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peakbys · 1 year ago

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TAILORED

Pairing(s): Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader, Luca Changretta x Wife!Reader Summary: Your little double life starts to unravel when your husband shows up to avenge his father. Request: Yes. Sorta. → @alana000 requested the reader in a love triangle between Tommy and Luca, I ended up combining that with my idea for Tommy's poll result and my brain kind of just ran away with it. So, it may not be exactly what was requested but I hope it's enjoyable regardless. 😅 Warnings: Long post, cheating, tension, mentions of arranged marriages, poor Italian, friends to lovers to enemies (if you want to interpret it that way, ending is left as it is.) Eye contact (for the gif?) Note: This is hard to wrap up in a one-shot, so I'm sorry if the ending is less than ideal. Still, I've been working on this thing for weeks so I hope you all enjoy.

You had just wanted to ride horses.

Of course, life was never so simple, yet it really didn’t need to be as complicated as it was currently. You had left America feeling uncertain, but excited. You wrote back home whenever you could, especially once you managed to make a bit of a name for yourself in horse racing. Really, you wanted to move onto training, yet you knew you could race those horses too. It was extra money, of course, but something you earned on your own. It wasn’t passed down from your family, your husband’s family. Though, in hindsight, you had to wonder if this really was the place you were going to end up all along.

When you had made a bit of a reputation, it brought the attention of some people that operated in a way you were all too familiar with. Crime was in your family, and it was certainly in the one you married into. It didn’t take long to figure out what was being asked of you when you were asked to take the fall sometimes. Horses lost races, yet that didn’t mean that you couldn’t benefit. At least, that was how it had been explained to you back when your pride was too stubborn to accept that you’d participate in fixed races.

Yet, the opportunities got harder to turn down after a while.

Your involvement with the Peaky Blinders was something you left out of your letters outside of vague gesturing toward ‘buyers’ and ‘bosses.’

Tommy Shelby was definitely a person you didn’t write back home about, as much as he was a very common face in your life over the last couple of years. In a strange way, Tommy had a demeanor that was overly familiar too. You had associated it with controlled movements, sharp grins and the chewing of a toothpick. With him, it was a neutral expression and a stare that felt like he was looking through you at points. Yet, both your husband and Tommy had the same commanding air that pulled your attention to them as soon as they stepped into a room.

Outside of the wounded pride that came from losing a race you were certain you could win, that alone had almost been enough to call off working with him. You had more than enough of that back in America, and you didn’t want it here for however long you were planning on staying.

Though, Tommy proved up to your expectations in that he was very hard to ignore.

It had started off friendly enough–professional, despite the nature of what you were doing. More races won, a few lost with a wad of cash tossed into your lap with a vaguely smug look also tossed your way. It was profitable, so it was easy to stick with. Tommy brought horses to you, sometimes, too. Beautiful creatures. If there was something that easily bonded you to Tommy, it was the horses. The conversations got easier and more frequent. Longer, too. You could remember the mild surprise that crossed your expression when he asked about something more personal than the horses and the races.

That was what had you both sitting outside your little ranch home that you were living out of currently, talking about your family, America. Your late brother, especially, given that he had passed in the war and Tommy revealed that he had fought as well. Your brother had joined in hopes that maybe it would be something noble–something that wasn’t crime and making his living from getting involved with the families in New York. Dying in a trench so far from the people who loved and knew him didn’t seem very noble in your mind, especially with the memory of how your mother wailed when she got the news.

Yet, you got a sense of understanding from Tommy that you hadn’t expected to find. It opened the door to some…very troubling feelings.

You had initially tried to dismiss them as the similarities with your husband causing you to feel homesick, but that really wasn’t the case and you knew early on that you were lying to yourself about that. Given that the majority of letters that you wrote back home were to your mother-in-law, outside of the odd one you got directly from your husband when it seemed like he had the time, it was hard to ignore the growing distance that had festered. It had lingered in the background before you left America, and it only grew once the physical distance was there.

Still, you had been quick to state that you were a married woman when it felt like Tommy was catching on to your conflict. Didn’t change much, however–it was a weakening defense and you both knew that.

It resulted in a moment of weakness that haunted you, one that had your loneliness and conflicting emotions taking control. When it came to money, you knew things could get rough. In the back of your mind, you knew there could be some volatile tempers. Yet, you figured some people might not take that out on the riders.

A man cornering you in the stable one night proved you wrong about that, however. Your feet barely scraping against the stable floor, his hands wrapped around your throat while you tried to talk him down through what little space he gave your windpipe. Between the pressure on your neck and the tightness in your chest from your lungs begging for more air, Tommy’s arrival was lost on you until the man released his hands from around your neck.

You could remember the way you crumpled onto the ground, coughing harshly and gasping in air. You had registered the threats uttered and the shine of Tommy’s pistol, yet it wasn’t until he helped pull you to your feet that reality had come back around to you.

–

“Come on. Sit over here.”

You were used to his usual calm, straightforward approach to most things, yet at the moment it seemed at least vaguely caring. It was hard to tell with Tommy, yet you didn’t have the energy to really dig too deeply into that. As much as your pride wanted you to hold your head up and shake off the guiding hand on your arm, you were focused on trying to still the racing of your heart and ease the tightness in your chest.

“He really wasn’t here to talk,” you commented once you were sitting down in a chair, holding a hand to your neck still. “I should’ve known better.”

“Don’t think it would’ve stopped him any,” Tommy replied, “Least I’m not down a good rider.”

“I appreciate the concern,” you commented around a bitter huff, though the touch of amusement in his gaze settled that feeling easily enough.

“I was comin’ by to give you this, anyway,” Tommy continued after pulling up a chair and passing over your cut of the winnings from the race. “Just in time, too.”

You nodded lightly, carding lightly through the cash as you counted quickly in your head. Something you had always done since you started working for him–suspicious at first, more like a force of habit now. In the current moment, however, it was more like an excuse to not have to look at him while every swallow and movement of your head reminded you of the forming bruises that you’d have to cover for the next while.

It had never been in you to enjoy being rescued, yet you certainly knew that could have been worse if he didn’t show up when he did. You could feel a ‘thank you’ forming on the tip of your tongue the more you thought on it, though the feeling of his fingers under your jaw had you stilling. He tilted your head up somewhat, the action pulling a small wince from you as he examined the marks on your neck.

Your gaze remained locked on his face as he did so and even after he shifted his hand to let you lower your head again. The tight feeling in your gut cropped up again, a familiar sensation when you looked at Tommy these days. A fluttering feeling that was both familiar and unfamiliar in a sense. Something that you had talked yourself into feeling over time with your husband, yet with Tommy it had formed on its own.

It scared a part of you, yet you found yourself unable to pull away. Especially when you felt his hand shift along the back of your neck, a few seconds of hesitation and a sinking feeling until his mouth pressed against your own.

If it had been you who leaned in to kiss him or if he crossed that line himself, you didn’t know. Yet, you found yourself returning it all the same, a hand coming up to cup the side of his face. You lost track of reality for a few moments–it was just you and Tommy, his lips, his tongue. His hands on your shoulders, waist, lower back. The excitement about the kiss made your gut twist, heat in your face. There was relief in there, too.

Finally, you felt like someone wanted you. You weren’t an obligation, or worse a charity case. Your first kiss hadn’t been forced, yet it felt more like it was something you should do. To prove a point, an intention. It wasn’t like this with your husband.

That thought hit hard, sinking into you like a heavy stone just as you could feel both your own and Tommy’s hands venturing further. You were married–and kissing your boss in the stable of a racetrack while your husband was an ocean away.

Shame burned hot in your gut as you pushed Tommy back, standing quickly to put some distance between the two of you. The look he shot you was calm, as if he expected this. Your marriage wasn’t a secret, he knew what he was doing too.

“I…shouldn’t have done that,” you said after a few moments, tucking your earnings into a pocket. “Thank you for the help, Mr. Shelby. Goodnight.”

–

Naturally, you didn’t talk to him much after. You wanted to, the thoughts tumbling around in your head, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to. The situation didn’t stop you from feeling relieved about his attention shifting away from the races after a while, however. You still raced, listened to the directions that would come in about certain horses and races. Things were normal, stable, and it was like you could just forget what happened. Things were calm. That was, until word got back to America that Sabini was having issues in London. It was a bit of a surprise to you that you weren’t asked to get involved. At the time, that is.

It was something that was brought up in some of the letters–more of a warning at first, just keeping you informed in case you did need to make a move in the name of your husband’s family. You usually weren’t set to do those things, however, so you didn’t expect much outside of a possible trip to London to see what information you could get from the Italians there.

That was, until your brother-in-law was killed. Things were a bit of a blur after that.

Everything had escalated well beyond anything you had imagined and it seemed unavoidable how the two sides of your life were now overlapping.

It was what had you pacing around the lavish room that you had been told to move to. It was very similar to the one that you had stayed in when you had joined your husband for a family wedding. The very event that put the idea of moving away from America for a couple years to begin with.

A maid had been in and out over the last couple of hours, leaving you food and drink when you asked but otherwise gave you a polite distance. You appreciated that, despite the fact that no amount of food or tea could settle your nerves.

You hadn’t unpacked, your little suitcase sitting by the door. It would look a little odd, you knew that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to.

All you could do was wait, wondering how all of this would play out. The letter had been vague, just the address that he said he’d be staying at and that you should be moved there by the current date. It didn’t do anything to reassure you, obviously. A part of you just wanted to know. Another part of you just wanted to see him–as if seeing your husband would clear all the muck from your head and it would be easier to think.

So, naturally, you were jumpy by the time you heard the door open. The maid always knocked, so it was clear who it was.

Luca hadn’t changed much in the three years you had been away, dressed in his typical dark attire. Expensive, tailor-made and you knew how much he seemed to care about his appearance. That had initially struck you as pompous when you had first met him, yet you had quickly grown used to how connected his family was and it seemed to be more so about bragging about his family’s reputation. You knew it pleased him when you humored the expensive clothing and gifts–a little less common as the years passed, you had noted.

At the moment, you couldn’t help but feel almost…underdressed. A number of things had changed, in more ways than one. You still didn’t know how you felt about the situation or what you even felt in the moment you saw him again.

Regardless, you worked up a somewhat tight grin and approached him, Luca removing his hat to place on the desk nearby.

The rings on his fingers were cold as he cupped your face, pulling you in to press a lingering kiss to your mouth. Your hands came up to rest on his wrists, finding an odd sense of comfort in the familiarity of it. Yet, it was lacking now. You knew that. The memories of Tommy that cropped up made that sharp edge of shame known in your gut, yet you still managed to keep the small grin on your face as Luca pulled back.

“Carissima,” he said, hands still cradling your face as he ran his thumbs along your cheeks, “Non sei invecchiato di un giorno.”

“Nemmeno tu,” you replied, the words heavy and cumbersome on your tongue. Luckily, Luca just grinned, dropping his hands to wag a light-hearted finger at you.

“You promised me you’d still practice your Italian.”

“I don’t get to use it often,” you replied, “Not a lot of Italian speakers around.”

“Should’a listened to me about movin’ to London,” Luca commented, “Be with the family. Though…well, maybe it was good you didn’t.”

“Right…”

You let out a soft exhale through your nose, watching as he circled around the desk slowly as if he was looking for something. The atmosphere shifted as soon as the topic was brought up, your gaze following his movements as you tried to gather together something to say about it all. Killed his brother, his father, and you weren’t naive enough to believe that he was there to drag you back to America. Luca glanced back up at you, almost studying you for a moment.

“Ma’s told me a few things she’s learned about you, too,” Luca stated, a cold sweat breaking out across the back of your neck as your heart jumped.

Still, you held his gaze, expression impassive. It didn’t seem likely that she would know about what happened while you were staying overseas, yet it didn’t ease the feeling like you were looking down the barrel of a gun.

“I told her quite a bit in my letters–you, too. In the ones you read, at least,” you replied, crossing your arms as he moved to lean against the front of the desk.

“Left out some details,” Luca said, “How you’re racin’ horses in the tracks managed by the Peaky Blinders.”

“It’s hard not to if you’re looking to fix races,” you said with a nod, feeling that tight not in your stomach loosen somewhat. “I didn’t make it a habit to dip my hand in that. When your horses get a reputation, there’s some interest. I might have been approached, but I can’t say I’ve had any personal interactions with them.”

“No Tommy Shelby?”

“Not personally,” you lied, “I know of him.”

He met your gaze without a reply for a few moments, arms crossed in a way that almost mirrored your own. A part of you wondered why you were protecting Tommy–of course, you didn’t want Luca to know of certain details, but clearly you didn’t swear any loyalty to him or his gang. Yet, you did so anyway. Luca eventually nodded lightly, pressing his lips together in thought for a moment before he stood up to approach you once again.

“I was hopin’ you might have some information that might make this easier, but you’re just racin’ horses.”

You could almost hear a touch of something to his tone, yet it didn’t seem he was willing to make that clear or say what he was thinking. It didn’t sit all that nice, but you figured if he was suspicious of you, you would’ve known. (You hoped.) Still, you gave him what you hoped was a convincing enough apologetic smile as you reached out to rest your hand on his cheek.

“I know what you’re here to do. I wish I could give you more information than that,” you said, “As I said when I left, I didn’t want any involvement in that business and it’s been kept that way. If I had known…”

“I wouldn’t want you catchin’ a bullet anyway,” Luca replied, “Though, you remember anythin’ or might be leavin’ anythin’ out…”

“I’ll tell you,” you said with a small grin, “I wouldn’t want you catching a bullet.”

“They can try,” he stated before pressing a kiss to the side of your head, “Quicker this is done, quicker we can get back home.”

You hummed in response, not quite agreement. As much as you were uncertain about the outcome of all of this, you had a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t be dealt with so quickly.

*****

As much as you knew you shouldn’t be out by yourself, especially with the fact that this vendetta business could escalate at any moment, you didn’t think too much of it.

There was an issue with one of your horses back where you were staying, and you knew suddenly disappearing would look odd to anybody who was paying attention. You were on edge and alert, yet you figured it would be best to look as if things were business as usual. Family was visiting, you were staying in a hotel.

Yet, you couldn’t help but notice the quietness of the home. If there was an issue, you figured there would be a few different people running around. You frowned as you pulled up to the property, noticing that the stable was empty. You clenched your hands around the steering wheel of the car, ready to pull out at a moments notice. Though, the familiar figure standing outside the home, near the very chairs you had sat in when you chatted over the years.

You debated leaving, but thought better of it. While it seemed unlikely that he didn’t know the people he was up against, you didn’t want to appear too suspicious if he hadn’t pieced together your involvement.

Regardless, your approach was guarded, eyeing Tommy with a questioning gaze as he moved to step down from the porch.

“Long time since I’ve seen you last,” you greeted, “...It’s very quiet out here for the emergency I was told to come see.”

“Right…” Tommy replied, his expression unreadable as he approached you. “I had to get your attention somehow. Someone here said you are staying elsewhere for a few days.”

“Family’s in the country for a while,” you replied casually enough, “I didn’t want to drive back and forth.”

“Family. Well, I guess you really should see this, then,” Tommy stated, finally pulling a hand out of one of his coat pockets.

He extended what looked like a photo, folded at a particular edge. You paused for a moment, looking into his impassive stare before you reached out to take it.

Unfolding it completely, you were greeted with a wedding photo filled with familiar faces. The family wedding from a couple years ago, a seemingly routine celebration for the most part at the time. For the Changrettas, at least. Of course, standing just along the folded crease was you standing next to Luca, a faint smile on your face with your arm interlocked with his own. You had only seen the photo once when you had returned to New York after the wedding, yet it really turned out to be a terrible reminder that you weren’t as well hidden as you thought sometimes.

“I did tell you I was married,” you stated, finally glancing up to meet Tommy’s gaze, “Though, with what your family’s done, I guess this really changes quite a few contexts.”

“My family…” he repeated, you catching a glimpse in his expression that you never really saw. It was sharp, angry. It had you propping a foot back in case you needed to step away from him as he stepped a little closer to you. “Your family…killed me wife and my brother.”

“Yes. You killed my husband’s father and brother. Spared his mother, which was a mistake. If you’re here to kill me to think you’ll get a leg up in this, I wouldn’t. Luca’s old fashioned–wants this done by tradition. As I’m sure you know. Yet, you kill me, I can’t say he’ll not just put a bullet in your head on principle. Considering you had to lure me out here, you have no idea where he is, right?”

He didn’t say anything, lingering close as you looked up at him. As much as you knew he could kill you where you stood–there was enough spilled blood on his side to warrant it. Yet, there was that part of you that was fond of him. Felt something–might not have been deep or fully developed. It might never be. Yet, you knew you had a bit of a leverage here. You knew how to survive–keep your head down, do things for the sake of connecting your family, and taking advantage of opportunities when they presented themselves.

“I like you, and I didn’t come to this country with the intention of getting wrapped up in a vendetta between you and my husband’s family,” you continued, “So, I’ll say this. I’m not here to be your enemy, yet I will do whatever I need to in order to get out of this alive. Luca, on the other hand, knows how to hate and will not stop until one of you is dead.”

“I don’t need a lecture on the vendetta,” Tommy stated, “If you have no involvement, you’re a citizen in my eyes. I would be very careful about crossing that line.”

“I’d be careful about crossing Luca Changretta,” you replied, “As it stands, I don’t know enough about you to give him anything of value and I have no obligation to tell you anything more about him. Give me a chance to get out of this alive, and I may change my stance on the latter.”

“You’d sell out your own husband, eh?” Tommy asked, tilting his head somewhat as you continued to meet his gaze.

“Arranged marriages can be tricky.”

“I can’t make any promises, Mrs. Changretta.”

“Then I guess we’ll see how this all plays out, Mr. Shelby.”

#peaky blinders x reader #tommy shelby x reader #luca changretta x reader

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p3xchuu · 7 months ago

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Insomnia AU

I delayed the moment for a long time and did not dare to show you my ideas of my random concept of the near future (after 20 years) of the hedgehog caste...

Attention! There is a lot of text at the bottom :D

Please don't judge me! I initially took references from Pinterest to learn how to draw hedgehogs and thereby borrowed some of the chips from another artist. In the future, I will think about how I can interpret the character design in my own way.

Nevertheless, the main idea of my concept is events 20 years later, Sonic's insomnia, adult problems for grown-up characters.

Sonic

Sonic has now become wiser, more careful. He's more sentimental. He protects the younger generation from the mistakes that he once made.

Due to insomnia, he is now forced to do night runs in order to fall asleep at least from overwork. He tries not to bother anyone with his problems.

Shadow...

