#i like to make sure both boys suffer equally

[flyingwargle]

bokuaka fanfic recommendations!

i am uncharacteristically nervous about posting this haha i read a lot of fanfic and always enjoy looking at other people's recommendations, so i thought, why not share some of my favorites?

all these recs are sfw!

oneshots!

banana bread by leuralo_1 gen. 2.1k words. bokuto pov. bokuto and his roommates have too many bananas and akaashi takes the train overnight to make banana bread with it. that's it, that's the fic. it's so cute, i'm begging you to read it.

spending all, spending all my time (loving you) by hyeyu gen. 3.4k words. bokuto pov. akaashi is a dimension traveler and gets nailed in the head by bokuto's serve, so he stays until he fixes his dimension travel device. one of my first bokuaka fics that i read, very cute and the pining is palpable.

in the same room, at the same time by quel_nightmare teen. 21.5k. alternating pov. marriage proposal fic! i read this all in one sitting and my heart was ready to burst by the end. very cute, i won't spoil anything other than that <3

astronomy in reverse (it was me who was discovered) by flumes teen. 22.1k. akaashi pov. a non-linear narrative about akaashi pining over bokuto from high school to the future. very poetic and lyrical, with the boys discovering their feelings for each other in the end. i also read this all in one sitting.

longfics!

background check by ghostystarr gen. 2 chapters, 8k words. msby4 changes bokuto's lockscreen picture for fun since he doesn't lock his phone, but the game changes when he changes it to a picture of akaashi. a very fun and cute fic with the msby4 gang helping their bro out.

truth is such a violent force by inaminute teen. 8 chapters, 41k. it starts with akaashi's 1st year at fukurodani and explores his dysfunctional family, growing relationship with bokuto, and deals with homophobia. i love the fukurodani boys in this, and how supportive they are of one another. there's also a sequel that is just as heart-wrenching as this one! (both have happy endings, don't worry)

flightless owl by volleydorkscentral teen. 31 chapters, 57.6k words. bokuto gravely injures his leg and has to sit the rest of his third year out. this fic focuses on his recovery, his relationship with akaashi developing, and overcoming the pain of his injury. has a happy ending, as well!

the way you look at me by mocaw teen. 36 chapters, 79.2k words. bokuto sees train guy every night on his commute after practice until he decides to take the first step and introduce himself. this fic is the reason why i ship bokuaka. it's slowburn, deals with anxiety and ptsd, developing relationships, and is just beautifully written (i am also extremely biased because this shaped my undergrad years). please read it, i'm begging you.

the death of our hands by bershlate teen. 25 chapters, 109k words. this longfic explores akaashi's ocd, his dysfunctional family, and an amazing oc older brother, along with his relationship with bokuto. i read this recently and finished it in a few days because of how gripping the story is <3

i'll let you shatter me with your pain by kuromantic teen. 23 chapters, 160.4k words. akaashi is an empath and when he brushes against bokuto, he gets the biggest shock of emotions of his life. this fic is very heavy, dealing with abuse, malnutrition, trauma, and homophobia. it has a happy ending, and our boys do get together <3

i'll reblog this from time to time to add more recs as i keep reading! of course, feel free to check out my own bokuaka fics >:3 i might post more?? for other pairings and general recs?? and for genshin too since i have a lot there haha okay enjoy bye!

[riality-check]

Steve, realistically, shouldn’t even be at this show. He doesn’t care about the band, he didn’t want to make the drive, and he had to bring Anna along because he couldn’t find a babysitter.

But he was going to suck it up to go with Dustin, who immediately bought tickets to see his favorite band when they went on sale. Who called Steve this morning to inform him, somehow both solemnly and frantically, that he had the worst food poisoning known to man, and, that until he stopped puking and shitting at the same time, he could not leave the bathroom.

Steve very much did not need to know that.

With Dustin went the rest of the Babysitters’ Club, all of them having eaten the same shady pizza and suffering the consequences. The only exception was Mike, lactose intolerant but cursed to take care of his idiot friends.

He texted Steve to ask if he had extra bleach. Steve dropped it outside the house because no way in hell was he entering that building.

Dustin assured him, amidst too much detail and shockingly disgusting background noise, that both tickets shouldn’t go to waste, and with no one able to babysit Anna, Steve should take advantage of both.

So, here he is. Standing in the first level - Dustin couldn’t get floor tickets, thank God - of a show for a metal band he has no intention of ever listening to and holding his four-year-old daughter, who has bright pink ear defenders looped around her neck in preparation for when it gets really, really loud.

“When are they starting?” she asks for the fourth time in as many minutes, with a sigh too big for her little body.

“In a few minutes,” Steve says, keeping an eye on the stage, where he watches the crew set up. Mad respect for them hustling so hard. He could never.

