. 

As much as you enjoy staring at your lover, you feel like it’s best to make yourself known than continue staring and getting caught.

The unfocused state of his gaze clears up at the sound of you clearing your throat. Just as quick as his former flying speed, his eyes shift over to you. In an instant, his pupils dilate at the mere sight of you and warmth blossoms from his stare.

One of his hands reaches up to tap the micro-translator device in his ear, presumably to turn off, and you find yourself mirroring his action. After all, he’s the only one you’re actually able to hold a conversation with due to Keigo’s fluency in your native tongue.

“What brings you over here, sunshine? Miss me?”

No longer does a bittersweet smile rest on his face. A wider, affectionate grin replaces it with ease while he steps away from his post to approach you.

Your immediate thought is to deny it. 

Except you know very well how that interaction would play out, and being called out by Keigo isn’t entirely something you wish to go through right now.

Yet, admitting to missing him felt a bit too much. Knowing yourself, you may sound more vulnerable than you would like. All your worry and concern may leak out the moment you utter a single word.

Which is also something you don’t wish to go through right now.

Not yet at the very least. Not when you’re both in the middle of helping out with the Restoration Efforts.

The lack of a quick and witty response from you seems to catch his attention since he moves closer. With a gentle nudge to your side, he waits for you to meet his eyes before he nods his head to the side.

“Want to join me in getting a drink?”

He doesn’t actually wait for your answer when he starts to walk off. He’s confident in the fact that you’ll follow him no matter what, and you inwardly curse at the way your legs instantly move to catch up to him.

By the time you stand at his side, he’s sliding in a few yen coins into a vending machine. “What would you like?” Keigo asks, pushing the button for that canned coffee that he enjoys. He’s already sliding more yen coins into the machine before he looks at you.

“Oh,” You blink a couple times and examine the options in the vending machine a bit frantically. 

It’s just as you thought.

You can read none of it.

Well, there are some labels you can read, but that doesn’t exactly help you in figuring out what the drinks are exactly. 

After what feels like an eternity to you, you finally sputter out a sheepish, “Uhm, water’s fine.”

There’s no way you were going to spend anymore time staring at this machine like it would magically translate itself for you. You’re sure that even if you could read the labels that you would still be fighting against your indecisiveness to make a decision.

“Alright.”

Despite his acknowledgement to your answer, Keigo pushes at a button for a different drink. Your mouth drops partly open before you lightly smack his arm when he bends down to collect both drinks. 

“What—hey! I said that water's fine. You didn’t have to get me something else.” 

“I know,” Keigo offers nothing more than a smile and shrug, “But I can tell you’ve been working hard today, and you should hydrate with more than just water. Besides, I think you’ll like this.” He holds up the drink, shaking it lightly to draw your attention towards it. “It tastes the same as that brand you like back at your home.”

Your heart squeezes tightly at his words.

Maybe it’s the fact that he sees past your act of being fine and not tired from how long you’ve been helping out in the district you were assigned to. Or that he remembers something as mundane as the type of drink and flavor you like and offers you something similar so you can have a sense of a familiarity while you’re out in a whole other country. 

Either way, you’re a mess.

So much of a mess that your thoughts are circling around one singular thing.

You truly, truly love Keigo.

Maybe you love him a bit too much. You’re starting to think so because you find yourself compelled to do one thing and that’s to blurt it out right then and there.

And not just in your language… but in his.

Your Japanese reading skills may be lower than beginner level, but you have been practicing speaking it. Especially a couple, certain phrases.

What’s the worst thing that can happen? He laughs at you?

Thinking about it, Keigo would laugh regardless. That idiot, you think affectionately, is always laughing around you. A habit of his that you’ve never understood. (Often you’d catch him with the corner of his eyes crinkling whenever he stares at you and starts to laugh. His sudden bursts of laughter is something he never explains but promises mean nothing bad.)

A gentle tapping against your forehead draws you away from your thoughts. You huff lightly and reach up to swat his hand away, ignoring how his chuckle makes your stomach twist into itself.

“I can see you overworking that pretty little head of yours. What’s on your mind? You can tell me, it’s just me.” Keigo says that so casually like he isn’t the most precious person in your life.

Like you don’t stay up late when you’re in your respective home country simply to receive his texts or be on video call with him. Like you didn’t just jump at the chance to head straight to Japan after hearing the news solely because one of your biggest concerns was how he was out on the battlefield during the war. 

You know yourself. 

If you don’t say it now then there’s no chance you’ll muster up the courage to say it later.