Shadow is missing. For all these 20 years, no one knew where he was. But he was on the planet Black Arms. Time goes a little differently on this planet, so he didn't notice how 20 years had passed on Earth.

During this time, he received a third eye and a special live weapon that shoots not quite standard cartridges - instead of a trigger, there is a special needle on the pistol that pierces Shadow's finger and contacts his blood.

And he will also put a fifth ring on his neck, because it turns out that the current four rings are not enough to restrain his power.

(I'm a bad screenwriter... I'm thinking that Shadow urgently evacuated from the planet Black Arms on a mini-shuttle, which collapsed in the Earth's atmosphere, causing the black hedgehog himself to fall somewhere in the area where Sonic mostly lives. It's a wild coincidence that Sonic will find him on the night of his birthday.)

Tails

Tails will probably be taller than Sonic. He won't be able to fly anymore-the tails just won't lift him into the air with that weight. However, he is still able to develop speed on the surface - to do this, he will stand on quads and start spinning his tails behind him.

(I'm thinking about changing Tails' design a bit...)

Knuckles

Echidna is still the keeper of the Master Emerald. During these 20 years of loneliness, he has managed to forget how to speak (Or now he speaks so little that it may seem as if he does not know how to speak).

There are no special changes in the design...

Eggman will retire, and Metal Sonic will take his place.

I think that's all, thanks for reading!

You can share your opinion and ideas in the comments, I will pay attention to everyone :b

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bakugous-tits · 2 years ago

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Standing in the Sun

So! Since my old blog got hacked and deleted, I'm finally ready to come back! I'll just be posting a few of my faves for now, and this is number one to come back out! I love Mirio so much, and this was a labour of love for me to write but I'm so happy with it and I hope everyone enjoys it <3

Pairing: Mirio/Reader

Word Count: 14,031

Warnings: Soulmate AU, violence, awkwardness, smut but this one is fairly vanilla I believe? There is a creampie though!

Thank you and enjoy!

You were 16 when your mark showed up.

Everyone in school had laughed when it showed up, the child-like sun showing up on your wrist looking absolutely ridiculous. Most soul marks were a little more refined, looking like fancy tattoos more than anything.

Yours looked like an 8 year old’s interpretation of a sun, minus the cartoon sunglasses and poorly drawn smile.

It was so basic. One of your friends had an intricate rose across her ribcage, another had a detailed mountain range on his back-

And you had a simple sun.

What the fuck did that even mean?

In a world full of quirks it was always difficult to know whether your soul mark had something to do with your soulmate’s personality, hobbies, or their quirk; and with one as plain as yours, you figured that you’d never find your person. Were they someone with a light based quirk? Did they just like being outside?

Years later, you still didn’t know.

You stared down at your wrist, sighing as you leaned back on your sofa. The TV played on in the background, but you were unaware of what was on anymore, mostly using it as white noise at this point. The paperwork you’d been doing for your students was scattered around your coffee table in various piles, only half done. As a developing quirk advisor, you spent your days helping kids whose quirks had recently manifested to learn to control them, and spent your nights marking their progress through various reports for their parents and teachers. It was rewarding work, even if it took up almost all of your time in order to keep up with the number of kids under your care.

A glance over at the digital clock on your oven revealed that you’d been sat there for longer than you’d thought- it was starting to get late and you still hadn’t even thought about what to eat. Stretching your arms over your head, you groaned in satisfaction at the way your joints popped. Leaving your paperwork on the table, you ran a hand over your pomeranian’s head as he napped next to you on the sofa, ignoring his little grumble as you stood up. You smiled at his grumpiness as you padded over to your kitchen, only to groan when you opened the fridge.

Nothing. Nothing you could use to make a substantial meal anyway, and the way your stomach was growling at you said that a snack wasn’t going to cut it. Your eyes dragged over to Chibi when he raised his head to glare at you, as if he knew what you were thinking already. As you closed the fridge you smirked, tilting your head at him. “Hey buddy, you want to go for a walk?”

Chibi snorted, turning around in place on the sofa and flopping down, his back facing you.

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

After 20 minutes and a lot of unnecessary furry struggling, Chibi was reluctantly trotting along the pavement beside you as you headed to a nearby ramen shop that knew you by name. You smiled down at him fondly as you walked, knowing that even though he likely hated you right now he’d be back to snuggling you in bed later.

A small commotion further up the street stole your attention away from your companion, your head shooting up at the shrill scream that tore through the air. A woman was on the ground, having been pushed down by a large man that was running around the corner-

A man who was currently barrelling toward you.

Before you could even react, he’d crashed into you and sent you crumbling to the ground, Chibi’s leash flying out of your grip as you fell. You cried out as you hit the pavement, the breath knocked from your lungs momentarily as you registered the footsteps of more people running towards you. Scrambling to grab Chibi’s leash, your heart was in your throat as you watched him jump away from all the people sprinting past. He yelped as he ran out into the (thankfully empty) street, little legs pumping and taking him away from you.

You watched him go with frantic eyes, only looking away from him briefly to glance at the incoming group of people.

Heroes.

While part of you was relieved that the brute that knocked you down was going to be taken care of, your focus was quickly drawn back to the rapidly disappearing canine that was running still. Pushing yourself up quickly, you took to chasing him on your own, the other civilians in the area too distracted by the hero chase to really pay attention to your frantic calls of your dog’s name.

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

You still hadn’t found him.

You’d been searching for what felt like hours already, calling out his name between sobs. As your only companion, Chibi was probably an attachment that would be considered unhealthy at this point but he was your world. Losing him would be a huge blow, and it had your heart pounding in fear at what could have possibly happened to him.

“Excuse me, Miss? Is this little guy the one you’re looking for?”

Whipping around quickly, you gasped at the sight of Chibi panting heavily in someone's arms, not even looking up at the person straight away. You choked out his name, your arms shooting out to grab him as you sobbed out a yes to the stranger. Chibi happily snuggled into you as you held him close to your chest, licking at your cheeks before settling in your arms. You finally looked up to thank the stranger, relief flooding you as your eyes flicked up to meet-

Blue. His eyes were so blue.

And he was big . The man towered over you, the brightness of his outfit surprising you for a moment before you realised that he was a hero . And not just any hero either, this was Lemillion . His grin was still boyish despite the fact that he had to be in his mid twenties by now, not too far from your own age. Your mouth hung open, your eyes rapidly tracing over him as he chuckled at your response.

From what you remembered seeing back in your school days from the sports festivals, Lemillion had always been big, but now that he’d graduated and become a pro hero, the baby fat was completely gone. He was all hard planes of muscle, broad shoulders and massive arms, and god damn those thighs looked powerful. But as your eyes returned to his face, a heat coming to your cheeks at so blatantly checking him out, you realised that there was definitely a boyish charm to his look.

“Sorry it took me so long to find him! I saw the whole thing before but he’s fast ! And even when I caught up to him he was so grumpy at first! You’ve got a little spitfire there!” Lemillion was looking down at Chibi in your arms with almost the same fond expression you’d had before everything happened. You reached a hand up to swipe the tears from your cheeks, sniffling once before getting yourself together and smiling at him.

“Thank you for finding him for me, I didn’t think it’d really be a priority when there was something like that going on…” Lemillion blinked at you for a second before laughing, reaching out to stroke the top of Chibi’s head softly.

“There were plenty of heroes around to catch that guy, and he was nearly out of steam anyway! When I saw this guy run off I knew I had to do something to help, so I split off and hunted him down. He’s a smart cookie though! Knew to take the back streets and alleys, and when I found him he was huddled in a bush!” Lemillion’s hand moved down to scratch under Chibi’s chin, the canine’s eyes squinting in satisfaction. “Now that you’ve got him though… It’s pretty late, you should be getting home! After all that excitement, both you and the little guy probably need to rest.”

You opened your mouth to thank him one last time before you left, but halted when your stomach grumbled loudly. Your face flushed with heat once again as Lemillion’s eyed dropped to your stomach, his eyes widening in understanding after a moment.

“Oh! You haven’t eaten yet? Well, if it’s okay with you… d’you wanna grab something to eat with me? My patrol is over now and I’m starving!”

You blinked. Lemillion wanted to have dinner with you? You knew from the various people who posted about him online that he was a friendly hero, but this seemed a little over the top…

But the look on his face was open, genuine, like it was something he did all the time. You couldn’t help but nod, a small smile on your lips.

“Sure, but you have to let me treat you, okay? As a thank you for rescuing Chibi…” You raised the arm holding your dog, gesturing to him with your head and rolling your eyes playfully. Lemillion’s face tinted pink, his head shaking and a protest that you could already hear starting to form. “And I won’t take no for an answer, mister, so just accept it.”

Lemillion almost seemed bashful as he nodded, even though he was the one who boldly offered in the first place. As you led him back to your favourite ramen shop, you chatted amicably about mundane things. You didn’t pick up on it straight away, but by the end of the walk you had caught him staring at you a few times as you walked, eyes always tracing over your face. As you sat down at the table in the little shop, placing Chibi on the chair next to you, you gave him a curious look.

“Is something wrong?” Lemillion’s face blazed at your question as he sat down across from you, rubbing his hand on the back of his neck and chuckling nervously. His eyes avoided you, instead focusing on the menu as he cleared his throat.

“Nothing! It’s fine, don’t worry about it!”

You ended up dismissing the thoughts and focusing on food yourself, and soon enough the two of you had your orders and were tucking into them heartily. The shop owner (who knew you very well from your years of coming here, and absolutely loved Chibi.) even provided your little man with some strips of meat, patting him softly on the head before toddling off to serve other customers. As you ate, you stole glances at Lemillion, catching him watching you a few times again and both of you quickly breaking eye contact and looking away.

You couldn’t shake a nagging feeling in the back of your head, a feeling you weren’t able to identify constantly swimming at the edges of your mind. It felt… warm. Like even though you two just met, you’d known each other longer than that, and that this was just another comfortable hangout among many others.

In reality, his costume was drawing curious eyes as people passed the ramen shop. You bristled slightly when a couple of teenage girls came up to your table requesting an autograph, unsure of why you had a pit in your stomach at his resulting smile. The girls were fawning over him and somehow, it put you off the rest of your food, making you put down your utensils and push it away from you slightly. You focused on stroking Chibi’s head, giving the dog your full attention as Mirio fielded their questions and signed some of their belongings. When he finally waved goodbye to them and turned back to you, your previously happy mood had dimmed and you were simply getting tired, the emotional nature of the evening finally catching up with you. Lemillions eyes widened as you yawned, pulling his phone out of his pocket and checking the time before slapping his forehead dramatically.

“Oh man! I didn’t realise how late it was! We should get you home, right?” Nodding your head, you quickly pulled out some money to pay for both of your meals and picked Chibi up once again. You waved to the owner of the restaurant as you walked out, ignoring her pointedly raised brows when she looked between you and Lemillion, and stepped out into the cool night air. Crossing your arms over Chibi, you were glad you’d pulled a hoodie on before you left the house earlier, the night having cooled considerably already.

Lemillion took a deep breath and set his hands on his hips, smiling up at the night sky for a second before turning to face you.

“That was some good food! Thanks for showing me this place, I might have to come back sometime.” His head tilted to the side as he noticed you wrap your arms a little tighter around Chibi, a frown twisting his face slightly. “Are you cold? Here, let me just…”

Lemillion reached up, fiddling with where his cape meets his costume for a moment before the fabric came loose, reaching out to wrap it around your shoulders gently. Your eyes widened for a moment as you unwrapped one arm from around Chibi’s belly, clutching the cape closed and looking down to the floor sheepishly, heat rising in your cheeks again. Lemillion fiddled with the fabric until he was satisfied with its placement, smiling at you gently and gesturing for you to lead the way. He was going to walk you home?

The heat in your cheeks stayed firmly in place, your stomach flipping even as you internally berate yourself. He’s a hero, of course he’s going to be nice to you. Don’t look into it too much, it doesn’t mean anything to him . Forcing your feelings to chill the fuck out, you started walking toward your home and gave Lemillion a soft smile as he fell into step beside you. The walk wasn’t all that long, the two of you chit chatting as you went and Chibi resting comfortably in your arms and panting as he watched the world go by. Lemillion seemed to be showing actual interest in you and your work when he asked questions, throwing you for a loop and making your stomach flip flop dramatically even though you knew he was just doing his job as a hero.

As you walked, your mind started to wander. You couldn’t understand why you felt so… relaxed? That wasn’t quite the right word, but the feeling in the back of your mind refused to show itself any further to let you identify it. This was a hero, a man you’d never met before that night, but you were walking and talking like you’d known each other for years, laughing and poking fun at anything and everything. Lemillion’s sense of humour was… odd at times, but you found yourself enjoying it nonetheless. You almost felt… upset when you arrived back at your house, a soft frown on your face. Lemillion noticed, because of course he did, and raised a brow at you in question.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” His voice was softer than it had been all night, and it made something in your chest twist. You ignored the feeling, schooling your features and smiling up at him with a nod.

“Of course! Well, this is me! Thank you so much, Lemillion, count me as one of your ‘million people saved’, okay?” Your joking words had him smiling widely, hands going to his hips once again.

“Don’t mention it! Have a good night, okay?” With those parting words, Lemillion turned with a mock salute and headed off into the night. You smiled after him for a moment, before making your way into your house, letting Chibi down and removing his harness. The dog immediately ran over and settled himself into his spot on the sofa, huffing as he lay down to fall asleep.

You groaned when you realised that Lemillion had forgotten to take his cape from you. As you held the material in your hands, you sighed and buried your face into it for a second. It still smelled like him, something citrusy and light, but still distinctly masculine, and you cringed when it occurred to you that this was super creepy . You can’t just sniff a guy’s cape like that!. You folded the fabric carefully, placing it on the small table by the front door in case he realised and came back for it, before removing your hoodie to hang it up by the front door.

You failed to notice that rapidly fading glow of your soul mark on your wrist, too focused on staring fondly at your canine companion.

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

Lemillion never came back for his cape, but you saw a news story a few days later about a rescue he’d been part of and he had a new one, so you figured he wasn’t all that bothered.

You started using it as a throw on the sofa, snuggling up with Chibi under it when you were watching TV in the evenings, hoping he never came back for the damn thing. It was the perfect thickness to provide comfort, but thin enough not to overheat you, and it was so damn soft . You loved it.

The whole encounter became just another crazy story you could tell your friends and coworkers. Lemillion found your lost dog, had dinner with you and walked you home- who else could say that? In the weeks following the event, you told it countless times, until everyone already knew and it started to fade from your repertoire. Some of them were jealous, others told you you should have dragged him into your home and had your way with him. You always felt heat rise in your cheeks at that, shaking your head vehemently to deny the idea. He was hot, sure, but he was a hero , and you were just a simple everyday woman.

Once the novelty wore off, you threw yourself back into your work. One of your students had been struggling a lot with her quirk- it had manifested recently and was a mutation, so none of her family were really able to help her all that much with learning how to control it.

Your own quirk was almost perfectly suited to your job: Empathy. You were able to feel the emotions of others when you concentrated on them, and with time you learned how to influence their emotions too. This meant that when your students were scared, frustrated or angry, you were able to calm them down a little and help them see the situation clearly.

Growing up, you hadn’t really known how to apply your quirk most helpfully. You’d never really wanted to be a hero, but that didn’t mean you didn’t want to help people, and it was only when you were volunteering to help a neighbor out with their young child that it occurred to you.

Man, I wish I had your quirk! Being able to calm this little one down during a tantrum would make my life ten times easier!

And with those words in mind, you realised what you wanted to do. Helping others by helping the next generation of heroes get to grips with their quirks, help them grow and flourish- it was perfect. Many years of studying and internships later, you were finally one of the best in the city, sought after by many schools for their problem children. It was exhausting, but you’d never trade it for anything now.

This particular little girl- Mika- had a quirk that allowed her to create storm clouds. Not just rain, but thunder and lightning too, and since she came from a family with all ground based quirks they were out of their element with her. The school had contacted you a while ago when she accidentally started making clouds inside the classroom when she got upset or didn’t understand something, and then became scared at the thunder. It would make her produce more clouds, only making the situation worse and ending with lots of the students in tears.

Mika was a quiet girl, a little on the shy side but with a heart of gold, and you wanted to help her so damn bad. She idolised heroes, and wished for a different quirk every day because she didn’t think she could become one with hers. As you were walking home from your most recent session with her, lost in your head, you didn’t even see someone exiting the shop next to you.

You crashed into what felt like a brick wall, your ass hitting the ground harshly as you dropped your work bag. Your eyes had closed in surprise, but shot open when you heard a familiar voice.

“Oh-! I’m so sorry- Hey, it’s you!” Lemillion stood in front of you yet again, although this time in civilian clothes. You gaped up at him and blinked, before scurrying to your feet, grabbing your bag and shaking your head.

“No! It was my fault, I wasn’t paying attention…” Your eyes drifted to the takeout bag in his hand, before glancing up to see that-

You were outside the ramen shop. He’d come back after all. Noticing your wandering gaze, he looked up to follow your eyes and chuckled, one arm coming up to rub a hand over the back of his head sheepishly.

“I uh- I really liked our dinner the other week, so I’ve been coming back here a few times since then.” Lemillion’s cheeks flushed, and you raise a brow. He almost seemed embarrassed, but you didn’t understand why until he spoke up again, uncharacteristically quiet. “And I was- well, I was kind of hoping to run into you again to be honest…”

Your heart kicked into overdrive for a second, your stomach flipping again until you realised- his cape. He probably just wanted it back, not to actually see you , because why would you even register on his radar? You were just a person he’d saved once. One of his million.

“O-oh, of course… If you’d be willing to walk home with me I can give it back right away, sorry for taking it in the first place but I didn’t really know how to give it back…” Your eyes didn’t lift from your hands, readjusting your bag and making sure all of your files were in place and that nothing had fallen out. When you finally looked up, Lemillion had a confused look on his face, his head tilted slightly. You raised a brow, your brows furrowing slightly. “...Your cape? That’s why you were trying to find me, right?”

Lemillion blinked at you, before bursting into laughter. All you could do was stand there, confused, people passing by giving you odd looks as they hurried past the hysterical man. He managed to reign it in, swiping at one of his eyes as his breathing began to level out.

“Oh, man! I forgot I even left it with you! I’ve had so many spares made over the years so I don’t really notice when my team swaps ‘em out.” The smile he gave you was genuine- and the softness in his eyes as he gazed down at you made something in your chest flutter before you could stop it. But you do- you had to stop being like this, you’d only met the man once and he saved so many people in one day, there was no way you were ever going to register on his radar and you refused to get your hopes up.