The seats are slowly filling up, and Steve feels a little sad for the first opener, a little sad that they don’t have a full house for their set.

A group of four guys takes the seats right next to Steve, with a pale, long-haired, big-eyed guy right next to him. He’s got tattoos on his arms and rings on all his fingers and a silver bar through his upper ear.

And he’s arguing emphatically with his friend next to him.

“I’m telling you, American Psycho is more recognizable!” he says, hands flying. Steve discreetly makes sure he and Anna aren’t within striking distance. “Not to mention cheaper!”

“A prop chainsaw,” his friend - a short white guy with shorter but equally wild hair - says, “can’t possibly be that hard to find by tomorrow.”

“We already have the axe!”

“I’m with Eddie,” the big white guy at the end of their group says. “I’m a sucker for American Psycho.”

“Okay, but I’m the guy who has to use the props,” the fourth friend, a Black guy with short braids who looks annoyed at this conversation, like they’ve had it before. “And I think I’d have more fun with the chainsaw.”

Eddie - the guy with long hair and heavy jewelry and hands with a mind of their own - rolls his eyes. It’s a full body movement, one that has him spinning to face Steve. When he does, his face cycles through a myriad of emotions too fast for Steve to really track.

“Hi, pretty boy,” he says. His eyes then dart down to Anna, who stares at him with her head cocked to the side. “Pretty dad. Dad. Pretty. Hi.”

“Eddie,” the short guy cautions.

“Yeah, sorry, anyway, can you be a tiebreaker for us?”

“Sure,” Steve says. Anna squirms, so he lets her out of his lap to stand, holding her hand all the while. “What do you need?”

“American Psycho or Texas Chainsaw Massacre?” the big guy asks.

“You gotta give him context.”

“No, I don’t, Jeff.”

The guy who said he’d be using the props - whatever that means - rolls his eyes and stops fighting.

“What’s American Psycho?” Anna asks, choosing the best time to pay attention to the conversation, like always.

“A movie you’re too young to see,” Steve says. “And the one I’m picking out of those two.”

“Oh, thank you,” Eddie says, using a tone that better fits Steve saving his drowning dog or something. He then turns to the rest of his friends and says, “I fucking told you!”

Anna gasps. “You’re not s’posed to say that!”

Jeff smothers a laugh behind his hands, while the other three guys stare at Anna, half confused, half admiring.

Eddie clears his throat, looking significantly abashed. "Sorry, Miss-"

"Anna," she says.

"Anna," Eddie finishes. Then he turns to Steve. "And you are?"

"Steve. No Mister for me though. I might be a dad, but I'm not that old."

"You are old, Daddy," Anna says.

Steve frowns down at her, where she stands at his feet. She's smiling, mischievous like she always is when she says something along these lines. "I'm not that old."

"Yeah you are! You're like, you're like, like, fifteen."

Jeff gives up on hiding his laughter.

"I'm older than fifteen," Steve says gently, trying not to laugh.

Anna’s jaw drops. “You are?”

“Thank God for that,” Eddie mutters, then shuts his jaw with an audible click.

Steve tried to come up with an answer for that, but someone comes on a mic and starts playing the drums, so he moves the defenders over Anna’s ears and pays attention to the show instead.

It's... fun, he guesses. Fun if he were into it, maybe. The first opener has a lot of energy, even if the music isn't melodic enough for Steve's taste. He finds himself tapping along to the steady beat, moving slightly in his seat to the music.

It's nice background noise. He'd put this on while he grades papers. It's steady enough to fill his head but doesn't have a whole lot of lyrics he could get distracted by and sing along to.

Eddie and his friends, meanwhile, are having the time of their lives. The short guy - Gareth, Steve thinks his name is - mimes the drum part of each song with startling accuracy. Archie jumps up and down, Jeff absolutely screams along, and Eddie-

Anna stares up at Eddie, eyes wide and jaw slacked as she watches him bang his head to the music.

Steve almost snaps a picture of it, this little moment, before the second song ends and Eddie snaps out of his zone.

He shakes the hair out of his face, then looks down at Anna, who's still staring at him. "What?"

She cocks her head to the side in a mirror of his. "What was that?"

"What was what?"

"The," she pauses, then starts shaking her head really hard, side to side. Steve puts a hand on her shoulder before she slams into the chairs in the row in front of them.

Eddie laughs. "The headbanging?"

"Yeah," Anna says, nodding.

"It's a way I move to the music," Eddie explains.

"Like dancing?"

"Sort of," Eddie says. "It's easier. I look stupid when I dance."

"You're not s'posed to say that," Anna tells him solemnly. "Right, Daddy?"

Steve meets Eddie's eyes. Even with the lights down, they're big and pretty and reflective, and Steve is going to kick himself so hard if he chickens out before he can get his number.

"Right," he says, still looking at Eddie. "We're not supposed to call ourselves stupid."