Locking eyes with Keigo, you take a deep breath and utter out a shaky, “愛してる¹.” 

The silence that follows afterwards feeds the anxious thoughts growing in your head.

Was your half broken Japanese that bad that he didn’t understand it? Or maybe he did and it was way too soon to even think about telling him that. Oh god, maybe you should have practiced more to ensure that you would have nailed the pronunciation.

“Woah,” Keigo breaks the silence, yet it hardly does a thing to calm your nerves. You spill out an ‘I love you,’ and all he does is go, ‘woah,’ and nothing else.

Before you can take back your words, he continues.

“When did you have the time to practice Japanese? I thought you were too busy worrying and fussing over me lately.”

This was a mistake.

“Forget I said anything!” Turning your head away, you can feel your cheeks growing warmer by the second. Your drink suddenly looks far more interesting than anything else around you.

Except Keigo would never let you take your eyes off him.

It doesn’t take him long to start leaning against your side. “Say it again!” 

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“I didn’t actually mean it.” Your words elicit a boisterous laugh from him, which only causes your cheeks to flush even more.

A moment passes before he’s calming down and a more gentle looking grin settles on his face. “I think I’m going on vacation after all this.” Keigo states out of nowhere that you pause for a moment. 

Huh? Where did that come from?

Catching onto your confusion, Keigo chuckles. “I was offered to take over as the president for the HPSC.” Hearing that has you widen your eyes a bit as you vaguely recall what you did know about Japan’s HPSC. He doesn’t let you dwell too long on these thoughts with his next words. “I’m turning the offer down. That kind of responsibility just isn’t for me.”

However, Keigo doesn’t stop talking there.

“What would you say your hometown is like during this season?” 

It truly should be illegal how easily he can turn your thoughts to revolve around him and the things he says. Because now you can only think about him (which is nothing new) and at your place!

“It’s… It’s nice. Uh, yeah, you should totally come visit. If you want. I might know a place for you to stay for as long as you’re there.” 

“Really now?”

Oh, you need to wipe away that look from Keigo’s face now before you explode. 

“Or maybe you can go sleep outside for all I care.” You spat out of embarrassment, ignoring the way he breaks out into laughter yet again.

A sound you’ve heard plenty of times but never gets old to you.

“Keigo.”

“Hmm?”

“... 心を愛してる².”

“I love you too.”

愛してる ¹ — I love you 心を愛してる ² — I love your heart

[dira333]

Date Nights - Aizawa Shouta

From the Date Night Series - Tagging @alienaiver

Edit: You need to have this visual while reading

1.

“Are you ready to go?”

Shouta looks up from his desk. He’d been so close to resting his head on it, to giving his tired eyes some much-needed rest. 

Your smile is warm and inviting. And it makes something tingle in the back of his brain, something he’d been trying to remember all week.

“Oh no,” he groans softly, “I forgot our date.”

Your smile doesn’t falter.

“I heard about your day from Hizashi,” your voice does not carry any resentment yet his heart is thundering in his chest. 

God, he’d been so anxious about it, had been pondering where to go and what to do for hours, how could he forget?

“Let me just get a coffee real quick and we’ll be good to go,” Shouta insists. He’ll also need at least five minutes in a bathroom and a spare change of clothes. He knows he looks more like a homeless person than anything else right now and he probably smells like it too.

“No need,” you wave him off. His heart stutters to a halt. 

Please don’t cancel, Shouta thinks, just as you reach out and take his hand. Your fingers are warm against his own cold ones, bad circulation be damned.

“I asked you out, so of course I planned the date. Come on, we don’t want to miss anything.”

“But coffee-” He manages, his heart pitter-pattering away as he follows you down the hallways of the school.

They are deserted, thankfully. As much as he loves the feel of your hand in his, he couldn’t bear it if anyone saw. 

Your car is a lime-green monstrosity. You smile sheepishly when he stares at it.

“I like bright colors,” you shrug, “And I’ve never lost my car in a car park since I’ve bought it.”

He can’t argue against that. The seats are soft and he can feel himself slipping, almost falling asleep against the window. When he jerks away, adamant to at least look awake if he’s not looking like much else, he finds your hand resting on his knee. His mouth runs dry. Can he? Is he supposed to? 

He puts his hand on yours and you turn to smile at him before looking back at the road. 

It’s a quiet ride. Somewhere in the organized chaos of his brain, he jots down that you don’t listen to music while you drive. It’s a welcome change from sharing rides with Hizashi.

