#gets upset when he feels like hes not getting the recognition he deserves

[landmine-doll]

for personal comfort reasons im going to draw my fav character in dark girly clothes

hes gonna look so pretty! 💖

[sprytesukii]

you know me (better than i know myself)

bakugou katsuki x reader

katsuki is hopelessly in love with his best friend until you waltz into his life and warp it beyond his recognition.

rating: mature, 18+, MDNI

wc : 10.4k (holy fuck)

tags : mild to heavy angst, fluff, eventual smut, hurt/comfort, gn!reader (they/them pronouns), afab!reader, unrequited love (not between reader and kats), depictions of mild depression, genderfluid!denki, queer!katsuki, reader has a quirk, oral (reader receiving), p-in-v intercourse, unprotected intercourse (wrap it b4 u tap it pls!), soft katsuki, and they were roommates :0, Not Beta Read, i think that’s it T^T

an: this is the first thing i’ve genuinely written in over a year and jesus it was like i was possessed writing it LMFAO incredibly self indulgent and i had a lot of fun writing it! i hope you guys enjoy it (pls rb n leave feedback pls pls pls)

read on ao3

the warm light of the coffee table lamp casts a beautiful shadow across the planes of eijirou’s face — his sharp, angular nose, smooth cheekbones, plush lips that form a sheepish smile — and katsuki can’t even appreciate it, not with the absolute bullshit that pours from his best friend’s lips.

“the fuck you mean, you’re moving out?”

the words come out a lot harsher than katsuki intends, but he can’t even bring himself to feel guilty, not even when kiri’s face screws up in clear disappointment.

“well, uh, i told you, this new place is closer to my agency so it makes more sense. the commute’ll be much shorter and, uh…” he trails off then, a pretty pink blush spreading across his nose, highlighting the small spattering of freckles that katsuki is certain he’s the only one who’s ever noticed, a broiling heat setting alight in his stomach.

he feels like he might die.

“and.. kaito finally asked me to move in with him.”

there it is. fuckin’ kaito.

katsuki is far from an idiot — people call him a lot of names (brash, inconsiderate, a righteous asshole), but never dumb. they couldn’t unless they were outright lying.

part of what makes katsuki so intelligent is his observance.

of course he’s noticed eijirou’s late nights, his suspicious absences at group get togethers, the sweet smiles he makes as he taps at his phone screen, the fucking hickies.

bakugou katsuki is not stupid. he’s incredibly observant. especially when it comes to the massive crush he’s been harboring on his best friend for the last three years.

he’s not entirely sure when his reluctant tolerance of the bright redhead shifted to something more but he knows he’s been viciously, painfully pining over him day in and day out in the weeks (months, years) since.

and it’s not like kirishima hasn’t had partners before. he’s nearly impossible to resist with his intense attentiveness, his willingness to go above and beyond for those close to him, not to mention his insane physique, built from long hours out on the field and in the gym.

it’s no wonder katsuki has been in love with him for as long as he has been — eijirou is perfect.

perfectly imperfect, of course. he gets upset when katsuki sorts his clothes for him (“i’m an adult, okay? it makes me feel like you’re parenting me, man.”) or when he lectures him on his diet, or when he shuts him out after being friends for so long (when his feelings become too much to handle), but eijirou’s the only one who’s stayed.

katsuki has tried flings and a few more serious relationships but those have ended quickly because he’s just too much.

too loud. too frustrating. too closed off. too him.

but not for eijirou. never for eijirou.

that’s why when kiri mentioned he was talking to this new guy, he brushed it off. it would be like all the others who would eventually break it off because of the long hours at work or eijirou’s boundless enthusiasm and katsuki would be there to pick the sopping wet, heartbroken kiri off the ground and put him back together. they didn’t deserve him anyway.

but this kaito? apparently katsuki’s eagerness to ignore eijirou’s flings made him blind to what was happening — eiji wasn’t his anymore.

he’s moving out.

he’ll be gone forever.

subconsciously, katsuki realizes he’s been silent for far too long and that eijirou’s face has lost the hurt and is now painted with concern and confusion.

fuck, even now, he’s concerned. he cares so so much, except in the way katsuki craves.

“uh,” kirishima’s gentle voice breaks him from his thoughts, a big hand finding its way to katsuki’s knee, “are you okay dude?”

the touch sears through the expensive black joggers katsuki is wearing and he flinches so hard, he jostles the coffee table to his side. he barely sees kirishima’s brows furrow as he launches himself to standing, the telltale burn behind his eyes signaling the incoming wave of tears.

he can’t see katsuki like this, he fucking can’t.

katsuki marches to the kitchen, opening up the fridge and blankly staring into it while he tries to will the water back into his face and still the turmoil burning in his chest.

it feels like he’s aflame, like he’s suffocating, drowning.

he can hear kirishima’s steps behind him but thankfully stopping a reasonable distance away as he calls his name again, desperation coloring the word.

fuck.

with everything he has in him, katsuki grabs a random bottle from the refrigerator (a smoothie eijirou made for him with far too much kale and too little milk and a little note attached with his name and a smiley face. he’s gonna be sick.) and turns to face him, a strained, shaky grimace painting his lips.

“that’s-“ his voice cracks hard and he desperately clears his throat, blinking hard when he sees eijirou reach out for him and stop. “that’s fuckin’— that’s great. ‘m happy for you.”

the words feel like glass inching their way out of his throat and while he knows he sounds anything but, the words seem to do the trick, kirishima’s face lighting up like a fucking christmas tree.

“that means so much to me, man!” this time, he doesn’t stop himself from wrapping katsuki up in a hug, the full body contact sending a wracking shiver through his body. “and don’t worry! we’ll still hang out all the time and i’ll — yes! — finally be able to introduce you to kaito — you’re gonna love him, and-“

katsuki has to tune him out, if just to keep a hold on his sanity because otherwise, he’s gonna break.

he keeps it together through the rest of the conversation about kaito, tuning in only to give time appropriate grunts and hums while pretending like his entire world isn’t imploding in on itself.

he keeps it together, miraculously, as kirishima packs up his things, the evidence of their entwined lives for the past five years disappearing into cardboard boxes over the span of a few weeks.

he even keeps it together when he meets kaito on the move out date, even if it’s just barely. kaito is handsome — tall, taller than katsuki, with windswept brown hair, bright brown eyes and a dimple in his left cheek. if he wasn’t so fucking in love with eiji, he wouldn’t mind taking a piece out of him, but as it were, the sight of kaito makes him genuinely sick to his stomach.

it’s even worse that kaito is so nice. his quirk is even nicer — some nature type that makes it impossible for plants to die when touched by him. they turn to him like he’s the fucking sun and eiji does too.

by the time all kirishima’s stuff is packed up in the back of kaito’s truck, bile is burning at the back of katsuki’s throat as he says his final goodbye to kiri in the way of a bone crushing hug that doesn’t last as long as he wishes, as he craves.

kiri sends him a blinding smile as he climbs into the passenger seat of the truck, looking all too at home against the worn blue leather seats.

it’s now when katsuki wishes he was a little less observant because the hand kaito gently places on kirishima’s thigh and the subsequent full body blush makes him sick.

he waits on the curb the appropriate amount of time as the pair drive away before racing back into his building, up the stairs, into his unit and straight to the bathroom, kneeling over the toilet and heaving, chills wracking his body despite the sweat on his brow.

nothing comes out (praise whoever above because katsuki hates vomiting) and he slumps against the porcelain, resting his heated skin against the toilet seat.

he thought… fuck, katsuki has no idea what he thought, but he didn’t expect it to hurt this bad. he feels a little like he’s dying and lot like he’ll never be okay again. that kirishima walked out with his heart and all he’ll be for the rest of his life is a walking husk of a human being.

a wave of nausea overtakes him again and he debates leaning back over the toilet, but exhaustion overwhelms him and he falls asleep against the wall of his bathroom, sweaty, sick, and heartbroken.

(the next morning, he wakes up to a pounding headache and two texts from eijirou.

he drinks a shit ton of water first and pops an advil before opening the messages.

EIJI (18:21) : just got to kaito’s! dude it’s so nice i can’t believe ill be living here now ><

katsuki has to take a deep breath to fight against the wave of pain that hits him right in the gut, but he keeps reading, the second text simultaneously warming him and twisting the knife.

EIJI (18:25) : i’m gonna miss you so much kats T^T so weird living without you

he stares at the message until his vision swims before liking the second message and turning off his phone, tossing it onto the couch and trudging to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.)

the next few weeks prove to be incredibly difficult.

a new case is brought to best jeanist’s desk and as the best sidekick at the agency, he’s placed in charge of heading the search and capture of an elusive invisibility quirk villain.

the days are long and exhausting, and more often than not, he doesn’t even have time to miss kirishima or notice his things missing from the apartment — he gets home, makes a barebones meal and collapses on the couch for what feels like a four hour nap until he has to turn back around and do it all over again.

it’s sustainable until it isn’t.

a few too many missed meals and restless hours of sleep has him passing out in a morning briefing, prompting best jeanist to send him home for a mandatory two week “vacation.”

it’s a prison sentence, is what it is.

at home, there’s nothing to distract him from the utter lack of kirishima, from the idea that the one person who has seen all of him and loved him anyway has left.

most days it’s too much to bear, so instead, he sleeps.

the usual tidiness of his space slowly deteriorates as he wastes away, waking only to scarf down whatever is left in his refrigerator before going right back to bed.

his friends text him often — hanta, denki, even fuckin’ hitoshi — but he ignores them all. the texts from kirishima are the hardest to delete, all concerned words and pleas for them to just talk, but he does it anyway.

it’s better this way, he tells himself. this way, no one else is dragged down by his self pity.

izuku ends up being the one to break the streak on day nine of radio silence.

a knock resounds at his door and he ignores it, pulling his blankets high above his mussed blonde hair, effectively hiding him from view as he hopes whoever is there spontaneously combusts or, better yet, just leaves.

when the knocks stop, he believes the latter has just occurred and he sighs in relief, completely missing the sound of metal creaking and his doorknob falling to the ground.

he’s debating on taking another melatonin to find the sweet release of sleep once more when his bedroom door opens up and he startles, launching up out of bed, hands and quirk at the ready to destroy the intruder, but he’s slow, too slow.

izuku is on him in a moment, pinning him to the bed and disregarding his gnashing teeth and cursing to look him over with a detached gaze.

“katsuki,” he says, voice firm in effectively shutting him up, despite the way he wriggles for freedom (so ineffectively, it’s embarrassing), “you look like dogshit.”

a harsh bark of laughter escapes katsuki’s throat and even from his angle where he’s pressed into his pillows, he sees izuku’s expression soften.

“you’ve lost your tact, deku,” he responds, his words gravelly from disuse. izuku scoffs but lets him up, taking a step over a pile of clothes on the ground to lean against the desk opposite of the bed.

with his newfound freedom, katsuki sits up, absentmindedly rubbing his now sore shoulder, the pain oddly grounding. izuku watches the motion with the intense focus he’s carried throughout his entire life, though he’s a far cry from the boy who used to break his bones and cry over injured birds.

now, he’s built like a brick house, forest green curls tapered into a flattering modern undercut, the fat from his cheeks transforming into something more chiseled and adult. his eyes aren’t as soft either — they’re tired and, as he looks at katsuki’s form, tinged with worry.

“where have you been? no one has heard from you in a week.”

katsuki rolls his eyes, looking away from the gaze that pins him, the gaze he tried so hard to get to look at him without fear. there isn’t a hint of fear in them now, but katsuki is afraid there’ll be disappointment and that’s almost worse.

“none of your fuckin’ business,” he grunts out and he immediately knows it was the wrong response. besides eijirou, izuku knows him the best and after all they’ve been through, he doesn’t deserve this.

he never deserved any of it.

with that thought spinning around in his head, katsuki rubs a hand over his face with a quiet curse, leaning back against the headboard.

“fuck, i’m sorry,” it comes out as a mutter, but its effect on izuku is instantaneous. the previous hardness of his expression melts and he moves closer, his bushy brows furrowing together. katsuki can barely look at him but he does anyway, he makes himself. izuku deserves that much (he deserves so much more but one day at a time).

“we’re just worried about you,” izuku says quietly but without pity. never pity. “what’s going on?”

maybe it’s the way izuku’s freckled face reminds him far too much of eijirou’s own spattering of constellations or maybe it’s the fact katsuki hasn’t eaten in over fifteen hours, but he shatters in that moment, crystal tears filling up carmine eyes.

if izuku is startled at katsuki’s sudden change of emotions, he doesn’t show it, instead moving to envelop katsuki in his arms, allowing him to bury his face in the crook of his shoulder and let go.

katsuki tells him everything and by the end of it, his head feels like it’s stuffed with cotton and his eyes are puffy and red, but he feels better than he did all week.

izuku just looks thoughtful from his place sitting near the end of katsuki’s bed, the pair parting somewhere in between katsuki’s admission of throwing up when seeing kaito and kirishima together and his accidental confession of stealing one of eijirou’s hoodies from one of the boxes (it sits right under his pillow, but izuku doesn’t need to know that).

“i’m really sorry, katsuki. that fucking sucks,” izuku ends up saying and katsuki’s initial reaction is anger. he spills his heart and guts out to izuku and all he gets is that sucks? but when he opens his mouth to give deku a piece of his mind, he realizes that it does suck. it sucks royal ass and there’s nothing he or izuku can do to fix it - at least not yet - but the acknowledgment, without any attempt to give advice or make everything better, does wonders for katsuki.

he pushes out a watery laugh, his lip ticking up into a smile - for the first time in weeks - and izuku lights up a little. “yeah. it really fuckin’ does.”

the smile izuku sends back is blinding and for the one thousandth time, katsuki is reminded why the symbol of peace is just that.

they talk for a little while longer before izuku forces katsuki into the shower. he takes a long time, letting the scalding hot water turn cold before he emerges to find that his childhood best friend has started cleaning up the mess that has become of his apartment.

katsuki watches on for a moment until izuku raises an eyebrow at him and offers him a trash bag which he takes wordlessly, a wave of affection crashing over him so quickly tears come to his eyes. he blinks them away but he doesn’t miss the knowing smile izuku sends his way.

the pair work together in relative silence until the apartment is spotless and katsuki’s stomach is grumbling something fierce. izuku makes his way to the fridge but is met with nothing but a half carton of eggs and a rotting smoothie in the far corner, a sticky note attached to the lid. he fixes katsuki with a small, sad smile before digging through his drawers for a takeout menu.

when the food arrives, katsuki finishes it in record time and he can’t tell if it’s the fact they remembered to make it extra spicy or if it’s because he literally can’t remember the last time he had an actual meal, but it’s the best thing he’s eaten in a long time.

after they finish, izuku turns on the television and they both spend the evening shit talking a d-list hero film until they fall asleep on the couch, bodies slumped against one another, holding each other up.

—

that night seems to have knocked something loose in katsuki because the next morning, he wakes with his first alarm and heads to the gym for the first time since his mandatory vacation. by the end of it, his arms are burning from quirk overuse and he’s completely wiped, but he feels more like himself than he has in ages.

he finally texts his friends back (barring one) and they greet him back with high levels of enthusiasm and concern. it feels good to be received back into the fold with the love he’d thought he’d lost, his cheeks hurting with how much he’s smiling as the messages roll in.

katsuki finishes out his sentence and goes back to work on the fourteenth day with an earnest apology to best jeanist and a new lead on the villain after pouring over the case files in between hyperintensive workouts at the gym. best jeanist is quietly impressed, but the squeeze to the shoulder he gives katsuki tells him he was more worried about him than he let on.

the next few weeks pass in a blur, but this time it’s more pleasant. he watches shitty movies with izuku, deletes instagram when he sees a photo of kaito and kirishima on holiday in america, starts attending a pottery class on the weekends he has off with mina and denki, continues to ignore the texts from eijirou that are becoming more and more infrequent as time goes on, smokes with hanta and shinsou one evening and laughs harder than he ever has, and life feels like it’s slowly gaining its footing once again.

he realizes three months after kirishima had moved out that he should probably start looking for a new roommate or downgrade to something more reasonable. he seriously considers the latter, but when he looks at the space he cultivated right after he graduated from ua, he realizes he can’t quite give the place up.

he posts an ad on craigslist that night.

the next time the group goes drinking (kirishima is suspiciously absent, despite his reentry into the country a few days prior — mina mentioned it), katsuki brings up his roommate problem and denki latches on, his cheeks pleasantly flushed from the wine he’s been sipping on.

“oh, oh! i know - i know the perrrrfeeccttt roommate for you,” he slurs, toying with the earring dangling from his ear and fixing his excited gaze on katsuki’s face. “they’re like.. the besttt, dude, you’d - you’d love them.”

the words are vague, but when katsuki opens up his mouth to ask for more details, denki’s eyes widen and he rushes off to the bathroom, a hand over his mouth, nearly tripping over the his platform shoes and maxi skirt.

the topic of the roommate is quickly forgotten then, but it resurfaces a few days later at pottery class.

katsuki is glaring holes into the side of his slightly lopsided vase on the pottery wheel, internally going through the steps to see where he went wrong. denki to the left of him laughs and chatters as he makes his, frankly, hideous ceramic, the clay warped beyond recognition.

something in his one-sided conversation brings his attention to katsuki who’s startled at the sound of his name coming from denki’s mouth.