"Sorry," Eddie whispers.

"Don't be."

Anna tugs on Steve's hand, then Eddie's. "Teach me."

"Anna," Steve cautions.

"Can you please teach me?" she corrects.

Eddie glances down at Anna, then back up at Steve. "If it's-"

"Go ahead," Steve says because Eddie has more than passed the vibe check at this point.

Eddie crouches down as a new song starts up, and while Steve can't hear what he's telling her, he sees her smile, bright as day.

By the last song of the first opener, Anna is headbanging along with Eddie, off-beat in the say little kids always are but more than making up for it with effort.

Steve gives into the impulse to take a picture.

When the first opener finishes, Steve picks Anna back up and takes her ear defenders off.

"Woah," she says. "Can I keep them-"

"Nope," Steve says. "They stay on when the music is on. You heard it fine, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but you-"

"I have my earplugs in," Steve says, pointing at them.

"So do I," Eddie says, and when he moves his hair back, sure enough, there are black earplugs nestled in his ears.

"You don't seem like the kind of guy to wear earplugs," Steve says.

"You don't seem like the kind of guy to come of a metal show," Eddie counters.

Anna climbs out of Steve's arms and onto his back, where she loops her arms around his shoulders and just hangs, like she does sometimes when she gets bored.

Weirdo kid, Steve thinks affectionately.

"That's because I'm not," Steve says. "I was supposed to come with a friend, but he got sick."

"Yikes," Eddie says. "You coming tomorrow, too?"

"I am," Steve says. "Are you?"

Eddie raises his eyebrows, like he didn't expect Steve to ask that. "Yeah, we'll be here. Not in these seats, though."

The lights go back down before Steve can ask what he means by that. He reaches behind him, scoops Anna back down on the ground, and puts her ear defenders on by the time the second opener strikes a scary-sounding opening chord.

Anna doesn't look scared at all. From the moment the music starts, she looks up at Eddie, and when he starts headbanging, she does, too.

Yup. Steve has effectively created a monster.

He contemplates, if Dustin is fine by tomorrow, skipping out on the show and giving his ticket to Anna, but that means not seeing Eddie again.

He really wants to see Eddie again, even if he won’t have the same seats.

Whatever that means.

Steve decides not to focus on that. He decides instead to focus on the moment. He listens to the music. He lets Anna take his hand and dance with it. He bops his head along with hers, but not too hard because he can’t risk aggravating his whiplash.

He enjoys the show, even if it’s not his cup of tea. It’s easy to enjoy the show, with Eddie next to him. It’s easy to enjoy his wild hair and pretty jewelry and big eyes and contagious enthusiasm.

It’s easy to see the way Eddie looks at him.

It’s also very easy, after the venue clears and Anna falls asleep in the car on the way home, to forget to ask for his number.

Shit.

(Part 2 is alive!!)

[moongreenlight]

What if your brain tells you that nurse!reader from the previous fic was on the field with the boys as an on call medic and gets taken as a POW and ghost is losing his fucking mind?? - like actual feral behavior

Ohhhhhhhhhmygod. Hi? I’m in your walls. So mad I didn’t see this before because I’ve been SLAVING over a Simon fic all week and this apparently is the motivation I needed to put some more batshit insane things on the internet forever.

We all know that Simon is a fucking machine. Prides himself on his ability to essentially turn off his humanity on the field. But for some reason his nurse!reader is the one thing that interrupts that ability. Even seeing you treating a few rowdy privates gets him worked up. Lingers around the medbay in his free time for no apparent reason just to side eye your patients and glare at them to make sure there’s absolutely no possibility of you getting hurt.

There was probably an occasion where you were treating a soldier who didn’t fare well with pain. Moaning and crying and thrashing while you did something simple like tuck their arm into a sling, and they somehow writhed around enough to hook you in the cheek with their elbow. Nothing serious, but it left an angry red mark on your cheek for so long that he caught it on one of your evening walks around base. Usually after dark so you could both avoid being found out.

And then the next day you see Simon dragging that same soldier to a different nurse’s bed under the armpits. Explaining gruffly that he went unconscious because he couldn’t handle training. (He made the poor bastard run the track in full tactical gear on one of the hottest days of the year for nearly an hour straight. No water. No breaks.)

You were the kindest, softest thing he’d ever come in contact with. Something he never thought he’d be able to find in this lifetime after so much hate and anger and pain. He couldn’t risk losing you, which is why he was so strict on his saying no to you joining the task force on the field. The shit they did was dangerous. Immensely so. And this brought up two main points for Simon.

One; he wouldn’t be able to focus on the task at hand knowing you were out. He slept with one eye open when you were nestled close to his chest and snoring softly in the comfort of your own home that he’d all but booby-trapped home alone style. No fucking way he’d allow you out into hostile territory with only a introductory understanding of self-defense. He’d be on pins and needles the entire mission. Probably get the entire squad killed because he’d constantly be looking over his shoulder for you.