Besides, you had a soulmate out there somewhere who was waiting for you, you couldn’t let yourself get hung up on him just because he was lovely, and had nice eyes and you wanted to bite his thighs and rub your hands all over his pecs and-

Stop it .

You took a deep breath, shaking your head slightly. If it wasn’t his cape, then why the hell was he looking for you? Opening your mouth to ask, Lemillion cut you off before you could even speak.

“I wanted to speak to you about the kids you work with and if maybe we could set up some kind of group meet and greet, or something. I know it always motivated me to work hard at figuring out my quirk when I saw heroes in action as a kid, so imagine what it might do to actually meet one!” And there it was. The rational explanation that helped cut your thoughts off, despite the fog of hurt that suddenly swirled in your chest. This was for the best, you didn’t need to obsess over a man who’s world was so far removed from your own. You cleared your throat, adjusting your bag over your arm as you smiled up at him.

“Seems like a good idea, yeah! If you’re not too busy, that is…”

“Of course not! I wouldn’t have offered it if I didn’t think I’d have time.” Lemillion rubbed at the back of his head, digging into his pocket for a moment. “So, I think it would probably be a good idea if we swapped numbers- to organise something, of course, just to keep in contact more easily.” There was something odd about his face as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, but you didn’t have a chance to dwell on it before he was handing you the object and prompting you to fill in your information. Once you’d shared your contacts, you asked him if he’d like to wait at the shop for you to go retrieve his cape. The hero laughed, waving you off.

“Like I said, I didn’t even realise it was gone! You may as well keep it.” You went to protest, only to be cut off by his phone ringing in his hand. As he answered the call, he gave you an apologetic look, muttering softly to the person on the other side before hanging up. “Shoot, they need me back at the agency- here, I won’t have time to eat it now, so you may as well have my order. At least it won’t go to waste then, right?”

Without waiting for a response, he placed the bag in your hand and darted off, your jaw dropping as you looked after him. With a heavy sigh, you trudged home and set the takeaway on the kitchen counter, Chibi circling at your feet in excitement. Opening the bags to inspect what he’d bought, something fluttered in your chest when you saw the contents.

Lemillion had ordered the exact things you’d both had on the night you’d met.

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

This was getting ridiculous.

You shouldn’t be feeling like this about a man you’ve only met in person twice .

Lemillion was just too nice, too lovely, though, and as you texted back and forth in the weeks following your second meeting you couldn't help the little flip flops that your stomach went through when you saw his name light up your phone screen. The man was always so happy in his texts, so understanding when you ended up delving into the more serious discussions about your students.

It was playing absolute havoc on your heart.

It was finally the day before Lemillion would be coming into your afterschool class to meet your students, the whole thing set up as a surprise for the youngsters. Putting down your phone after sending him a text to confirm that everything was still good to go, you sighed and turned your hand over to stare at your soulmate mark. This wasn’t fair. There was someone out there for you, and here you were getting all worked up over a man way out of your league. You shook your head, letting your arm drop down onto your bed, curling up further onto your side and closing your eyes.

“What are you doing…? Just- stop it. It’ll never work. He probably already has his soulmate, so there’s no point…” Murmuring to yourself softly, your eyes shot open when your phone buzzed next to your face on the pillow. Lemillion’s name filled your screen, your heart kicking up a gear as you swiped to open the message.

Lemillion: All good on my end! As long as there’s no emergencies tomorrow, I should be there around 3! I can’t wait to see you!

And there was your heart, pounding even heavier as the chat bubbles came up again, signalling him typing once more.

Lemillion: And the kids, obviously! Haha, that’s the main thing tomorrow, isn’t it!

Your heart calmed down a little, but heat remained in your cheeks from his words. He hadn’t corrected himself, he’d just added on the kids. Did that mean-?

Groaning, you turned your face into your pillow. You really needed to stop this, damn it. You peeked one eye out when your phone buzzed with an alert. Tapping on the notification, you were taken to a news page about a fight that had broken out earlier in the day. Your heart swelled when you caught sight of a certain blonde hero, a video showing him engaged in a hand to hand fight with a villain that was attempting to rob a bank. The villain couldn’t land a single hit, Lemillion’s permeation quirk frustrating him more and more as the hero kept punching him over and over. Eventually, the villain fell to the floor after a particularly solid hit to the face, knocked out and drooling on the floor.

The determined look in Lemillion’s eyes throughout the fight only made you admire him more, his drive to protect the civilians from harm and save as many people as possible… He truly was an inspiration. You tapped out of the video, going back to your messages with the hero. Sighing once again, you decided to turn in.

After sending him a thumbs up and wishing him goodnight, you plugged your phone in and turned over, closing your eyes once more and attempting to fall asleep so you wouldn’t be completely knocked out the next day. The last thoughts in your mind swirled around him, head filled with visions of his eyes, the sounds of his laugh.

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

Hot. It was so hot, sweat dripping down your spine as you perched on the edge of the bed, your ass raised high and your face buried in the covers. Hands were clasped around your waist, big and reassuring as the man leaned forward to place kisses across your shoulders, a whine sticking in your throat as you arched into him. You felt his lips stretch into a smile at your movements before he straightened, one of his hands leaving your waist to move between your legs, the tip of his finger circling your clit and forcing a moan from your chest. Starting at a teasing pace, his finger gradually got faster, making your legs shake and hands grasp the sheets where they were stretched above your head.

Somehow you were already dripping wet, your walls aching to be filled, clenching around nothing. A deep chuckle met your ears as he removed his hand, the feeling of something much thicker taking its place as he rubbed the head of his cock against your clit. Trying to push back against him, you gasped when he softly swatted at your ass, laughing once again.

Your wishes were granted when you felt him start to push into you, your jaw dropping open at the stretch of him- long, thick and heavy inside you. He gave you a minute to adjust to him, before he started to move. His thighs hit against your ass with each pump of his hips, leaving you achingly empty when he drew back and pulling moans from you when he pushed back in.

“Always take me so well, baby, so good…”

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

You jolted awake, sweat covering your skin and the sheets kicked off around your legs. Chest heaving, you reached up to wipe the sweat from your brow, noting the mess of wetness between your thighs.

That voice… That was Lemillion…

You shook your head, reaching over to grab your phone and check the time. With only about 20 minutes before you had to get up to get ready for work anyway, you switched off your alarm and slunk into the shower to clean up. It felt so real, the warmth of his hands on your skin almost lingering on you even in the heat of the shower.

After staying under the hot spray for much longer than was strictly necessary, you managed to pull yourself together and sat down for a small breakfast, wondering how the fuck you were going to look Lemillion in the eyes today after that dream. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and forced yourself to calm down.

Damn it, I’m a professional! I can do this.

Breakfast cleared, you grabbed your bag and your files, patting Chibi on the head softly before leaving for the day, the dog looking up at you with a huff to see you off.

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

“What’s the surprise, huh? We wanna know!”

“Why’d we gotta wait ‘till after school? Tell us!”

“ Please? ”

The kids were practically frothing at the mouth when you told them you had a surprise waiting for them during their last official lesson of the day, many of them getting frustrated when you refused to tell them what was happening during your session after official school hours ended. While most of the kids in this class had a good handle on their quirks, there were more in here that struggled than any other class so for the time being you had a group session with them one day a week. The kids with more difficulty had individual sessions with you on other days, like Mika.

Your eyes drifted over to her where she sat quietly in the corner of the class, fiddling with a keychain on her backpack. As the other kids began packing up their things, you wandered over to where she was sitting and crouched down to her height, smirking when you realised what she was messing with.

A Lemillion keychain.

“Do you like Lemillion, Mika?” The little girl jumped at your voice, but smiled when she realised you were asking her about her accessory. The smile spread as she looked down at it and nodded, her fingers tracing the raised metal that framed a cartoon version of the hero. You pulled the sleeves of your cardigan further over your wrists as you raised a brow at her.

“He’s my favourite! He’s strong, and nice, and he saves so many people!” Resting your hand on the top of her head softly, you gave her a grin. “I wanna be a hero like him! I wanna save lotsa people just like Lemillion!”

“I just know you can do it, Mika! Work hard, and you can be just like him!” You straightened and headed back towards the door, leaning against the frame as you waited for the kids to be ready to leave. A buzzing in your pocket had you pulling out your phone.

Lemillion: I’m in the gym, ready to go! Can’t wait!

Placing your phone back into your pocket, you clapped your hands as the kids lined up in front of you, getting their attention. They quieted down quickly, eager to find out what their surprise was. You led them easily through the school grounds until you got to the gym, pausing outside the door and clearing your throat as you turned to your group.

“Okay guys, I need you to listen to me closely! Your surprise is in here, and I know you’re all gonna be excited, but please remember your manners, okay?” Murmurs erupted through the group, brows furrowing in confusion until you opened the door and ushered them in. Collective gasps filled the room as the group finally saw their prize: Lemillion, in the flesh, standing in the middle of the gym. Your eyes strayed to Mika, taking in the shining of her eyes and the way her jaw dropped before she looked back at you. She grinned, a look mirrored on your own face, before her eyes returned to her hero.

The next hour or so was mostly Lemillion fielding questions, signing things and hyping the kids up, many of them leaving with their parents afterwards with smiles filling their faces, as well as new determination. You had to hand it to him- he’d been right about this encouraging the kids, but there was one more thing you wanted to squeeze out of the experience.

“Mika?” the girl in question looked up at you, still clutching her backpack with careful hands. Lemillion had signed it for her, and you had a feeling that it was now her prized possession. “Can you come here for a moment?”

Having already cleared an extra fifteen minutes with her parents, you knew this would be just what the girl needed to help with her quirk. As she approached, you looked over to Lemillion once again, meeting his eyes and tilting your head down towards her. A look of understanding filled his face as he walked towards you, his smile returning as he approached Mika and yourself. Mika looked sheepish, especially now that everyone else had left, but Lemillion gave her a soft smile as he crouched down.

“Hiya Mika! I hear you’ve been having a little trouble with your quirk?” The girl’s smile fell, her eyes drifting down to the floor as she nodded her head. “Well, would you believe me if I told you that I had a really hard time with my quirk when I was your age?”

Her eyes shot up to meet his, shaking her head slowly. The smile never left his face as he began to explain his quirk to her in a little more detail, telling her how dangerous it had been for him at first. Mika’s eyes shined at the information, her fists clenching slightly in front of her chest.

“It was hard work, because even though my pops has the same quirk, he never learned how to use it like I do! I had to figure it out all on my own, sorta like how you’re figuring out your quirk too! And a lot of the time I was scared of my quirk, so me and you are practically the same!”

Mika froze, her eyes widening. You held your breath, hoping beyond all hope that this was what she needed to get her out of the slump she’d been drifting into. Lemillion tilted his head with a broad smile, and Mika’s eyes filled with tears as she smiled back at him. Her posture straightened as she swiped at her eyes, that same determined glint in them that you’d seen on the other students. She gave him an intent nod, sniffling slightly.

“I’ll work hard, Lemillion! Just like you!” Mika’s parents entered just as she made her bold claim, Lemillion laughing and ruffling her hair as he stood up. They came over, thanking the hero profusely and chatting for a moment before ushering a highly excited Mika from the gym. You heaved a sigh of relief as the door swung shut behind them, resting your hands on your hips as you swung your head around to look at Lemillion.

“Thank you for that, I was really struggling to get through to her but I think you did it!” A smile on your face, you rubbed at one of your arms with your other hand, a little bashful. “I think she’ll be okay thanks to you. Another citizen saved, Lemillion.”

Lemillion grinned, giving you a thumbs up and nodding his head. As you helped him pack up, you kept feeling his eyes on you, always averting when you turned to make eye contact. When you finished, he cleared his throat and approached you, a faint dusting of pink on his cheeks.

“Thanks for letting me do this! It was super fun, and I think it helped the kids a lot.” You nodded to him, giving him a smile in return. As you exited the gym with your things, Lemillion holding the door for you, you looked up to see the sky darkening with clouds rather quickly. He came up beside you, letting the door swing shut behind him and glancing up himself. “Oh shoot, looks like it’s gonna rain pretty hard… Did you walk here?”

You nodded your head, searching through your bag for your umbrella and raising it with a flourish once you dragged it from the depths. A frown seemed to be cemented on Lemilion’s face, making you raise a brow at him. “I’ll be fine, it’s only about fifteen minutes from here if you know the shortcuts like I do!” He shook his head once, placing his fists on his hips as he sighed and looked at the floor, only raising his head again when you made a questioning noise.

“Only one thing for it. I’ll have to walk you home again to make sure you get there safely.” His words made your jaw drop, a scoff escaping before you could stop it. A grin snuck onto his face once again, that same pinkness returning to his cheeks. “It’s my duty as a hero, and it’s starting to get late! Don’t say no- I’ll do it either way so you may as well accept it.”

With a sigh, you decided that maybe walking home with him again wasn’t so bad. The fluttering in your chest was impossible to ignore, and it gave you more time with the hero so- who were you to complain, really?

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

Ten minutes later, you were sure he’d regret his actions.

He was dripping wet, the rain having come down hard and fast shortly into your walk and the wind picking up to the point where your umbrella was useless. You weren’t faring much better yourself, trying to shelter your bag as best you could with all your files inside it. The duffel bag he had with him was a little more resistant to water, but even that would only go so far and you could see the bag changing colour as the water started to seep into it. When you finally saw your house in the distance, you sped up a little, jerking your head toward the door when you finally got there and trudging into the hallway with a groan, Lemillion following you in for a brief respite from the rain.

Looking up at him with his hair flopping into his eyes limply, water dripping off it, you couldn’t help but admire him. He still had a sparkle in his eyes even as he shivered slightly, trying to wring out his cape a little in the entryway to not let it drip all over your floor. Chibi came barrelling over, sniffing at the newcomer with intent as he realised someone had come home. Lemillion smiled broadly as he bent down, stroking the top of the pom’s head and tickling under his chin.

“Hey little guy! Good to see you again!” You dropped your bag to the floor, looking at the hero with a scrutinising eye. He turned to you, tilting his head at your study of him and looking down at his outfit with furrowed brows. “What? Is something wrong?” “Are you done for the day or do you have to rush off?”

He blinked at you. You blinked back at him.

When he finally shook his head no, you nodded yours and started removing your shoes.

“You can shower and wait here for the rain to stop if you want, don’t want a hero like you catching a cold, now do we?” You tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, though your heart was thundering in your chest. Would he take this the wrong way? You just didn’t want to be the reason he got sick, and it really was throwing it down outside. He seemed to hesitate, making heat rise to your face as you finally wriggled a boot off. “You don’t have to, but I just thought I’d offer.”

When you looked up at him, his face had softened, making your heart thud painfully for a second at the look in his eyes. He sighed, reaching up to rub at the back of his head again.

(You definitely didn’t admire the way his arm flexed. Nope. No sir.)

( You did. )

“Y’know, I think that’d be gre-” His phone rang in the side pocket of his duffel bag, making him wince as he checked the ID. Tamaki . He raised a finger to you, an apologetic look on his face as he spoke quietly into the phone. You tried not to listen in, frowning as you headed further into your apartment and scratched at Chibi’s head softly when he followed you.

Tamaki. That was the pro hero Sun Eater, Lemillion’s close friend- or were they more than friends? They’d always been very close from what the tabloids reported, even close enough for a few to claim that they were together romantically, but it was never confirmed. What if they were soulmates? It would make sense, they often spent days off together, often worked together extremely well on missions, so it wasn’t that much of a stretch…

“Sorry ‘bout that! I- uh- I have to go meet someone, he really needs me right now and-” “It’s fine! You go do whatever you gotta do, no harm, no foul! Just try and get out of the rain fast, okay? I don’t want you getting sick.” Your words came out fairly neutral, you hoped, the smile on your face only slightly forced. Lemillion frowned, another apology spilling from his lips as he left your house quickly.

You looked down at Chibi with a sigh, the dog tilting his head at you and wagging his tail slowly.

“I’m screwed, aren’t I?”

Chibi simply huffed, heading over to his food bowl and placing a paw on it, looking at you imploringly. You shook your head fondly, going to feed the little gremlin before he got too grumpy with you.

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How you ended up here was beyond your comprehension, really.

Your talks with Lemillion never ceased after the meet and greet. The hero always found time to text you, or call if he needed his hands free while he was cooking or something, forming a rather… odd friendship? There was no one else you spoke to as often, but you also still hardly knew the man. Your little crush, however, didn’t care in the slightest and continued to grow with each day. Trying to hide it was getting easier with time, though, the way you two spoke becoming more and more comfortable, and you didn’t understand why he was really bothering with you in the first place. When you asked him, he had simply chuckled and said a very cryptic I just have to! I’m not too sure why, but I always follow my instincts!

Whatever that meant.

The colder months had creeped in, the leaves changing colour rapidly and the weather turning almost before your eyes. Lemillion- no, Togata , as he had started insisting you called him- was telling you about an upcoming hero gala while you cooked dinner. You had him on speaker phone as you cooked, the man walking home from his patrol as he chatted away. Not properly listening as you cooked, you only caught the end of what he was saying.

“-So you should come too! It’d be fun, and I can introduce you to the others!”

You choked, lowering the heat on your stove as you scrambled over to your phone on the opposite countertop.

“I’m sorry- what?! You want me to-?”

“Yeah! I think it’d be great, don’t you?” Swallowing thickly, your tongue felt too big for your mouth and you sputtered slightly. “Nejire has been asking about you, and Tamaki wants to meet you too! Plus we can hang out properly for a while, please come with me?”

Your face flushed, your heart kicking up a gear as you thought about it. He wanted to go with you? You’d be out of your element around a bunch of heroes but- you couldn’t deny that you wanted to spend more time with him…

“Sure…?” Togata’s answering cheer had you smiling softly at your phone, shaking your head slowly in fondness as you returned to cooking your dinner.

Which led you to the situation of incomprension.

Weeks later, you’d procured a beautiful long sleeved dress, just thick enough to stave off the cool temperature without a jacket so you could be comfortable. You’d made your way to the venue in a car Togata ordered for you, texting him on the way and smiling when he said he’d meet you at the entrance. As the car pulled up, you saw him standing at the edge of the curb and your breath caught.

The suit he was wearing was perfectly tailored, sharp lines and fabric clenched around his thick arms and thighs. His face lit up as the car stopped, his hand already outstretched to get the door for you. When you stepped out, his jaw dropped as he took you in.

“W-Wow! You look amazing!” Heat flooded your system at his words, forcing you to look down and tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear.