“yo, you still looking for a roommate?” he asks, tilting his head as a strand of hair falls from the lengthening ponytail at the back of his head. without alcohol in his system, denki looks a little more hesitant to be approaching this topic, but does so when he isn’t met with a howitzer to the face.

the group doesn’t know much of anything, just that kirishima and katsuki aren’t talking, so they tend to tread lightly around the subject. katsuki appreciates it, genuinely, but he’s not going to shatter at the sound of eijirou’s name - not anymore. it hurts still, of course, but the pain has dulled to a steady hum that he can ignore if he tries hard enough.

“yeah,” he grunts, turning his eyes back at his vase. “why? you got someone in mind?”

denki grins, showing off the lightning tooth gems on his canine. “hell yeah! i’ll give you their number — they teach the watercolor class here on tuesdays and they’re so cool.”

he speaks about you with obvious adoration and katsuki belatedly wonders if the two of you are dating, but doesn’t voice this curiousity, instead wordlessly handing denki his phone to put in your contact as “ROOMIE” with what feels like a hundred paint emojis after it. katsuki smiles at his friend’s antics and can’t quite bring himself to change it.

the colorful contact remains untouched for about another week until he gets a rent notice and remembers the little paint palettes in his phone.

in the middle of his morning workout, he taps out a quick text to you, before tossing his phone to the side and promptly forgetting about it.

katsuki [09:27] : Hey. I’m Bakugou. Denki gave me your number. I’m looking for a roommate. You interested?

ROOMIE [10:16] : oh hey yeah i’m interested

ROOMIE [10:17] : do you want 2 meet td

ROOMIE [10:17] : i’m at the cafe on 5th n cherry

ROOMIE [10:17] : in the back

ROOMIE [10:19] : i’ll b here 4 a while

ROOMIE [10:19] : just come whenever

katsuki only sees the message at the end of his workout a half hour later. the number of messages in a row and less than ideal grammar makes him turn up his nose but he quickly taps out an affirmative, before dapping izuku up and heading to the showers.

he makes it to the cafe twenty minutes later, scanning the place to see what he assumes is you tucked away in the back corner, your table full with books, papers, paints, your laptop and at least four empty cups of coffee.

katsuki raises an eyebrow at the sight but walks over anyway, telling himself he’s doing denki a favor by meeting someone he thinks so highly of so he won’t feel too bad when he tells him it’s not going to work out.

you don’t look up when he stops at your table, too occupied with the piece of art in front of you, your face twisted up in intense concentration.

you’re quite pretty, he notes subconsciously, the hard set of your eyes and one track focus reminding him an awful lot of himself when he’s swept into a difficult case. your complete unawareness gives him more time to take you in, though, so he can’t even bring himself to be too annoyed.

you’re wearing a bright yellow chargebolt hoodie that clashes terribly with your garishly pink acid queen baggy sweatpants. a pair of cellophane socks cover your feet where they’re stretched out in the seat across from you and your shoes (made to look like the red ones from deku’s costume, jesus christ) sit haphazardly beneath the table, empty.

it’s such a bizarre sight, katsuki almost laughs — almost — but he doesn’t, instead opting to knock your feet off the chair opposite you so he can sit down.

“a big fan of heroes, huh?” he asks, the action coupled with his words startling you so bad, your knees hit the underside of the table, threatening to upend all the precariously balanced objects decorating the surface.

you look angry at first before you realize who it is and once you do, you just look relieved. it’s an unusual reaction, one katsuki rarely gets from anyone who isn’t actively in danger, especially strangers.

“you scared the absolute shit out of me,” you say tiredly, rubbing a hand over your face and sighing. katsuki watches you recognize your own impoliteness in real time, a sheepish smile spreading across your lips.

pretty.

“fuck, sorry,” you extend a paint splotched hand to him and he takes it, shaking it firmly before it falls back to his side, fingers tingling. “i get super into shit and completely forget where i am. kami gets onto me about it all the time. says i’m prime villain bait or some shit. i think he’s saying it most of the time to freak me out, but he might actually be right. don’t ever tell him i said that though.”

katsuki can’t help but stare at you as you ramble at him with the familiarity of someone who’s known him for months, not just a few minutes. it’s uncomfortable in a strangely nice way and he can feel his muscles loosen as the nerves melt away.

“aw fuck, i’m sorry again. i didn’t introduce myself.”

you give him your name, offering your hand out for him to shake once more which he does with an amused look painting his expression. you don’t seem to notice, your attention being grabbed by the piece in front of you again.

“i’m bakugou,” he offers after a moment of silence. you don’t even look up when you respond.

“i know. you sent me that text, remember? also you’re like, super fucking famous, dynamight,” you look up at him through your lashes, teasing, and heat unexpectedly blooms on the back of his neck.

what the fuck?

in a bid to gain back control of the conversation (and himself) katsuki asks, “what’re you workin’ on? dunceface said you’re a painter or some shit.”

your nose crinkles at the moniker, but you don’t say anything about it, instead turning the sketchbook around for katsuki to look at it.

the piece is stunning, but it’s visceral and he can’t help but lean back a little when looking at it, stomach dropping.

a deer lays on the ground, gutted, blood, guts and viscera pouring out of its abdomen as a figure just out of frame reaches inside and pulls out its heart.

katsuki is disgusted but intrigued and that feeling only amplifies when you press a finger to the painting and activate your quirk.

suddenly, the hand in the painting moves so realistically he flinches — he can hear the deer’s heart beat, can hear the way the blood trickles through the blades of grass, can smell the coppery tang and can feel the rush of spring wind blowing past his face.

it’s like he’s there, in the piece, and he feels both a little sick and also so alive.

“holy fuck,” he whispers, shivering, and you laugh, deactivating your quirk, bringing him back to the real world. the sounds of the cafe flood in, replacing the smell of blood and spring fields with coffee and loose tea leaves. he shakes his head, eyes a little blown when they look at you.

your expression is playfully amused as you bring your sketchbook closer to your person, resting your head on the palm of your hand.

“sorry,” you offer, but you don’t sound very sorry at all, “should’ve asked before i used my quirk on you. not everyone likes that shit.”

the words are so nonchalant but you look like you’re poised to watch him get up and leave, never looking back. katsuki doesn’t think he could leave if he tried.

“nah,” his voice feels raw so he tries to clear it but the feeling doesn’t go away. “you’re good. just surprised me, ‘s all.”

your mouth parts in muted surprise and you tilt your head, appraising him like you’re seeing him for the first time. katsuki feels surprisingly bare as you study him, but he doesn’t drop his eye contact, despite the heavy pounding of his heart from your intensity.

the pair of you sit in silence like that for a moment or two longer before you break it, asking him if he wants something to drink. before he can tell you he doesn’t drink coffee though, you flag down the waiter, ask for a hot cup of tea (“darjeeling or oolong,” you ask the waiter, not even sparing katsuki another glance, “he doesn’t look like he fucks with green tea.” it’s true. he doesn’t. his heart does a stutter step in his chest.) and when it arrives to the table, katsuki asks you to move in with him.

you agree.

—

the move in process is so quick and easy that when it’s done, it feels like you’ve been living there for years.

your belongings integrate seamlessly into his own. your books about art history and watercolor technique find their way onto his bookshelves filled with classic japanese literature and hero history.

(he comes home one day to see you propped up on the couch with a thick book on the origin of quirks and heroism in japan that you stole borrowed from his collection. he just cocks his head at you when you meet his gaze and you shrug.

“i’m not japanese, i don’t know any of this shit,” you say in way of an explanation. “besides, this is important to you. i wanna learn.”

you turn back to your book like you didn’t just completely shake the foundation of katsuki’s world for a moment and he stumbles off to the kitchen, heat burning at the tips of his ears.)

your plants find their way on every windowsill and while, once upon a time, it would’ve made him think of kaito and that sick, curling jealousy would wrap around his chest and squeeze, now? it just makes him think of you.

(it helps you can’t really keep them alive so nearly every other week the two of you are replanting something new in the pots and vases katsuki makes in pottery class.)

your favorite foods join his in the refrigerator and the two of you take your meals together more often than not. katsuki cooks and you clean, either eating on the couch while watching a documentary or at the dining room table as you talk and talk and talk.

(the first time katsuki misses dinner, you wait up for him, even forgoing your own meal to eat with him when he returns at 2 in the morning.

“don’t do that shit again,” he grumbles when he finds out what you’ve done, his scarlet eyes piercing your own. you shrug, unafraid, tired eyes trailing lazily over his tank top clad form.

“don’t tell me what to do,” you retort after a moment, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips, “i like eating with you.”

your honesty, unabashed and loud, always bowls him over and he has to take a sip of his ice water to feel steady again.)

the relationship between the two of you is easy, for once, and katsuki finds himself looking forward to coming home, to you and your witty comments, sharp intelligence, and your uncanny ability to see right through him.

he swears it must be a hidden quirk, the way you seem to just know — know what he wants and needs without even asking and your accuracy rate is pretty much unbeatable.

after a particularly bad mission where the property damage is unusually high and the civilian casualties match, the leading hero news journalist puts out a scathing piece about him, sending him into an emotional spiral.

you find him that afternoon, curled up in bed, staring at the window blankly. you crawl up in bed beside him and you don’t speak, don’t offer him coddling words of “everything’s gonna be okay,” or “you did the best you could,” because if that was katuski’s best, he doesn’t fucking deserve to be a hero. not at all.

but no, you don’t offer him empty words of placation. instead, you brush a lock of his hair off of his forehead and look at him with that all-seeing gaze, your expression neither soft nor hard, but understanding.

“you’re not gonna let that shit happen again, right?” you ask, tilting your head. katsuki shakes his head vehemently, the mere notion of the same amount of dead bodies on his watch sending a fire through his chest as he sits up.

“fuck no.”

“good. now come here, i painted something new and i need to see if i get ‘good job’ or ‘holy fuck that’s shitty’ eyebrows from you.”

and that’s that.

you’ve even given him a nickname and it inexplicably makes his skin feel tight, like he needs to tear it off and show you, like it’s a display of how you make him feel.

it’s a lazy sunday afternoon, one he’s required to take off by best jeanist, and he’s spent it next to you on the couch, listening to a few of your records while you paint a forest scene, a skittish doe front and center with rivulets of water streaming from beneath it.

occasionally, you’ll activate your quirk and katsuki can suddenly hear birds chirping and the creak of the wood before he’s back in your cramped flat, the sounds of city sounding below.

it’s jarring and yet, comforting, both your presence and the quirk, in a way that still doesn’t make sense to him yet.

“bambi, are you even listening to me?” the term of what he assumes is endearment startles him out of his thoughts and he eyes dart to yours, an amused expression on your your brow.

“who the fuck are you callin’ bambi?” in his shock, he can hardly conjure up the ability to sound pissed, confusion instead hijacking his words, making them come out soft and gruff.

“you, idiot,” you reply, like it makes all the sense in the world. “you’re like a deer to me. something in you is skittish, afraid and yet, you’re still so beautiful.”

what the fuck.

katsuki’s breath completely evaporates from his lungs and he feels like he’s going to pass out at your frank words. it doesn’t help that you don’t break eye contact or look embarrassed to have said something so, so… intimate.

he can’t even begin to parse through how to respond to something like that, but you know that too, flicking a little bit of paint water at him with the tip of your brush. he sees the olive branch for what it is and he grabs it with both hands, the annoyed sound rising from his throat on autopilot as you laugh, but your eyes are still so knowing.

he thinks about that day everyday after with sickening butterflies flapping around in his stomach and those only magnify when you choose to call him the new nickname every single chance you get.

katsuki would not dream of stopping you.

—

it’s about two months into you moving in with him and he’s going out drinking with the squad. he’s invited you about thirty times but every time you decline, citing that you’re behind on grading art projects and that show you were looking forward to is airing tonight.

(you’re a substitute art teacher at the local elementary school, a fact that genuinely shocked katsuki when he found out.

you’d laughed, wide and unapologetic at his reaction.

“i know i’ve got quite the potty mouth but i clean it up for the kids,” you say, eyes twinkling. “they kinda love me, i think, but it might just be the bob ross videos i put on for them every friday.”)

katsuki chooses not to push but he knows that he’ll end up cutting the night short, just so he can sprawl next to you on the couch and watch you paint.

you seem to know it too (how?? secret quirk, it must be) if the knowing look you give him isn’t enough as he goes to change.

when he returns to the living room, he’s clad in a nice black button down that’s unbuttoned enough to show off the strong planes of his chest and his thin gold chain, and a pair of black jeans that fit him and his tiny waist incredibly well.

katsuki knows he looks good in this outfit, but he finds himself uncharacteristically nervous as he stands in front of you, your eyes dragging down his body as slow as molasses, igniting the skin as though it was a physical touch.

your eyes meet his once again, molten and hot, and katsuki’s knees nearly buckle at the sight. he’s never seen you look like that - not at him, not at anyone, and he finds that he quite likes to be the center of your attention in this way.

“you clean up nicely, bambi,” you murmur, your voice a lower timber in comparison to your normal speech.

the blush spreads immediately to all visible parts of his body and he can fucking see you holding back a grin. “fuck off,” is all he can say before he spins on his heel, grabs his keys, and marches out the door.

it takes everything in him to continue walking, out and up to the train station and then to the bar, because all he wants to do is turn right back around, back to your home and back to that lava-like gaze you pinned him with earlier.

it’s you that’s racing around in his mind when he pushes the door open to the bar, but all thoughts come to a complete, grinding halt when he sees kirishima at their usual table, surrounded by all their friends and grinning like he’d never left.

he looks different - after all, it’s been about a year since katsuki had seen him last. his hair is longer and his roots are grown out, his skin has taken on such a warm glow and it, impossibly, seems like he’s gotten even bigger somehow.

it’s also impossible to miss the black band on his ring finger signaling a new engagement ring which he figures is what they’re meant to be celebrating tonight, eyes belatedly catching on the comically tiny “i’m engaged!” sash hanging around his chest.

the sight of kirishima sends the most heinous bolt of anxiety through katsuki and now he really just wants to call you to come get him and take him home, to make him forget all about his unrequited love. he moves backwards to do just that, but he’s already been spotted by kirishima himself.

fuck.

katsuki is frozen as kirishima’s happy expression falters when he meets his eyes, cycling through shock, disbelief, stark hurt and then utter relief.

he can see the way kiri’s mouth forms “katsuki” from a distance as he puts down his drink and moves towards him, his feet completely frozen until they’re standing face to face (face to chest, really) for the first time in months.

“hey,” kirishima says, hesitantly, breathlessly, as his hands flutter uselessly at his sides, like he wants to just pick katsuki up but is stopping himself. “can we, uh, can we go outside and talk?”

katsuki just nods because what else is supposed to do? and as they move out, he catches the worried gazes of their friends watching the pair of them from the table. denki and izuku, the latter of whom knows the most (everything) and the former who managed to figure most of it out on his own.

(“takes one to know one,” he’d said, bitterly when he’d confronted katsuki a few weeks ago about his unexplained mandatory leave all those months ago. katsuki was confused until kaminari flipped around his phone to reveal a photo of him and hanta pressed tightly together in an embrace that was strictly platonic and yet, horribly intimate.

katsuki’s lips drew together into a tight line as he settled against the brick wall kami was leaning against, trying to light the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips.

“you’re too good for plain face,” he says after a moment, attempting to channel his inner you, blunt and honest. “you’re gonna find someone better.” and just like all his thoughts as of recently, they’d flitted right back to you.

denki had watched his face carefully, cigarette unlit, a thoughtful look crossing his own expression.

“yeah,” he concedes, “i will, won’t i?”)

katsuki gives the pair of them a nod, holding up a hand to izuku who looks like he wants to follow them out of the bar, despite the pounding in his chest and the way he suddenly feels unsteady on his feet as they leave the building to step right back out into the cool, fall air.

kirishima’s stance is awkward and since neither of them smoke, they both just stand there, barely looking at each other and waiting for the other person to speak up first.

“fuckin’ hell- what’d you wanna talk about kirishima?” katsuki grits out, tired of the waiting game and suddenly, immediately, so exhausted. all he wants to do is be curled up beside you, with your all seeing eyes and gentle utterances of “bambi” in his ear.

the tact he’d lost in his haste to get this over with stings kirishima whose brows furrow in annoyance. “what do i want to talk about? i haven’t seen you in a year, bakugou, not since i moved out and you completely cut me off with no explanation whatsoever. i want to know why. what - what did i do wrong?”

his voice breaks on the last word and it sounds so sad, so uncharacteristically eijirou, that katsuki flinches, finally looking over at kirishima to see a broken, pleading man who lost his best friend for nothing more than silly, stupid feelings.

at once, katsuki feels all the fucking idiot asshole he is and it’s staggering how much that thought makes him feel like shit. he could’ve reached out, he could’ve, but he was so worried that he wouldn’t have been able to keep it together, spending time with kiri, and as time passed, the issue became that so much time had passed and he had no idea how to navigate this all over again.

he runs a hand over his face, leaning against the brick facade of the bar. “fuck,” he whispers, gravel crunching underfoot as kiri steps closer.

“i - i miss you, kats,” kiri’s voice comes out quiet and thick, “i got engaged and all i wanted to do was call you, but you weren’t there, you weren’t speaking to me and i-“ he takes a shuddering breath and katsuki’s eyes fill with tears.

“i was in love with you.”

the sounds of the street fade out as katsuki finally turns to look at kirishima, the tears falling down his cheeks.

“wha- bakugou, what?”

“i was in love with you and i couldn’t fuckin’ - i couldn’t do it. not to myself, not to you.”

kirishima face is drawn, pale and mouth gaping. his mouth closes, then opens again, then snaps shut, his head shaking in disbelief.