Two; it would rip him to shreds if he lost you. You were the only person he truly saw as an equal. The first time the two of you met, he was probably being angsty and rude because he did something to land himself in the medbay, and when he refused to take off his tact vest so you could listen to his heart and lungs, you all but held him at scalpel-point and threatened him within an inch of his life until he finally submitted. After that he was fucking hooked. Obsessed with the way you could get brutes like him to roll over and show you their belly like obedient dogs. And you were kind to him. Immeasurably kind. Dealt with his mood swings and took the time to get to know him. Suffered through the impossibly long process of him letting his guard down.

So if somehow his orders were ignored, it was almost certain that you’d be given strict orders to keep your involvement under wraps. Price would have enough of an idea of the situation to keep the two of you on opposite schedules in the days leading up to deployment. Minimize the possibility of you letting slip that you’d be coming along to preserve not only the integrity of his team but also his quality of life.

It would seem like a regular day to Simon at first. Loading into the helo before dawn, sitting between Johnny and Gaz and trying to tune them out while they snarked at one another across him. And then Price would come on looking guilty as sin. You could practically smell it coming off him. Leaning both his arms on the open door and signaling the driver to start the engine for a quick take off in case Simon decided to abandon ship in his outrage.

He’d give some spiel about teamwork and the importance of focusing on the mission and whatever other bullshit he thought would keep Simon the most level headed. Spewing on and on until Gaz finally cut him off with a pointed yawn. At which point he’d give the group one last look, lingering the longest on the ghost mask, before stepping aside to reveal you.

Dressed up in a uniform that looked about a size too big. Tailored as best it could be in the short notice. Pants chopped and hemmed to make them a manageable length, belt pulled as tight as it could go around your waist. Strapped into a vest that was loaded with medical supplies instead of weapons. Two pistols holstered on your either side.

Simon was beyond livid. Spouting steam like a cartoon bull. Staggering to stand when the chopper took off and stalking over to the cockpit where Price sat and tried to look casual.

Gave him a fucking earful. Screaming over the roar of the engine into the earpiece on a private channel for the entire two hour long flight. Bitching about paperwork and dead weight and how it’s just another person he’ll need to look after and he doesn’t want to. It’s almost impressive. Price doesn’t get a word in sideways. Gets shut down immediately if he even dares to open his mouth.

And he’s a monster when he finds out you’ve been taken POW. Circled by the enemy team like ravenous wolves finding a wounded deer. Soap and Gaz both have to pin him down when Price breaks the news. Seeing fucking red.

A large part of me thinks he internalizes a lot of the torture he went through in the comics. Letting it sit and fester inside him like the worst kind of poison that it took him years to meticulously extract from his very being and carefully contain into a small vial. Laying dormant in the back of his mind for a moment like this. He had no idea what the enemy wanted with you, so he had to assume the worst.

Storms their base by himself. Sniffs you out through a maze of bunkers and underground tunnels and infinitely many heavily secured doors. And the rest of the force just watches his six. Stands back feeling a little nauseous, but letting him blaze down his war path. Any and everyone who gets in his way is guilty unless they can prove their innocence- and they don’t get the chance. Runs through all his ammo gunning down countless grunts and privates stationed outside the base of planted as decoys. Specifically demanding that Price be the one to give up his weapons and ammo so he can continue on. And it’s the one time that the captain allows him to snarl orders like that.

Price knows that Simon is, in his core, a fighting dog. Rescued by the force and given an opportunity to channel his aggression into a more productive outlet. And now it seems all his hard work and training is coming unraveled. Watching Simon once again snap his jaws and bare his teeth, killing without rhyme or reason to get you back, is jarring to say the least. So in some last-ditch effort to preserve some of the trust that they’d built, he surrenders. Shows his belly. Shrugs off his rifle with no objection other than the way his mouth drew into a tight line.

Simon kicks through heavy metal reinforced doors without the need for a battering ram. Pushes himself well past the point of exhaustion. Fueled purely off the instinctual need to recover you. He can’t speak. Can’t eat. Can’t drink. Can’t stop.

He’d mow through the first few ranks of soldiers until they finally found someone that looked like they’d have at least a sliver of useful information and beat them within an inch of their life until they gave up the information that would eventually lead him to you.

In all honesty, you were probably taken with the intent to lure them in. Not anticipating your absence would have such an impact. Kept you bound in a guarded room. Roughed up a bit just from your struggle, but they hadn’t had time to interrogate you before they got word that 141 was coming in wild and sideways.