“We’re here.” You park in front of an apartment complex. “Come on up.”

Your keys jingle in your hand as you walk in front of him, up the stairs and down a hallway. You open the door that has your name on it.

His heart thunders traitorously. Did you bring him to your place for your first date? Why?

His mouth won’t let him form words, so he follows you silently, his mind racing ahead. 

It’s only when he’s slipped out of his shoes and pulled on the bunny slippers you’ve placed for him, that he makes sene of what’s going on. 

In the middle of your living room is a fort of pillows and blankets, big enough to house All Might in his muscle form if he wanted to.

Shouta stops and stares. You do flourish your arms. “Tada! Do you want something to drink first? I thought it was a good idea because you honestly always look like you don’t get enough rest and it’s important to take care of each other’s needs in a relationship and I asked you out so-” 

It’s the first time he’s heard you rambling today and the familiar sound soothes his nerves a little. At least you’re nervous too.

He steps forward, boldened by your own actions, and kisses you.

You sink into it right away, arms thrown around him to pull him even closer.

When you pull back first, he can’t help but chase after you, to sink further into your embrace as you giggle with your face pressed against his neck.

“I’ll make you something to drink, okay?” You whisper, face still hidden away. “Make yourself comfortable.”

He wakes up hours later, throat perched, head in your lap.

You’re reading something on a tablet, one hand free to drag itself through his hair in a motion that could put him back to sleep again.

“So, about a second date…” You ask when you stop at his place in the morning so that he can get a fresh set of clothes before work. You’re not looking at him but your hands are squeezing the steering wheel, telling him how nervous you are.

He leans over and kisses you, pouring all his feelings into the gesture.

“There’s a bookstore in my neighborhood,” he offers, “We could go there after school. Today shouldn’t be as draining and even if, I want to go with you.”

Your smile could light up the world. It certainly lights up his.

-

2.

“Ready to go?” Shouta’s patting himself down as he asks. He’s got his keyes, his pain medication, his phone is fully charged and his wallet’s there too.

You’re still on the Couch, petting Muffin. The old tabby is purring so loud he can hear it from the entryway. 

“For what?” You ask, a little distracted by Muffin trying to chew on your fingertips.

“We’ve got a Date, honey. Why did you think Deku picked up Eri?”

“Because he wants to spend time with her?” You pull Muffin from your lap and deposit her on a pillow, kissing her head when she mews.

You yawn as you walk over, don’t cover your mouth in favor of brushing the pet hair from your legs.

“What kind of date?” You ask as you pull close and kiss him, snuggle into his embrace.

“There’s this new Bookshop a few blocks down. I walked past it a few times when I went to the park with Eri and it looked promising.”

“Really?” You furrow your brows. “How do I not know about it? I’ve never seen one when I go to the park with her.”

“That’s because we take a different route. More cats, less foot traffic.” He kisses your cheek and pushes you toward the bedroom. 

“Five minutes, you need a different sweater. I won’t go out with you looking like this.”

You stick your tongue out at him, but comply. 

When you come back, he can’t help the laugh bubbling in his throat. You’re wearing a Ganriki Neko sweater in purple and turquoise over a purple skirt and turquoise tights, an outfit he’s seen last at one of Hizashi’s costume parties.

“How do I look?” You ask, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Like I need sunglasses to take you in,” He jokes.

The walk to the bookstore is short and quiet. You’ve been distracted lately, 

Maybe it’s the new Class you’ve got or Eri’s recurring nightmares, but he’d been planning a date like this for a while now. Taking a break just hasn’t gotten easier now that they’re parents.

“Pspsps,” He leans down to feed a snack to the little black kitten that Eri has fallen in love with. It’s well groomed and clearly belongs to someone, but it loves coming over to say hi.

-

“I’ll get us some drinks,” Shouta declares the moment you step into the store. It’s lovely, not entirely rebuilt, but rather renovated, giving the old, darkened wood some new life. 

You nod and wander around, peeking at the shelves in search of something that tickles your interest. He finds you in the non-fiction aisle not much later, deeply invested in a cookbook.

“This has everything,” you explain. “How to eat during your pregnancy or if you want to increase the chances as well as how to feed children of different ages.”

“Okay? How are the recipes though? We’ve got plenty of cookbooks at home we don’t use.”

“True,” you grumble. It’s your least favorite thing about him, how he tends to stop you from impulse buying. He offers you your drink before you can dwell on that any longer.

“For you, sugar with a side of coffee.”