“why didn’t you - fuck - why didn’t you ever say anything, man?”

katsuki scoffs, the sound wet with grief. “are you shittin’ me? why the hell would i do that?”

kiri shrugs, long, dark lashes sweeping his cheekbones, leaving tiny wet marks. a year ago, the sight would’ve filled katsuki with rabid butterflies, but now it remains just an observation, one made passively and without thinking.

“i should’ve told you somethin’, i fuckin’ know that now, but i was - i was scared. scared of you hating me, scared of losing you. but i went and fucked that one up anyway, so,” katsuki laughs, self deprecating, and kirishima shakes his head vehemently, grabbing him by the shoulder and pulling him into a tight hug.

katsuki’s throat is tight as he gives into the embrace, burying his face into kirishima’s shoulder.

“you haven’t lost me, kats, and you never will,” kirishima whispers, pulling apart far enough to press his forehead to katsuki’s, red eyes meeting red. “i mean, who else is gonna be my best man?”

katsuki’s eyes widen and he takes a step back. “don’t fuck with me.”

kirishima shakes his head, a wet laugh escaping his lips. “not fucking with you bro. you’re my best friend. i want you there beside me on the happiest day of my life.”

after everything, after the year of no contact and the absolutely shitty way katsuki treated him, kirishima still wants katsuki by his side?

he’s honored, he’s out of his depth, he’s fucking nauseous, and he really wants to go home and tell you.

“i met someone,” he blurts and kirishima looks startled at the change of subject, but takes it in stride, a smile tugging at his face.

“that’s so great, dude, congrats! what’s their name?”

katsuki breathes it out and when he does, he realizes something, the force of it hitting him like a steel beam to the head.

“i think i’m in love with them.”

kirishima blinks, taking in katsuki’s tense form. he looks like he’s about to run away.

“i’m so happy for you, kats. really, i am,” kiri says, before being taken off guard yet again by the hug katsuki initiates.

“of course i’ll be your best man, shitty hair. i fuckin’ missed you too,” he murmurs and he hears kirishima sniffle. “i gotta go but text me and we’ll get lunch tomorrow or some shit, okay? i’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

he pulls away to see eijirou’s big wet eyes stare down at him with unabashed care and love, and katsuki feels his heart swell.

he got his best friend back and now it’s time to get you.

kirishima agrees to the meetup wholeheartedly and lets katsuki go with a hearty pat on the back and a shouted “good luck!” over the sound of the rain that started up during the last moments of conversation before going back inside the bar.

katsuki considers blasting his way to you, but he knows the optics would be incredibly unfavorable and his pr department would have his head, so he races to the train station instead and hops aboard, his mind racing with thoughts of you.

his hair is plastered to his forehead with rain by the time he gets to his apartment building and the button up is molded to his body like a second skin. he’s uncomfortable, of course, but he hardly pays it any mind because before he knows it, he’s unlocking and pushing open the door to your shared flat.

he’s home.

you startle from your place upside down on the couch, your paints and sketchbook cluttering the coffee table at the side while the tv plays an ancient looking cooking show quietly.

katsuki is bowled over by the sight, the weight of what he now knows as love sending him stumbling a little on his feet. he has to hold onto the doorjamb to keep his footing.

you sit up, observing, and you tilt your head. “you’re back early,” you comment, curiosity lacing your words.

he nods, not trusting his voice as finally steps past the threshold, kicking off his shoes and putting on a pair of hideous hawks themed slippers that you’d bought for him on your own birthday.

you hum thoughtfully before standing and disappearing down the hallway, katsuki’s eyes glued to you as you go. he can hear the sounds of you rummaging around in the bathroom, his feet frozen to the floor when you return, a fluffy towel in hand.

“you should shower, of course,” you say with a grin, opening up the towel and draping it over his head to dry it before moving on to the rest of his sopping body. “but i figured i’d keep you from dripping all over that ugly rug you’re obsessed with.”

katsuki doesn’t respond, can’t, and you don’t push or question, instead diligently wiping him down until he’s marginally more dry, eg, not actively dripping on the hardwood.

you move to go dispose of the towel and katsuki’s hand shoots out, not of his own volition, to hold you in place. it’s here he notices how close you’ve been standing to him, your breath wafting over his collarbones.

“bambi?” you question, unafraid of him, just lightly confused, but you don’t move away from him, somehow picking up his need for closeness without him saying anything, and he snaps.

“i love you,” he whispers, the explosion in his chest coming out in just those three gruff words, his carmine eyes boring into your own with an intensity you match.

a small smile spreads over your lips and your eyes light up, joy thrumming over your skin. “i love you too, katsuki.”

it’s perfect and katsuki can’t stop himself from cupping your face and pressing your lips together.

the kiss is gentle and chaste, your hands dropping the towel, coming up to rest on his forearms and holding him in place as you move your lips softly against his own.

katsuki feels like the rest of the world could implode right now, could be on fire or flooding or being overrun by villains and none of it would matter, not a single fucking thing because you’re in his arms and you’re kissing him back and you love him.

these thoughts ignite a hunger in him, a flame stoking in his belly, and he pushes further into the kiss, his hands sliding from their place on your face. one cups the back of your neck while the other slides down your back, pressing you firmly against the front of his body.

he’s almost giddy, having you like this, and he’s sure you can feel it because you’re smiling into the kiss like this is the happiest day of your life.

he thinks it’s his.

you continue trading kisses like this in your foyer, but it only escalates when your tongue flickers across katsuki’s bottom lip and you sigh softly, back arching against him.

katsuki has to break apart from you so he doesn’t consume you in that moment, but you don’t go far (you never do), your foreheads pressed together while you breathe in each others air.

“fuckin’ hell,” he chokes out and you laugh. “can i please - fuck - i need you.”

his honesty shuts you up quick and you nod, biting your lip. “take me to bed, bambi.”

and that he does.

katsuki’s hand finds yours and he pulls you towards his bedroom — you’ve been in there countless times, to watch movies, to nap, to read with one another, but of course, it was never like this.

the tension is thick but it’s not uncomfortable at all. you walk over to his bed and plop down on it like you’ve been in this situation a thousand times. the action soothes any residual anxiety katsuki might’ve had as he walks over to you, your heated gaze tracking his movements the entire time.

“take this shit off,” he grumbles, tugging at the garish all might crewneck covering your abdomen and you swat his hand away with an amused look.

he can feel his pout forming at your smile, but you just shake your head. “don’t tell me what to do, bambi,” but still, you raise grip the bottom of the thick fabric, lifting it up and over your head before letting it drop to the ground, leaving you bare.

or almost bare, if not for the objectively hideous, brightly colored, thin, cheap and lacey dynamight themed underwear covering your body.

“what the fuck is this?” katsuki doesn’t mean for his question to come out so reverent, but seeing you clad in his colors sends a bolt of heat down his spine so strong, he’s quite literally never been harder in his life.

you don’t seem to notice (but you always do), tilting your head at him with a grin playing on your lips. “they were on sale. didn’t think you’d ever see them.”

katsuki’s brows furrow at that, his hands tightening from their place on your hips. “who the fuck else was going to?”

you shake your head, like there’s something he isn’t getting. “no one. it’s always been you.”

“fuckin’-“ katsuki surges for you, claiming your lips with his with an urgency that had previously been lost. you respond in kind and this time, you’re letting out all these quiet gasps and sighs, writhing beneath him. he has to see you fall apart.

he reluctantly detaches his face from yours, kissing down your neck and sucking marks into the thin skin there, one of your hands sliding up to tangle into his hair, keeping him close.

a moan escapes him at the feeling of your fingers on his scalp, nearly getting lost in the mindless action, but he has to keep going. he makes it to your chest, laving his tongue over one of your nipples, flicking the hardened bud with the tip.

“f-fuck, bambi,” you outright moan and katsuki has to grind down against the mattress, his free hand sliding to pinch and pull at your other nipple.

your body can’t figure out whether to arch towards or away from his ministrations, which katsuki takes special delight in. you’re always so in control of yourself, even when you’re not, so it’s beyond rewarding to be responsible for your destruction.

“bambi - fuck - ‘suki, fuck me,” you groan and katsuki’s eyes roll back before he pulls off your nipple with a pop, his lips red and slick.

“nah.”

“nah?” you parrot, leaning up on your elbows with the closest thing he’s seen to annoyance directed at him written all over your face.

“nah. ‘m gonna make you come first.” katsuki grins, feral, and you shudder.

“get to it then, hero.” the moniker, while meant to be sarcastic and biting, just makes katsuki moan, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your (dynamight !!) underwear and tossing them to the floor.

he leans in, propping up one of your legs over his shoulder to bury his nose in the crease between hip and thigh, inhaling deeply. you smell sharp and tangy and so you that he couldn’t stop himself from taking a lick, entrance to clit, if he tried.

you sigh at that first touch of his wet muscle, melting in the bed while one hand remains buried in his hair and the other splays above your head. you watch him move with that intense look and you don’t look away so he doesn’t either.

he doesn’t look away as he slurps loudly at your entrance, tasting the wetness that’s gathered there with a pleased hum. doesn’t look away as he swirls his tongue around your clit, pulling a sharp gasp from your chest. doesn’t look away as he picks up pace, swirling, flicking and sucking until you’re chanting his name and “bambi,” your body tensing up as you buck your hips up into his face. doesn’t look away when you cum hard, soaking his lips and chin to which he eagerly groans, slurping up all you have to offer.

you pull him up to stop him from licking you through your aftershocks, kissing him hard once he gets to eye level.

“please,” you beg, eyes wide and urgent. who is he to deny you or himself?

katsuki stands and shucks off his boxers in record time, wrapping a hand around his cock that’s hard and leaking, the tip bright red.

your eyes eat him up hungrily, lingering on the way his precum spills over his knuckles with every slow stroke.

“i’m gonna suck your pretty cock tomorrow, preferably before breakfast,” you comment breathlessly. katsuki has to wrap his fingers around the base of his cock to keep himself from coming in that moment, taking a deep breath and glaring at you when you giggle.

“condom?” you shake your head, leaning back and spreading your legs to show off the wet mess he’s made of you.

“‘m clean and i’m in love with you. fuck me. now.” you can’t even sound commanding, not with the whine lying beneath your words, giving away how bad you want him. how bad you want this.

if the way katsuki’s cock legitimately jumped at your words is anything to go by, he obviously feels the same.

“goddamit, can’t fuckin’ say shit like that to me, jesus,” he rambles, crawling back onto the bed and notching the fat head of his dick into your entrance before leaning down to kiss you, open mouthed and messy.

he pushes into you when your tongue is halfway down his throat and he nearly chokes on it. you’re so soft and wet and velvety — he’s gonna cum so fucking fast, holy shit.

of course, you know it too, know him like the back of your hand because you squeeze even tighter around him and slide your hand down between your bodies to rub frantically at your clit.

“you - oh, god, you feel so fucking good bambi, fucking me so well, always taking care of me,” your words slur together as your eyes roll back, his hips slamming into yours at a quick pace.

he wants you to cum first, wants it more than anything, but the dirty talk coupled with the way you feel clenching around him has him shooting off faster than he expected, a low, long whine leaving him.

his hips stutter against yours and fireworks go off behind his eyelids. it feels like he’s coming forever as he humps into you and that feeling is only prolonged by you coming around him, your cunt clenching so tightly, you force him out, his spend spreading all over your mons and pelvis with a choked groan.

after another long moment, he slumps against you, exhausted and happier than he’s ever been.

you hum contentedly, wrapping your arm around him to pull him half on top of you, your body succumbing to the tiredness that’s so quickly overtaken you.

“i love you, katsuki,” you whisper, the phrase thick with sleep and emotion. katsuki feels burning at the backs of his eyes so he buries his face in the crook of your neck to hide, kissing your shoulder when the words don’t come.

you know, though. you always do.

—

“fuck, bambi, we’re gonna be late!” you screech from your (now) shared room, the sound muffled from where your head is buried in the closet.

by the door, katsuki is trying (and failing) to tie his bow tie, the red fabric remaining uncooperative in his hands. he groans in frustration, raising a hand to run it through his hair but stopping short when he remembers how you painstakingly fixed it for him a few hours ago.

“i know! it’s this stupid fuckin’ tie!” he shouts back, staring at himself in the little mirror you purchased, smiling a little despite himself when he remembers that trip to the home decor store with you, picking out new items that represent the both of you for your apartment.

speak of the devil, you step up behind him, looking gorgeous in a red, floor length dress, wrapping your arms around his waist.

“you look really good bambi,” you grin, fingers dragging down his abdomen to rest on his waistband, but his hands stop your downward motion while he gives you a halfhearted glare through the reflection.

“don’t start that shit,” katsuki turns around in your hold to face you, your hands immediately finding his undone tie. you work efficiently, face so scrunched up and focused that katsuki can only lift your face to press a kiss to your lips.

you melt, kissing him back easily and when you pull away, his lips are tinged with your lip products, marked by you. “you have a little something…” you trail off, wiping it away, not realizing how he stares at you like you’re the sun and he has no other choice but to revolve around you.

“marry me,” katsuki blurts, heat burning at the tips of his ears after a moment of you looking at him in utter disbelief.

he worries for a split second that you’re going to say no, but then your face splits into the most blinding smile he’s ever seen.

“are you proposing to me right now, bakugou katsuki?” you tease, fingers toying with the tie around his neck.

he nods, his hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer to him. “so what if i am?”

you laugh and nod, tears filling your lash line as the lighthearted facade drops to reveal you, earnest and honest and so so in love with him.

katsuki has no idea how he got so lucky, what he did in a past life to have you in his life and agreeing to be with him, in his life forever.

“of fucking course, i’ll marry you,” you say, grabbing his face and kissing him hard. “and i want nothing more than to make love to you on our brand new ikea sofa, but if we’re late to kiri’s wedding, he’s gonna kill me and make you watch.”

even the empty threat you make through your happy tears centers you in katsuki’s life, like you know that you are the center of his world, of his entire universe. you always know, know him better than he knows himself and there isn’t anyone on this whole earth who he’d rather be with than you.

he doesn’t tell you any of this though, blinking back tears instead and agreeing with a laugh, before finally ushering the pair of you out the door.

the thing is, katsuki doesn’t have to tell you.

you already know.

[naomi-nana]

✎ᝰ. jealousy is a disease !

there's nothing wrong with a little bit of jealousy, right? as long as you're honest about it, surely...

featuring : till

cw : fluff, gn!reader, mentions of death/being killed but nothing too graphic, probably ooc till...

a/n : OMGOMGOMG ALNST FIC ON TUMBLR???? i wasn't expecting to find any, but i find quite a lot!! i was so happy so i decided to make one myself and joined all the other writers>:) i've never watched any theory videos, so i dont really know how till acts. but from the limited videos alone, i can atleast know his personality;)

he really wouldn't have cared at all if you got closer to another human, or even an alien—is what he thought, as if he isn't glaring at you talking to your fans. your smile at those aliens lining up to shake your hands doesn't help. why would you even smile at all the aliens anyways? they all look ugly. he knows that how popular you are is not under your control, and that this is all arranged by your owner. but still, he doesn't like it, not even a single bit.

but he is happy that you're getting the recognition you deserve, after being forc—i mean, working hard for it all. but it still upsets him at how happily you talk to all the aliens, the smile you gave them, the look of adoration that you gave them. you noticed that he's been staring at you the whole time, though. but you made it seem as if you didn't, which annoys him. if he could, he would grab you by the wrist and ran away as fast as he can with you following him. but he won't. he doesn't want or like the risk of the both of you being killed because of that.

so, he endured his jealousy for what felt like an hour, and it all finally ended. "i'm sorry, have i kept you waiting?" you finally turned at him, your face glistening with sweat. even with how messy your makeup and hair has gotten after all those handshake, you still look as ethereal as ever. "till?" you tilt your head curiously when he didn't reply.

"uh—huh, what? sorry. was zonin' out." he noticed that he have been looking at your face the whole time and unintentionally ignored your question. "what did you say again?" he asked, looking away from your face this time in embarrassment. you only chuckled softly at him before finally repeating your question. "no, you didn't, it's alright." he answers quickly, as if trying to hide something, making you raise an eyebrow. "really? i really didn't keep you waiting?"

"no, it's fine. let's get inside the car before the driver leaves us here." the driver really won't leave you both here, since it's literally his job to drive the both of you from place to place. it's just his excuse to leave the place faster so he could make you get away from all your fans. "you seem to be eager of leaving this place, is something wrong?" you come closer to him, concern lacing in your gaze. with how close you are to him, it's hard for him to hide his flustered face.

so, he just turned around and walked towards the exit, making you even more confused and concerned for him. he walks really fast too, while you struggle to follow him behind.

"till, are you alright? do you feel sick? uncomfortable? or is it something else?" you asked him once again, and he avoided your gaze again. it keeps happening over and over to the point that if someone else were to watch you both from afar, they'd thought that the both of you are playing a game of tag. it took a lot of convincing from you, but he finally tells you why. not directly though, he doesn't want you to think that he's too clingy.

"i-i got a little... annoyed, when your fans got closer to you, i guess..." he muttered to himself, which made you unable to hear what he says clearly. you tilt your head to look up at him, then cup his cheeks in your hands, earning a soft gasp from him. "w-what are you—"

"are you perhaps... jealous?" you grin at him, his face growing redder as time pass. "i'm—not! let go of my face!" he grips one of your wrist with his hand, but he didn't even make an attempt to move your hands away from his face. "really? your expression says otherwise." you giggle when he glares at you, although his red face betrays the 'scary look' he's giving you.