This would send Simon even further into madness. Body aching, bleeding from his knuckles. His knees and shoulders screaming their protest when he broke down the door, sending it crashing into the room. And the first thing he sees is you huddled in a corner blindfolded and bound with handcuffs that were cutting into your wrists from your trying to escape. He’d be an entirely different person. (I am giggling and kicking my feet.)

He wouldn’t even bother wasting time with the rifle. He’d handle what few guards were left with his bare hands. Possessed by some kind of superhuman strength. Catching a second wind the moment he laid eyes on you. He’d rush over, the rest of the boys standing guard in the hallway, and break you free from your restraints.

And as much as I would want him to be sweet and coddle you and coo over you, he’d probably be riding such a high that he wouldn’t be able to. He’d immediately start in on you, but with significantly less ferocity than he had with Price.

“You got a fuckin’ death wish? Think they’d turn you into a martyr for bein’ a medic on the field? Real original fuckin’ concept, yeah?”

He’d pull you in close to him, giving you an incredibly detailed once over. Inspecting your face and neck and arms legs for any further damage, and once he determined after three checks that all your wounds were purely superficial, he’d allow his hands to shake just slightly when he smoothed your hair back off your forehead.

[kitkatscabinet]

Always been you

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x f! childhood friend reader

Summary: From the moment you first smiled at him as children Simon knew it would always be you.

Word count: 2k

Warnings: some nsfw content so minors keep scrolling

It starts like this, he’s 9 years old feet listlessly guiding himself to the rundown park desperate to be somewhere, anywhere that wasn’t the oppressive confines of home. The weather, as was typical of Manchester, wasn’t exactly cooperating. A dreary grey drizzle that served to keep most of the general populace indoors. Few parents were willing to stand outside and supervise their rowdy children. 

That’s not to say the area was completely devoid of activity and for a while Simon was content to sit idly on the swing set and people watch. Trying desperately to ignore the clench in his chest and the sting of tears in the corner of his eyes as he watched the loving interactions between child and parent. Bitterness and wanting in equal parts threatened to consume him. 

A voice from the side quickly pulls him from the harrowing thoughts, though he quickly thinks maybe they’d be easier to deal with. It’s a boy, around his age, maybe a little older and he’s boring like Simon’s deeply offended him. 

“Get off the swing, I want a turn.” The demand leaves Simon more than a little flabbergasted. Apparently, he takes too long to not follow the sudden command as the boy's face twists in even more displeasure. 

“I said, move!” He’s taller, and maybe it's because Simon had already been scared by Tommy that morning but he freezes. 

Or maybe it’s just because he’s pathetic, his father’s voice whispers traitorously in his mind. 

Thankfully, the thought doesn’t get to stick around for long as a new voice enters the fray. “Hey! Fuck off!” Both boys whirl around with wide eyes at the newcomer, neither sure how to respond to the loudly swearing girl. However, when the boy responds with what Simon assumes to be your name it becomes clear that you already know each other. 

“I don’t have to listen a girl.” That proves to be exactly the wrong thing to say, Righteous indignation lights up your face and before Simon can even blink the would-be bully is on the ground, clutching his nose with a cry. You’d punched him, hard enough that Simon could see the blood spilling out from over the crying boy’s hands and down his chin. Not wanting to suffer the same fate, Simon had let you pull on his hand, keeping it in a deceptively strong grip as you marched the two of them away. When you make it far enough from the crime scene you turn to him with a toothy grin, introducing yourself and promptly claiming the title of his new best friend. 

It’s not quite love at first sight, but years down the line Simon will recognise it as something close. 

The fourth time you meet at the park, not even two weeks from the initial greeting, you ask after his parents. It wasn’t unusual that Simon didn’t talk much, content to listen to you chatter away but you must have noticed something different in that instance of silence. You were alarmingly perceptive like that when it came to him, your eyes feeling as if they were staring directly into his soul, seeing all the shattered hurt he tried to hide. Nodding to yourself you grabbed his hand, an occurrence that he hadn’t quite gotten used to yet - your gentle touch, and tugged him along. You walk him all the way to your house, open the door with an excited bang and march straight up to your parents. 

“This is my best friend, Simon, he’s gonna sleep over tonight!” Your parents are rightfully not amused but their protests quickly die down. He has no idea what convinced them in the end, but from then on he’d somehow become a permanent fixture in your home. Dinners became a regular thing which often became sleepovers as you attempted to keep him out of the house that had caused him so much fear and pain. It was about as subtle as a brick to the face but Simon never complained, especially if it meant you’d pull him into your bed as often as possible to sleep. 

He hadn’t minded the first two ‘boyfriends’, they had been nothing serious, silly childhood infatuations. Because at the end of the day, it was always him that you returned to. Crawling through his window late at night and pouting that you couldn’t sleep without your favourite pillow, because somehow, despite his protests you always wrestled him into being the little spoon. 