“You don’t look so bad yourself, Togata…” He chuckled as he closed the door, gesturing toward the venue with a grin. You made your way inside with him, looking around nervously at the expensive decor of the hotel the event was being held at. There were heroes everywhere; Creati, Mirko, Chargebolt and- holy shit was that Deku ?

What the hell were you doing here? You were nothing in comparison to all of these people, saviours of humanity and fucking heroes and-

And then Togata grasped your wrist softly, and it felt like the world stood still. All you could feel was the warmth of his hand, the tension leaching from your body almost instantly. The noise in the room became a dull echo in the background, all of your senses focused on that single point of contact.

Heart pounding for an entirely different reason now, you looked up at Togata with a curious face. He smiled down at you, tugging your wrist gently and inclining his head outward one of the quieter corners of the room. As you followed him, you frowned down at his hand, prompting him to drop it.

(You missed the warmth of his hand almost instantly, but you’d never tell anyone.)

“Sorry, Tamaki and Nejire are this way. Tamaki isn’t exactly fond of the big crowds at these kinda things, so you can usually find him in the corners.” Togata had to speak up a little for you to hear him over the din, but as the crowd thinned and you approached the edge of the room, the noise levelled out to be much quieter. Just ahead, leaning against a wall, you recognized Togata’s friends and swallowed thickly. Nejire, as you more commonly knew the hero- looked absolutely stunning in her seafoam green dress, her shoulders bared elegantly. Her hair fell in soft curls around her shoulders, wobbling slightly with every pat on the back that she gave the other person standing against the wall.

Sun Eater looked like he’d rather be anywhere else- at least, from what you could tell from where he was seemingly trying to become one with the wall by attaching his face to it. Nejire patting his back seemed to be doing absolutely nothing to make him feel better, unintelligible words falling from his mouth in a near constant mumble. As you and Togata approached, Nejire spotted you and immediately lit up, smacking Sun Eater’s back a little harder.

“Ooooh! Amajiki! They’re here! Look!” Nejire smiled brilliantly as you both came to a stop beside her, finally ceasing her assault of the shy hero. Mirio went to introduce you, but had hardly gotten your name out before she was cutting him off. “I know who she is! Oh wow! We’ve heard so much about you, it’s so nice to finally have a face for the name! I love your hair, and that dress is to die for! Hey, Togata has told us about your quirk and stuff, what’s it like working with the kids? Was it hard to get started in your line of work? How did you know you wanted to do it? Have you been-” “Okay! Nejire, let her breathe!” Togata ended the questioning, placing his hand on your shoulder gently. “This isn’t twenty questions, we’re just here to have a good time. How are you holding up, Tamaki?”

The man in question groaned, turning his face to the side slightly but still not turning around. Togata left your side to go to his friend, placing a gentle hand on his back and leaning in to continue his conversation, leaving you and Nejire alone. She leaned toward you, a grin on her face that you nervously returned.

“Y’know, Mirio talks about you all the time . Like- he’ll be walkin’ around and see something and just- talk about how much you’d like it! It’s adorable!” You flushed at her words, looking down at the floor and grasping one of your wrists with the opposite hand.

He talked about you? It almost sounded like he- but there was no way! You really hadn’t done anything to earn Togata’s attention. He was more likely just excited about having a new friend.

That must be it.

Togata coaxed Nejire away before you could respond, enlisting her help to get Sun Eater away from the wall. It took a few minutes, the two of them making you giggle at some of the ways they tried to get him to move, but eventually they got the reluctant man away and you all headed into the main hall of the venue.

And it was stunning.

Tall ceilings, gold ornaments, thick red velvet curtains. You were miles out of your element.

The event was being held as a fundraiser- an auction where all of the items would be sold and the money would go to charity, and it seemed they were ready to start selling items off. You nudged Togata and pointed towards the refreshments table, letting him know to come find you there after the auction part of the evening. Grabbing a drink and settling into a chair at one of the tables, you watched as pro heroes bid their money on seemingly useless objects for people who made as much money as they did- spa hampers, signed merch from other heroes, tickets to a local play; all things donated by local businesses and the other heroes themselves.

As the heroes were preoccupied, you took a moment to admire the room, and the outfits of some of the heroes and their dates. Even the waiting staff were dressed to the nines in well pressed suits and-

Wait.

… Why are there so many waiters gathered by the doors?

Pausing mid sip of your drink, you tilted your head and frowned at the three sets of double doors, watching as the waiters all seemed to have some kind of meeting. You placed your drink down on the table, rising slowly when the waiters spread out across the doors. A person in front of each one leaned their hands against the closed doors, and your heart rate picked up as one of them sealed the door by turning it to stone. Another door became locked shut when roots and vines cracked through the wood, knotting around each other until it was nearly a solid wall, and the last one was encased in what looked like a thick purple paste. Some of the partygoers nearby cried out, prompting the heroes to turn and notice what was going on. A few of the waiters grabbed nearby guests, grasping their hands behind their backs and holding up syringes right over their necks.

Unfortunately, you were standing near one of them. You gasped as your arms were grabbed, twisting behind your back uncomfortably and a needle held just above where your pulse was pounding.

“Hello, heroes! Hope you don’t mind if we crash the party!” The heroes swung their heads back to the stage just in time to see the MC for the auction fall to the floor, blood dripping from a wound on his temple. A large man stood behind him, a cane in his hand with a carved raven on the handle- red liquid dripping from the beak. Draped in a dark cape and a tailored suit, thick sunglasses on his face, the man was grinning widely at the group of heroes before him. “Please, don’t move a muscle! If you do, I’ll be forced to do something- well, just awful. That means you, Deku! And you, Dynamight!” The two heroes in question had moved to the front of the crowd, but halted when the man reached up and took hold of his glasses. The villain slid them down his nose slowly, looking down at the two top heroes with a sick grin. Dynamight growled, moving his arms to his sides, his palms lighting up as he prepared to attack the villain-

Until it suddenly stopped. With a green glow surrounding his body, Dynamight’s body began to turn an odd grayish hue. Deku turned to his friend with a gasp, panic filling his features as the number two hero was turned to stone.

“Like I said- I don’t want to have to petrify so many of Japan’s top heroes in one go, after all! Not to mention- all those lovely hostages around the room would suffer so much if you disobey me…” The villain’s words seemed to echo with how quiet the hall got, your chest beginning to ache in fear as your eyes searched the crowd. Togata’s eyes met yours, his gaze focused entirely on you. Through your tears you could see how tense he was, his teeth bared in a grimace as he realised he couldn’t get to you. His head swung to look over at the villain, your eyes widening at the absolute rage that seemed to vibrate through him. You’d never seen him like this before, how could this be the same man who called you in tears a few weeks ago when he watched a video online about some rescue dogs?

At the front of the crowd, Deku had turned back to the villain. His face was grim, a deep frown directed straight at the stage and his eyes hardened.

“What have you done to Kacchan?!” “Now, now, don’t worry! I’ll be more than happy to undo it once we get what we came for! And I hate to be so boring as to ask for it, but- we want your money. You came to donate to charity, correct? Well, I have a very worthy charity case for you to donate to! All you have to-”

A cry sounded from within the crowd, one of the lower ranked heroes launching himself at one of the waiters nearby with a hostage- if you remembered correctly, it was his date. All three of them hit the ground, his date scrabbling back to him as the waiter moved away quickly.

To your dismay, the waiter that was next along jammed the needle into the neck of his hostage.

The guest began to scream immediately, the woman’s skin starting to sizzle and steam as she was thrown away from the waiter, her hands scratching at any bare patch of skin and ripping it off of her, as if it was barely even attached. She looked to be in absolute agony, bubbles of skin growing on her face before they popped.

It was horrifying.

Tears were falling thick and fast down your cheeks, your body shaking with fear. That same needle was hovering above your neck, above the necks of about 20 people in the room, and it looked like even saving one would result in the death of another.

“I did ask you all to stay perfectly still, you know. I wanted to avoid this…” The villain shook his head in mocking disapproval, as if the woman’s screams weren’t still echoing. “Now, as I was saying… We have a lovely bank account just waiting to be filled with all your precious money, and it’s for a very good cause. Me and all my friends here could really use it!”

The screams had finally died down. The woman was lying on the floor, her skin mostly melted off, still steaming in places. Your eyes found Togata’s once more, his own looking frantic as it really set in that he couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t save you or anyone right now .

You could see the same look on the faces of all the other heroes present.

Deku looked like he was going to combust, Nejire-Chan and Sun Eater looked at each other with furrowed brows, as if they were trying to figure out their next step.

Togata couldn’t take his eyes off you.

There was a level of desperation there that you didn’t quite understand. Even though the other heroes looked upset at not being able to help their dates and friends, Togata seemed especially upset when his eyes were latched onto your figure.

You hated it.

That look in his eyes, it was so unlike his usual smiles. Something inside of you bristled at the lack of brightness in his expression. Blinking a few times to try and clear the tears from your eyes, you made sure he was looking at you before giving him a small smile. Reassurance.

It’s okay.

Togata’s eyes looked watery, although you couldn’t really tell from this distance, before he suddenly broke eye contact. He grit his teeth, his eyes screwing shut for a moment as he swung his head to glare at the villain.

“All this?! All this just for money ?! You just killed someone !” Togata’s voice cut through the silence, the heroes around him gasping at his outburst. He was shaking with anger, his eyes blazing as the villain simply laughed.

“Ah-! Not quite! I didn’t kill anybody! After all, I did warn you all that I’d have to do something awful if you didn’t listen!” The villain sounded so full of glee, so proud of what he’d done here.”Besides, it’s only cause of this stupid hero system that people like me struggle to get work and need to resort to this shit! If we could all use our quirks freely then things would be different!”

… wait.

The villain was still ranting, but you couldn’t even hear him anymore. Use your quirk freely… What if you could influence someone? Your eyes roved over the villain, unsure about how this would go… you didn’t have a licence to do hero work, but you did have something of a concession for using your quirk due to working with the kids. No one would even know, there’s no visual representation with your quirk on you , it only shows around the person you’re influencing. So the only people in the room that would know it was you would be Togata, Nejire and Sun Eater… You didn’t know if you were covered with your partial-licence, but surely you had to try.

The other risk was whether or not taking the leader out would impact the waiters. You were hopeful that if you took him out of the equation, in the chaos they’d just drop their hostages, but there was always the risk that they’d just inject their hostages anyway. You had to get a message to someone, somehow…

Togata looked at you again. Locking eyes with him, you schooled your face into the most neutral expression you could, and activated your quirk. A subtle blue glow, almost like a very tiny glitter shower, began around Togata’s ears.

Calm. Collected. Relax.

His face melted from it’s disgruntled rage, his mind clearing for a moment as you stopped your quirk, your eyes shooting to the other hostages and back to him before looking at the villain again. When you looked back at Togata, he didn’t seem to understand for a moment before it seemed to click.

A nod. A smile.

Togata turned and kept his voice to a low murmur, saying something to the other heroes as subtly as he could while the villain kept yelling about the inadequacy of hero society. You really hoped that he got your idea right.

Please.

When Togata finally looked back at you and nodded, you realised that many of the heroes seemed to be bracing themselves, each one angling their body slowly towards one of the hostages. Relief flooded through you as you turned your eyes toward the villain at the front, focusing on him directly.

Activating your quirk, you were suddenly filled with a chaotic swirl of emotions. What this man felt wasn’t just rage, there was sadness, fear, pain. You didn’t want to do this to him, but there was no other choice. You grunted softly as the blue glow, much stronger this time as you were concentrating so hard, began to sparkle around his ears.

Relax. Calm. Peace.

He stopped talking. The man’s face, previously screwed up in anger, relaxed swiftly as he stared off into space for a moment and you held onto his emotions as tightly as you could.

A moment was all the heroes needed.

All at once, the heroes jumped, each one launching towards a hostage and knocking the waiters over in the same breath, a coordinated attack. At the same moment, Deku jumped at the main villain, tackling and subduing the man as you finally let your control go, a splitting headache taking up residence in your mind immediately.

Togata came for you, because of course he did.

His fist flew past your head and rammed into the waiter’s, the man behind you dropping the needle and falling to the floor, the hand gripped around your wrists ripping your dress as he fell. You stumbled forward, Togata’s arms pulling you into his chest immediately and securing you there. Sobbing immediately, you buried your face into him and clutched at his shirt, eyes screwed closed.

“I knew my soulmate would be smart, but you’re a genius, you know that?”

... What?

You opened your eyes, ready to question him when your eyes caught on your soul mark, bared thanks to your ripped sleeve on your dress.

Glowing.

Eyes widening, you looked up at Togata, seeing the soft smile on his face even as around you the other heroes were busy dealing with the waiters (who had immediately panicked at their leader being taken down with no fighting) and working on getting the doors open again. He chuckled at your confusion, one of his hands leaving your waist to reach up and cup your cheek carefully.

“You-? But-? What?” Your brain seemed to grind to a halt, nothing making sense even as you absolutely relished in the warmth of his hand on your cheek and his arm around you. Togata burst out laughing this time, leaning back enough to put a bit of space between you both. He reached for the hem of his shirt, lifting it slightly until his lower abdominals were on display. You would have blushed if your eyes hadn’t locked onto the glowing mark on his hip.

A little seed, with a sprout coming out of it.

You frowned, looking back up at him and shaking your head slowly until he started speaking again.

“I had a feeling it was you when we first met. It felt like coming home even though we’d never even seen each other before… But I didn’t understand until you explained your job. You’re nurturing the next generation of heroes, your own little seeds, helping them grow. That’s when I really knew it.” Togata looked down at his hip again, smiling fondly at the mark and then back at you. “You’re amazing. I’m so glad it’s you.”

Your eyes filled with tears again at his words, at the soft grin he gave you as he lowered his shirt again, at the pure joy that you could feel radiating off him now that you were out of danger. It was too much, you couldn’t handle it, all the emotions of the day catching up to you as you sobbed. Togata’s eyes immediately widened in panic, his arms shooting around you again and pulling you close.

Comfort. Safety. Love.

Your quirk was working on it’s own, opening you up to Togata, letting you feel his emotions and pouring your own back into him, his arms stiffening as they registered and he realised they weren’t his own feelings this time, that you felt the same .

How could you not?

He leaned you back again, hands cupping your face and wiping the tears from your cheeks as he beamed down at you, uncaring that your face was soaked, uncaring that your makeup was running-

He leaned in, and he kissed you.

Just like before, the world stopped.

There was nothing other than you, and him, and the fact that you’d been denying it for months but he was your soulmate . You finally felt like you could breathe after being underwater for so long, like you fit perfectly against him, in his arms. It was intoxicating.

The kiss, while it started loving and almost chaste, a relief that you’d made it through all this, quickly became more desperate as you realised that this man was yours .

And then Nejire cleared her throat.

Togata and you broke apart, faces flushed with heat as you stared at her wide eyed.

“I’m so psyched that you guys are together and all, but we kinda need to finish up here you two! C’mon, you can suck each other’s faces later !” Nejire walked towards the (now open-when did that happen?) doors, making you realise that in the few minutes you two had carved out together in the chaos, everything had calmed down. Police were escorting the villain and his waiter-lackeys from the building, the heroes were giving their statements to other officers, and ambulances were arriving to help the hostages. Togata helped you toward them, noting how weak you’d become after using your quirk under the circumstances.

What followed was a few annoying hours of being checked over by the EMT’s, police taking statements, and a lot of suggestive looks between you and Togata. He knew what he was doing, the bastard, taking off his suit jacket and placing it around your shoulders, his smell surrounding you in both comfort and frustration. Rolling up his sleeves so you could see the muscles in his forearms flexing.

Now that you weren’t yelling at yourself for being attracted to him, it seemed like the flood gates had opened. You were openly ogling him even as they announced that you were free to go, your eyes laser focused on him. As soon as you were standing you made your way straight over, Togata’s eyes catching your movement before you reached him and prompting a smile.

It wasn’t one of his usual smiles.

It seemed that, like you, Togata was feeling the effects of that kiss, an edge of hunger in his eyes and on the curve of his lips that had you aching in your core. As you came to a stop in front of him, he reached for you automatically, pulling you into his side and resting his hand on your hip to keep you pressed against him. He bid the heroes he was talking to goodbye quickly after that, pulling his phone out to get a car called and looking down at you when you were waiting at the curb for it to pull up.

“Can I take you home? Wanna make sure you get in safe.”

You’ve never nodded so fast in your life.

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As soon as your door was closed, he was on you.

Togata pulled you toward him, wrapping his arms around you and planting his lips on yours, your own arms wrapping around his neck as you pressed yourself against him. The adrenaline from nearly dying had worn off, but in its wake a new excitement was building in your veins. The thought that this man was all yours was still swirling through your mind, and now that you were pressed up against all that muscle you were aching between your thighs.

Togata pressed you against the wall in the hallway, parting from you and panting heavily, his forehead pressed to yours. Your hands moved to cup his cheeks, your nose nudging against his gently as you tried to reconnect your lips, feeling him smirk at your insistence.

“Togata…” A soft utterance of his name had him growling, pressing his lips to yours once again. His hands smoothed down from their place at your waist, moving over your ass and squeezing gently. When he pulled away, he pulled your hips against him, letting you feel his hardness against your stomach.

“Mirio- Call me Mirio, okay?” His voice had dropped, a roughness to it that wasn’t usually present that made a thrill run down your spine. You nodded, leaning back against the wall and looking up at him with hooded eyes. Mirio took your hand, lifting your wrist- the one with your soul mark on it- to his lips without letting his eyes leave yours, and brushed his lips across the mark itself. Your lashes fluttered at the soft contact, the air around you charging with each movement, your chest beginning to heave.

“Mirio, please…” With his eyes sparkling, Mirio lowered his head slowly, moving past your lips to your jawline, his hand coming up to tilt your head further and allow himself better access to your neck. You gasped as his lips and tongue assaulted your pulse point, your hips nudging toward him in pleasure, the feeling making you throb in need. “M-Mirio, bedroom, n-now…”

The distance seemed to evaporate with how quickly Mirio dragged you through the house, following your directions between heated kisses. As soon as you were in the bedroom, Mirio flung his jacket from your shoulders with a solid yank.

“I really love you in my clothes, but I also really want you out of ‘em right now…” He murmured against your lips, reaching for the buttons on his shirt and swiftly undoing them, shrugging it off as soon as he could. Your hands had a mind of their own as they roamed his chest, dragging over his nipples and relishing in the little twitch he gave.