"i said i'm not, end of the story. let's get in the car or whatever..." he finally swats your hand away, not too harsh though, and he walks away from you. your giggle only grew louder at how flustered he got just from one single interaction with you. "wait for me, till. you can't leave a celebrity like me behind... you don't want any of my fans catching up to me, do you?"

"ugh, stop talking about that!"

naomi-nana. do NOT repost, do not use,(with or without permission), do not reccommend or talk about my works outside of tumblr.

[xxkiller-muffinxx]

You and me, Against the world

Floyd x reader (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

Summary: once saved, Floyd can't help but still feel uneasy about losing you. It doesn't help that he's been thrusted back into reality surrounded by trolls who he doesn't exactly know, nor does it help that a mysterious figure in a black cloak is looking for something in town. His anxiety is through the roof, until a familiar face reappears.

Words: 1393

Warnings: just some slight angst.

A/N: this could've been better, but I just got too excited to share this one with you guys. Thank you all so much for your feedback! You guys make writing enjoyable! So please, enjoy this part! I cant wait to see you in the next story. Stay golden, and enjoy.

✦✧✦

Floyd looked out on the world as he thought deeply about everything that happened, he was safe. His brothers saved him. He should be happy, but something is holding him back.

He was so lost in thought that he couldn't hear footsteps approaching behind him. He closes his eyes and looks up at the sky, ignoring the sounds of a troll sitting beside him. He took a deep breath, smelling the refreshing air of the outdoors.

“Hey Floyd,” Branch said, leaning forward to look him in the eyes. “Everything alright with you?” he said while putting a hand on his shoulder. Floyd’s eyes opened and he looked at Branch. His eyes tired, and his smile deeply saddened.

“Yeah, yeah I'm okay.” Floyd’s feet swung over one another criss crossing his legs to feel a little more secure.

Branch raises an eyebrow and elbows him, “Come on. You can tell me.”

Floyd looks forward and then down at his hands. “You probably don't remember them, but there was this person back during our Band days. They were so sweet, and kind. Gentle. So much so that…” He stopped, capturing his breath back into his throat before he continued,

“They got trapped in the diamond prison with me, but…they didn't make it.” He brought his knees up to his chin. Sniffling slightly as the moments played through his head again, your exhausted face. Your laughter, your pain. He was tired of thinking about you, but he couldn't help it.

Branch looks up to where Floyd was looking beforehand and grimaces. How the hell is he supposed to comfort something like that? What angle does he go with? Poppy is usually good with comforting but she's with her sister right now and-

“I'm sorry, I'm burdening you,” Floyd said, his cheeks reddening in embarrassment.

Branch shook his head. “No no, I just…I want to say you can get through something like that but… it's easier said than done. They would want you to enjoy your freedom.” He said, placing a hand on Floyd’s shoulder once more.

Floyd glanced at him and smiled sadly. He took another deep breath. “Yeah. They would, wouldn't they.” He takes a deep breath and stands up with Branch. The two head home shoulder to shoulder.

✹✺✹✺✹✺✹

About a month had passed, and news about Brozone had spread like wildfire. Pretty much everyone knew about their adventure and Floyd’s tragic mistreatment, but no one knew about yours. That upset him the most,

You died, in that room, you were thrown out of a window. However, he couldn't bring himself to be mad. He knew you wouldn't like the attention anyway. Even then, he didn't care if he was in Brozone or you were, you both deserve equal recognition for what happened.

He woke up and brushed his teeth, patting himself down. He did his hair quickly and then walked to the exit to go outside. The branch must've already left. Along with Clay and John Dory. When he got outside he let his eyes adjust and immediately walked into town.

The sun basically screamed into the ground which hurt Floyd’s eyes. He walked until he found his usual spot and sat down, watching the world go by. He still has to get used to people again. Especially used to trusting people again.

His eyes wandered until catching the sight of a cloaked figure. Which was new for most of Pop Village, they seemed to be looking for something Floyd, out of his nervousness, reached for the closest troll. “Uh, hey-” He mumbled, causing the troll to turn around. It was Guy Diamond. “Do you know who that is?”

Guy Diamond looked in the direction Floyd was pointing and simply shrugged. Saying maybe it's someone new and it wouldn't hurt to introduce themselves. He then walked off to do just that. Floyd watched from the sidelines as the Glitter Troll made himself known.

Floyd’s attention fell out of pure secondhand embarrassment. Standing up and walking off to go sit down elsewhere. He sat down and took a breather, for some reason he felt like a kid again. Right after a concert when everyone's trying to talk to him but he doesn't want to talk to anyone else. He'd only make time for one person, and that one person’s gone.

He sighed and leaned into his seat, then suddenly he heard a voice. He didn't dare turn around, he liked imagining it was you. “Hey…you okay there?” this voice was quiet, raspy, almost as if they lost their voice. Floyd felt a shudder of deja vu run down his spine.

“Yeah yeah. I’m okay.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes,”

“You’re not sure.”

“Okay fine.”

Floyd flinched when a hand grazed his shoulder, and another troll sat beside him. A part of him was confused while another was genuinely frustrated that this person sounded so much like you. There was silence before the other troll spoke again.

“Talk to me Floyd.” The troll said. That woke Floyd up fast.

His head shot up to meet the face of his Companion. So familiar and yet so new. Something about how you looked took him back. Post show stuff and all that. His first instinct was to reach out and touch the troll's cheek to see if they were real.

“That’s a weird way of talking-” you snorted. His hand pressing into your cheek and you simultaneously leaning into it. “Hey there.” You said, squeezing his hand on your cheek.

“What? How? How did you- I watched you- you're here!” Floyd asked, his thumb caressing your cheek. Then almost in an instant his arms wrapped around your neck in a tight hug. So cozy that you ralax into his arms.

You laughed quietly, inhaling his scent into your nose. “Well, it’s a long and troubling story, but let’s just stay like this for a while okay? I need it.” You mumble into his shoulder, and when Floyd nodded you both took a deep breath together and let it out slowly.

The waves of weight on their shoulders now a distant memory. They were together again, nothing else mattered. As long as they were together it was okay. That’d usually be the end, but there’s something they’re forgetting to do.

After about 2 hours of just holding one another, they finally pull away. Floyd has tears in his eyes and you've probably cried too many times to cry now. You’re very dehydrated. Floyd wipes his eyes and looks at your cloak.

He pulls on it to look at it some more. “You were the new troll in town? You were looking for something? Did you find it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow and smiled once your eyes made eye contact. “Did you meet Guy diamond?” he’d lightly chuckle.

“I was looking for you! And yeah he was really nice. He did introduce me to anyone he could, which is why I knew you were here. Because Branch was here. Speaking of which he was also looking for you and-“

Your words turned into ringing as Floyd stared into your eyes, you were real. Rambling the way you used to, your eyebrows furrowed as you kept remembering things. Your hands move every now and then to display your point. Then by the time you snapped out of it, Floyd’s face was super close to yours.

“Woah- you okay?” You wound up asking, your cheeks flushed to the nines. Floyd shook his head and leaned back.

“Sorry. I just uh- I just- I missed you.” He said, looking down. You pull his face back up to meet yours. He looks between your eyes then your lips, his cheeks matching yours. “Uh…can I…can I kiss you?” He asks nervously.

You’re taken off guard by this, then you look at his lips. You're on autopilot when your lips meet his. You hold eachother like that for a while then pull away. “Does that answer your question?” You smile slightly then hug him tight. “Thank you.”

Floyd’s eyes are wide and his cheeks are red. He hugs you back. Then in a fit of emotional breakthrough he mumbles “I love you.” He said with a smile, and then in response you say.

“I love you too.” You pull apart, pressing your forehead against his. “It’s you and me.”

“Against the world.”

❀✿❀✿End❀✿❀✿❀

[iouinotes]

Good gone bad | Coriolanus Snow (part one)

pairing: young!Coriolanus Snow x female!reader

movie: Hunger Games: The ballad of Songbirds and Snakes

warnings: dark!character, smut

word count: 3,8k

summary: You are childhood friends and very close with him. When his behaviour starts to change for the worse, you try your best to hold on to his real-self.

a/n: I adored Snow the first half an hour, because he was a gentleman and cared so much! Then his character became dark, obsessive and murderous and it really was a game changer...but I definitely want to read the book, so I can describe his character in my following stories better!

part 2 here , part three

"I will call my new discovery just like you, Mr. Snow. The best student and the future of this world. No one will stand in your way, when the blizzard blows over the people. And because it will work so well for your little infatuation, it will function for every other naive creature too."

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

"Coryo!" I shot his name across the hallway, when I see his blonde locks, ignoring the looks from my classmates around me. At the sound of my voice, his head turns in my direction and I run faster towards his figure. As soon as I catch up with him, I meet his curious eyes and look further down to his smiling lips.

"Good morning to you too. Let me guess, you have something really important to announce or are just very happy to see me." Holding the door open for me, I try to catch my breath, wanting to ignore the lovely tone of his voice and the way he looks so outstanding beautiful.

"Well, both, but I heard some gossip about the upcoming ceremony tomorrow. Details who is gonna get the scholarship." Now, while entering the room, I have his full attention.

When I heard about the changes, that were made I immediately searched for him, clearly knowing how much he was ready to sacrifice for this academic possibility.

As he stops walking and places his hands on my shoulders, stopping me in my foodsteps and searching my gaze, I feel my pounding heart.

God forbid this man to look at me this way.

As I try to avoid his intense glare, his hands gently move to my cheeks to focus my eyes on him. I feel myself blushing, fiddling with the rings, that are attached to my fingers.

"No time for jokes, please. What do you know?" I clear my voice, trying to ignore our close gap or the way his curls lay on his forehead and how his skin shines beautifully in the light- No, wait. Not good. We're just friends. I don´t like him that way. Nope.

"I- uh, so please don´t freak out on me, but rumor says it's not up to the student with the best grades to get the scholarship..." I watch his posture straighten, see the how his facial expression turns blank and the irritated change in his mood. And I promise you, it´s not good.

When he lets go of me to strike forward, I try to hold him back. "Wait- you are angry and disappointed, so talk to me first before you let your emotions out on the others, okay?" I catch his left hand and hear his upset breathing.

"It's just- you know, more than anyone, that I deserve this scholarship the most! And now the only possibility to help my family and to become successful are at risks, because someone decided to change the rules? God, I worked my ass off to be the one they choose and now I'll probably get laughed at, cause I didnt get it!" I nod, trying to calm him down by listening to his outburst.

"You do deserve it, I know that. But you still have the chance to stand out more than the others. You are intelligent and brave, very ambitious and you care a lot. Not only for your family and friends, but for everyone. You are the best candidate and if they don´t choose you, then it is the wrong decision. Because they need someone like you. Just like I need you, believe me." I hold his hand close to my heart, trying to convince him of his abilities and his good heart, to show him that he deserves every recognition he gets.

And it works, because he relaxes slightly and after another second passes, I feel myself being embraced in a tight hug. His hand holds the back of my head and I hear his quiet "thank you".

"Always, blue. I am here for you." His lips linger for a second on my forehead, the kiss leaves me feeling warm and in love.

Even if I try to deny it.

"It's been a while, since you called me that nickname." I look in his eyes, when he pulls back. Admiring the shining blue that follows my dreams.

I only smile at him, shrugging when we have a normal distance between us, that helps me to concentrate again.

"It slipped out, I guess. But you are right, the last time I called you that, we were in primary school. How fast the time goes." Nodding we gently smile at each other and I clear my throat, when I get more and more enchanted to him.

We have known each other for so long, but nothing has changed about us.

Expect my feelings for him. They seem to never go away.

So, when I step forward and his eyes follow me, I start to walk to class again.

"Come on, we're being late. The greatest student of all time does not come late." He shakes his head, smiling at me and when I feel for a moment that something is different between us, I brush it off.

When he's finally catching up with me, I order my thoughts.

Don't fall in love with him.

Pretend, you didnt fall in love with him.

❄️❄️❄️❄️❄️

I am good at pretending, really. It normally helps me to focus on the important things in my life, for example school, my grades, studying and getting accepted by a college. Did I mention, my academic success needs to be excellent?

But now, the only thing I can concentrate on is him. And I can hardly pretend, not for much longer, that I am not in love with him.

Because his life is in danger, now that the Hunger Games have started and he is the mentor of the tribute of district 12, a girl named Lucy Gray, everything is different.

He is different.

I know him long enough, that I see how much he cares for her. And because I'm good at pretending, I can see right through his actions.

He maybe likes the girl, but even though he tries to hide it, he cares more that he is the victor in the end.

And that is something that I find quite odd. I mean, he always wants to win, wants to be the best and on top or ahead of everyone. But he was always fair, human and supportive.

But his behavior changed as the days passed. Of course, it's obvious that the violence and torment that the game brings with changes you. More for the worse, than the better.

But it's not only the pressure he is under or the tension that he feels, because he needs the girl to win. It's something different and I notice that none of this is doing him any good. Especially for his heart.

Because he is being distant, he talks less, smiles less, is acting like a person I don´t even know anymore.

And it scares me, it hurts to see him losing himself in the process of being successful.

The last time we talked, he said something to me that left me awake all night, thinking about the decisions and sacrifices he has to make to achieve his goal.

He said: "I will become president and when I am on top, the world will be as cold as the snow in the winter. Nobody will oppose me."

It scared me. He scared me.

And maybe it was the change of his behavior or the cold look in his eyes, with which he looked at everyone or maybe it was because I started to fear him, that I distanced myself from him.

And even though I thought, he wouldnt notice, he did.

And it made everything complicated.

He tried to approach me, talking and joking like we always did, but it wasnt the same. Because he wasnt the same. Even though the color of his eyes was still as bright as the sun, the way he looked at me hid something that was as dark as the night.

I didnt know how I felt anymore.

Because when fear is equal to love, do I fear him then?

I guess I did and it made me sick in the stomach. He lied, he betrayed, he murdered, he did things, I would hate anyone for.

He did things for that I started to hate myself, because I couldnt hate him. Not when he really was the victim in this cruel world, even when he presented himself as the victor.

But for me, he didnt win. Because he rather lost something.

My trust for him.

And that made him angry, so much that he started to manipulate his way into my life again, when I decided that I didn't want anything to do with him anymore.

At first it would be small things. He continued opening the door for me, even though I didnt walk to class with him anymore.

He always saved me a seat next to him, although I decided to sit somewhere else. Then he started bribing the teachers, so that I had to do my assignments with him, he started showing up by almost every place I would go to.

He would give me roses that I wouldn't accept or visited me at work, always with a smile on his face. But I could tell it wasn't real.

He wasn't his real-self after all. He pretended to be someone else and I couldnt trust this new version of him.

He cut his hair short, nowadays wears expensive and neat clothes, always speaks in a formal voice and does polite gestures.

Small smiles, fake laughs, adoring looks which he uses to hide his real intentions behind a facade.

He enchanted the whole world.

But his magic didn't work on me and he became more and more aware of it as the days went by and I continued to ignore him.

And then, on one evening he visited my dorm and before I could close the door, he stood in my apartment and said something, I will forever keep in mind. His presence began to feel like a short movie, captivating me with each encounter.

"I know that you don't like the way things are now. But I am doing this to maintain peace, to keep the people in the place they belong. And I want you to know, that you just need to understand my actions and start to trust me again."

As he spoke, he started to walk towards me, looking me in the eyes, trying to convince me. I had no way out, all I could do was to back up until I hit the wall and he was standing right in front of me. Starring at me, like I needed to be on his side.

I tried to avoid his gaze and the deep blue that somehow always successfully convinced me. Until now.

"Please look at me, I´m telling you the truth. You know me, I´m still the same guy. Why don´t you believe me?" His hands brush my cheeks, roughly holding my face in his hands to keep my eyes on him.

It wasnt new to me that he loved to manipulate. I overheard some of his lies, the hidden betrayal of his own best friend and I couldnt be sure, that he wouldnt do the same to me too.

The only thing I knew was that his striving for power was taking over his being and I seemed powerless to do anything against it.

"I can´t trust you anymore, Coryo. You are acting different and all the things you did-" his face gets closer to me and my heartbeat becomes faster the less distance there is between our faces.

I can´t deny it.

He looks so beautiful.

Even though I want to talk, he leaves me speechless. As if the cold blue of his eyes froze me into a stature, that can only listen to him.

"Everything I did was for you. I know you love me, always have and always will. But you don't admit it to yourself, you don't want to admit it. I know how you feel for me, sweetheart and you have no reason to stop loving me now."

His words are like magic, his eyes like a hallucination, that everything is fine. His hands so warm and familiar that it's hard for me to remember the bad things he did.

That he's trying so hard to make me forget about.

His fingers move around my neck, his body comes closer to me until we touch, until I can only see him and only he matters.

His face is so close to mine and my eyes flutter - out of fear or anticipation, I don´t really know - until I feel his breathing on my ear.

"If you just let me make you remember the old time. Everything we did, the fun we had, how much we trusted each other. How much I still care and appreciate you. Stop thinking and let yourself feel."

His lips touch my skin and I have to suppress a whimper. I can breathe in his scent, his hands around me confuse my thoughts. My dreams from back then, imagining being able to have him, love him and touch him - they make me insecure about my decisions.

I wanted him for such a long time, that it now seems impossible for me to actually call him mine.