“Har Har.” You mock laugh before taking a sip of the concoction, furrowing your brows a little. “It tastes a little off,” you claim. “Did you ask for something from the menu?”

“No, I gave them your special recipe. Sorry, do you want something different?”

“No, it’s fine. They probably made it for the first time this way.” You take another sip and your brows relax. “I’m just a little weird today.”

“I’m a little weird everyday,” he offers and you lean into him, heavy, warm and familiar.

“Let’s take a look around, shall we?” He grabs your free hand with his, swings them around as he pulls you forward. There’s plenty to see and soon enough, his arms grow loaded with books. The newest edition of the manga Hitoshi reads, a signed biography of a Hero Hizashi’s still very enthusiastic about, bookmarks and a little Neko Nightlight for Eri, the list goes on.

“I need to sit down for a bit,” Shouta exclaims when you turn back towards the non-fiction again. “You can find me at the children’s books.”

“Okay.” You get on your tiptoes and kiss his stubble. “I won’t take long.”

-

Shouta’s halfway through a book about a little mole looking for a home when you come back. He’s accustomed to the sound of your footsteps, even if they come a little more hesitant, like now.

You’ve got one book in your arms, the title hidden as it’s pressed against your stomach. 

There’s a shy smile on your face as you turn it around to show him the cover.

“How to be Pregnant for Dummies.”

He reads it and reads it again. The news take a moment to seep into his brain but when it does, he almost takes down the book display with how fast he jumps from his seat.

“No way!” 

“SHHH!” Someone shushes him from the front. Shouta doesn’t care.

You’re smiling, eyes a little teary.

“Since when do you know?”

“I got the results today, but I missed my period so I’ve had a hunch for a week or so. It’s still pretty early.” You giggle when he peppers kisses all over your face, making it almost impossible for you to keep talking.

“Sorry, I was a little bit in my head the last few days.”

“It’s okay. It’s big news.”

“Hm. How do we tell Eri? And Hitoshi? And-”

Shouta turns around and pulls a book from the pile he wants to buy.

“Little Neko got a sibling?” You ask, a little dumbfounded. “How did you know?”

His smile is a little sheepish. He can never lie to you.

“I didn’t. But the Neko was cute.”

You laugh at that, pull him closer. It reminds him of their first second date. 

Of cuddling in a corner at the bookstore, away from prying eyes.

Some things will never change, even with a metal leg and a new life on the way.

-

“Where do you wanna go next?” He asks when the books are paid for, hanging off his right arm as you lean onto his left.

You blink up at him, eyes still a little red-rimmed from all the happy tears.

“When’s Eri coming home?”

“Two hours, maybe. Do you wanna go home and cuddle?”

You ponder that for a second, your hands warm on his. 

“Let’s get ice cream,” you decide, a wide smile on your face. “And when we get back, we can make a fort!”

Shouta pulls you close, presses a kiss onto the top of your head.

“I love you.”

“Mhm,” You grin up at him. “I love you more.”

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Halloween prompts year 2 day 15

Hood remained silent, even as he clenched the gun tightly in his hand. He hadn't even seen a hint of green portals or blond elfs but 200 witnesses couldn't all be wrong.

All of them had stated that a white haired meta with a gas mask was working with a blond elf with a leaf mask and that they had been the ones kidnapping the kids and teens of Gotham.

Jason had heard stories of fairies snatching kids and infants, sometimes swapping them out with a sickly one of thier own. But there were no trades that Jason knew of. Only missing kids.

Hell, all of the biggest child gangs around Crime Alley and the Narrows were gone.

As in gone gone. Not a single member was left nor any trace of where they could have been taken to. As much as he hated to admit it, he might need to ask for help from the Justice League Dark...

---

Link stared down at the kids from his rooftop perch.

They looked...cleaner. Happier. They had gained a healthy amount of weight, no longer stick thin and weak looking. They had season appropriate clothing without holes and others hidden away in chests and armours for the coming seasons far off from now.

His spirit friend, Phantom, had panicked a bit after he realized what they were doing was trafficking, but calmed down once he pointed out that these kids would have a much better life in Hyrule than they would have had in the rotting trashpit that was Gotham.

If they would have lived much longer at all

Still, thier presence here was mutually beneficial. Hyrule had lost over 80% of its population in the Great Calamity and they were no where close to regaining the population they once had. All of thier forts, training areas, ect were specifically targeted and destroyed in the attacks and gardians and monsters were left in the ruins to ensure they could not rebuild what was lost

Which led to the bigger issues at hand. All the empty occupations.