Mirio’s hands moved to your hips once again, starting to drag your dress up by bunching the fabric at your waist bit by bit. Despite the heated atmosphere, and how much the both of you wanted to move this along, Mirio was taking his time where he could, teasing you when he finally pulled it up and over your head. Once your hands were free, they immediately moved to his belt, working it open as he dipped his head down to reconnect your lips. Your dress fell to the floor, his hands fastening to your waist once more as he moved you backwards towards your bed. Mirio helped you lay back, before straightening and undoing his pants properly, letting them drop to the floor and leaving him in some rather tight boxer briefs.

The outline of his cock was daunting, but it made your mouth water with how thick it looked, the idea of it stretching you forcing wetness to pool between your legs. Mirio made to step forward and out of his pants-

Only to get his feet tangled and fall over, barely catching himself on the edge of the bed.

You burst into giggles, covering your mouth to stifle them when Mirio shot you a look of exasperation. He struggled to unhook his feet from the fabric, groaning in frustration before ultimately deciding to use his quirk, letting the fabric pass through his feet as he crawled onto the bed.

You reached for him as soon as he was done stepping out of his pants, grasping his shoulder and neck to bring his lips back to yours. With only your panties and his briefs in the way, you could feel him pressed against you so much clearer, the pressure on your clit forcing a whine from deep in your chest.

Mirio smirked into your kiss, rolling his hips forward as he settled between your legs, eliciting a gasp that he took full advantage of, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

Having his hands roving over your body, feeling each and every curve, squeezing at your flesh- you felt like you were on fire, Mirio’s desire for you evident in the way his hips rolled desperately against you, the cling of your panties to your soaked core betraying just how much you wanted him in return.

“Been thinking of you like this for so long…” Mirio muttered between kisses, moving his kisses back to your neck, down to your collarbone and nibbling at the flesh there. Your back arched, Mirio taking advantage of the opportunity once again to reach behind you and start undoing your bra.

After a moment of struggle that elicits giggles form the both of you, he finally gets the damn thing undone and drags it off. He stops for a moment, leaning back and admiring the view of you utterly debauched below him, eyes hooded, lips kiss swollen, chest heaving. Reaching to cup your cheek for a moment, he rubs your cheekbone with his thumb and chews at his lip for a moment.

“I don’t- I’m not super experienced , if you know what I mean…” His face flushed at his admission, eyes focused on tracing your jawline instead of making eye contact. You giggled at him, reaching up to cover his hand with your own as you turned to nuzzle into it.

“I’m hardly the queen of experience either, you know. But this already feels so much better than anything else…” Mirio smiled at your words, finally looking into your eyes again. He leaned down, nuzzling at your breast for a moment before sucking your nipple into his mouth, dragging his teeth slowly over the peak and watching as your face contorted in pleasure.

The air between you became charged with tension once again, Mirio’s hand moving between your thighs and softly stroking at your slit over your panties. He groaned as he felt how soaked you were already, his teeth biting down a little harder on your nipple. Your legs flexed around his hips in response, a soft moan escaping that he relished in.

He suddenly growled, leaning back and letting your nipple go with a soft pop as he focused on practically ripping your panties from your body. Considering he said he wasn’t overly experienced, the way he flipped the switch and had your knees by your ears, his mouth covering your cunt and eating you with fervor- you wouldn’t have thought he was even the same man.

You cried out at his assault, his tongue flicking over your clit between it’s journeys into your walls, his hands pressed behind your knees to keep you folded over. Hands flying to the sides of your head, you screwed the sheets up in your fists with how hard you gripped them. Your mouth hung open, pants and moans constantly falling from your lips as your eyes screwed shut, almost overwhelmed already. The pressure was already building so rapidly, the knot in your belly tightening by the second. You panted his name, Mirio’s efforts increasing even more when he heard your voice so strained.

When you finally crested the wave of pleasure, your head thrown back into the pillow, Mirio took every drop you gave him, your cunt crying out for something to fill it, aching with need. When he finally let you drop back to the bed, your legs flopping either side of his hips, you pushed up and latched your mouth to his instantly.

You’d never wanted someone so bad in your whole life, something in you snapping as you pressed up into him. Desperation laced your movements and you reached down, pushing his briefs down enough to free his cock and wrapping your hand around it, swallowing up his answering hiss and pulling him back on top of you, maneuvering your hips to line him up instantly.

Mirio’s hands flew to your hips, stilling their movements and ripping his lips from yours with a growl.

“You definitely-” “Mirio, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’ll take care of it myself. I have toys in that drawer.” He froze at your words, tilting his head as he processed your words. He shook his head, reaching down to replace your hand with his as he rubbed his cock up and down your slit, bumping against your clit to tease you.

“We’re revisiting that later, but right now…” Mirio pushed his hips forward, his jaw going slack as your walls engulfed him in slick heat. You yourself weren’t fairing much better, eyes rolling at how thick he was, at the little burn of the stretch even though you’d already come once, your wetness helping him slide home until he was filling you to the hilt.

Mirio waited for your go ahead, waiting until you gripped his shoulders tight and gasped out a please …

And then he started moving, and you were soaring.

The drag of his cock in your walls was heaven, his big hands gripping your hips and lifting you into each thrust and slamming his cock into that spongy spot inside you pulling sinful moans from your lips. Mirio watched your face as you writhed in pleasure, his heart hammering in his chest at finally being with his soulmate, your own heart pounding in time with his.

“So beautiful like this… you really were made for me, huh?” He punctuated his words with an especially harsh thrust that had your vision whiting out for a moment as you nodded, your nails digging into his shoulders making him hiss and screw his own eyes shut. The view above you was glorious, his broad chest and shoulders with their rolling muscles with every movement. His face, torn between watching you and enjoying his own pleasure, teeth bared with his efforts to make you feel good. You couldn’t take it, your climax approaching too rapidly, your legs tightening around his hips as you tried to gasp out a warning, to tell him you were close-

“ Fuck - I can feel you, baby, come for me, please …”

Your head threw back once again, throat bared to him as you were overcome by pleasure, your soul mark shining brightly for a moment as you clenched down onto him. He grunted through it, his own mark glowing as his hips stuttered, burying himself deep inside you as he filled your walls with white, until both of you bonelessly fell to the bed. Your marks glowed for a moment longer, before their lights slowly ebbed away, settling down once more.

Mirio panted above you, holding his weight up on his elbows so he wouldn’t crush you while you caught your breath too.

When he finally pulled out, you groaned at the feeling of emptiness as he pulled you into his arms, flopping onto his back beside you on the bed. You’d both need to clean up soon, go to bed properly, but as you stared at your soul mark resting against his chest, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to move just yet.

Looking up at Mirio, you smiled when you caught him already watching you, a cheeky grin on his face. Thinking back, you had no idea how you hadn’t figured it out sooner.

Mirio was of the purest, childlike glee. The sunshine of anyone’s life, whoever knew him could attest to that. Your mark made more sense than any other mark you’d seen in your life.

“... So... toys?”

...You were going to hit him, sunshine man or not.

#my hero academia #mha smut #my hero academia smut #my hero academia fanfic #mha #bnha #bnha smut #mirio togata #mirio togata x reader #reader insert #cath writes

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popponn · 11 months ago

Text

coincidences and flickers.

ii - blank papers.

notes: fem!burnout artist!reader x pro-player!isagi yoichi ; pro player / post canon au ; self-depreciating thoughts towards one's own work ; fluff, with slight angst (burnout) with a happy ending (a slight hurt/comfort) ; unreliable narrator. a.n. at the end; f!reader but could be read as gn.

summary: you never thought you would find yourself next to isagi yoichi again. yet, like a deja vu, it happened once more.

prev. ; series masterlist. ; next

Going outside, viewing a bright cheerful day filled with fresh air and sounds of laughter around you, several sayings crossed your mind before you finally stopped yourself upon a cafe. Sitting on one of the bar stools and facing yourself towards the people who passed by you from beyond the window, you sat quietly.

The first comment came from yourself, heavily uttered out in your mind, it said, “Ah. Shit. It’s going nowhere.”

Right in front of you, beside a half-empty cup of coffee, was your opened sketchbook filled with unfinished scribbles all over. In some parts, there were hastily drawn squares that illustrated the canvases you would use for your work. Inside those squares were sketches no longer visible, most of their parts were crossed out almost violently under a tangled mess of scratchy lines. Looking at this without your pencil touching the paper, you just wanted to slump down right on top of the table. Thankfully, however, you still remembered what it meant to be appropriate in the middle of a crowded public place.

The second was not quite a comment, actually. It was part of an old professor’s lecture from your student days, a memory that had aged by a few years already. It was said in an empty hall that would soon be used to exhibit students’ works within a few months, right in front of said students. Your professor resembled a smirking, merciless wolf ready to ruin and devour as he stood upright, dressed in black that was more suitable for a funeral than a class.

“The theme is ‘beauty’. Please remember to make it a worthwhile piece. Of course, how you interpret those themes is up in your decisions and angles,” he said. Somehow, those motivating words felt haunting. You remembered how most students paled as the tongue that had ruined so much self-esteem during its career as both a critique and a teacher went on.

“Feel free to show off with size and numbers as much as your space and creativity allow it. I do have high hopes for each of you. After all, ‘beauty’ is one of the most attractive things for an artist, no?”

—sitting at the cafe, years after graduation and even more after that exhibition, you could hardly remember what you drew. Did that professor also leave a scathing so bad your memory repressed it?

Then, the third comment came in the form of your friend, a few glasses behind from being a blackout drunk, but certainly a few glasses too much to still have a filter placed on his mouth. A thick accent laced his slurred voice as he continued his supposed lecture about art and career. “Don’t you get it?! We are artists, but we are human too! Love what you make everyone!!!” he said passionately while standing on top of the restaurant table half naked, his cartoon t-shirt nowhere in sight.

Everyone, just as drunk or a bit less, cheered and agreed with him simultaneously. The stench of fellow art graduates and victims of capitalism’s passions, or perhaps repressed stress, filled the room. From your seat, as the unfortunate yet responsible sober friend of that night’s reunion—chosen via a rigged game of rock paper scissors—could only watch in amusement. Shouting again, your friend stated, “Art is rooted in our emotions as a human! It’s the heart—the heart! Don’t forget that! Express yourself!!!”

Afterward, it spiraled down into even more of a jumbled oration that you couldn’t quite remember. But, certainly, you would wonder if your current self was the one seated there that night. What would this version of you think of those sentences?

Your answer came immediately in the form of a scoff that escaped your mouth bitterly.

“Beautiful things, love, and emotion… huh?” you repeated while staring down at your sketchbook once again. Letting go of your pencil, you buried your face in your palms,“…what am I doing right now then?”

Is there a point for an ‘artist’ who felt nothing when doing something they were supposed to feel so much emotion for?

Is it even okay for someone to make something even when it is not even worthwhile?

“Ugh,” you groaned hoarsely into your hand. Lifting up your face you heaved out one long sigh. As of the moment, you should try again to brainstorm a concept for the needed pieces. Also, you still had illustration work to do. There was no time to whine and feel down. It felt immature, truthfully.

You glared down at the messy, filled-up page of yours. This was the product of your choice, so you had to go on. If the worst comes to worst, you would just consult your client and draw it out as needed. It felt almost like a chokehold that dug itself right inside your trachea, but you reminded yourself once again. “It is work,” you whispered to yourself, “you just have to—”

“Excuse me,” a voice stopped your mutterings right on its track, asking, “is this seat taken?”

You spared a second to berate yourself, once again reminding yourself you were in public that going out was probably the wrong choice for that moment. Then, you faced to your right, answering the voice with a smile, “It is not, please feel free—”

Then, in a manner of a dramatic deja vu, you found the very familiar face of Isagi Yoichi, dressed in casual boyish clothing, right next to you. He paused as he too realized who you were, freezing just as he was about to sit on the stool beside you with a cup of cold drink in his hand.

“Ah.”

“Oh.”

Like a pair of two surprised barely-acquaintances you were, you and Isagi stared at each other in a mix of surprise and recognition. His eyes looked a few shades darker under the shadow of his black cap, however, through tresses that peeked out from under there, you noticed how the bluish tone of his hair got accentuated even further. Dressed in a casual white sweater and grey pants, those hues of his stood out even further.

He looked slightly different compared to the man you met that night, shying away from the party and leaning against the wall. But, even more so, he looked different from the ‘him’ you viewed through the screen three days ago.

A player who truly deserved the titles of ‘Ace’ and ‘Star’ in his name. Someone who without a doubt carried so much passion for what he loves that it couldn’t help but steal your breath away for numerous reasons. It was hilarious in a way, how replaying that one of many matches where Isagi Yoichi played–out of curiosity and a slight remembrance of his name–ended up with your heart thumping almost wildly in your studio.

It was supposed to be a background voice, yet you watched that match with too much enthusiasm, feeling both envious and wishful every time Isagi Yoichi’s face came onto the screen.

Ah–you took in an inconspicuous deep breath–this is no time to think of some soccer match.

Reverting your focus back to the matter at hand, you silently took comfort in the fact that most customers surrounding you either had their ears plugged or were too into their own conversations to care about two people gawking at each other. Forcing your bewilderment within a tidy gulp, you immediately put on your best pleasantry. “What…a surprise to see you here, Isagi. And as I was saying, it is not occupied. Please feel free to have it.”

Quickly enough, the male in front of you followed your cue. Pulling the chair and sitting himself beside you, Isagi offered you a nod that could pass as a half bow as he greeted you by name. “I, uh… didn't expect to see you here too. It’s nice to see you again!”

You nodded back to him, albeit much more slowly, “Indeed, to think I will be able to meet and converse like this with a national soccer superstar, your fans must be seething.”

Isagi chuckled bashfully at your remark, the tense line on his shoulder loosening, “You talk as if you are no one yourself.”

“Having a few websites and prints displaying my name is certainly incomparable to you, please,” you shrugged, turning in your seat slightly to find a more comfortable position to converse with him, “though I am honored to have you know me.”

“Well, I did end up finding out a bit more about you after that party…” Isagi said as put down his iced drink. An iced tea of some kind, if its color was any indication. While your attention shifted slightly towards his drink, Isagi continued a tad bit too miserably, “…but to think you listen to my comments about your painting like that…”

Isagi’s smile crooked ever so slightly, a teasing tone mingled with one that said ‘How could you?’ as light as it should be for a small talk poking. You raised both of your eyebrows as a reply, smiling, “In my defense, you didn’t ask.”

“Hey, I think I did,” Isagi took a sip from his drink. His right cheek twitched. “I definitely did and you just answered vaguely.”

“Then, you probably asked just as vaguely,” you covered your grin with your hand, poorly playing up a faux misery to cover up your growing mirth, “after all, there is no way for a mere painter and illustrator like me to just brag in front of you, Ace Striker.”

“You are…” taking notice of your insistence, Isagi gave up with a sigh. Then, staring at his drink as if he was remembering that party, he continued, “Still that night…”

Hearing him trailing off, you too recalled the condemning comments you spat out that night. “I was… truthfully I just had some shame with that piece of mine. Pardon my manner,” you reasoned, truthfully unsure of how much of it was true.

“Ah, no, I don’t mean it like that, I mean!” Isagi hurriedly added, “I mean, yeah, that happened, but if I know it was your painting…”

Isagi seemed to hesitate to continue his words. You did wonder on what he wanted to say, but letting an awkwardness rise when the both of you still clearly wanted to sit in this spot would be in poor taste. Brushing it off with a wave, you attempted to finish the topic at hand with a good note. “As they say, what happened, happened. So, putting all those aside,” you turned your face fully towards Isagi, starting the conversation from the top once again. “What brings you here?”

If Isagi did notice the shift in conversation, he certainly didn’t bother to mask it. His eyes stayed on you for a moment, but after a brief, nearly unnoticeable moment of silence, Isagi replied to you as he took off his cap, putting it down on the table, “I, well, taking a drink, I guess? I’m supposed to meet up with a friend but…”

As your company furrowed his eyebrows despite holding his smile, you scoffed amiably, leaning your cheek on your palm. “Did they cancel out of the blue?” you asked, out of experience,

“Yeah, his girlfriend and something about an urgent matter,” Isagi said in a way that told you whoever this friend was, it wasn’t exactly a surprising thing for that person to pull. You attempted to cover up your pity at that. Isagi, with hair slightly disheveled by his cap, returned the same question back to you. The forced smile etched on his lips visibly softened as he asked, “How about you, though?”

You took one deep breath as you thought up a response. Answering honestly would just bring the two of you back to the very topic you attempted to run away from–your drawing. But, with a sketchbook being opened in broad daylight like this in front of you, lying would be plain stupid.

You held back a groan. Your headache was probably caused by a rotting mind rather than whatever you thought it was before. This conversation had turned into a devil’s loop.

However, still taking proper manners and such into account, you lightly tapped said sketchbook, “As you can see, work, in a way. I need a change of scenery to try and get new ideas. But, as of now… you could say I’m taking a little break.”

It certainly put so many things mildly, but that answer should do. The last thing you wanted to do would be to express your frustration once again and repeat that night with the same person. Therefore, calling ‘this’ a ‘break’ would suffice.

“Ah, I see,” Isagi’s eyes moved to your sketches. Then, they moved between you and those scribbles a more few times, before with a somewhat timid kind of curiosity, Isagi hummed, “Uh, you don’t have to but… mind if I take a look? At those drawings?”

How you wished you could snap that thing shut and run away.

“Sure,” you pushed it towards him. You hoped your hands didn’t shake. Keeping up your demeanor, you added in a joking manner, “But they are still very messy though–” they are a mess “–I hope you won’t mind.”

“I definitely won’t!” Isagi responded with a grin that carried with it a mysterious confidence. He sounded even more sure than you were. As he flipped the book back to its first page, you immediately bit your tongue. You reminded yourself to appear friendly. “I found some of your work online and I really like them!”

A light flutter touched you upon hearing his praise. It did sound genuine, even if you probably would have thought otherwise. Though, probably, if you looked at your older artworks, you could say that it was made with your whole heart at the very least. Unlike most things you had put out recently.

Idly tracing the pencil you had laid down, you replied, “I’m glad you like them.”

You managed to stop yourself from saying more, somehow, despite the bitter words already hanging at the exit of your mouth. Pushing those words aside, you eventually decided to continue to follow the lines on the pencil’s body once again, feeling the familiar and artificial smoothness on it.

“Woah,” Isagi gaped quietly, turning the pages slowly. You took notice that it was pages of still life studies you did. Just from the number of details on them alone, it was apparent they had been made some long time ago–before the overwhelming weight that made the task of simply opening your sketchbook unpleasant came into your days. There was no way you could muster enough will to put in that much effort.

You stared at those sketches deeply, wondering if you enjoyed making them then. Under your own breath, you murmured, ”Those stuffs, eh…”

“You really are amazing…” Isagi praises easily as he continues to flip through the pages, mouth agape slightly as if your drawings truly were masterpieces. “You are so good.”