But coming to my senses, realising he is no longer the sweet gentleman I fell in love with, I want to stop him, by holding my hands out to push him back. However his hands react quickly and enclose mine with a firm grip to press them against the wall.

"No, listen to me. I never told you, but I heard you dreaming about me once. You whispered my name, like your heart longed for me, in a way you would never be able to truly understand your feelings for me. Like I am the god you pray for and I promise you, if you would just let me, I would fulfill your every wish. Because, together, you and me, we can become holy in our own, untouchable way. "

When I try to shake my head, his hands change so that one of them is holding both of my hands and the other one is grabbing my face.

"Don´t fight against me, darling. It wont work. You know it, I always win."

And as his hands hold my chin and I can hear my loud heartbeat, his lips meet mine in a wild kiss, clearly showing me the control he has over me.

And it's addicting, but so so dangerous.

His lips are soft against my own and he roughly kisses me, like he's the devil trying to steal my soul.

His body feels warm against my own and I'm weak for a moment, gently kissing him back, enjoying the way he smiles at my reaction.

His kisses becomes more heated, his hands are roaming over my nightgown and his fingers caress the exposed skin. Everything feels too good to be true.

But I can´t let myself enjoy this, I need to focus.

"No- Coryo. We cant-" I try to studder, breaking the kiss and hating the way he makes me feel. Because I feel so good, like only he can make me feel this way.

When I interrupt our kiss and while I try to assert myself against him, I notice his anger becoming more and more obvious.

"What I do is only to make you happy, why dont you understand? I want to see you happy and because of that, I have to do certain things. Just like now." His intense gaze is focused on me.

Without being able to do anything, I suddenly feel a liquid on my skin, that first makes me shiver because of the cold, but in the next second, I feel as hot as if I was standing in the desert and would be dying of thirst.

His touch begins to feel like the only solution and I want more. So, I lean into his touch and literally melt against his body as his lips brush mine.

"Fascinating, as Dr. Gaul said. It becomes one with the skin and intoxicates the senses." He whispers, but I can't figure out what he means by that. The only thing I can concentrate on is him. Why was I here again?

"You need me. You said it yourself, I'm here to remind you." His voice is quiet and I feel my thoughts dissolving. Only the sight of him remains in my head.

His look, those beautiful blue eyes, they distract me and I can´t ignore the desire that his lips are about to meet mine again. We're just centimeters apart and even if I try to stop it, my emotions change. I stop thinking about all the things he did.

Instead, all I can think about is his touch, his lips. And now that I know the ghost of his touch, I wouldn't want anything else.

So, I lean myself forward and kiss him.

It feels like my insides burns with desire, something that is so indescribable, that I don't even know, if I'm capable of feeling this love for too long.

My hands move to his shoulders and to his head, but my control is quickly suppressed as he pushes me back against the wall. So that I almost can't move.

His fingers lift my chin up, I see him grinning smugly at me in triumph.

"Good girl, you only need to listen to me. No one else." And I want to believe him so much, that I suddenly want to forget my doubts.

So, I let him make me forget. His hands roam my body, freeing me from my clothes and holding me where he wants me.

And I let him because I remember that I always wanted him to have his way with me. And when I look at his face, I no longer differentiate. For me, only my Coryo exists.

I close my eyes and lose myself in these sensations, the heat of his words and his actions.

His lips are soft, his kisses leave me with an unknown want and I can't do anything other than just take everything he gives me.

When he strips me out of my pants and unbottons my blouse, he lifts me up against the wall. His hips are pressed against my waist and his kisses travel from my lips down to my chest.

"Everything I do is for you." His words sound familiar.

"You will never doubt me again, I promise you. I'll make sure of that. From now on, you will feel this good forever. Because of me, you hear me? Only because of me, always me." His words cover me like a veil, but I'm unable to process them. My head is so empty and just like he said, I only feel.

I've never not thought about nothing and even if it should unnerve me, I can't even remember to be bothered about it.

As my hands try to move further down to his back and my nails leave marks on his back, his hand squeezes my neck like a warning.

"I am in control, you do as I say. Now take off my pants, so I can fuck you until you believe in me again." I can't think straight, when his hands are undressing me, cupping my breasts and turning me on in a way, I only want to be here with him.

As soon as my hands undress him and his pants are pulled down, he tears my panties apart, meeting my lips in a wanting kiss.

I feel one of his fingers slipping through my wet folds, pumping roughly two fingers inside me. My mouth opens and moans escape me, while I hold myself onto his shoulders.

"You needed to play hard to get, huh? Look who is at my mercy now." My body is still pressed against the wall and as my eyes close on their own, I suddenly feel his tip at my entrance.

And when I want to protest, he places his hand on my mouth to keep me quiet.

"No talking back to me. If you don't listen, I will make you." He pushes himself into me and I feel every vein as his hands direct mine against the wall behind me.

When he starts fucking me, I'm sure I'll pass out.

"C-cant take- too big, please" I dont even know how to speak properly anymore. His hands hold me tight and his thrusts are so brutal, that I barely have enough concentration to breathe.

"What did you say? You want to please me? Then shut your mouth and let me use you." With every harsh thrust, I feel my muscles become more and more relaxed and only he is holding me up now. I can't concentrate on anything else other than him inside me.

My thoughts begin to only focus on being good for him.

I feel like my soul is leaving my body. All I can hear is the dull clapping of our bodies, my loud moans and his heavy breathing.

As he buries his head in the crook of my neck, I softly whimper his name.

I feel how he tenses, when he react to me calling his nickname. His eyes shift to me and suddenly he lets go of my arms and I put them around his shoulders without hesitation. The position now is much more intimate and I scratch his back as his thrusts become even deeper and harder.

I hear his heavy breathing and feel his arms wrap around mine too.

"Tell me you want me." His voice is menacingly quiet. When I don't answer, too focused on his hips thrusting into me, he lets go of the wall and lays me on my bed.

"Fine, I will make you say it then." He sits down and pulls me onto his lap with my back to him, sliding his cock into me again. I moan so loudly, that I notice him grinning contentedly against my shoulder.

"You like that? Good, everyone will know how me you like me, when I'm done with you." His hand directs me so his chest touches my back and one of his hands moves to wrap around my neck.

"You will get used to doing what I want and you will do it, because you want to. You hear me? You won't stay away from me anymore, you belong to me. Everything you do is for me and only me." My thoughts are so confused, I can't think straight anymore. All I know is that I have never felt so good and that he is the reason for my pleasure.

"But I fucked you dumb so it seems. Pretty, little thing. You are like my personal doll, that I can use as I please. This turns me on even more than I would have thought." He pushes me further down on him, making me bounce until that one special spot in me is abused over and over again. And all I can utter are useless words and loud moans.

"B-blue" I hear him chuckle darkly in response.

I'm no longer certain, that I'm even laying in the arms of the person I once loved so much.

"You should have let me fucked you much sooner. It would have destroyed any resistance you had towards me. Just like now and just like I wanted." His voice whispers in my ear and my head leans against his shoulders, my mouth opens and I feel every inch of him inside me.

His hand strokes the skin, where my heart lays and I feel his lips brush against my ear.

"If this heart ever beats for anyone else other than me, everyone in this world will die and I won't be afraid to tell you that it is entirely your fault."

I collapse in his arms, when I come, going completely limp and vulnerable, unable to move. This time I only seem to be physically present.

His arms wrap around me and he let me sink onto him again, then I hear his voice whispering promises into the dark room.

"You cant ever escape me. I will always find you and I will always get you."

[happy74827]

Beyond Repair

[William Afton x Wife!Reader]

Synopsis: Despite everything he’s done, so far the only consequence he’s received is marriage counseling {GIF Creds: @bittwitchy// Tagging @moonbanana-library because I feel like you’ll enjoy this}

WC: 2595

Category: Slight Fluff, Slight Angst [TW — Afton, cursing, small mentions of 18+ content]

Don’t we love random sparks of inspiration at four in the morning? I sure do 💀

『••✎••』

You were always a clueless little thing.

You saw the world with rose-tinted glasses, and you believed in everyone. You saw the best in people, and you wanted to see the world like that.

And it wasn't a bad way to look at things; it kept you innocent and full of light. William, however, wasn't as good as you were. He had seen the world for what it was, and he knew how the world worked.

He'd lost his innocence, and he had seen bad things… done bad things. Sure, he was good with kids, but he had a secret side that he knew would completely crumble the way you saw the world, how you saw him.

So, despite everything, he made sure you'd never know. He kept the darker side of himself out of your view. And he did everything he could to be the husband you thought he was.

Soon, that husband's facade became a father's facade, and you had a beautiful daughter who had his eyes and your smile.

But he knew the truth.

He'd never been a good man. Not even close.

The moment his eyes landed on you, the day he'd met you, the years he got to spend with you, and the day he had asked you to be his wife. Every step in between, he knew that he didn't deserve any of it. He knew that he should have let you go.

But he was selfish.

He needed you. He loved you. Your innocence was refreshing. And your optimism was addicting.

William knew that he didn't deserve anything, except for maybe an early death. Yet, despite knowing all that, he was greedy. He was an ambitious man, and he took every opportunity that presented itself to him.

Even if that meant hurting the ones around him.

Because you see, the only thing in this world he wanted more than your love was the recognition he'd never gotten. And the respect.

So when he'd built his pizzeria and made his animatronics, he saw just how successful it became, and he saw just how many people knew him and just how much respect he was finally getting.

That's when he realized.

That's when the real William began to show himself. And that was his big mistake. That mentality led him to this grandma's couch, impatiently awaiting for hell to begin.

Marriage counseling.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and shaking his head, trying to hold back a laugh. This was so pathetic. For years, he's crossed lines and done things that would put him on death row, and he'd never had a single issue. Yet, one small argument with you, and suddenly he's a man with a failing marriage?

What kind of joke was this?

Turns out the clueless little thing that you were had taken his little stunt a lot more seriously than he had anticipated.

"This is ridiculous," William groaned, slumping back into his seat as he stared up at the ceiling. "This is going to be a waste of time. All we need is a vacation, and it'll all work out just fine.”

You just stared at him with a look of disbelief and a small bit of disgust. Quite adorable, if he was honest.

"Really, William?" You said, rolling your eyes. "It's going to take a little more than a vacation to fix our relationship."

William turned to look at you, and he felt his heart twinge when he saw just how upset you were. His lips parted, and he felt a surge of regret wash over him.

He really hated seeing you like this.

You were the only person who ever seemed to make him feel remorse, and right now was no exception.

He opened his mouth, trying to find the words to tell you that he was sorry, but he stopped himself before he could say anything.

Because he wasn't sorry.

Not really.

“Ah, the Aftons, I presume?" A voice said, and William looked away from you, looking to the front of the room.

A man, most likely in his late 40's, was standing by the doorway. His dark hair had streaks of grey in it, and he had a few wrinkles. He was wearing a brown turtleneck and a pair of black pants.

His face was unreadable, and William couldn't tell what he was thinking. But he could tell that this was the same therapist he'd spoken with on the phone.

"I'm Doctor Miller. It's nice to finally meet you both." The therapist smiled and held his hand out.

William sighed, pushing himself off of the couch, and stood up. He shook his hand and forced a smile. "Likewise."

The Doctor nodded and glanced at you. He smiled and walked over to you, extending his hand.

You shook his hand and flashed a warm smile. The smile didn't meet your eyes, though. His smile was fake, and so was yours.

Maybe you were more similar than William had first assumed.

The doctor let go of your hand and stepped back. "Let's get started then."

William sat down, slouching his posture and staring up at the ceiling. He thought about wrapping his arm around you, pulling you closer to him, and holding you tight, but he thought better of it.

You'd probably reject his affection anyway. For being a clingy wife, you were surprisingly good at pushing him away.

Doctor Miller grabbed a notepad and a pen, walked to the chair beside the couch, and sat down.

He smiled the first genuine one out of the three of you, and opened the notepad.

"Alright, Mrs. Afton, I'd like you to start off. Tell me what happened." He said, his gaze fixed on you. Of course, he was already taking your side.

William glanced at you and raised an eyebrow. This should be good.

You hesitated before speaking. "He’s… well, different lately. He's distant. And cold. I hardly see him anymore, and when I do, he doesn't talk to me. He spends all of his time either in the basement or his office."

Doctor Miller wrote something down and nodded his head. "Is there any particular reason you believe this is happening?"

“No, but he has been acting more aggressive lately. I tried to talk to him about it, and he just snapped. It was like he wasn't even listening. Like his mind was somewhere else."

William stared at you. You sounded so sincere. So hurt. If he had a heart, he's sure it would be aching.

Doctor Miller hummed, nodding his head, and turned to William.

"What was the argument about, Mr. Afton?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

William looked at the doctor, and two options popped into his mind. Option one is to tell the doctor his true feelings. You were being ridiculous and childish. He didn't need your bullshit. He had more important things to worry about. Or, option two, lie.

He was always good at lying.

William sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He glanced at you and started to speak.

"She's right; I've been a little cold recently. I've just been stressed out. My business has been a lot lately, and I've been dealing with a few other personal issues. Stress isn't a good look on me, I'm afraid."

He lied, flashing a small sad smile at the doctor.

Doctor Miller looked at him for a moment before writing something down.

"Well, it sounds to me like there are a few issues in your relationship." He said, putting his notepad on the table and resting his arms on his lap. “One of them is a communication issue, which is not uncommon in relationships like this. I believe I can help you, but I want to ask you both a question first."

"What's the question?" You asked, and the Doctor turned to you, a soft look in his eyes.

"Are you still in love with him?"

You and William both tensed up, and the room was silent for a moment. He couldn’t help but turn to look at you, genuinely curious to hear what you were going to say.

You hesitated, your eyes locked on the ground. William felt his stomach churning and his jaw clenched.

He was actually nervous.

For the first time in a long time, William was actually nervous.

You turned to look at him, and he felt a wave of relief wash over him.

"Yes. I still love him."

Doctor Miller nodded and turned to William. "What about you? Are you still in love with your wife?"

Truth be told, you were the only person who ever came close to making William feel love. Vanessa was a close second, but he wasn't sure if it was the same kind of love. At least, not in the way he felt about you.

If this was love, then he was still in love.

"Always.” He spoke without a moment of hesitation. He gave you a warm smile, pulling that facade back up again. “…That's why I'm here."

The doctor smiled, and William swore he saw the tiniest hint of pity in his eyes. "That's good. That means there's still hope for your relationship.”

With all the money this one therapy session was costing him, he damn well hoped so.

"So, here's my idea," the doctor said, sitting up in his seat and clearing his throat. "I'd like to start off with a few activities, some couples challenges, if you will. This will help me understand where the problem areas are, and hopefully, after a few sessions, we'll be able to fix them. If not, we'll find a solution together. Sound good?"

Activities? Challenges? What was this, summer camp?

William resisted the urge to roll his eyes and nodded. "Sounds great."

You nodded, smiling, and William swore he saw a bit of excitement in your eyes. He wondered how much this meant to you. Had you really thought you were losing him?

"Perfect," the doctor said and grabbed his notepad. He flipped the page and started writing something down.

With the amount of writing this guy was doing, you'd think this was a novel. It took a lot out of him to not get up and snap the damn pen in half.

"Now, this might seem a little strange, but I want to try an activity right now. Something small and easy, so we can gauge your relationship and see how you interact with each other."

"What kind of activity?" You asked, tilting your head slightly.

"Something simple, don't worry. Just a conversation."

Conversation. That sounded boring.

William was about to complain when the doctor cut him off.

"When was the last time you two were… intimate?"

William's eyebrows furrowed, and he stared at the Doctor, whose gaze was fixed on him.

Was he asking what he thought he was asking?

William felt his face heat up and his jaw clenched.

He had to be kidding.

"I'm sorry, but what does that have to do with anything?" He asked, forcing his voice to sound calm.

The doctor turned his head to you, and you just looked down at the ground.

William was going to lose it.

"Being… connected with your spouse in that way is an important aspect of a healthy relationship. Without that sincerity, that vulnerability, you'll start to grow apart."

"We're perfectly connected," William said through gritted teeth. “What do you think you're implying here?"

He knew you like the back of his hand. He could read you like a book, and he was confident to know what you were thinking, doing, or feeling at all times.

He knew that look.

Your eyes were downcast, your hands were fidgeting, and your bottom lip was slightly jutted out.

You were embarrassed, and he knew he had to act. Play the good husband role, and save you the humiliation.

He reached his arm over and wrapped it around your shoulder, pulling you gently upwards. Your body tensed at his touch, but you relaxed when you looked up and saw his warm smile.

"See? We're completely connected." William said, his arm squeezing your shoulder. “I believe this is where our time is up. If you'll excuse us, we have some… activities apparently to get to."

William stood up, grabbing your hand and pulling you up with him. You were quiet, and he could feel your stare on the side of his head.

He couldn't tell if you were upset or grateful.

William cleared his throat and gave the doctor a cold smile. One that he purposely made so that the Doctor would know how displeased he was.

"Thank you for your time, Doctor Miller. We'll be sure to contact you soon."

The doctor nodded, a blank expression on his face. He didn’t say a word as William took you by the arm and guided you out the door.

No way in hell was he doing this again.

"William-" You started, and he cut you off.

"No more therapy, sweetheart," William said, his hand tightening around your arm.

"I-"

"No more," he said, his voice low and stern. Still, he kept that warm smile on his face. It made you fall back into silence.

"We're done. We'll figure this out on our own. No more doctors or counselors or whatever the hell he was.”

Truth be told, he was absolutely livid. All that money wasted for a bum therapist to imply that their marriage was falling apart because you weren't communicating?