The castle, and thus castle town, were ground zero for the disaster that wiped out the Hylian peoples. With it many businesses and trades were lost. Hyrule had few soldiers and those they did have desperately needed armor, weapons and training.

That wasn't all. Hudson construction had attempted to repair Castle town and eventually the castle, but they were wood workers, not stone masons. They knew little of the craft that was needed.

There were lessons and information in the castle archives covering most of the jobs and trades, as well as how to proform them, but the princess didn't see it as a priority. They didn't have the people necessary to teach these crafts and the castle and town surrounding wasn't really a priority anyway. Not with all the people who still needed help around the kingdom.

Phantom helped a lot too. Other than helping them build towns for the kids (the child gangs actually really liked having a town all to themselves) he did a lot of other random jobs around the kingdom, much like Link himself.

Unfortunately, his next trip to Gotham lead to a run in with the "Red Hood" and the phrase, "Was that a fucking fruit grenade?!" Link did not know what the word "Fucking" meant but the Hood man would not tell him. He is learning a lot of new words from this guy, words that Phantom appearently didn't like cause he loudly scolded Red Hood like a naughty child the first time they met. It was hilarious to see this tiny 15 year old tell off a giant tank of a man.

Link couldn't see the mans expression due to the odd red helm the man wore, but he could tell he was cowed, even if just a bit. Then he began speaking to someone who wasn't there while pressing his finger to the side of his helm where his ear should be. Is Red Hood ill? Does he have a mind sickness like the ones Phantom told him of when describing his parents? Or is this something Link doesn't yet understand...either way he doesn't think he's getting more children for Hyrules future in this trip...or anytime soon if those ominous masked people landing on the rooftops around them had any say in the matter.

[ohwaitimthewriter]

Until next time

Pairing: (implied) Caesar x human!reader (bonus point: some platonic Blue Eyes x reader)

Warnings: Fluffy fluff

Requested:

Words: 3.7k+

A/N: I must admit I got carried away on that one! I may have stepped away a little bit, but I hope you will still like it! Enjoy your reading 😁

Masterlist.

It was a day almost like any other. You'd made your way into the woods, following the path that would lead you to the undergrowth you were looking for, to pick some wild berries. You never strayed far from the trail. The area was notorious for traps to catch game, and finding yourself upside down, ankle sheared by a rope hanging from a high tree branch, was not in your top 10 favorite activities.

You weaved in and out of branches and bushes, eyes glued to the ground so as not to lose sight of the trail and risk stepping into a trap. Focusing on your steps, you didn't notice that someone was silently following you.

Soon you reached the part of the forest where several fruit bushes were waiting for you. Blueberries, blackberries and raspberries colored the landscape and were already making your mouth water.

Without wasting any time, you set up your bag at the root of the first bush that seemed to contain enough blueberries and began carefully picking the black berries to slip into your bag.

The blue eyes watching you from the high branches of the tree beside you had gone completely unnoticed, and Blue Eyes, who had followed you throughout your journey, wondered how you managed to survive in an unpredictable world like the one Earth had become.

Unnoticed… At least that's what he thought until you held out your hand to him, palm full of blueberries, as an invitation to share your booty. You still had your eyes glued to the brambles, watching the thorns that were just waiting to scratch your skin and defend themselves against your aggression to reclaim their fruit. Blue Eyes hesitated for a moment, and watched as your second hand slipped a blueberry into your mouth, bringing a slight smile to your lips.

"They're delicious, you should try them." you said casually.

It was only after saying these words that your eyes found his, perched high above your head. Your kind smile encouraged him to move and get down low enough to grab the berries you were offering him. His calloused skin was a striking contrast to yours, softer and more delicate, and your smile widened even more when he agreed to eat a few blueberries.

"Have you been here for a long time?" you asked.

You took your time analyzing the signs that Blue Eyes took care to detail slowly to make it easier for you to understand. Sign language wasn't your forte, but with time, you were getting better and better at deciphering the meaning of each sign.

"'Since the trail." And before you could reply, he continued. "Not careful."

These last words sounded strangely like a scold, which drew a teasing chuckle from you.

" Yet I finally noticed you." You tried to tease him, but the speed with which he signed his reply, looking serious, made you feel as if you were being lectured like a child.

"Anyone else and you'd have been attacked before you knew it."