No, it isn’t until he’s 17 and more than aware of how painfully in love with you he is that the boyfriends finally become a problem. Simon wasn’t a violent person, didn’t want to be, not like his father was. But as he holds you in his arms after you’d climbed through the window in tears, cuddling up to him under the blanket covering his bed that he swears for the first time in his life he could kill somebody. He offers too, you simply laugh and tell him he’s the best friend you could ever have. You think he’s joking, Simon’s not entirely sure he is. 

You’re his first kiss, something that had only occurred at your aghast knowledge that he’d never kissed anyone at all. He’s not sure why you’re surprised, you’re the only person he ever lets near him let alone touch him. It’s simultaneously the best and worst moment of his life because now he actually knows what it feels like to kiss you. Knows that nobody will ever live up to you. 

It’s then he realises that you’re his first everything really, first friend, first crush, first and only love. 

He reads some of your smutty books, the ones you giggle at, a secret he’ll take to the grave, just to learn what you like. It comes about after a drunken confession on your part, liquor loosening your lips just a tad too much as you detail how much your last boyfriend sucked in bed. It’s a mistake, because now every time he looks at you he can’t help but imagine the way you’d taste. How you’d sound begging so prettily for him. 

His decision to join the military was not made lightly, you’d gotten accepted into some fancy university and it’s then Simon starts to realise just how much his entire life has started to revolve around you. As much as he wants to follow, he knows that life isn’t for him, and he knows how much you want him to flourish in whatever path he chooses. 

Training isn’t easy, but it’s far from the hardest thing he’d ever done. That title was reserved for telling you about his chosen career path. 

“Promise me you’ll always come back home to me” you demand, parting just slightly from your hug to look into his eyes. Simon knows he shouldn’t, after all there’s never any guarantee that he will, but as has been the case since you were both 12 he can’t bare to say no to you. 

“I promise love” it’s barely a whisper but you still hear it, your fingers clutching at the back of his shirt starting to shake a little. 

He wants to kiss you, he always does, but standing before him now, eyes glassy from the tears you’re trying to hold back, Simon swears you’ve never looked more ethereal. As much as he wants to lean down and finally taste your lips he doesn’t, it wouldn’t be fair. Not to you or to him, so instead he presses a soft kiss to your hairline, keeping you held tightly against him. 

You send him more care packages than he can count, photos, letters and little trinkets he kept tucked safely away in his bunk or on his person when he could get away with it. He gets teased for it but Simon couldn’t give less of a fuck about their poorly hidden jealousy, not when you cared for him so deeply. Not when he gets to fall asleep with your words in his head and faint scent rubbing off on him. 

He’d thought that perhaps the distance would do him some good, would finally douse the blazing flames of his love for you. He really should have known better because as the day's drone on you start to consume his every thought both waking and asleep. His life becomes a series of training and missions that only serve as a way to pass the time until he gets to see you again. Because no matter how much blood stains his hands he knows you’ll always be there to wash it away. He’s aware how selfish it is, to place the brunt of his longing and emotional baggage that only continues to grow in your careful hands, but Simon’s never claimed to be a good man. 

Some of the darkness slips out one night, after his brother's wedding, after the revelry had died down and it was just the two of you lying on the grass and looking up at the stars at your insistence. He’ll forever blame it on the alcohol, descriptions of the violence he’d tried so desperately to keep from you pouring from his lips in confession. He can’t bear to look at you, heart roaring in his ears as he waits for the moment you’ll run, the moment you’ll finally realise what a monster he is. That moment never comes, instead, you ensnare him in your protective grip, hands cradling him far more softly than he deserves. It’s that moment that finally cements the fact that you’re never leaving in his mind. You’re never leaving so it’s up to him to pull away before he tarnishes your light, but Simon is weak and so he stays. 

It happens after his third tour, the one where he’d had too close a call, the one he’d thought for a few moments he wasn’t coming home from. In those moments he’d thought of you, of your smile and god he regretted. He regretted never telling you how he felt. 

It feels like he’s barely off the plane, eyes searching desperately for you before he hears the shout of his name. He spins just in time for you to launch yourself at his chest, gripping desperately onto him. You’ve always tried to keep your affection for him private, knowing he wasn’t entirely comfortable with people staring. Neither of you cared in that moment though and Simon’s already dropped his bags, engulfing you in a near-crushing grip. 

It’s an eternity before you pull away, but it’s still too soon. He briefly glimpses the tears in your eyes before he leans down and kisses you. Something in the back of his mind is screaming at him, but he doesn’t really care to listen. At first, you don’t respond and Simon finally panics as the consequences of his actions set in. You don’t give him the chance to run away though, hands grasping his face and keeping him in place. 

When you pull away you don’t say anything, simply taking his hand in yours and tugging him out to your car. The drive to your apartment is silent, but not uncomfortable. It isn’t until you’ve pulled him into your bed, in a mirror image of your younger years that you finally break the silence. 