What a scam. This is exactly why he preferred to do things on his own.

William led you back to the car, opening the door for you and helping you in. He walked around the car and slid into the driver's seat.

He took a moment to breathe, his head falling back against the seat and his eyes closing.

God, he hated being here.

Hated it so much.

He needed a cigarette and maybe a stiff drink.

"I'm sorry." You said, your voice quiet.

William lifted his head and turned to you. He blinked, confused, and he couldn't help but chuckle.

"What for?"

"I… I thought maybe if we went to see a therapist, they could help. They could fix this. But… I think I messed it up. I'm sorry."

Your voice cracked, and he watched as tears started to form in your eyes.

His face softened, and he turned his body towards you, leaning his back against the door. Such a crybaby you were, emotionally connected and sensitive.

Just another reason why you worked so well with him. Blinded by emotion, you were easy to trick. Easy to manipulate.

You were naive, and it was adorable.

"No, no. Don't cry." William said, his hand lifting and cupping your cheek. He brushed away the tears with his thumb, and he forced a smile. "There's nothing to fix. We're fine, I promise. I’ll make sure of it. Okay?"

"Okay," you whimpered, nuzzling into his hand. It’s quite the contrast compared to the look of disgust on your face from earlier.

He didn't want to see that again.

William leaned forward and pressed his lips against your forehead. He could smell the shampoo and soap from your morning shower, and the smell calmed him down.

He could tell the action had calmed you down, too.

William pulled back, and his lips twitched upwards. "Don't worry about a thing. I'll fix this."

After all, he always got what he wanted. And what he wanted was his wife.

And no stupid, worthless therapist was going to guide him away from that.

[intimidatingpuffinstudios]

Oh, please, dear author, how could we not love our little cutie patootie? Our babygirl did nothing wrong. <3

Beside that i always wondered why Mornie did that. (Sorry if you already answered this and i missed it!) I think i read one side story (which was from the second book i think?) from where i got the impresion that Mornie and Manny go waay back. So it always confused me why she suddenly decided to go against his orders. Not only that but why she then went to him after she failed him. Surely she must have known that nothing good awaited her? (And also, she doesn't seem to be too scarred from that bite, which should have been a horrific experience for her... Not that i am calling for blood ... or anything... haha... just you know... a nightmare or two cant hurt~)

Manerkol is forever babygirl ❤️☺️✌️

So uhh... Dis be a bit spoilery, but since it will never be explicitly touched upon in the books...

Mornie is kind of...in love...with him. Like, big time.

She is always trying to prove herself, have him look at her for just a moment longer.

But she was starting to realize that nothing she did ever made an impression on him.

Then, when he told her not to harm the MC, she was shocked to her core.

There was no strategic advantage to extending extra effort to ensure the MC's safety.

But what hurt the most was how Manerkol delivered the order.

His eyes had momentarily flashed with smoldering heat before he glanced to the side.

To anyone other than her, it would have seemed as something so small and unnoticeable that it was rendered inconsequential.

His voice got just a breath huskier, raspier. The sound of it alone was enough to shatter her concentration.

All her dreams, condensed to this one, fragile moment.

But the name that fell from his lips was not Mornie's.

And then he was walking away in a soft swiss of robes and the scent of jasmine left in the air.

So you will excuse her if she got a bit jealous. You will excuse her if she got a bit upset.

The way she saw it was:

1) Get the MC trussed up like a chicken, terrify them, make them feel as ugly as she was.

2) Bring them back to Manerkol as swiftly as possible and finally get the recognition she deserved. The attention.

3) Why wait for months to achieve what could be done in a couple of weeks with the right approach?

3) She was running out of time.

And then when she failed... She went back to him dreading what he would say to her, but she did not think for a moment he would actually hurt her.

She thought she was different from everyone else.

She knew he would forgive her.

As for the bite uh...she remembers that it happened. She understands what it means.

But she does actively remember it. She cannot recall images, sounds, nor a single detail.

Just a clinging, toxic black. As for her nonchalant behavior afterwards...

Trauma is a very peculiar thing, and suppression and disassociation can override everything else.

So, for those of you thirsty for her blood, I hope you can take some comfort in knowing that Manerkol did a stellar job punishing her...

That's not to say you may not get a chance to deal with her personally in the game lol!

Sorry if the answer got a bit heavy 😅

[lunarw0rks]

cod dudes with a nurse y/n but make it lowkey realistic: bc lets be real, after a 12 hr shift you do NOT want to hang out with friends, party, or socialize. ur feet hurt from walking and standing all day, your ears are tired from hearing the IV pumps beep all day, and the smell of C.diff makes u want to vomit. nurse y/n just wants to sit down or lay on the couch and be non-verbal... Gaz, price, and rudy are the sweetest. they pick that up real quick after mistakenly asking "hows ur shift" and y/n trauma dumped them for 5 hrs straight. they don't immediately ask for hugs and kisses bc they know u overwhelmed. they just pour u a cup of wine and sit next to you until YOU talk to them first. you lowkey gossip with them on ur day off or randomly be like "omg look at that dude over there next to the parking spot its giving edema". and then theres soap and ghost. Soap is clingy, yall really think hes gonna survive 12hrs of not seeing you? this man was waiting by the door at 7:15 pm. on the dot. wants to hug and kiss you and tell you about his day. but ur just so. fucking. tired. you tried to be as responsive but it always ended up with a tired "mhm". He legit got upset a few times but he'd be a good sport about it tho. eventually he caught on a couple of weeks in and now he just comes and hugs you from behind, kisses ur face, and cuddles you silently (AFTER you throw away ur dirty scrubs and shower. that C.diff smell is yucky yucky). Tells you he appreciates your care and effort for the patients every day :). Ghost.... omgg he said something lowkey offensive to you right after u got home from the worst shift of ur week. and he didnt even know WHAT he said/did, hes kinda bad a picking up ur cues. nurse y/n just turned around slowly, gave him the NASTIEST side eye, and stared at him for a good 2.5 min. This man immediately retreated from ur couch to wherever he was b4 like a hermit going back to its shell lmao. 2 hrs later you find a small written note and ur fave gurl dinner on the dining table.

Alejandro..... this man is SO PROUD of his s/o being a nurse. hes showing you off every chance he gets!!! He takes Nursing week SERIOUSLY. give you massages, spas, gifts, ect. but he doesnt get how tired and overwhelmed you are. you have to physically tell him to stop asking or letting his family asking medical question. "No ale. I will NOT look at auntie's mole on her stomach. when im off the clock im OFF THE CLOCK :("

Valeria threatens to beat up the management for you lol. she hates how you get treated by them sometimes. you didnt get the recognition you deserve. Def bosses her cartel men around to buy you gifts and such. one time she organized a whole day to spoil and pamper you. she gave you her own version of Daisy Award 🥺💞 Konig observes and internally analyzes ur every move. he panics tho. like "OMG she home but she already has a bottle of wine its different from the one she had yesterday.. omg omg she didnt even say hello that means her shifts was extra shitty today.... why is she sipping on the wine for so long and the last sip is longer than all previous sips........" He eventually learned you just need silent company. you were laying on the bed feeling burned out when he came over with some soup, kissed ur hand, and wrapped you in a blanket burrito :).

ah, realistic nurse!y/n. this is a breath of fresh air for me.

they're all trying their best. and honestly, what better pair? they also have an overstimulating, kinda gross (blood and bodily fluids), exhausting career !!

it's a match made in heaven !! (aside from the whole... miscommunication and barely seeing each other thing. but what's a good ship without some gut-wrenching angst?)

[im-not-samantha-im-samanta]

{♦️♥️♣️♠️🪱Asking Husk if he'd still love you if you were a worm🪱♠️♣️♥️♦️}

___________________________________________

A few words from author: Hello there everyone, welcome to my newest imagines!

So, it's pretty much a routine for me to constantly find new fandoms to add to my writing list, so yeah, here we are again, this time with Hazbin Hotel! ^^

I apologize for not really being active, life's been bad lately and I'm stuck struggling to make it through each new day without considering death lmao.

Tho I'm in the mood for something more on the hurt/comfort side, today I present you some light-hearted and short imagines to hopefully bring some laughs, not sure if these are any good, sorry...

_

Settings: Romantic based

Genre: Fluff, light-hearted

!TRIGGER WARNING!: Some swear words, one suggestive line just for laughs, but that's probably all,

Sidenote: Gender of reader is not specified, but if the reader has more feminine feel, then it's purely accidental and I apologize,

Sidenote: These feel so bad and ooc omg end me, I hate my writing,

Sidenote: Am unsure if I'll actively write for Husk, but I just had to do this idea with him cuz it seemed so funny at first, but idk about the outcome,

_

That should be all,

Hopefully you'll enjoy,

___________________________________________

"Would I love you if you what? Say fucking what now? No wait- no, I don't wanna even- whatever- sure, for fuck's sake- sure, yes"

Already so fed up with everything and everyone,

and you pull up with this, smh,

Cue to him giving an exaggerated sigh and rubbing his face in annoyance (like in the gif above),

Doesn't appreciate your question,

like at all,

At first he wants to question how'd you even come up with something like that,

or why you feel that question is important,

But he decides against it,

he's really not in the mood for such shit,

So, deciding to just get over with it and satisfy you,

he tells you a yes,

or more like a "yeah, fucking sure, whatever, yes,"

Yes, he'd love you even as a worm, now please leave him be or talk to him about something normal,

please, for the love of Lucifer,

If you don't stop there though and question him further,

he just gives another exaggerated sigh and starts to question why he's dating you,

but he doesn't actually have the heart to make you sad,

so, he goes along with it and answers a 'yes' to any other question you might have regarding you being a worm,

Would he still give you kisses? Yes,

Would he get you a little worm house? Yes,

Would he still talk to you even if you couldn't answer? Yes,

He doesn't have the heart or the energy to respond negatively,

- "Would you still get intimate with me even as a worm?"

"Fucking what- how'd that even- whatever- yeah, sure, fucking sure, yes,"

Just goes along with it,

And when you finally get your fill and you squeal happily at his answers,

and you hug him,

he pats your head with his claws and feels like the boyfriend of the year,

Like- look how he handled the situation without upsetting you,

doesn't he deserve some recognition for that?

At one point he does consider jokingly telling you he'd feed you to the crows tho,

but when he thinks about it more,

and thinks of you actually being a worm and him feeding you to the crows,

he'd feel disturbed and upset at his own idea,

cuz no, that'd be so awful!

he would never do that to you, he couldn't,

no, that thought seriously upsets him and makes his stomach twist and turn,

he may be an asshole, but he loves you too much,

yes, even if you were a worm,

So, he'd make it work even if you were a worm,

Yeah, maybe you were actually asking some real questions,

he'd have to give it more thought and plan out how he'd accommodate to you if you did turn into a worm someday,

Better be safe than sorry,

___________________________________________

[lethalchiralium]

No More | 6 | Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

a/n: SO YOU THOUGHT I FORGOT??? NO. i just didn’t know how to write LMAO this is just a filler chapter

dedicated to my lovelies, @as-is-above-so-below @peachesofteal @halfmoth-halfman

warnings: 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. SMUT. fingering, oral (fem receiving). Simon is bad at feelings and having a relationship, but we know this

summary: It’s late at night, you’re upset and trying to communicate to Simon how to be better in your relationship - except his idea of apologizing is far from what you expected.

PREVIOUS << | >> NEXT | SERIES MASTERLIST

Cerberus is always asleep before you even get out of your shoes, your lovable dog launched himself into his bed and was out like a light as soon as your keys were sat on the counter. Simon moved around you and into the kitchen, grabbing an apple as you tugged off your coat. You placed it on the kitchen island, eyes glanced at your boyfriend since his were very clearly trained on you.

“‘m takin’ a shower.” You mumbled, hand reached up to pull your hair out of its tie. Hair tumbling to frame your face as you stretched your arms above your head, a few bones cracked in your arms and shoulder before you turned to leave the kitchen.

“Maybe I should join you.”

Your hand settled on the doorway of the room, eyebrows instantly knitted together as you looked over your shoulder. “…No?”

His hand slowly pulled his mask over his nose, stubble clearly visible and long er than you knew he liked it. His eyes held a confused glare as he spoke, “What? We always take showers.”

“No.” Emphasizing the word, Simon’s eyes stared straight into yours. You began to toe off your shoes, clearly stating, “You were an asshole.” You tossed your shoes into the hallway. “You don’t deserve it.”

Another bite of his apple, teeth clicking as he chewed and spoke, “Mercy, we were working. I’m sorry-“

Your back went pin straight, nostrils flaring as your hand raised, poised and pointed like a venomous snake. “Do not speak.”

Shhhik! Another part of the apple gone, but he chewed slowly, gracelessly bowing the apple down as if to acknowledge what you had said.

“You don’t deserve sex especially when we just talked about this.”

“About what?”

Hands flew up before falling to hit your thighs with a loud clap. “Trusting me.” The glare in his eye completely dropped, recognition immediately took over his body; your hands moved to settle on the top of your hips as you continued, “‘I’m sorry’ is not good enough. We were on a secure aircraft, with friends, and you pushed me away. I was trying to help you and you literally pushed me away.”

The words were heavy like liquor in the air, a drink that was concealed by the dark colored cabinets of your kitchen. Another shk! of Simon’s teeth as they tore into the apple, there was merely just the sound of chewing for a moment. He then held his apple out as if in thought - which he was.

“I’m…sorry.” He swallowed, standing up straighter as his hands fell to his sides. He set his half eaten apple down on the counter. “I, uh… I really don’t know how to do this right.”

“Talk to me.” One of your hands then rested on the doorframe. “Set some boundaries, Simon. I need you to tell me what would make you comfortable, because it seems like I only do things you don’t like.”

He looked perplexed, looking away for a moment before reuniting his gaze with yours. “Can I apologize before I do that?” He took the apple back in his hand.

“What? Why?”

“You’re still shaking.” Another bite of his apple, teeth clicking as he chewed and spoke, “We’ve been on the ground for an hour, it’s been seven hours since Istanbul. You need to shower and I need to apologize.”

You looked down to your free hand, still seeing it shake before you looked back to Simon. “You’re not getting in the shower to fuck?”

It took Simon just a second to answer, he had paused his chewing and held his apple up with a questioning look. “No? I’m an asshole, but not that much of an asshole.”

You smacked the doorframe just a little, turning away towards the hallway. “Thanks for acknowledging your assholery.”

“Anytime.” Muted footsteps followed yours as you made your way into your bedroom, your hands pulling off your shirt and tossing it onto the floor. Simon cleared his throat as you opened the bathroom door, flicking on the light. “You really think they’re following us?”

Shrugging as you unbuttoned your pants, starting to pull them off as you remarked, “They could be. That one guy followed me all the way down the street, plus they almost got the jump on me. We’re a task force made up of the best, all of us have enemies.” Simon moved past you to the shower, turning it on while you pulled off your socks.

He shut the glass door and turned towards you, pulling off his shirt since his jacket was discarded on the kitchen island too. “Mmm. Didn’t think about the enemies thing.”

“You don’t think I have enemies?” You glared at him as you pulled off your underwear, moving to unclipped your bra but he moved to do it for you instead; warm hands grazed your shoulder blades as he unclipped the hooks. Pulling it off of your arms, his hands were gentle as he led you towards the shower - steam billowed from the hot water.

He pulled open the door, holding your hand until you were inside and under the spray of the hot water you’ve wanted for so long. A groan of appreciation left your throat as your head hung forwards, letting the water cascade down your back to soothe your aching muscles. Chin scraping your American dog tags, the wear of the mission began to waste away and circle the drain. Who would know we were on the rooftop? We weren’t spotted, we would’ve been sniped off. How did they know?

“What, did they get mad you stitched them up wrong?” Simon’s question pulled you from your reflection, realizing that the hot spray of water had disappeared and a large body had replaced it. Calloused fingertips pressed their patterns into your hips, pulling your naked back to his torso and his partial problem. “You just need to relax for a minute.” You moved back a little, since this shower could barely fit the both of you in it.

“Ya know, sometimes I think you’re just trying to be considerate and then you do things that-“

It’s hard not to screech when Simon’s hand gripped the roots of your hair and yanked backwards, eyes wide open as you stared up at his eyes behind the balaclava.

“Turn you on? I know, sweetheart.”

If only you could see his lips, you’d see the cheeky grin on his face as you scowled, “You’re an asshole.”

“We’ve established that.”

“I just want to know why they went after Gaz first and not Price and I,” You mumbled, eyes half lidded as you felt the hand on your hips move forwards. “Maybe it was a mix-up, but it seems odd that they were going after Gaz, like they knew it would set us-“

The words that were once in your mouth disintegrated as soon as your boyfriend’s thumb pressed into your clit. The breath in your lungs disappeared, your head hitting his collarbone with his hand still taut in your hair. “Oh? What were you saying, love?” The visage of the black balaclava in front of you left your muscles melting, the familiar sight of Simon was made you relax. The hand in your hair opened to hold your head as he gently rubbed circles with his thumb. Your hands found purchase on the arm pressed to your front as he laughed in your ear. “You have got to relax, sweetheart. I’m tryin’ to apologize.”

If you had a little bit more strength, you would’ve made him leave the shower so you could wash yourself in peace - but it was hard as your eyes closed, letting the mist of the water coat your face as Simon explored you with one hand.