Truthfully, the more praise you heard, the more you wondered how you should react. Donning on faux gratitude and humor felt wrong. It truly did lighten your heart to hear it. Hearing that someone spared even a second to appreciate something you make has always been nice. But, even so–

Those drawings were from a time when drawing was easy and filled with love. The you who had walked past that time and looked back at it with nothing but envy had no right to accept those praises. In a way, perhaps you never did deserve those praises.

Many people deserve that title of a ‘pro’ more. They who draw better than you could ever hope to be, they who love drawing much more deeply than you.

You, who dared to say you were in love with your craft once before falling silent this soon–

You have no right to accept those words.

Your fingers drew to a pause, you put a second of consideration before deciding to put that pencil back into your back. “You praise me too much,” you replied, thankful for his kind words nonetheless. However, still unwilling to dwell too much on your drawing, you tried to shift the focus towards Isagi once again, “Also, I’m a bit curious, but do you mind if I ask something?”

“Hm?” Isagi’s head lifted up slightly, removing his attention from your sketchbook for a moment. “Sure, I think. What is it?”

“I thought soccer practice is an everyday thing for pros like you. Are you on break?” you asked casually.

“You could say that,” Isagi said, “two weeks off for a bit before we go back to the usual.”

“I see…” you noted down. Then, the memory of a video you watched a few days ago came to the surface of your mind for the second time. It was a video you played to fill the background silence at your studio, however the cheers of crowds and the close-ups of Isagi Yoichi’s face were played enough times to have an impression of their own. “Still, seeing how hotblooded and passionate you are on the field, I would have thought you would be practicing alone instead of drinking coffee…”

“Wha–” Isagi, unexpectedly, spluttered at your sudden statement.

You blinked. Your hand flew to cover your mouth the moment you realized what you just muttered out loud, “Oh my–I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude–”

“No, no! It’s fine!” Isagi shook both of his hands quickly. The two of you truly were lucky that no one paid attention to your interactions or it would be embarrassing–you noted, your face turning as if you just sucked on something sour. “I mean, I usually kind of do? It’s just, a break is necessary sometimes, you know–those stuffs. And really, it just surprised me for you to say that out of the blue so…aha ha ha…”

As the blue-haired male laughed bashfully, you couldn’t help but to follow it with a hesitant guffaw of your own. Letting the sudden jolt between the two of you dissipate, you soon added, “I truly do mean it as praise, though. Even someone who doesn’t know anything about soccer like me couldn’t help but admire you when you play.”

While you were very much aware of how you worded it out like mere flattery, you truly did mean every bit of your word. Even through a screen, watching a play of something that felt worlds away from yours, seeing someone putting on such a wide victorious grin and focused gaze was a ‘something’. Three days ago, seeing that replay in the silence of your own room, sitting right in front of a blank canvas, it truly was a sight.

“Your dedication and such… I will call you a talented genius, but it was definitely more than that…” you vividly remembered how his eyes shone within those footages. Even outside of the field, the glint that stole your breath that day still held itself across his blue eyes that were right in front of you. “...you are a sight to behold, Isagi Yoichi.”

Isagi’s mouth hung open. Nervously, he rubbed the back of his neck as it morphed into a bright smile–boyish, bashful, yet full of pride that you had come to associate with him after watching that match. And, you supposed, after watching the proof of his hard work, he truly deserved to feel that pride.

“Thanks,” Isagi said, saying your name quietly in gratitude. His eyes escaped towards your sketchbook for a moment, “I think I could say the same about you too, though, you know.”

You blinked. “...Huh?”

“That painting that night and all these sketches,” Isagi continued to flip through the sketchbook, finally arriving on the messiest page of all, yet still looking at it as if it was worthy of something beyond a series of unfinished scribbles and less, “I’m no expert at paintings and drawings too, but I could feel how much of your heart and seriousness you put in it.”

“... is… that so…?” you did not expect to hear such praise. Was it a praise?

Was trying to put your all enough when it amounted to nothing eventually?

When it turned out to be meaningless and–

“Your drawings–” Isagi faced towards you, leaning forward slightly as his eyes crescented, a genuine and sincere glimmer still carrying itself in them, “–I really like them!”

For once, you stilled as you listened to Isagi Yoichi’s compliment.

It was simple and, undoubtedly, very subjective. There was no praise on how he understood it nor on how he thought everything came together. You wondered if this was because you hadn’t heard or tried to seek any opinion of your drawings for a while. Or perhaps it was because you drowned every single one of them with your own comparison and sentiments. You couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was. However, you knew that it stilled you because–

It was simply an ‘I like them’.

For once, however, you couldn’t feel any disgust towards yourself or your drawings coming up. Your brain couldn’t come up with any reason or anything–it stayed silent, as you could only nod and utter out a quiet acceptance. When push comes to shove, who were you to discredit a feeling of ‘liking’?

“...thank you, Isagi,” you nod, looking away back to the window across you with a smile you knew was too shaky and big, feeling lightheaded and flustered, “I’m glad you like them.”

The cafe was bustling and Isagi had returned to your drawings, smiling even as he replied to you with a relaxed manner, “Same to you!”

Yet again, you found yourself unable to reply to that. Letting the conversation died there somehow felt right, oddly enough. Your shoulder relaxed as you took a deep breath once more. In the back of your mind, the grating weight was still there and you knew it would come back much sooner than you hoped it to be. But, for that moment, it was enough.

Sitting next to Isagi Yoichi–whose fervor had gained your respect–who praised you with such sincerity, it was enough for you to think that at that very moment–

It is okay for you to draw, despite everything.

Isagi turned to the next page as you stayed silent, finding yourself only being able to stare blankly at the air between the two of you. “Ah,” Isagi came to a pair of blank pages, clean and unblemished by anything.

“It seems you reached the end, Isagi,” you lightly said, offering a hand to take back the book.

“Yeah,” Isagi closed it and took it to your hand with a satisfied look, “thanks! It was great!”

“...you really praise me too much,” you repeated once more, this time acknowledging how it felt lighter to say it. “However, thank you. I’m glad you like those studies and idea roughs.”

“...studies…? …roughs?” a pair of blue eyes looked at you in confusion, the owner clearly blurting those words out of question and unfamiliarity.

You couldn’t help but to laugh at that, “The drawings you have seen. They are studies and roughs. An observation drawn on paper and… a messy note of ideas in drawing form, I suppose.”

“Oh–I see, I think I got it!” Isagi said, brightly in understanding, before then shifting slightly in his seat and taking a sip from his drink. “I never heard of those terms before–or maybe I just forgot it after high school, haha…”

You chuckled in sympathy. “It’s okay. I barely remember any rules of soccer either. I do know you can’t use your hand unless you are a goalkeeper, but other than that, I don’t think I even know what offside is.”

With faces turned towards each other, you could clearly see Isagi’s eye crinkling in humor. It was a good look on him, you noted. The lines of laughter on someone’s face always have their own charm visually, you know after all these years, however, it truly suits his face.

“Then, should I tell you?” Isagi offered, quiet rhetorically as he didn’t miss a bit to continue, “So, basically it’s–”

VRRRRT–

Which he would if it wasn’t for the sudden sound of vibration coming from his pocket. Both you and Isagi glanced down. Isagi made an apologetic face that was jumbled along with a grimace and a subtle irritation, earning a nod and an amused smile from you.

Another deja vu. It seemed like that this meeting would end soon too, you thought silently, vacantly looking at the empty pages in your hand. It didn’t feel good. The empty pang where you knew excitement should thrum was still very much there. It still felt like a hole that was simply there to make you suffer.

But, for once, it didn’t feel as terrible as it usually was–you noted. Perhaps, you could fill those pages with something ‘likable’ soon enough.

“Hey, yeah. It’s me. What is it, man?” Isagi picked up the phone with a tone much more casual than the one he used with you. A bit rougher and clearly more impolite too, you realized. “Huh? What–suddenly? Dude. Come on you just dipped out on me–you can’t just–”

You looked away as Isagi seemed to get exasperated not long into the phone call. Remembering your empty cup of coffee, you wondered if you should order another drink or perhaps move on, either back home or somewhere for dinner. You would definitely have to turn back to your work, though, either way. Your teeth felt like biting your tongue ever so slightly at that reminder, though you probably should indeed go home.

However, before that, you did feel like you had to do something beforehand.

Peering over at the phone Isagi’s hand, you wondered how should you go over it.

“Um,” Isagi called out your name, breaking your trance, wearing a description of ‘feeling bad’ on the scrunch of his face, “I’m sorry but that friend of mine…uh, he kinda turns back with his girlfriend and needs me, so…”

“Take it easy, it’s okay,” you hummed in understanding. Isagi wore an obvious guilt on his face still, however, so you added, “Really. While I do pity that I won’t get an explanation from Master Ace Striker himself, I was grateful for our chat. Thank you for humoring me.”

He chuckled at that, “Come on, no need to be that formal. I enjoyed it all too–oh. Wait.”

As Isagi cut himself short, quickly clicking through his phone, you let him be for a moment. You took the chance to put your sketchbook in your bag and scanned over the table for any of your belongings left. From the corner of your eye, you saw a quirk placing itself on Isagi’s lips.

“But, since we already looked each other up,” relaxed and friendly he offered his phone to you, unlocked and displaying the contact screen, Isagi did what you felt like you should do in your stead. “Mind exchanging our number so I can explain about ‘offsides’ and other rules to you through text?”

You were very glad your head had cooled down, or it would be terrible. Is Isagi the friendly oblivious type who doesn’t realize this sort of thing could be translated as flirting? Or it is? Or perhaps, you were simply getting too many things over your head after a few praises.

“Sure, I was about to ask you for the same thing,” you took his offer gladly, admitting your prior intent easily. Accepting his phone, you punched your number in and quickly returned it. “I will look forward to that offside explanation and the other kinds of stuff too.”

“Yeah, yeah. Explain some art stuff to me too later, ‘kay?”

“Oh. An exchange of information? How transactional.”

“I don’t mean it like that! But… yeah?”

The two of you emitted a simultaneous small laugh, for some reason. Quieting the tickle in your mouth, you shook your head, “I’m joking. I will look forward to another talk with you. It was insightful.”

Isagi’s lips turned into a shape that spelled out amusement in its equal crooked and wry curve. However, just right before he was about to open his mouth, his smile slipped along with the resounding vibration from the device in his hand. Isagi let his mouth hang open for a moment, before finally grimacing, “...well, I should go.”

Never taking your eyes off him as Isagi stepped off his stool, you nodded. “You should. I will be off soon too. Be careful and good evening, Isagi.”

“Then… good evening to you too,” Isagi said as he took backward steps towards the exit, confident and controlled enough as if he could see what was behind him clearly, “I’ll see you around.”

You raised a little wave that was more of a jest than anything, bidding him a farewell, “See you.”

And with that, Isagi turned around swiftly, a slight bounce pushing his first step forward as he went for the door. You were about to take your eyes off him right as he stopped in his rush all of a sudden, turning towards you once again.

“Oh, also–” Isagi said, a bit louder and ignorant to a few glances thrown his way, “–good luck with the idea hunting. Don’t push yourself too hard, ‘kay?”

prev. ; series masterlist. ; next

a.n.: and the second chapter is done!!! it definitely took longer than i thought, haha. maybe i should publish the outtakes for giggles hoho;;; but things are finally moving and looking up. and as a disclaimer, i want to remind you that everyone's burnout is different & this fic will never be the perfect portrayal of those experiences. but, if you are in a slump or a burnout, i wish you a good time soon :3 thank you for @doobea for beta reading this too ;;; this thing wouldn't end up being as coherent as it is without u ily;;;; all in all, i hope you enjoyed this chapter :> please do look forward to the next one, i will look forward to any kinds of feedback & thoughts u may have hehe <3 once again, thank you for reading!

taglist: @doobea @mariyumemi @intheewrld @lazysublimeengineer @coquettemaiden @kreishin @yoisami @takotakigum @themigrainegirll **bolded and italicized means i cannot tag you. please do contact me in case you want to be added or taken out of the taglist :>

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starscream7799 · 3 months ago

Text

"Onlined Cold" Starscream oneshot

I've been working on this oneshot exploring how it may have felt for Starscream to first come online after being constructed cold. I find the concept of forged and CC so interesting, so here's my interpretation of it!

The first flicker of consciousness he had ever experienced in this world was disorienting. His senses were coming online one by one, slowly giving him more information about his situation and the world around him.

The first sense his processor finally connected to was touch. He was now able to feel everything against his frame, and the sudden sensation caused him intense discomfort. He tried to move, his motor functions finally kicking in after a brief moment, but his limbs were bound to whatever type of platform he was lying on. Panic filled his spark, not understanding what was going on.

Then his olfactory senses booted up, along with his audials. The air was thick with the scent of chemicals and he could hear the low hum of machinery around him in the room. It all felt unwelcoming and cold. A second later, a strange noise filled his audials before something clicked in his processor halfway through and the sound somehow morphed into a pattern he could understand.

"┴ɥǝ sdɐɹʞ ɐup ɟɹɐɯǝ sǝǝɯ ʇo qǝ— responding well, despite initial observations."

"Once he's fully online, we'll see if the data transferred without complications."

"I'm sure it did. This one's spark didn't reject the frame like some of the others. He must genetically be a seeker."

"Kinda short for a seeker…”

“Blame whoever made the frame. They're not all going to be identical.”

“...Continue monitoring his vitals."

The seeker didn't know what exactly was being discussed, but he seemed to be able to process what the words meant and understand the language.

Right after he began to interpret sound, his optics onlined and he was blinded by harsh fluorescent lights. When he shut his optics to avoid the brightness, he could still see markings in the very corners of his vision. His processor then deciphered the strange markings and informed him it was normal. He quickly understood the purpose and what the text said; It was a heads up display showing him his current energon levels, vitals status, communication channels, etc.

"All of his senses are functional, which means the language and basic informational drivers have been downloaded properly. Let's continue, then get onto the next one."

He opened his optics again, this time finding the light more tolerable. When he got his first good look at everything, he saw machines all around the room and various wires and lines attached to his frame. He saw mechanical beings- "Cybertronians", his processor informed him- writing down information and observing him.

"Answer these questions here and you can go." One of the mechs, a doctor he figured out, said to him, not bothering to look up from the data pad in his hands. Another one was detaching the wires and such from his frame and then unlocked the bindings that had been holding him down. He sat up, rubbing his wrists where the metal had been chafing against his joints.

"Alrighty, first: Do you know where you are?"

"I... what?" He asked, still confused and disoriented by everything. He then searched the data that had been downloaded into his processor and found the answer. "Uhh, Cybertron?"

"Primus- Did no one scan his protoform after it was put into the frame? His vocals are damaged, he sounds like a damn banshee." The doctor turned around to ask the other medical personnel, clearly irritated. A couple medics looked away innocently, while another one left the room entirely, avoiding responsibility for the oversight.

The seeker just tilted his helm, trying to figure out what the problem was. "What's the issue? I can speak." He assured the doctor, frowning.

"Yeah... okay." The doctor pinched the bridge of his nose, writing down something on his data pad. "Next question: Do you feel any discomfort, pain, confusion, frame rejection, vibrations, delusions, murderous urges, nausea, paralysis, processor damage, aches, or abnormal sensitivity?" The mech spoke quickly and robotically, as if reading from a list.

"Uhh.." The seeker didn't know what to say and didn't quite catch everything. Some of that sounded nonsensical, if he was being honest.

"Good, good." The doctor gave a nod and checked something off his data pad, clearly not actually paying attention to the seeker's reply. He shoved something into the seeker's hands and then stood up. "Alright, you can go now. Here's your identification card, it'll tell you where you'll be stationed. Welcome to Cybertron, kid.”

With that, the seeker was ushered out of the facility. He tried to argue that he didn't know what he was supposed to do, but he was ignored entirely, as if this wasn't the first time they'd heard a patient claim such. He frowned and looked at the identification card he was given.

“Starscream..” He said aloud, testing how the designation sounded. That was the name he was given, as stated on the card. Before he could read further though, he was harshly shoved to the ground.

"Get out of the way, air head!"

"Why do they keep making fliers of all frames? There's too many of you freaks around."

"Because they're good war-builds, duh. Brawn and no brains. Aww, did we scare the wittle seeker?” A tall mech snickered as he stood over the jet. Starscream didn't realize the position of his wings were a very good indicator of how upset he was at the comments. They hung low against his back. He still had so much to learn.

Thankfully, the tall one and his friend didn't stick around too long, as they laughed at him and walked off. At that moment, Starscream felt discouraged, wondering how he was going to survive this intense world. It seemed like the odds were already stacked against him.

He picked himself up before he became more of a fool and looked back at his ID card.

Designation: Starscream

Frame Type: Aerial

Model: Seeker

Creation: Cold-Constructed

Function: [Redacted]

Secondary Function: Construction mapping and energon seeker

Starscream made a face that was a mixture of both confusion and disgust as he read he was supposed to work in construction. That sounded less than ideal, it actually almost offended him the longer he thought about it.

But what else was he to do? He hadn't been online for more than an hour, had been bullied, had no plans or goals. Sure, he had basic knowledge downloaded into his processor so he could be a functional Cybertronian, but besides that, he was clueless about the world and how it worked. He didn't know who he was supposed to *be*.

He thought back to what the tall mech had said about fliers having no brains, just brawn, and a new feeling began to bubble up inside of him, simmering slowly. He wasn't going to let anyone tell him what he could or couldn't do. He didn't care what his stupid ID card said, he refused to work in something as menial as construction. Why should he?

Fuck it, he wanted to be a scientist.

#starscream #idw #g1 #maccadam #oneshot #fanfic #my writing #my fic

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anime-fan-05 · 7 months ago

Text

Jujutsu Kaisen ~Playing with their hair 2nd part~

First part is here.

Zen'in Maki

The first time you touched his hair, he flinched slightly, but he quickly melted into your arms

For him, your hands in his hair are calming

He would really like you to play with his hair, but he doesn't know how to ask you that: he gets very embarrassed, even if he doesn't show it, and the words get stuck in his throat

In fact, his general way of asking it is to rest his head on your thighs and look at you until you get his signal

Know you've to interpret when he does that, because he doesn't say anything ("What happen, love?" "..." "Love?" "..." "Do you want me to stroke your hair?" "...Yes...")