Somehow, you knew he was right. But it wasn't as if you let your guard down in any part of the forest. You knew exactly what territory you were in, and had for a long time been allowed to venture in when you needed to. An advantage you'd gained when you'd been shot in the shoulder instead of the owner of that part of the forest.

At this memory, your hand wandered mindlessly to your shoulder where a scar had found its place. At times, you still had a vague sensation of the pain that had pierced you when the bullet hit.

Back then, the idea of taking a bullet for an ape would have seemed completely mind-boggling, but you couldn't forget the day Caesar stood between you and a bear.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Spring had only just brought the first flowers into bloom when you ventured down to the river to catch a few fish for your group. The sun had graciously licked your skin and its warmth spread like a wave through your body, while the river, into which you had sunk your ankles in motionless anticipation of a fish, sent the chill of the winter that had just died away down your legs. The battle of the sun against the river made you shiver from head to toe, but you couldn't move a muscle, your eyes locked on the water, on the alert, ready to bring down your spear at the first movement of a fish that came a little too close.

You'd already caught five. You were particularly known in your group for your patience, which made your task much easier when it came to fishing or tracking an animal. You knew how to wait, and that's why fishing had become your specialty.

Eight fish.

Eight fish was the ideal amount to get back to camp. With eight fish, everyone could eat their fill, so you wouldn't budge from that river until your bag had eight fish in it.

But then, because you were so focused on one task, you didn't hear it coming. The branch snapped. The muffled growl. The guttural breath hitting the air. Your body was so focused on not moving, on almost holding your breath so as not to create any water movement that would scare the fish, that you hadn't even noticed the brown bear that had just appeared on the other bank.

The bear, on the other hand, had seen you. It had smelled the fish and seen an enemy in its river.

You hadn't reacted until it was too late, even with the heavy, lively splash of the water under the bear's huge paws as it crossed the river, and you'd barely had time to look up at the animal before it sent you waltzing through the air with a swipe of its paw.

You landed heavily on the pebbles lining the river and a sharp pain slammed into your back and you gritted your teeth, holding back a groan. You pulled on your arms to get up, but you lost your balance and the bear was already standing on its hind legs, towering over you like a giant. You could already see your life ending between his fangs, which it blithely showed you.

The incessant growls of anger were terrifying you, and even though you wished with all your being to flee, your muscles seemed to freeze, paralyzed by the fear gnawing at your stomach. It was the end, you were sure of it, and just as the bear was about to bring its heavy paw down on you, you saw only a massive shadow being struck and thrown further away from you.

It took you a few seconds to see clearly what it was.

An ape. A chimpanzee, if you wanted to be exact.

Your blood ran cold. You were definitely going to die if you didn't get out of here.

The second you forced yourself to your feet, your spine screamed in pain, sending an electric wave through every one of your limbs, and you could only end up on your knees.

In front of you, the chimp stood upright - his torso puffed out, making him look even more massive than he already was. His hoarse snarl challenged the bear, and the ape's fangs appeared to be deadly with the power with which he held on. His green eyes glared at the animal in front of him, silently beckoning it to approach.

The bear turned away from you bluntly at the chimpanzee's threatening challenge, and you seized the opportunity before it was too late. You swallowed the pain and ran.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

If he hadn't stepped in, you wouldn't have been standing there being lectured by his son while you picked berries. Taking a bullet was only fair compensation.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

It all happened in a fraction of a second. Screams, gunfire, screams and bodies, apes and humans alike, running from all sides to catch, flee or fight. It was impossible to say exactly how it had started, or who had started it. All you could see in front of your eyes was chaos. Buildings ablaze, smoke filling your lungs and the barely-there shadows of night making it hard to navigate the besieged city.

The apes were pushing humans into cages, and somewhere, deep down inside, you found a form of ironic poetry in this: maybe humans really only deserved to live in cages. But hidden behind a car, you didn't have time to think more deeply about this question. You had to get to safety.

And safety you found in part, sneaking into the city's underground. There you found Dreyfus and two other men whose names escaped you. They had a plan. A plan to blow up the city tower and kill as many of the apes inside as possible. You didn't know if it was a good plan or a bad one, but at least it was a plan to stop the chaos.

But maybe there was another way.

You lost your security again within moments. A group of apes had just entered the underground, and the guns were already pointed at them.

It took you only a second, a tiny second, to recognize the green eyes that had saved your life a few weeks ago. A gaze so powerful it could pierce your soul effortlessly.