“I never thought you felt the same.” The same? The implications of your words seared into the forefront of his mind. 

“Silly girl, why would I ever even look at somebody else when you exist?” You let out an adorably embarrassed squawk at his words, lightly hitting him on the chest as you bury your burning face against his neck.“It’s always been you” he murmurs, the confession settling over you like a wave. 

For a split second, he fears your relapse into silence means he’d pushed too far too fast. Years of pining bubbling up and over the surface at the slightest bit of reciprocation. You’re quick to shut down his internal spiral with another earth-shattering kiss, pulling away and resting your chin on his chest. 

“Yeah, you’ve always been it for me too Si. From the moment I pulled you from that swing." It's a little embarrassing, how fast his heart races at the confession. Tears build in the corners of his eyes as he finally, finally lets himself fully succumb to your love. You're quick to wipe them away though, because you would always take care of your Simon.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hii i’m not sure if you’re taking requests or not but if you areeee

Can you write smth about Ford x reader where they obviously got a crush on each other (but they dont confess they’re shyly dumb) but the crush got bigger bc reader decides to peck Ford on the cheek as a “Thank you” bc he helped them with smth, yanno yanno :33

Ps: I really really love your writing waaa keep up the good work!!

The crush you harbour on Ford and him on you was the least subtle thing ever, everyone could see the way you looked at each other as though the other hung the stars in the sky; you were both smitten kittens but were too scared to admit it for one reason or another.

You didn’t know when exactly you started having a crush on Ford, you merely assumed that was always the case ever since you met the man with the beautiful brown eyes, and you were perfectly content with that but what you weren’t content with was how everyone wanted you to confess.

‘He doesn’t like me like that, I’m not sure he likes anyone within a romantic aspect.’ You’d use as your excuse whenever anyone brings up the fact that you had yet to bear your heart to Ford.

‘Then you haven’t seen the way he looks at you.’ They’d respond and you could only look at them as though they’ve grown a second head. However they spoke the truth as Ford was equally as infatuated with you and would find himself pushing back the work he didn’t think required all his attention, all in favour of spending time with you whether it be star gazing or anomaly hunting.

Ford couldn’t remember the last time he felt light on his feet, head in the clouds and as though he was thirty years younger then he actually was and it was all thanks to you. While he wants to confess he found himself unable to do so when he looked into your eyes and found everything he could ever wish for within them; only to end up speechless as your eyes flickered with multiple emotions at once as he remained stood still as a statue, staring at you with a fondness within his eyes as you spoke random things to fill the silence.

This half attempts to confess -or lack there of an attempt- was enough to annoy the people close to you both as Stanley wants to put his head through a wall, Dipper vowed to himself to never be this bad and Mabel was on the verge of screaming at you both to kiss and get it over with at this point; the slow burn was killing her with how hesitant or chocked up you both become in each others presence.

They just wanted you two to cut the bullshit and start being a couple, solely just to make up for the months they’ve all have to suffer from seeing you both obviously pine for one another.

So currently you and Ford were looking for a so called ‘flying pig that may or may not be waddles parent or ancestor’ as Mabel had said to you both that very morning. So when Ford asked dipper if this was true, you swore you’ve never seen a boy sweat as much as Dipper did when he tried his hardest to convince you both that such a creature exists within the woods; you and Ford shared a look that spoke your unwillingness to believe, before agreeing to go out and look for this flying pig that may or may not be waddles’s ancestor.

‘Even if this flying pig is waddles’s ancestor, wouldn’t waddles also have wings by that logic?’ You asked.

‘Not necessarily my dear as the wings could be a hereditary trait that can skip multiple generations and appear in someone later down the line.’ Ford replied as he pushed up his glasses that were slipping down his nose, ‘however even I have to admit that this flying pig phenomena being real is slim to none despite everything else we’ve encountered here.’ He adds and you couldn’t help but laugh.

‘Then the billboard should read as this: Gravity falls, we’ve got everything to satisfy a diehard supernatural fanatic, just no flying pigs.’ You said in a goofy voice as you playfully nudge Ford in the side as he smiled softly, looking at you and feeling his heart become full; but before he could say anything a demonic squeal echoed throughout the forest causing you both to stop just as the birds stopped chirping.

Ford instinctively stood in front of you protectively as you tried to deduct where the blood curdling squeal came from. ‘What was that?’ You whispered my resting your chin on Ford’s shoulder as he reached for the gun at his hip upon instinct.

‘No clue dearest but I believe we might’ve found our anomaly.’ Ford replied lowly for only you to hear, only for the sound of wings beating filled your ears as a plump silhouette of a winged creature could be seen from a distance. You couldn’t help stop yourself from commenting ‘that could be a thousand things before it could be a flying pig-‘ just before you could finish the sentence the plump silhouette must’ve spotted you as it started flying towards you both at high speed; it was downright frighting.