Zen'in Mai

He doesn't particularly like having his hair touched, so he often moves away if you try to do so, especially if you're in public (after all, he must maintain his tough air)

At home, however, it's slightly different: sometimes, when he's particularly tired, he says he tolerates he actually loves your caresses

Your touches are one of the only things which make him feel appreciated and loved

In fact, he'll never admit it, but he really wants to reciprocate the gesture you make because he really appreciates you still try to get closer to him, although he pushes you away

He often brags about you to his brother ("Do you have a girlfriend like mine, who plays with your hair?")

Gojou S.

It's one of the moments he loves most, because it allows him to let his mask of a confident person go and he can vent his insecurities in your arms

You often spend hours lying on your bed stroking his hair

He's a cheeky guy: he isn't ashamed to ask you to play with his hair, even during the most inopportune moments and if you're in public

In fact, one day, when you two were at a jujutsu higher-ups meeting which you weren't supposed to attend, but Gojo is Gojo... he literally lay on your lap and put your right hand on his hair

He brags to his students and colleagues every time about your "magic hands in his hair"

Getou S.

The first time you stroked his hair was to console him after Amanai's death; he was very surprised, but you helped him a lot with your touches

Over time, although he's changed, he's continued to appreciate it, and it's currently what keeps his feet on the ground

Feeling your hands pass through his long locks relaxes him a lot, so much he sometimes falls asleep, and it's a way he has to feel you close to him

Nevertheless, you're absolutely forbidden from touching his hair in public (he has an image to respect)

Actually, the only two people who are allowed to see him so relaxed are Mimiko e Nanako, the two girls he saved and your adopted daughters

If you didn't know, the saying "to stay with your feet on the ground" (essere/stare con i piedi per terra) is an Italian saying which means staying sane and not going crazy.

💮 Rules 💮 Masterlist 💮

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celestial-specter · 10 months ago

Text

I haven’t seen it as much online these days, but when season one was still airing, I often saw criticism that the batch, other than perhaps Hunter and Omega, ‘lacked character depth.’

It was something I didn’t think too much about at the time, but now, on my final re-watch of the whole show before the final season begins (😭) I couldn’t disagree more.

Sure, as there is so much action and plot occurring during the series premiere Aftermath, there is not much screen-time remaining to dedicate towards the emotional depth of the characters.

However, I’m a huge fan of the ways writers can use unconventional methods to show audiences the traits and roles of characters; As the bad batch are soldiers in every sense of the word, I believe there is no better way to highlight their individual personalities and talents than to show it through their battle strategy.

So, if you’re like me and love both star wars and unnecessarily in-depth analysis, I present…

Aftermath’s battle simulation: How one scene reintroduces us to Clone Force 99, and possibly foreshadows later events in the series.

(Part 1)

Across all star wars projects, the empire is always presented from above (in the context of The Bad Batch, think of the broadcast of Palpatine shown to the clones earlier during Aftermath, Raven’s Peak towering over the cloud cover on Eriadu, and Mount Tantiss surging over the natural jungle on Weyland). During the battle simulation, Tarkin watches from the viewing platform above the training ground, suggesting this scene will illustrate how the batch will respond to the new power of the empire.

When the team first enter the training ground, Hunter is the only one without his helmet on - he is already more humanized than the rest of his brothers. Of all the team, Hunter is the one who looks most like a ‘regular’ clone, despite his obvious attempts otherwise. He understands the importance of humanizing himself and his brothers - when he tries to save Caleb on Kaller, he removes his helmet in an attempt to get through to him. In this scene, Hunter only puts on his helmet and regains his status as a soldier when it is clear that a battle is about to begin. Even this small action could be interpreted as showing that being a soldier is not what Hunter truly wants, whereas the rest of his brothers are satisfied to continue in the way of life they have always known.

Once the battle begins, Hunter gives his brothers no instructions besides ‘You know what to do.’ Even as their leader, he trusts his team enough to know that they will succeed without his direct intervention. Even without a clear approach in mind, they all fall into places without any preamble - showing that Hunter is correct in his assessment of the situation, and that his brothers know each other well enough to do so without guidance.

The positioning of each member at the beginning of the battle is also important- as they move to the barrier, Echo, Crosshair and Hunter go left, while Wrecker and Tech go right, as seen below.

These positions could be indicative of their current roles within the squad at its peak. For example, the split between the right and left side could represent their difference standards of morals. Hunter, Echo, and Crosshair have, at this point in the series, been shown to be the most complex and strong willed members of the team - it is clear what each one of them believes in, and each one of them is unafraid to speak up when something goes against their personal moral code. This this shown prior to this point during Aftermath, as most of the discussion over Order 66 is between this trio, while Wrecker and Tech seem to be simply going through the motions rather than challenging them.

This is not to say that Tech and Wrecker do not also each have strong personalities, but so far they are much more focused on their individual interests than the morality of their lives as soldiers and their prospective roles in the formation of the new empire.

In this formation, Hunter is caught in the middle of all of his brothers, a position he is often placed in during group shots throughout the series. In this scene however, he is closely drawn to Crosshair’s side. Hunter’s reaction to Omega has shown that he has complex feelings about children being on Kamino, likely an attitude he has formed due to his own upbringing on the planet. It can be assumed by CT numbers that Crosshair (CT-9904) is the youngest of the batch, explaining the close yet intense relationship shared between him and Hunter.

Echo is also on the left side, but remains on the outside of the group. This could be interpreted as Echo simply arriving late to the batch and their having to reform this battle strategy to include him, but I prefer to think of it as a way to highlight Echo’s continued isolation, even amongst his brothers.

The placement of Crosshair between Echo and Hunter is also interesting. Echo, who has always been very focused on rules and regulations, and Hunter, the leader of a squad who openly flaunt their ability to break them. This positioning could be indicative of Crosshair feeling torn between two places, and his emotional conflict due to the effects of the inhibitor chip.

Located on the right side, Wrecker and Tech are both much more placid and easygoing. They are both often involved in childish bickering (as is Crosshair), but these two are never typically involved in intense conflict as the others are. As shown by the batch’s first appearance in The Clone Wars, Wrecker can be quick to anger when his brothers are threatened, but is easily dissuaded from violence by Hunter. Meanwhile, Tech is attempting to stop the fight from occurring in the first place, and is seemingly averse to conflict unless he deems the situation to be inescapable without it (e.g. the cafeteria fight).

Wrecker and Hunter are technically next to one another, but there is a huge space between them. To me, this gap represents the difference in their personalities as a result of their upbringing. Wrecker truly symbolizes the more easygoing, often-childlike comedic character, while Hunter is burdened by his concerns and responsibilities for his family. The pair were shown to have a closer relationship during their arc in The Clone Wars, with Hunter joining in with the jokes and antics of his younger brothers, and assuring Wrecker that he will beat Crosshair’s kill count during their next mission. In this scene, the space between them could foreshadow the upcoming degradation of their relationship due to the rise of the empire.

Tech is also on the outside of the group, but on the complete opposite side to Echo. Interestingly, since their very first meeting, Tech and Echo have been shown to have quickly developed a close relationship, with Tech being the main clone (other than Rex) to liberate Echo from captivity. The pair being on opposite sides likely is due to their similar technical skillsets but opposing ways off approaching situations- Echo is shown to possess a great deal of tact and patience when it comes to other characters such as Omega, whereas Tech can come across as nonchalant and uncaring at times. These positions also highlight how these two are the most independent of the group, both of them having no issues in leaving to compete missions alone.

#the bad batch #the bad batch season 3 #star wars spoilers #star wars #star wars analysis #star wars the clone wars #tbb crosshair #tbb hunter #sw tbb #star wars tbb #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb tech

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instarsandcrime · 8 months ago

Text

Tuned Out

Oh gosh it's been uh. Almost a month since I've written something??? Well, I hope you enjoy this one! I loved the idea of a sick L/uc/ifer spiraling, and being broken out of it by A/la/stor's radio show because I'm weak to the idea-- though it can be interpreted as both platonic and Ra//di//o//A//pple.

And here's a quick heads-up: Though this is still the usual fluffy fic, the spiral paragraph itself is a bit rough. So I'm going to put a trigger warning below and in the summary when I add this fic to the list. If intrusive thoughts and vague thoughts of self-harm are too much, please skip the italicized second paragraph. You can still read the fic without needing to include this part, so don't feel ANY pressure to do so if you aren't/will never be ready. Please, pleeeassseee take care of yourselves!

Otherwise, enjoy!

TW: Intrusive thoughts, vague thoughts of self-harm

---

Burning. His skin felt like it was burning him alive. That was the only sensation Lucifer could feel. His tired eyes stared up at the canopy of his bed, face glowing softly with fever. Its flush spread gold across the embedded pearls above, making them sparkle like stars. He sighed, crackling sparks floating from his lips as thoughts poked and prodded at his overheated mind.

Fuck. He really was pathetic, wasn’t he? Can’t move, can’t get up, can’t get a glass of water, eat dinner, call Charlie– call. Charlie? Oh, poor Charlie. She must be so disappointed in him. He chuckled weakly, What would she even say to him that she hasn’t already thought? He could imagine it. He really could. ‘Seriously, Lucifer?! I literally meant nothing to you for years and now suddenly you waltz into my life? And instead of actually spending time with me, you’re calling from a room that could’ve gone to someone who truly needed it, ordering me to wait on you hand and foot like I’m your butler? Like our entire relationship meant nothing? You threw me away, and now you’re going to do it again?! You know what? You deserve this! You deserve to rot in your bed! Get as starving and sick as you want! At least now the inside will match the outside! You’re terrible! I hate you! No. No, you know what? I wish you got your second shot at Heaven. I wish you had at least a week of laughter, fun, and fucking fireworks so they could tear off your wings andyoucanFallalloveragai–’

A burst of static pierced the air, shattering the constricting spiral just before it could break him again– and replaced it with a new form of dread.

“Why hello there all you wayward sinners! Welcome once again to tonight’s show with your host: The Radio Demon!”

“Uuugh!” Lucifer groaned dramatically, snatching one of his many pillows to press over his head.

Right. The stupid fucking radio. From under the shadows, the sickly demon couldn't help but glare daggers at the piece of junk resting on his nightstand. Alastor had requested those old, outdated mortal inventions for every hotel room– specifically from the 1920’s era because apparently he preferred style and substance. Whatever that meant.

Regardless. He insisted that it was needed for announcements, communication, and entertainment. In other words– somewhere, somehow, Alastor was currently studying him and him alone with invisible eyes. Surgically scanning him at the seams for the slightest rip. The slightest tear. As if his prey wasn't the most powerful being here. Dramatic bastard.

“And how are you doing this fine evening, Your Majesty?” The radio sung.

“Go away.” The lump of fluff grumbled.

"Of course not! It is my duty as your hotelier to take note of every little detail of my building, no matter how tiny and insignificant. And I am ever-so-glad I have! It is quite the rare sight to watch our King of Hell lose face to a simple case of the sniffles. Truly a headline for the ages!"

An angry red blush painted over the king’s golden cheeks, immediately pushing himself upright. Towering wings puffed, pillows and blankets tossed about the bed as he went. "Now see here! Sinners get sick. Overlords get sick. Hell, Charlie and Lilith can get sick! Me? I’m just rehhh…Snff! Ugh, resti'g…"

"Resting. Of course. I suppose I will believe you for convenience’s sake--"

"Hhheh…! Het'shiew!"

"--oh! Bless you."

"Het'shhhiew!"

"Bless y--"

"Hep'shhhh! 'Etshhh! 'Tshhh! 'Tshhh-'tshh-'tch! ...HhhhehhHH...! HEH'TSSHHHIEW!"

"My goodness, bless! You sound absolutely miserable. Shall I fetch you a glass of water? Or another blanket, perhaps?"

"Nhhh– no." Lucifer protested between hitching breaths, conjuring a handkerchief with the flick of the wrist, "N-no thahhh...hhhah! Hhhh...”

He finally lowered the cloth when the tickle finally fizzled out, heaving a sigh of relief. “Ndo thadk you. Snff!" He took a deep breath before letting loose a mucky blow into the fabric, "It's fine. I'm fine."

A pause. "Ah."

"What? What is it now?"

"Oh nothing, nothing! I’ll let you get back to your rest. But before I go, could I mention one more thing?”

“Absolutely not.”

“It’s just. Well, I had my first impressions, but I assumed that the King of Hell wouldn't be so cowardly."

"Cowardly?!" Lucifer repeated incredulously, spitting a plume of smoke.

"I see your hearing is as sharp as your wit."

"I'll show you cowardly you…y-you…hhh-!" The demon’s nose twitched desperately, and he cursed between hitching gasps as it tried again and again to just get. The damned itch. Out.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't quite catch that."

"You…you self-important…hehhh…p-pompous…!"

"How flattering of you to notice my worth! And would you believe it? You're absolutely right! I am the fundraiser for this humble project, after all. The guide for these poor, misguided souls. Ones such as yourself."

"Oh, please! We both know you’re...you're no behhh...better than…hhhH–!" Lucifer's handkerchief raised to his face.

"Trying to use your infamous silver tongue through a sneeze? My word! Charlie had told me you were stubborn. But this?"

"Eshhh! Et'SCHHH! HEH'ETSCHH'HHHIEW!" He quickly twisted his head away to let loose a breath of flame, barely singeing the well-abused cloth.

"Poor, poor Lucifer Morningstar.” Alastor teased, his voice as soft and careful as a snake in the grass. The smattering of footsteps echoed across the floorboards, circling the bed. “Always choosing your own heavenly guilt over the needs of everyone else."

"HEH'ESCHH'HHHIU! Hehh! Hhh…hghh…"

"Which is a shame, considering the ill resident who requires attention. Trapped in their own feverish mind. Alone while their partner is away. Unable to move or think or even ask for help properly. But I’m sure you wouldn’t know how it feels for them, considering how indestructible you are."

"...There is?" Lucifer finally croaked, cringing to himself at another gurgling nose blow.

"Of course! While you were hiding in your room with your wings tucked between your legs, I'm afraid you've missed someone very important. Someone close to you."

Lucifer froze. He didn't mean.

"Mmm. Let's see." As the radio host thought stubby knobs spun on their own, playing flickers of songs diluted by time. "Rosy cheeks. Blonde hair. Red eyes that sparkle so damn brightly one could go blind."

Oh no.

"Puffy bow tie. Black fingernails."

Did. Did he get his little girl sick? Please, please don't let that be the case.

"The most spell-binding singing voice."

He thought back to breakfast. How Charlie had eaten less than normal. How she sniffled once or twice at the table. Wait, did her face look pale? Maybe the light didn’t catch it?

A knot formed in the pit of his stomach.

"Wh-where is she-- they, um! That. Resident right now?"

"Oh, performing the usual suffering patient routine. Lying in bed. Being miserable. Quite adament about sleeping the bug off. Reminds me of the ol’ picture books that star wealthy socialites and their sickly Victorian children. The ones who die due to their parents' neglect and mistreatment."

"I could help her." The fallen angel mumbled anxiously as he pushed himself upright. "I could help her right– …now..."

The second he dared to stand he nearly fainted, stumbling dizzily to grab the bedpost for support. From beneath a small string of black tentacles sprouted from the ground, nudging him back into place and under the covers as The Radio Demon tutted disapprovingly.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you. If you can't partake in the complex act of resting, then what good are you to our dear, sweet Charlie?"

"Shut. Up." Lucifer hissed, "I am a grown adult--"

"--debatable--"

"--and I choose what to do with my free time! And it's my jo-- koff koff! j-job to help my daughter when she needs it!" A shaky finger waved at all six radios. Or were there seven?

"To be quite honest Sire, I would prefer to do my tasks without your meddling. Actually, I would prefer not to perceive your existence at all, thank you very much. Unless..."

"Unless?"

"Unless you'd rather call her yourself. But I know you won't." A mocking tone laced with static, “You c̴̨̮͊o̶̗̤̿ẇ̷̙á̴̼̖ȑ̶͉̕d̶̙͚͗̕.”

“I– wh–” Lucifer laughed in sheer disbelief, snatching up his phone. “Y-you’re– you’re joking, right? I’m not some– some godforsaken hermit!"

"Then by all means, prove it."

"I am!"

“I’m waiting."

"Oh, I’ll do it! I’ll do such a good call. It’ll be the– snff! goodest caller you’ve ever seen.” The King of Hell pouted like a child as he moved his claws.

“Ugh. Lord knows how he’ll act if he gets worse.” The radio mumbled quietly.

“Whassat?”

“My apologies, Your Majesty! I forgot that your company as of late are less of the civilized and more the rubber duck variety.”

"Of all the– if you weren't stuck to Charlie like a parasite I would take the sharpest end of my tail and shove it up your--"

Click!

"Dad?" A voice croaked.

"Charlie!" Lucifer's venom turned saccharine sweet, flipping on a dime. "Hey! Hi! H-how are ya, sweetie?"

"Mmrgh...what time is it?"

"It's. Um. Evening…time? Look, that doesn't matter right now. Are you feeling alright, kiddo?"

"Am I feeling alright?" His patient echoed sleepily.

"Yeah! I uh. IIIII just wanted to check in. See if you were okay."

"Oh. Um, I'm okay." A bit of rustling and a pause. "Are you okay?"

"Snff! Me?"

"Yes, you! You looked so tired at breakfast this morning, a-and you didn’t eat anything which never happens! And you were kinda glowing? It kinda seemed bad but I didn’t want to ask because maybe it was a personal thing and– wait, your voice is…are you crying?!" Rustling turned into the shuffle of pacing slippers.

"What? No! Nonononono! I just--" Lucifer froze, feeling another itch start to build, handkerchief nowhere to be found under the sea of fabric. "Jhhh-just excuse mbe for– snff! For a seggond. Keebp t-talki’g…!"

He quickly pressed his hand against the speaker, stifling into his shoulder until the scratchy wool felt damp. "Hh'ntt! Hh’ngk! Hhh’TCH! ‘TCH! Hhhhh...HT'CHNXT'hiew! Guhh..."

"Sure. A-anyway, you called me pretty early in the morning and after all that and this. Soooo…is there anything I can do to help?"

Desperate claws scrambled to craft a new handkerchief and wipe his streaming face. "N-no! No, no-- snff! absolutely not! Worry about yourself Char-Char, I'm fi--....f-fihh...!"

Hang up, pinch your nose shut, do anything but--

"HET'SHHH'HIEW!" Lucifer doubled over.

–sneeze.

"Oh geez, that sounded terrible!” Charlie gasped, “Is that why you've been in your room all day? Are you sick?"

A sudden, very obvious realization hit him. Silently the fallen king sunk into his mattress, wishing he could be swallowed by his comforter. His cheeks burned. The familiar description. The taunting.

“Can I. Call you back, Stardust?”