“I-It’s important, we have to-“ You swallowed, nails digging into his arm as your fingertips felt his muscles twitch when he moved his hand further down. “Fuck, Simon, please-“

“Please, what?” The wet cloth of his balaclava settled against your temple, his index finger hovered right over your hole. “Ask me nicely.”

Your head pushed into his, a breathy whine escaped your lips as his thumb stopped moving. A quiet whimper left your lips, hands clenched around his forearm as you gritted out, “You’re a goddamn tease.”

“Ain’t that right.” He let out a whine of his own as he pushed his finger into you, setting a quick pace while letting his palm rest against your clit. Your back arched, you could feel his cock press against your ass as your head swiveled away from his, settling your cheek against his shoulder. “Talk for me, sweetheart. Tell me how good I feel.”

“Ha- You’d- Fuck, you’d like that-“ You panted, toes curled against the ceramic floor as he pushed another finger into your tight hole, not stopping his brutal pace. The hand curled around the roots of your hair moved your face back to his wet balaclava, his grip still tight in it. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Oh, I would.” He pressed a kiss to your temple through the balaclava. “It’s fine, you can be bratty now, but you’re gonna be beggin’ when I fuck you on the-“

Brrrng! Brrrrng!

Your eyes opened as your head shot up, Simon’s hand in your wet hair instantly disappeared as his fingers settled, fully seated inside you and unmoving.

“Why did you bring your phone into the bathroom?” He groaned, letting your hands pull his out of you. “I was finally havin’ fun.” You glanced over your shoulder, glaring at him as he pulled up his balaclava to settle the two fingers he just fucked you with onto his tongue. You patted his chest before opening the shower door, grabbing the towel on the hook to wrap around yourself as you dashed towards the counter. You tucked the corner into the towel, trying to conserve warmth.

You barely answered it before it went to voicemail. “Hello?”

“Mercy.”

You internally grimaced. “Hi Laswell.”

“Hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time.”

You glanced over your shoulder, seeing Simon’s figure through the frosted glass in the reflection of the mirror. “Oh no, I was just about to get in the shower. What’s going on?”

“We’ve got a flight in the morning to Miramar, California. Fightertown, if I’m correct. Got any knowledge about that?”

You bit your tongue, eyes squeezing closed. That’s what you forgot to do. “Uh yeah, Tom Kazansky invited us to the Navy Ball because of my mission before last. I was told you were given information.”

“Not until about two hours ago.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry-“

“No need to make excuses. We’re flying out at 0600.”

Your eyebrows furrowed as you moved out of your bathroom, moving towards your closet. “‘We’, ma’am?”

“0600, Mercy. And bring your dogs too.” The line went dead as you moved to look at your old formal dresses, ones you haven’t touched in years. Your phone pressed between your shoulder and ear, one hand holding your towel up as the other pushed dresses aside.

You heard the bathroom door open, the sound of the shower had silenced a while ago but you didn’t make an effort to look at him. There was just a moment before he spoke, “What are you doing?”

You finally found the dress you probably should wear, a beautiful red velvet dress. “How willing are you to meet my dad?”

A pause. “…What?”

You looked back to Simon, his mask moved above his mouth so he could breathe. “We have a flight tomorrow to go and see the US Pacific Naval Aviation Fleet Commander, and I used to live there. I worked for the Admiral, he’s like family and he’s best friends with my dad.”

“…You have a father?”

You just laughed, shaking your head and pulling the dress out of the closet. “Of course I have a father.”

“Since when?”

“Since I was like, one.” You then hung the dress up on the closet door, moving to look towards Simon. His head was lowered a little, towel covered hip settled against the doorframe. It took almost all of your strength to not gaze at his bruised V-line.

“That math doesn’t add up.”

“I was adopted, headass.”

“…Oh.”

“It’s not a big deal.” You shrugged, hands fixing your towel to make it tighter above your breasts. “It’s just my dad. I only have the one, so at least you have that going for you.”

He took a pause. “Do I look like the meet the parents type?”

A smile on your face, you looked back “No, you look like a barracks bun-“

“Finish that sentence, Mercy.” He pushed himself from the door frame by his hip, taking a step towards you. “I want you to finish the sentence.”

“Barracks. Bunny.”

“That’s it.”

Simon marched over to you, you backed away against the bed - his body now caging you from escaping. “Simon, we need to shower. We have a flight in the morning-“ You bumped chests with Simon, your calves hit the bed and you were essentially forced to sit down. You kept your gaze up on Simon.

“Don’t care. Wasn’t finished apologizing for being an asshole.”

“You’ve really got to start apologizing with words. It’s quicker, easier-“

“Okay.” The man in front of you dropped to his knees, settling in front of yours and gazing up at you through war paint stained lashes. “I am so terribly sorry I acted poorly because I was worried you had died, my wonderful and beautiful girlfriend. The only way I know how to truly apologize is to truly ravish you, so please,” He settled his chin upon your knees, a hair away from the edge of your towel. “let me have sex with you so I can truly apologize.”

You chuckled a little. “You’re fucking hilarious.”

“Now can I fuck you?”

“Beg a lil more, baby.”

He glared at you, pulling your legs in front of his shoulders as he moved in between them. His tongue slid from almost your knee to just before the apex between your thigh and hip, the flush of air on your cunt from his movement made you bristle. “My beautiful and wonderful girlfriend,”

“Mmhmm?”

Simon’s brown eyes gazed up to you, warm and inviting - to anyone else, he would’ve looked pathetic; but to you? You could see in his eyes just a small amount of how much he truly loved you. “Will you please let me fuck you on our bed before we have to go wherever-“

A smile appeared on your lips, hair falling to frame your face. “Miramar.”

“Ugh-“ His cheek moved to rest on your knee, eyes gazed up with a pleasing glare. “Will you please let me fuck you on our bed before we have to go to Miramar? I feel like a complete asshole for being an asshole earlier.”

“Was the last part real apologizing?”

“Yes.”

Your eyes met his, your smile turning to a smirk as you nodded - moving your legs, hands pulling the towel away from your body to put yourself on true display for the man you loved. “You have my consent to ravish me.”

“Fuckin’ finally.” For as large as Simon Riley was, he was incredibly quick - his hands pulled your thighs forwards, your ass almost hanging off of the bed as his face dove into your pussy.

Sure, he could be careful and kind to you when his face was in between your legs, but he had a mission. He wasn’t a poet with his words, his actions spoke for him for the most part - so where his actions had hurt you before, he was using himself for your pleasure only, even if his cock was throbbing so much it hurt.

“Oh-“ His stubble felt rough against your sensitive skin, tongue lapping at the once neglected slick of your clit. Hands gripping onto his mask and the sheets beside you, you let out a small groan. His hands settled on the back of your calves, gently squeezing as he sucked just a little. Teeth gliding across your bud, your toes curled and your nails dug into the cloth beneath your hands. “Oh, fuck, my sweet girl.” Those words had your stomach stretch into knots, head reeling back as Simon moved back, admiring your pussy for just a moment and murmuring, “You taste so sweet, so good. Such a pretty pussy, jus’ f’ me.”

“Simon-“

He didn’t need to be told twice - diving back in and instantly licking a swipe from your hole to your side, pressing a sweet kiss to the healed scar on the top of your hip. He moved back to your hole, one hand coming up to press sweet circles to your clit as he began to fuck you with his tongue. Your thighs moved to squeeze his head, but he ducked away to speak, “Wider, baby. Open your legs up wider f’ me.”

“I- Fuck, keep going-“ It was getting harder to keep sitting up, your back quivered as you tried to keep your legs open for him. Spasms in your lower back made you ungraciously fall back onto the bed, your hand let go of his mask as you did. Heart hammering in your chest, you could only feel him. His tongue was delicate in the way he was eating you out, it’s a dance you know he’s good at since he had first fucked you on his tongue almost a week before you two officially started dating. Now, here you were, three months shy of two years together and it still felt heavenly. And he was still emotionally stunted. It’s fine, if he can make me cum with just his tongue, I might just stay forever.

His hands pushed your thighs apart as your back began to curl, your legs trying to fight his grip to come back together - he was adamant about keeping you spread apart so his tongue could get as deep as it could. White hot pricks began to crawl up your spine, clawing at the bottom of your rib cage as both of your hands gripped onto the sheets like your life depended on it.

Simon could feel as your walls began to tighten and that’s when he moved one of his fingers back to rub your clit just gently, barely even making circles before your pleasure deprived body began to very clearly respond. Another flick of his tongue and pressure to your clit had the white hot pricks turn into ropes, squeezing around your rib cage and lower belly, the gospel of his name danced across your lips like a hymn.

“C’mon, sweet girl, cum for me.”

Pleasure was wrapping around your hips, his mouth felt so good as he began to suck on your pussy - and that was the point of no return. Head hitting the sheets with reckless abandon, a loud rumble escaped the cage of your chest as the burning sensation of an orgasm spread throughout your body.

His face disappeared from your legs, cheek now resting on your belly as his hands began to gently caress the outside of your thighs. “Always so sweet for me.”

Your hands moved to cover your face, heavy pants escaped your throat as you tried to grasp reality for just a moment. Arousal still spun around your spine like hot metal as he moved upwards, tearing off your towel and his - hands pulled yours from your face, his slick lathered lips met yours.

His tongue traced your lips, cleaning you from yourself as his teeth showed with his smile. “Pretty, pretty girl.”

It would be a long night of apologizing from your lovesick boyfriend, Simon.

———

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———

Copyright © 2023 lethalchiralium. All rights reserved.

[thatgirl4815]

Ray's Feelings

Ray's process of falling in love with Sand has such nuance to it that I think gets horribly overshadowed by his actions alone, not their context. Yes, Ray mistreats Sand. Yes, Ray has a lot to apologize for. But I think Ray is a broken person who has a lot to apologize for because he's in a situation that he is grossly under-equipped, both mentally and emotionally, to handle.

@victorialovesstiles' post here includes a great discussion of the moment Ray becomes fully aware of Sand's feelings for him in Ep8. Up to this point, I don't think Ray tried to pin down exactly how he felt for Sand because the situation didn't necessitate it. He and Sand were "friends," and that label was always fine with Ray, until it wasn't enough anymore, until Sand couldn't put up with it. Looking back on all of this progression, I'd argue Ray has had feelings for Sand for as long as Sand has had feelings for him, but he hasn't been in a place to confront them the same way Sand has. It makes sense given that Sand is the one in the bad spot, watching Ray chase after Mew. If their situations had been reversed, I think Ray would've had to contend with his feelings much more directly much earlier.

Ray makes comments like this that point to the depth of his feelings, but he never truly vocalizes them outright until later in Ep9. Ray realizing how happy he is with Sand and admitting to that is the first step in the recognition of his true feelings, that he sees Sand as more than a good friend who takes care of him and just so happens to sleep with him.

Ray's feelings are strong, but they are also delicate, as demonstrated by the fight at Sand's apartment in Ep10. This dialogue in particular:

Ray thinks he deserves to be upset for having his emotions played with, which says more than anything how much Ep9 meant to him. It's also important in the context of money, because Ray's self-worth is so heavily influenced by what he can offer other people: if nothing else, he has always had his wealth to fall back on. And here is Sand claiming to love him, but all Ray can see is someone who accepted payment. Every conversation they’ve about the separation of feelings and money is being put into question.

At the end of Ep10, Ray echoes his dialogue in Ep8. I personally like that Ray makes a point of saying how happy he is with Sand; what stands out to me here is that Ray is confessing this to imaginary Sand, so he's technically only really admitting it to himself. He makes me happy and I keep screwing it up. He does care, and he's always cared, but I can't do anything but ruin it. I was made to ruin things. Those are all thoughts that seem to lay at the core of his dialogue at the end of Ep10.

I guess my main point here is that we witness Ray returning to this idea time and time again that when he's with Sand, he's truly happy. Sand sees beyond his problems, beyond the brokenness. Even with how complex their situation is, there's something so beautiful about that simplicity. Sand makes Ray happy. That’s what it’s always boiled down to.

"I know now that you want nothing from me" -> I have a feeling this entire speech from Ray is going to form a deeper trust between Ray and Sand. Ray knows now that Sand is true. He knows that he has overthought everything. The reason why Ray skews the situation with Sand is because Ray is so used to viewing himself in a negative light, but he was clinging to the hope that Sand didn't see him that way. Even when other characters insult Ray for his behavior (which isn't entirely undeserved), Sand was always there to explain why he was wrong, to encourage him to be better. When it's Sand, it's about growth, not just recognition.

The ending scene in Ep10 is such a catharsis because Ray is finally coming to terms with the fact that virtually all of the doubts and complexities surrounding his relationship with Sand were created by him. But Sand has always been true. Sand has always loved him. And now that he sees that, he knows just how important it is that he clings to that love and never lets it go.

[stars-n-spice]

no you don't understand. I need the Bad Batch to have a happy ending. I need them all to make it out alive. I need them to all be together. I need them to be a family once again. I need them all alive, happy, healthy, thriving. I need them safe and healing and growing.

I need Hunter to be able to be at peace. To become what he so clearly wanted to be at the start of the series; a father. For him to have what he fought so hard for. To know that he's more than a soldier. I need him to be able to relax knowing his brothers, that Omega is safe and will forever be safe. I need need need him to have that peace. To have that kind of life. The life he didn't think he'd get, that no clone ever thought that they would get, but yet...And I need him to grow and learn from these mistakes and be that older brother for all of them I know he can be. Seeing him want a life different than what he was essentially made for that badly for him not to get it is going to absolutely destroy me.

I want Tech to come back. I want it so bad. I know Star Wars can't keep getting away with "killing a character and bringing them back" but what's doing it one more time? Am I biased because Tech is my second favorite Batcher? Yes. But listen, I just need him to return and be reunited with his family. I need him to see Crosshair again. I need him to see and be with Phee again. Yes the build up to his death was great and the send off with his goggles was, in my opinion beautiful, but I just really want him back. I miss him so much. He means so much to so many people and I just want to see him alive and well again.

I need Echo to come back and I need him to stay. Wrecker and Tech might be my favorites, but when it really comes down to it? Echo is my comfort character. When I'm upset and really struggling, what usually brings me back is thinking about what would Echo do? What would Echo say to me to get me through this? Echo means so so much to me and it hurts so much to see him reduced to a background character. It makes me think what even was the point of bring him back just to reduce him to what he is now? And I'm so so scared they're going to kill him off for shock value or to "explain" why he isn't with Rex in Rebels, but that's just so fucking stupid to me after having done nothing with his character since like the middle of season 2 of the Bad Batch. Bring him back, please. And let him be at peace for once too!! Goddammit, all this shit he's had to go through; getting fucking exploded, being a prisoner of war, losing Fives, losing his brothers because his chip malfunctioned, having to see what becomes of clones after everything they sacrificed for the galaxy-Like you already "killed". him off once, there's no need to do it again. Just bring him back and reunite him with the others, please.

I need Wrecker to get to have his family all together. On top of that, I need him to get the recognition he deserves for all that he does and has done. Omega might be the heart and soul of the team but Wrecker's the glue and arguably just as much as the heart and soul too. He's the protector, I'm sure he feels it's his responsibility to keep them together, to keep them safe. I want him to continue living his life knowing that he succeeded in doing so and now doesn't have to worry about something like that because they are safe. They're all together again and they're happy and they're safe. He can relax and enjoy what they used to have before it all went to shit. It's so obvious that he cares so much about his brothers and Omega in his own unique ways. Each of the members of the Batch have their own unique dynamics within each other, but it really seems like Wrecker is the one who has one with each of them. And yeah, he's my favorite so I'm going to be biased and I want him to make it out alive and I want him to be happy goddammit.

I need Crosshair to stay the fuck alive. I need him to continue to heal and grow and be back with his family again. I need him to be reassured and to feel safe and loved again. I cannot take another instance of a character who used to be so lost and broken finally getting healing and some peace only to sacrifice themselves again. To have someone go through so much only start to heal and then rip that away from them? I need him to be at peace. I need him to enjoy all that he's missed out on. I need to see him okay and content and healing and living. I don't think I can deal with seeing all of that being ripped away from him. Please just let the man be at peace for once in his fucking life. I am begging. You don't understand, he's healing; mentally, physically, he's getting better and to just,, take all of that away? Can't just ONE character please get a happy ending?? Like if any one of them deserve to see it through the end, it's him.

I need Omega to get the childhood she was cheated out of. I don't know how many times I've sat and thought about Omega only for me to burst out into tears. She's been isolated for nearly all of her life. At the most, she was free for two years out of her FOURTEEN years of existence. She went through ALL of that before the age Ashoka and Padmé were when they were just STARTING to go through the horrors. Yet she's remained so brave and so strong and so determined. She's endured and survived and I want her to thrive. I want her to have all her brothers together once again. I want her to grow up alongside them. I want her to be able to be a child for once. To experience life through those lenses. I don't want her to have to endure another loss.

I need to see this group of individuals who never really fit in have their place in the galaxy. I need to see them, all created with clear intents and purposes to fight in a war as cannon fodder find new purposes. I need to see these burnt-out kids catch a damn break for once. This family of neurodivergents who spent their entire lives either isolated or distant from everyone else because they were "different" and "special" get that well-deserved ending where they're all safe and happy and have a purpose and a place in the galaxy because fucking hell. I wanna know there's hope for me too.

just AAGUUHHH. I've never wanted a happy ending for anyone more than I want it for the Bad Batch.

[i-am-church-the-cat]

history of man

Or Brocedes in 3 parts

Part I: Before

Nico is not jealous that Lewis is a championship contender in his first season in F1. Lewis has always had to work hard for the things that Nico has with ease: recognition, support, community. Racing might have been in Nico’s blood but Lewis bled for racing and all he could feel for his best friend was proud.