You'd been thinking about that moment for a long time. How this ape had thrown himself in front of you to take that paw for you. And if you hadn't stayed to see the outcome of the confrontation that day, far too frightened of the inevitable fate hovering over your head, you had quickly concluded that without his help, intended or not, the bear would have killed you.

His gaze fell on you, and the step he took towards you gave you the feeling that he, too, had recognized you.

Unfortunately, it was a step too far. For him, and possibly even more so for you.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Sometimes you thought the universe had a certain sense of humor. An ape saving a human's life, a human saving an ape's life, while the two species were engaged in a bloody war that never seemed to end. It could have ended there. But it didn't. For some reason that still baffles you today, your path always seems to cross the one of Caesar and his sons.

You remembered the time when his youngest son almost got trampled by a horse because the young one thought it was more fun to climb on his back using the horse's tail. Of course, the horse didn't appreciate it, and the stampede began before you could catch Cornelius, who had fallen between the horse's four legs. You had inherited a hoof kick in the knee, but had managed to pull Cornelius out of the unintentional chaos.

From then on, whenever Caesar or Blue Eyes carried Cornelius with them, he always ended up climbing to the top of your head, tangling his little hands and feet in your hair to make sure no one came to take him away from you.

You'd also noticed that Blue Eyes was crossing your path more often since you'd protected his little brother.

You picked a new blueberry and handed it to Blue Eyes, who still looked angry, a silent apology for your lack of cautiousness.

"I promise, next time I'll be more careful."

Blue Eyes seemed to consider the issue for a moment, then accepted your berry, the features of his face softening.

"Will you help me?" you offered, and without a word, he found himself crouching beside you, digging his hands into the brambles.

You didn't leave until the end of the day. After filling your bag with berries, Blue Eyes suggested you join him to check out the various traps in the area, in the hope of finding a rabbit or a pheasant. With him by your side to show you the secure paths, you weren't risking much.

When you parted, he even made sure to take you back to the trail you were familiar with, to make sure nothing happened to you.

"Say hi to your father." you signed clumsily. "He is already aware." Blue Eyes had answered, oblivious to the fact it was a simple, very human politeness. "It's why I came."

Of course he was aware you were here. Traps weren't just for game. They also served as defensive barriers against humans who were a little too reckless, leaving only a few secure paths like the one you used every day. It was simpler to keep a constant watch on targeted paths than to wander over several hectares. An ape must have seen you coming.

"Be careful. Stay on the track." Blue Eyes put his words into motion before disappearing between the high branches of the trees.

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

You went on your way as the sun followed its descending line towards the horizon. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you cursed yourself for having accepted Blue Eyes' offer to accompany him: you might end up having to walk the rest of the way in semi-darkness, if not complete darkness, if you didn't hurry.

A lump of anxiety crept into the pit of your stomach at the thought of finding yourself in complete darkness in the middle of the forest. You considered trotting to the edge of the woods, but the path you were taking was nothing more than an old doe and deer trail, offering only a narrow space between the vegetation. You could easily get your feet caught in a root or trip over one of the stones littering the ground. Even so, you quickened your pace to avoid being caught in the dark when you came face to face with a boar digging in the earth to feed on the insects and mushrooms hidden beneath.

You blinked several times, stunned to come across this naturally large animal. It didn't seem to have noticed you yet.

A good news.

Boars were notoriously unstable and territorial, and despite their size, the short tusks around their snouts were sharp enough to do some serious damage.

You took a few steps back, trying as best you could not to snap a branch or roll a stone that would draw its attention to you.

How were you going to avoid it?

Bypassing it was still a possibility, but that would mean venturing into the undergrowth with a heightened risk of walking into a trap.

You observed the boar. If it had made it this far, then the path it had taken was secure enough, and being, on principle, no dumber than a boar, if you watched carefully where you were stepping, you'd certainly be able to get around it without it seeing you, and then calmly get back on the trail.

You tried to convince yourself of this, but what really pushed you off the path was when the boar raised its head towards you, letting out a muffled groan as if you'd just bothered it.

You automatically raised your hands in front of it, took another step backwards and took a second step to your right.

"Okay, okay. Easy, buddy." You said rather to comfort yourself than to calm the animal in front of you, who had just huffed in annoyance.

The leaves crunched beneath your feet as you slowly sank into the vegetation. The boar followed your movements, always making sure he was facing you. It jerked its head forward, a warning signal that it was not playing around. You didn't let it out of your sight and started to move back again, a few more steps to add even more distance, but you had suddenly come to a halt.