“What? Whoa, whoa, wait, we’re not finished here–” With a final monotone beep, the call ended.

"You.” Lucifer clenched his fangs.

“Yes?” Alastor hummed non-chalantly. “YOU.”

“Gracious! No need to shout. Even The Devil Himself should know that a sickly patient musn’t raise his voice, lest it get worse than it already is!”

“Watch your back, bellhop. Next time I see you, no ring of Hell will compare to what I-- koff! I’ll–" The threat died with a wheeze, breaking into another ill-timed fit.

"And that's all for tonight, folks!" The radio suddenly hopped back to life, "Tomorrow's show may be a little dicey schedule wise, as our guest star is feeling quite unwell. Will he finally exit his literal and proverbial cave of sorrows for once in his miserable life? Or, much like his saintly past, will pride once again be his downfall--"

"Dad! Are you– eep!"

Charlie's entrance was suddenly interrupted when a black fist rained down on the damned noise box, breaking in a fit of bouncing springs and wooden splinters. The room stilled until a meek, nervous chuckle finally broke the spell.

"Charlie, dear?"

"Y…yeah?"

"Um. Could. Could I trouble you for a glass of water?"

#snz #snz fic #ha//zb//in//ho//tel//#lu/ci/fer #a/la/stor #char/lie

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 2 years ago

Text

After hours

Masterlist

Pairing: Geralt x Librarian!reader

Summary: Geralt has finally handed in the paper you helped him research for weeks... Now what to do about all that tension between you two?

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, p-in-v sex, rough sex, semi-public sex, standing missionary, oral (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), I think that's it?

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: Alright! Roughly 4 months ago, I promised my dearest @deandoesthingstome a round with her Crescent Street fave (at the time, sorta). It has finally arrived! I hope you enjoy it 🥰

For those interested in the timeline: This takes place before he ever goes on his semester abroad, meaning that at this current time, he hasn't met Sol yet.

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @summersong69 @peaches1958 @fvckinghenrycavill @keanureevesisbae @ellethespaceunicorn @ylva-syverson @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @livisss @brattymum96 @kingliam2019

“Thanks for all your help the past few weeks.” You’d been hoping he’d show up all day, and now that the library was about five minutes away from closing, here he was. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’d be able to hear your heart furiously beating in your chest. It’s a good thing that wasn’t possible. Right?

“You’re more than welcome, Geralt,” you answered. For some reason you were avoiding his eyes. “Got that term paper done?”

“Handed it in a few minutes ago,” he said as he put a stack of books on the counter with a deep sigh. His voice drove you nuts, it had been doing so for weeks, haunting you until long after you had gone home - oftentimes deeper into the night than you cared to admit.

“You don’t sound too confident?” No, but you did? Where was that coming from? You had expected yourself to crumble in the presence of this… long-haired hunk? Fine specimen? God? All of the above?

“I’m sure it will be fine.” His smile surprised you the most. “If I’m being honest I’m mostly sad I… don’t get to work on it any more.” Your eyes moved to his as if by magic, because your brain still screamed at you to avoid them at all costs. And it was right to warn you, because as soon as you saw their beautiful color, you were lost. Every shred of the tension you’d spent weeks convincing yourself was a figment of your imagination, rushed back, and now there was so much of it you could almost see it in the air.

“Can I help you put these back?” Geralt said after you had signed his books back in, and you nodded in reply to his question, knowing full well the shelf they came from was all the way in the back of the library. You knew you’d been the only one in here for well over an hour now, but it wouldn’t hurt to check.

“Let me get the door,” you said, before almost rushing to it and locking it quickly. You could swear you heard him chuckle under his breath at the way you moved, but you didn’t care.

You both scanned the aisles for people you’d missed, but per your expectations, the whole library was empty. It was just the two of you now. The walk to the mythology section of the building felt way too long, and you were definitely walking faster than you were used to, but you weren’t complaining - and neither was Geralt. You somehow found the time to start second guessing your interpretation of the situation, and had to very consciously remind yourself that putting four books back on a shelf was hardly a two-man job. And you were right about that; returning those books took maybe a minute, and when you were done putting the last one back, Geralt pulled you off the step you were standing on and looked at you.

Once again, all the tension that had built up over the past few weeks came flooding back to you as you stared into his eyes. Your gaze only strayed from his long enough to notice the way the muscles of his jaw moved beneath his stubbled skin as he clenched his teeth. His hands felt warm and heavy as they rested on your hips, and your arms seemed to auto-pilot their way up until your lower arms were against his. Touching his biceps was a mistake - alright, not a mistake, but you were definitely shocked by the amount of muscle beneath the thin fabric of the dark sweater he was wearing. Geralt licked his lips as you let your hands travel up his arms to his shoulders, and when you reached them, he pulled you in. There was no going back now.

He kissed you hard and in a way you’d almost describe as merciless, but he didn’t seem to be in a hurry. Every move he made revealed a tiny bit more of the immense strength you had already suspected he possessed. Something told you that you’d be getting more proof of that - maybe even more than you bargained for, but you couldn’t care less. When you felt the warmth of his tongue against your lips, you didn’t hesitate to open your mouth and let him in. He tasted of God knows what, but it was good, and the way he kissed you made your head spin and your knees weaken to the point where you weren’t exactly sure how you were still on your feet. Probably, you realized when you analyzed the situation a bit more carefully, because he was holding you up. Now that you were pulled against his body, his hands had moved away from your hips, and one of his arms now wrapped around your waist while the other pushed between your shoulder blades, crushing you into his chest. One thing you were very sure about was that you were not going to complain about any of this.

You were glad to see that this had an effect on him, too. His heavy breathing matched your own and you felt his pulse drum against your fingers erratically when you laid a hand against his neck. Most of all, you were surprised that he was hard already, which made you feel a little bit less embarrassed about the slick mess you were absolutely sure you’d find between your legs.

For weeks, you’d thought about asking him to join you for coffee after spending hours on the research for his paper together, or straight up asking him to take you home, even, but what was happening now bested even your dirtiest fantasies. Geralt still wasn’t rushing, but he wasn’t exactly patient, either, and it wasn’t long before the hand he kept between your shoulders moved to your side, where it carefully began to creep up over your clothes. Its destination was clear. You weren’t born yesterday, and he was a man; he obviously wasn’t interested in the feel of the fabric of your sweater. It was almost odd how he didn’t just immediately slip his hand underneath it…

To your disappointment, he broke the kiss, but luckily it was only to regain his ability to speak.

“This is a lovely sweater, but it’s in my way.” You had been wrong: he did actually go on to comment on the softness of your sweater. That didn’t take away the fact that the way he cocked his eyebrow at you was a silent way of asking for your permission to take the thing off - which you gladly gave him. After a few short seconds, it was on the floor. Much to your own surprise, you told Geralt to just send your bra the same way immediately, while you frantically pulled at the hem of his sweater. After all, you needed to level the playing field a bit. The clasp of your bra was no match for his nimble fingers, which made you feel a little sad. Of course that wasn’t a new move to a guy like this - even though his being twenty-one made him a fair bit younger than the guys in your past. You were about to decide to not linger on the feeling, when Geralt made you forget about it altogether by kissing along your jaw to your ear. He moaned in it softly - a deep, gravelly sound that made you lose whatever little sanity you still possessed - and murmured a soft ‘fuck’ before moving away from you to take off some of his own clothes.

It took everything you had to keep your mouth from falling open - and you were only about forty percent convinced you were actually successful. You’d always thought you had been more than generous in your wildly inappropriate dreams, but absolutely nothing on the planet gave this guy the right to be this fucking ripped. Despite probably managing to keep your mouth closed, you couldn’t stop yourself from staring, and you battled the strange urge to lick every inch of his body; your hands would have to do. Your fingers trailed softly over his shoulders and chest, and you bit your lip as you let them slowly travel down over his abs to the waistband of his trousers. On a whim, you hooked your fingers behind it and pulled him closer to you again. There was a devious smile on his lips when you did, which gave you more courage than you ever thought you had. He let out the most delicious grunt when you softly palmed his erection through his jeans, which was partially lost against your lips when you pulled his face down to yours for another kiss. You resisted the urge to pull your hand back when you realized what this guy was packing.

Geralt squeezed your ass through your skirt and grunted again - a sound you gladly answered with a moan. He bowed his head and put his lips to your neck, seeking out the spots that made you squirm and whine. After a short while, he pushed you back a few steps until you felt the cold concrete of the wall against your back. You shrieked at the sudden coolness against your skin, involuntarily arching your back and pressing your chest into his. Geralt laughed softly before resolutely pushing you back against the wall, lowering his head again to continue his quest further down your chest. You gasped when the warmth of his breath brushed past your sensitive nipples. The touch of his tongue made you lean into him again as he drew circles around the pebbled skin. His hands made their way to the hem of your skirt, pulling it up until he could comfortably reach between your legs. His fingers ran over the fabric of your underwear, and you shivered when Geralt deliberately circled your clit with slow, lazy movements.

He raised his head again, leaving your nipples exposed to the merciless cold air of the room, and looked straight in your eyes when he pulled your panties to the side and dragged a finger through your slick folds. He wet his lips, and you heard a soft growl rumble in his chest every time he exhaled. It was torture, the way he kept teasing you until you were begging him to give you what you wanted, but somehow, the glacial pace with which he pushed a finger into you was so much worse.

"Fuck, you're killing me," you growled.

"Tell me what you want, then." God, his smile was amazing. You almost forgave him for teasing you beyond any reasonable boundaries.

"I want you to stop teasing me," you replied.

"You've been teasing me for weeks," he said to your surprise, "don't I get even a little in return?" You quirked an eyebrow at him. He had been the one teasing you for weeks, for crying out loud! He laughed when you suggested that.

"I don't think I care who started it," he growled into your ear as he finally pushed two fingers inside you and curled them in search of the perfect spot. Of course he found it in no time, and you were a squirming, shaking, whimpering mess in his arms within seconds.

He kissed you again. It was rough, like before - and an excellent way to keep you quiet as his fingers continued to pump into you unrelentingly. Your nails dug into the muscle of his shoulder so fiercely you were sure it hurt him, but he didn’t look bothered by it at all. Every moan that escaped you seemed to inspire him to keep going until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“That’s it.” You clearly heard the excruciating smugness in his voice as he pulled you over the edge. Leaning against the wall wasn’t enough to keep your knees from buckling, but Geralt seemed to have no problem holding you up while he rested his forehead against yours. After a while, your legs were once again able to carry your weight, and you stood a little straighter as you once again ran your hands over the ridiculously muscular torso in front of you, not stopping until you reached the waistband of his jeans, which you swiftly unbuttoned and unzipped. As soon as you wrapped your fingers around his cock, Geralt moaned loudly, your mouth swallowing the sound up as you pressed your lips to his again. The kiss could hardly distract you from the thoughts that raced through your mind as your hand greedily explored what mother nature had blessed him with, and you couldn’t stifle a moan.

Your fingertips didn’t touch. That sentence ran tireless circles through your mind as you gently, experimentally, moved your hand, attempting to draw a reaction from the man in front of you. Your fingertips didn’t touch, but instead of contemplating the probability that this was never in a million years going to fit, you let out a continuous stream of moans as you touched him. If the past few weeks had taught you anything, it was that you didn’t care whether this would be easy or not. You needed him.

The sounds that spilled from Geralt’s throat were like music to your ears, ranging from dark, guttural growling to equally dark and guttural moans. He took the liberty of pushing his pants down to give you easier access, which finally inspired you to set aside your doubts and get on your knees.

Geralt inhaled sharply when your tongue darted out to meet the tip of his cock, and you found yourself almost giddy with excitement. There was just something about making a man this size crumble beneath your touch, and from your current perspective, everything about him seemed even more massive than when you’d been standing up. You smiled as you listened to the noises Geralt made as you circled your tongue around his head. That smile widened when those sounds grew more impatient with every passing second, until he placed a hesitant hand on the back of your head, gently urging you to stop teasing him.

There was no way you could take all of him into your mouth, but he didn’t seem to mind. Men this generously endowed were probably used to that particular misfortune. Curiosity ultimately got the better of you, and you steadily moved further down his shaft until you reached your limit. At first, the hand Geralt kept on your head didn’t move at all, until there came a point at which he seemed to have confidently learned the extent of your capabilities. He was still gentle, applying only the slightest amount of pressure, never forcing you further down than you could handle. The occasional moan escaped you, the vibrations of which caused Geralt to groan, and his cock to twitch slightly in your mouth.

It had been a while since you had been able to lose yourself so completely in a blowjob, and although you had no way of knowing how much time you spent on your knees, it must have been a rather long time. When Geralt pulled on your hair slightly - and more firmly after gaining some confirmation that you weren’t opposed to that kind of thing - and your almost trance-like state was broken and you were faced with reality again, the first thing you noticed was the excruciating sensation in your knees. You chuckled when the memory of one of your friends fought itself to the forefront of your mind. In your own days at the university, she had publicly - loudly, too - declared the library ‘carpet burn central’, and your knees were now living proof of her assessment.

A large hand wrapped around your arm as Geralt pulled you off the ground rather unceremoniously, and pushed you back against the wall, kissing you fiercely.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath as he fumbled with something. The options regarding the source of the crinkling sound you heard - especially considering the context of the situation - were limited. Truth be told: anything other than a condom at this stage would have sorely disappointed you. Luckily, your educated guess was dead-on.

“Need some help with that?” you taunted, not considering whether potentially antagonizing Geralt was a smart thing to do - it probably wasn’t. He huffed impatiently, breaking your kiss and looking at you with a lifted brow. There was something resembling amusement in those gorgeous amber eyes, and nothing of the annoyance that you had heard in his voice.

“Got it,” he said, the smallest grin appearing on his lips.

Without warning, he captured your body between his and the wall, pulling one of your legs up to his hip. It was not yet enough for him to comfortably move. While shaking his head slightly, a smirk on his lips, he lifted your other leg as well. The suddenness of your feet leaving solid ground made you shriek, and you wrapped your arms around Geralt’s neck. One thing was certain: there was absolutely no reason to doubt his strength. In fact, you wished furiously that you had chosen a less limiting and maybe more conventional position and location than the ones you currently found yourself in. Positions and locations with more possibilities for Geralt to show you what he was really capable of. At the very least, that location would contain something to tone down the sound of the screams you were sure he would pull from you.

As your thoughts raced through your mind about what could, would, should or might be, Geralt entered you slowly, giving you plenty of time to adjust to the size of his cock. Much to your surprise, things went smoother than you had expected. The first thrusts came slowly, and were too gentle to really match the raunchiness of the position - or place - you were in.

That didn’t last long.

Whether it was his idea, inspired by your sloppily muttered ‘I can take it’, or a combination of both, you didn’t know - and quite frankly: you didn’t give a damn. Right now, it was just you and Geralt, and the way your arms were wrapped around his neck, and your legs around his waist, as you held on for dear life while each thrust came harder, faster and deeper than the one before. It was fantastic. Something about the way he moved had you hiding your face in his neck in a hopeless attempt to hide your screams. You squirmed in his arms as your hands closed into tight fists around locks of his white hair - which he didn’t even seem to notice.

Geralt was an unholy combination of strength and stamina: rough, untamed, and seemingly always on the brink of losing control. For a moment, you were consumed by a single drop of sweat that traveled down his forehead, headed for the furrowed brow that sat over a pained expression. That tortured look gave you an idea of the sheer amount of restraint he needed right now to not topple over into the abyss of his own feelings, and chase nothing but his own pleasure. He’d hurt you. You were as sure of that, as you were of your suspicion that you wouldn’t mind so much as one microscopic little bit if he did hurt you. Never before had you surrendered so completely to a man, and if you had to be honest: never before had any of them earned your submission like Geralt did.

He lasted way past the point where you should probably have asked him to slow down, then past the point where you wondered if you genuinely wanted him to slow down, and finally another while past the very moment any discomfort warped itself into pleasure again. That familiar, throbbing ache begged for attention - yours or otherwise - as Geralt slowed his brutal rhythm. A sigh of relief escaped you, not because it wasn’t good before, but because this was a pace at which your mind could keep up with the continuous, overwhelming flood of sensations. Geralt urged you to loosen your arms, which were still wrapped tightly around his neck. He held your hips tightly as he stepped back a tiny bit, giving you space to reach between your bodies and focus some attention where you needed it most.

Geralt thrust into you with a steady rhythm while your fingers drew tight circles around your clit. Your breath caught in your throat as you came closer and closer to your orgasm with each thrust, each touch. When you finally exploded around him, a hint of a smile cut through the grim expression on Geralt’s face. His harsh features softened as his previously unrelenting rhythm finally faltered and made way for the uncontrolled and passionate thrusts that announced his nearing release. His fingers dug into your hips, and the growls that fell from his lips bordered on the feral. When he came, those growls largely died against your lips as he swept you into yet another breathtaking kiss. A hiss escaped you when his sharp teeth grazed your bottom lip and bit down painfully.

When he finally - maybe after slightly more time than he should have allowed - slipped out of you and put you down again, you had to brace yourself against the wall in order to stay on your feet. This guy was genuinely every bit as amazing as you’d imagined he’d be - and then some. Or rather: he had been. As you gathered your discarded clothes off the floor and put them back on, scrambling to make yourself at least somewhat presentable again, you realized that this was it. It was over. The one thing you had spent weeks looking forward to, was now something of the past. Suddenly, a wave of something you couldn’t quite place washed over you. Not regret, no, you’d recognize regret. Even the where and how of this encounter couldn’t hold a candle to your worst drunken mistakes - the ones you actually did regret. There was absolutely nothing to regret about something this amazing, except maybe the fact that it was over.

As you questioned why part of you was questioning your unquestionable life choices, you vaguely took note of Geralt sneaking off to the bathroom. Of course, your initial fear was that he would sneak off altogether, but you remembered the only entrance to the library was locked, and you were the only person present with a key. Your suspicion was confirmed when Geralt returned to you a bit later.

The two of you found yourselves in a very interesting situation. If the morning after a one night stand was awkward, the moment after a wicked semi-public quickie in the library was at least twice as uncomfortable, and then some. You didn’t speak as you locked up and left the floor you were on, and while you walked, at least a hundred scenarios crossed your mind that did nothing to settle your nerves about saying your goodbyes. Whatever you conjured up in your brain was also useless in preparing you for the one thing that actually did happen.

“Come back to my place,” Geralt said as you stepped outside. No matter how hard you tried, you were ultimately unsuccessful in keeping your eyes from going wide as you heard his words. Something about it wasn’t a question, which turned out to be enough to bring back the thrumming between your legs and weaken your knees. “I’m not done with you yet.”

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