Anyway, he was busy, too. Working with Williams, trying to build the historic team back up to its former glory, while also trying to prove that he’s a serious racer worthy of a championship car and not just riding the coattails of his father’s success in the sport.

Then Lewis wins a championship. It is the greatest moment of Nico’s life, probably third only to his own future championship or his wedding day. Lewis seems to have everything he wants at McLaren and Nico would have considered going with him there, being teammates like they always planner, if McLaren had wanted anything to do with him.

Instead, he is offered a deal at Mercedes, a team that people don’t think is going anywhere, but if they’re good enough for Micheal Schumacher then of course they are good enough for him. Playing second fiddle to a championship winner isn’t as hard as it sounds. If Lewis could do it, so could Nico, even if he didn’t get nearly as much recognition for it.

Though neither of them are getting much attention at the moment, what with Red Bull and Vettel totally dominating. Nico thinks Lewis is more upset about it than he is, having to listen to more than a few rants on the subject. He tries to be supportive, but it’s hard when Nico is so happy. He’s a racer in Formula 1 with his best friend, competing against certifiably the greatest F1 driver of all time. The only thing that could make it better is if he was competing against Lewis or for a championship. Or competing against Lewis for a championship.

That really would be the dream.

But Lewis loves McLaren, and even if they aren’t in fighting shape right now, that doesn’t mean they won’t be soon. And even if Lewis was considering leaving, he wouldn’t come to Mercedes of all places. He’d probably go to Ferrari as long as Fernando wasn’t there.

Nico uses all these reasons and more to keep himself from getting his hopes up when Micheal announces his retirement. When Lewis admits to him his frustration with McLaren. When Toto tells him that he’s been in talks with someone he “thinks you’d get along great with, Nico.”

He continues to rationalize it all the way up to when Lewis shows up at his apartment, using his key and announcing his presence with a loud “Rosberg!” and the sudden brute force of someone colliding with him.

“Oof.” Nico flops back into the couch, halfway up from where he’d tried to get up to greet Lewis. He pushes at the other boy, feeling like they were 12 again, wrestling in their hotel rooms.

“What you big bully?”

Lewis pulls back and grins, shark-like with a kind of kiddy glee.

“I’m coming to Mercedes.”

—

Part II: During

“I’m coming to Mercedes.”

A pause. Then, “Well, obviously, I’ve only been convincing Toto to sign you for the last year.”

George fully expects the pillow aimed at his head and dodges deftly. He and Alex are both grinning like fools, and George can see all his plans for the future start to unspool.

Lewis wins his 8th championship with Ferrari that first year, a feat only the man himself could have predicted. George is having too much fun getting paid to bully his best friend.

Next year though. Next year.

“This is a championship winning car, mate,” Alex says after the first day of testing. “I can feel it. Can you feel it?”

George swallows, the memory of how responsive the car had been that morning. Like writing a sonnet with a steering wheel.

“Yeah. I can feel it.”

It was a championship winning car. It won both championships that year, the Mercedes driver pairing ending up 1st and 2nd again after a long time. It was his first championship, and he deserved it, working so hard to prove himself out from under a world champion’s shadow.

George was so damn proud of him.

Watching Alex on the top step was like a dream, draped in the red-white-blue of his flag, doused in champagne and breathing heavy, as if he’d been holding his breath since the end of testing. Sure, it stung a little losing his own chance at a championship, but he’d put up a hell of a fight and he would again next year. George had no doubt that in 2027, he’d be the world driver’s champion.

Alex turned to him from the too step, wide smile and something devilish in his eye.

“Let’s do this again next year, George,” he said, somehow agreeing with everything George himself had been thinking. George grinned in return and could only shout an affirmative.

And they did do it again next year. Two championships, one-two, podium steps and drenched in champagne.

George looking up. Again.

Alex was a terrific driver. George knew it because he’d been there while Alex learned how to do it. How to win. George knew how hard Alex was to beat because he’d watched him climb further and further away from second place.

Maybe that’s why it was always going to end up this way. Alex had made himself unbeatable and only George was there to see all of it. That’s why it only could have been him that saw the chink in the armor of Alex’s driving.

George had won. He was on the top step. He was the 2028 world driver’s champion.

And Alex wouldn’t look at him. Wouldn’t give him the big smile that use to come so easily to his face. When did Alex stop smiling? When did Alex stop smiling at him?

George had barely eaten the entire week leading up to Abu Dhabi. That didn’t stop him from spending hours emptying his stomach at the memory of Alex’s clenched jaw and shunted eyes.

That’s why-

“I’m retiring.”

—

Part III: After

“I’m retiring.”

The flash of the camera hurt his eyes. You’d think by 2034 they’d have made cameras that weren’t so earth shatteringly bright.

It wasn’t a decision Logan had made lightly. He was the first American WDC since Andretti, he had the chance to be the only repeat American winner. Except there wasn’t really a chance. This season had taken everything Logan had and he’d still just barely been able to beat out Oscar. He couldn’t do it again and he didn’t want to try.

It wouldn’t get him his best friend back.

The story was old hat by now. The Mercedes curse. You’d think after Alex and George Toto would stop hiring childhood best friends as teammates. But the opportunity to sign the current WDC Oscar Piastri had been too good to pass up. He had three under his belt, now, definitely more after this, since he wouldn’t have Logan here to make it harder for him.

But it was a classic tragedy. Everyone knew the ending by now. The former-Williams driver gave their entire soul for that one championship, just to show that they could do it. Then the real winner went off and grew into the phenom they were always supposed to be. Now without the dead weight of their best friend hanging onto him.

They’d sworn it wouldn’t happen to them. They’d both worked so hard to keep the resentment from boiling over. But the threat of being dropped if Logan got another P2 in the championship had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. It hadn’t been Oscar’s fault that the team had decided to shift to him after all Logan had given them. But that didn’t mean Logan could let it go, either.

Now there were landmines around their relationship. Both too scared to reach out because of the chance of stepping on one and burning down everything they’d built. So the silence and the distance stretched and the structures crumbled anyway.

Logan moved back to America. He wasn’t going to be Nico, sitting in the same apartment, all but begging Oscar to come back to him on live tv. He wasn’t going to be George, reaching out every other year just to feel the rejection all over again. He might have been doomed to leave Oscar like this from the beginning but that didn’t mean he didn’t get to choose what he did with the rest of his life.

He was 34. He was still in top shape. He didn’t want to stop racing. He just couldn’t race Oscar anymore.

Logan did IndyCar for a couple of years, ending up next to Kyle again. Somehow losing the championship to him wasn’t as hard as losing to Oscar had been. In 2036, he retired for real this time, no other championship but at least a few wins under his belt.

He pretended not to be invested in F1. But he couldn’t not watch the races. Couldn’t not see Oscar win his fourth championship, then his fifth.

Logan wonders if he’ll go for nine, just to kick fate’s balls.

In the end, Logan can’t say no when Williams invites him to a couple of races. They’re the team that supported him when no one did and he can’t refuse James anything.

When Sky Sports here he’s coming, they beg to have him on. He reluctantly agrees.

When Oscar wins in Miami, Logan is there. There are so many cameras on him as he watches his ex-best friend win Logan’s home race. All he can think is that it was always going to end this way.

—

I've seen it, in the poems and the sands

I've pleaded, with the powers and their plans

I tried to rewrite it but I can't

It's the history, the history of man

history of man - maisie peters

[justjenah]

Cowboyification as Harm Reduction

I find Michael’s cowboyification to be fascinating.

It would be incredibly easy to reduce his choice to embrace being a cowboy as simple machismo or toxic masculinity. But I would argue it’s much closer to a form of harm reduction.

When it comes to accusations of machismo or toxic masculinity, Michael’s own actions repeatedly seems to defy those claims.

When we see Michael and Mike in Latvia, in seasons four and five especially, Michael is incredibly open with Mike about the fact that he struggled and likely engaged in self harm.

See episode 58 for example:

Mike: This afternoon you mean. Why are we eating breakfast at 1 in the afternoon?

Michael: Because I waited for you, dipshit. Yes, I am always in pain, and I self-destructed just like you did and that’s how I know that it’s pointless. You can see the scars on my chest it’s not like I’m coverin’ ‘em up. Yes, I’m in pain, but I also grew the fuck up. You can look into the darkness, you have to it’s healthy to look, but you can’t stay there. There is no home there. There is only wilderness. My advice is come inside ‘cuz people are waiting for you there.

He doesn’t tell Mike to bury his feelings or to get over it. He tells him that it’s dangerous to live in your regret.

Michael is honest about the fact that he too felt crushed under the weight of the violence and tragedy he experienced. He’s perfectly willing to talk about it and willing to share his experiences.

There is an argument to be made that Michael’s cowboyification is harmful as it feeds into his tendency to be self sacrificial to protect those people he considers “his”. And while I think there’s some truth there I think it glosses over the fact that this is a trait that already existed.

An episode 46 Mikey runs into tier 2 without a second thought upon seeing a picture of Edgar’s corpse.

In episode 49, The Princess Daffodil Experiment, we learned that he is planning to be the first human at Base to be consolidated with the calculators and is later upset when he realizes that it will be Edgar who ends up testing that aspect of the technology on himself out of necessity.

I think in actuality, what the Cowboy identity does is give Michael focus, and helps him remember he has people to live for and to work in service of.

If we look at the Michael iteration from the 101 timeline, we find a Michael who is mostly unable to function. He sleeps most of the day, drinks to excess, and is overall deeply unhappy. He has very few if any enjoyment in his day to day except perhaps drinking with Boris. Mike makes reference to the fact that he half expects to find Michael dead, not from time travel murder shenanigans, but from excessive drinking. This is not a moral judgement of him but an observation that this looks like another form of self harm.

Given Mike experiences a similar period of heavy drinking and deep emotional distress that impairs his ability to function in seasons 4 and 5, it doesn’t feel like a stretch to assume that without his cowboy persona Michael likely would not be able to handle the demands of being alive, never mind corrections and unraveling time travel mysteries.

In fact Cowboyfication brings with it some real net positives. Michael may have a self sacrificial streak like all Mikes Walters (species) but as a cowboy he allows himself some selfish pleasures. He learns to hunt and goes out boar hunting with Boris. He learns how to cure meat and seems to take some pleasure in cooking. He cultivates a relationship with the neighborhood crows, and takes joy is developing a sartorial identity. He even allows himself to fall in love again, something that is difficult to imagine him doing for himself without becoming a cowboy. Loving Sly openly is a real act of self love and a recognition that he too deserves something in his life that is in service to no one but himself.

Cowboyification brings with it an ability for Michael to enjoy life while still acknowledging the hardships and tragedies that befall him.

It isn’t perfect by any means but in issues of mental health, it is often more important to find strategies that improve quality of life and reduce harm. Expecting a cure is not just unrealistic but often actively harmful.

When comparing 101 Michael to the cowboy we all know and love it feels clear that this is a great example of what harm reduction looks like: imperfect but meaningfully better than the alternative.

[beargyufairy]

Just My Thoughts Pt. 6

Aquarius

Did Lucy ever tell anyone (even Natsu) about sacrificing Aquarius?! Aquarius, who was one of Lucy’s very first keys given by her mother who passed away when she was still young and left alone with her father who completely disregarded her?! Aquarius, who was Lucy’s first friend since there was no one her age around her? Aquarius, who despite being rude towards Lucy, loves her with all her heart?! Aquarius, who knows how important Fairy Tail is to Lucy that she is willing to have her key be broken in order to summon the Celestial Spirit King?!

I don’t think her sacrifice is given the attention it deserves because Lucy had to choose between her guild and her spirit. It was not the easiest choice to make. In addition to this, the guild disbanded and left her alone soon after the battle with Tartarus ended. Natsu left (and yes I understand he was also grieving the loss of Igneel who he was searching for years before he even met Lucy) with Happy and Lucy was all alone. She kept track of everyone as best as she could but no one cared to do the same with her. Fairy Tail was supposed to her safe place after escaping from her dad and former life. She gave so much to Fairy Tail in the short time since she joined.

I feel like while Natsu did his best by getting the guild back together after he returned, Lucy didn’t get a proper apology or recognition. I don’t think anyone even knew about Aquarius after being reunited. While Natsu did mention that he felt like Lucy was the one who saved them in Tartarus, it was never mentioned if she explained how and what she had to do in order to save everyone. The topic was just brushed off and never brought up again.

Speaking of the guild reunion, Lucy is a better person than I will ever be because I would’ve been so mad at Natsu. He left with just a letter without considering how Lucy would’ve left. Lucy, who he took to the guild in the first place. Lucy, who he made a team with (and I would like to note that before Lucy joined FT, Natsu didn’t seem to be close with anyone in the guild, but after she joined, he became friends with most of them). Lucy, his best friend. She didn’t even mention her own grief and loss when they met again after a whole year. She forgave him so fast. I’m so upset about that!!!!

The 100 year quest just makes me made when I see Aquarius. I really do appreciate her being included since she is very special to Lucy. Don’t get me wrong, I love how Aquarius is more willing to show her tender feelings toward Lucy and it just makes their bond more precious. I just don’t like how the sacrifice was brushed off. No one comments on how she’s just appearing without Lucy summoning her.

Do they even know Aquarius has a broken key?! Not to mention, it’s a golden zodiac key. It’s rare and one of a kind. Do they know that Lucy is looking for the key?! Are they gonna help her?!

I feel like it was just ignored and I don’t like it one bit. Lucy needs everyone to apologize and thank her properly for saving them. Or at least acknowledging her hard work and dedication to the guild, especially since the her sacrifice was years and years of memories and a special bond with her zodiac spirit.

Thank you for listening to my rant 😤

[withlovenavi]

f1!oikawa and f1!iwaizumi, childhood friends who dreamed to be together in formula 1, are now teammates.

oikawa thinks he has all: a good car, his engineers working non stop for the season, his team principal says publicly he's the n1 pilot of the team, and iwaizumi.

during the winter break, oikawa was going crazy. after so many years of pining for his best friend, he started to notice all the little things iwaizumi did for him. things that wasn't very best friend-like. he had hope.

so he invited over his childhood friend to spend the break with him. days passed and nothing happened. oikawa was getting restless.

and, right after new years, iwaizumi finally kissed him.

recluded in a hotel in the dolomites, oikawa and iwaizumi just spend their time to make up for the lost time.

so, the season starts.

oikawa is leading, after two races wins and a pole. iwaizumi close. the car is getting better and better and the natural distance between oikawa and iwaizumi natural pace is getting shorter and shorter.

right after the spring break, iwaizumi wins the race. oikawa only leads by ten points.

but oikawa is happy, happier than ever. his lover is getting the recognition he deserves and the team is secured the constructor championship before the break.

for the spring break, they go to iwaizumi's house in st tropez. away of all public eyes, their love blooms.

back on track, oikawa and iwaizumi alternate first and second place on every race.

at some point, iwaizumi's father appears on the paddock.

oikawa doesn't like him. he could be a formula 1 world champion or the queen of england, it wouldn't make a difference, he will still a shitty father. oikawa still remembers iwaizumi crying in his arms to sleep after a particular bad argument when they were kids.

iwaizumi is always upset after every visit which make oikawa resent even more the older man.

they celebrate each other birthdays, only 40 days apart. even if they're still on the european tour, oikawa and iwaizumi sneak out and they properly celebrate in private.

however, it's during iwaizume birthday that oikawa notices how close the two men are. it's odd as iwaizumi always complains about his father to oikawa but he knows iwizumi will tell him everything.

the summer break comes. oikawa and iwaizumi spend it together as usual in a luxury resort. but when iwaizumi thinks oikawa is asleep, he goes out to make some calls. once, oikawa is close enough to hear clearly iwaizumi's father voice.

when they come back to the paddock, something changes. iwaizumi starts to be more aggresive on track. he wins the first race after disobey team orders. then he comes too close in the next circuit curve, forcing oikawa to break earlier than desirable. during the team meeting after the race, the argument between the two forces the team principal to kick them out to the motorhome.

iwaizumi starts to not share his imput in the presence of oikawa. iwaizumi's father becomes part of his team, oikawa sees them talking in hushes voices on their side of the garage.

their break out is ugly and messy and oikawa has never cried so much in his life. he feels how all the love he has to for his childhood friend is slowly becoming in his biggest fear: hate.

they're so aggresive on track that they have a crash. oikawa has the worst of it and that only fuels the hatred he feels toward his former lover. at the media press, iwaizumi refuses to apologize. and again during the team meeting.

media starts to put them against each other. the greatest rivalry in the century; who will win the championship?

the tension is making the team divide between team oikawa and team iwaizumi. iwaizumi's father gives more interviews. oikawa blocks iwaizumi from instagram and fan notice.

in the following two races, iwaizumi wins. he's first on the championship after six years on formula 1.

only three races left.

oikawa wins the next one. a rookie called tobio kageyama wins the other.

one race and the campionship.

iwaizumi races like mad man. he pushes oikawa outside the track. oikawa exceed maximum speed limits. they race like there's nothing else for them.

the last race becomes one of the best race in history. the greatest rivalry between two generational talents have their future sealed in 71 laps.

iwaizumi wins his first and only world championship. he cries on the podium, happier then ever, his childhood's dream come true.

on his right, oikawa is also crying. he's still happy for iwaizumi, still loving him, still hating him. but he knows this is the end.

the end of a friendship. the end of a dream. the end of a love.