You didn't dare look back, lest the animal in front of you decide to charge you, but the intense hovering presence you felt running up and down your spine wasn't making it easy. Your breath remained stuck in the back of your throat, and you knew that one more step and your back would come into contact with the creature, which clearly had no notion of personal space.

"Stop moving."

The gruff in the voice behind you allowed you to breathe again. His voice was a melody you now knew by heart, and a sense of deep relief swept away the anguish that had seeped viciously into your every pore. At least, until with a simple pressure of the back of his hand against the small of your back, he forced you to take a step forward, following in your footsteps.

"Stepping back only show weakness." His voice sounded as a command.

The boar slammed his paw into the ground, letting out a menacing growl that was just as soon greeted by a deep rumble that you could feel echoing through Caesar's proudly puffed chest.

You knew Caesar wasn't the type to act without thinking, and you'd surely have been frightened if you weren't confident that whatever this boar decided to do, he'd be there to fend it off.

When the animal showed a slight hesitation, Caesar once again urged you forward, and although you wanted to dig your heels into the ground to prevent yourself from moving, your blind trust in Caesar drove you to respond to his request. As you took each step forward, you heard Caesar curl his lips and bravely display his canines in a muffled growl.

You breathed a sigh of relief as the wild boar sped away, having lost the territorial game that Caesar had almost certainly won the second he stepped out from behind you.

Caesar found himself on all fours, a little entertained to see you suddenly crouch down, letting the stress you'd accumulated escape through a deep sigh that you held in spite of everything in your hands against your mouth.

Although he always kept that serious, almost grumpy look on his face, at this precise moment, you could see in the depths of his green irises that he had been having fun during this short encounter.

"I was right."

You looked at his hands signing with pride. Of course he was right, but sometimes you wondered if he wasn't forgetting that, as a human, you didn't have all the intimidating attributes of an ape. You gave him a slanted glance before laughing as your nerves released the pressure.

"Why is it always you when something like this happens?" You joked, catching the breath you'd been missing during this whole little game. "Trouble always gets in your way." Caesar replied bluntly in a couple of signs.

You scoffed at that. 

Caesar stood bi-pedal again, and you accepted without a second thought the hand he held out to you to help you up. Caesar admired the fragility of your skin as he felt your fingers slide into the palm of his hand. Come to think of it, it wasn't all that surprising to see you constantly taking the utmost care with everything around you, wary of the slightest thorn that might come along and scratch your skin. He knew that if he squeezed your hand even a little too hard, he could leave bluish marks.

Leave marks. His marks. On your body.

The idea suddenly didn't seem so bad to him, his tongue rasping the tips of his canines, imagining for a brief moment them coming to grip your skin to remind everyone that he'd be there no matter what, like a protective shadow.

But he buried the thought deep inside when you got back to the safety of the path you walked almost every day. So often, in fact, that sometimes Caesar could still smell you where your body had brushed against the vegetation.

With this unforeseen event, the sun had almost completed its course across the sky, leaving only a faint glow to allow you to navigate between the trees and bushes. You were somewhat comforted to hear Caesar following in your footsteps. He had a much better nightsight and you regained some confidence in directing your steps along the trail, knowing that he was there to put you back on the right path if needed.

"Thanks."

It was the only thing you felt appropriate to say in the comfortable silence that had settled between you.

One more thing you enjoyed with Caesar. Silences. You didn't need to talk for the sake of talking in order to fill the silences that humans hated so much. And that's what made Caesar's words all the more important. When he spoke, you knew he was speaking to be heard.

As you both neared the end of the trail, his hoarse voice broke the silence once again.

"Until next time."

Caesar could see a smile stretch across your lips.

"If I keep track, it'll be my turn to get you out of trouble." You laughed and he huffed derisively. "Never in trouble." He stated in his usual serious tone.

He pointed to himself with his hand, again puffing out his chest as if he were trying to brag, and his green eyes admired the way you laughed, almost gently teasing him.

"My shoulder doesn't agree with you on this one." You joked, graciously earning an amused pout from him.

You glanced out of the forest where you could see the warm orange colors of the sunset that had just begun. Your camp wasn't far away and Caesar didn't immediately understand why your behaviour had suddenly changed from cheerful to a more introverted one.

You gave him a shy but caring smile, along with a hand wave - typically human, he thought.

"Until next time." You echoed his words softly.

He let you go on the remaining part of the trail, knowing full well that it was safe for you to return to your camp.

Yes, until next time. Some other time when he wished, if you were willing to, to share a moment with you in a way that didn't threaten the life of either of you.