‘FLYING PIG!’ You screamed the moment the figure got close enough to identify as both yourself and Ford ran began to run away from it as fast as your legs could carry you. ‘And here I thought Mabel had eating too much of that edible glitter and hallucinated.’ You added as Ford quickly took your hand in his, intertwining your fingers as he pulled you with him to hide behind a random tree, pulling you in close to his chest where you could hear his heart against your ear.

The demonic flying pig flew past you and it was them did you notice how massive those wings were for a creature that was of the same size of an average adult pig, but still it was scary to see a pig with teeth as sharp as razors; what was even more scary was the fact that pigs would eat anything and everything. You cuddled up closer to Ford instinctively as he held you close in order to comfort you. ‘It’s okay my dear, it’s gone now.’ He whispered against your head, kissing it as his hands rubbed up and down your back. ‘It must’ve gotten mad that we were within its territory and felt the need to scare us off.’

‘Well consider this officially scared off.’ You muttered against his turtlenecks finding the honest comfort and protection within his scent as you allowed it to invade your senses.

‘We’ll go back home and forget that we were almost flying pig food and watch some movies while drinking hot chocolate. How does that sound my dear?’ Ford asked and before his brain could comprehend what had happened, you had kissed his cheek and Ford felt his cheeks blossom with heat and his eyes widened.

‘That sounds perfect as long as I’m with you to do all of that of course.’ You replied softly as you looked at Ford with a soft, almost pleading expression and Ford felt his resolve crumble to dust as he averts his gaze from you.

‘I would love nothing more my dear.’ He admits and you were quick to clutch his hand in yours and drag him from your hiding place and begin your walk back to the shack, all the while keeping your wits about you in regards to one flying demon pig. ‘Then it’s a date!’ You exclaimed as you could hear Ford choke on nothing behind you, which only made you smile.

You’ll tell Mabel that you didn’t see a flying pig, but got a date out of trying to make up for the disappointment.

[satoruhour]

the racer toji smut won’t leave me alone so here is my additional brainrot bc my sister in christ we must suffer together <3

what about fem!reader who’s bf is a total ass bc he dragged her to the races but ignores her for the whole night bc he’s too busy showing off to the other guys and makes fun of her for not knowing shit about cars. she went to support him but he’s being so shitty and she goes to sulk alone near some quiet part.

a little boy comes to join her and he introduces himself as megumi, he hates crowds and loud noises so he sits with reader for a while, until his daddy comes along and his daddy is hot. toji introduces himself, asking what a pretty girl is doing alone in these parts and offers to show her his car but out from nowhere comes slimy bf who just embarrases himself trying to kiss toji’s ass and reader is like i need to break up with him

but ofc toji puts him in his place and tells him his gf is way out his league, and a real man would never leave his girl alone the entire night. it shuts him up fr and toji, megumi and reader leave to go check out some cars bc it’s nice to actually have someone tell you all about the cars instead of being made fun of for not knowing

the rest is obvs history bc megumi loves hanging out with reader and toji can’t keep his eyes off her. and vice versa hehe

a/n: jelly ur mind >>>>> also how did i write a whole FIC about this omfg im sick. i claim i dont like toji then write like this 💀💀 + can u tell how much i love making fun of incompetent men by the way i talk about reader’s shitty boyfriend cause youd be right. i hate men. ✶ / 2.2k

the stuffy parking lot had been a routine place for you at this point, taking the familiar route past shibuya 109 and into miyamasu-zaka avenue. you’re not entirely pumped to be in the car beside your boyfriend right now, who’s talking loudly and obnoxiously into his phone, but that isn’t what is irking you right now. you’re more worried when you reach there, sure to come face to face with his equally obnoxious friends who just can’t shut up about their cars.

it would be fine if they were being cocky and could back up their modifications and NOS with proper results from racing, but they were all losers, both figuratively and literally. you sigh for the umpteenth time when daisuke asks if you cancelled the dinner with your friends because he was going to celebrate his ‘sure’ win and you stifle the urge to laugh. sometimes you wonder why you’re still here.

“we’re here babe, c’mon, get out. i’ll go park the car and come back to get you,” as daisuke tells you this, he’s patting your thigh like you’re a dog, smiling his stupid smile and your brows knit together.

“can’t you just drive to wherever you’re parking?”

“ahh… no can do, baby — my parking’s somehow better when you’re not stressin’ me out in the passenger seat.” what were you doing dating a man who couldn’t even park? you groan into your hands, picking up your bag and exiting the vehicle, making sure to slam the door extra hard even if you’ll be getting a lecture later about harming his ‘baby’.

he’s perfectly fine watching your tantrum and doesn’t say anything except for continuing to smile, driving off without a care as he looks for a parking spot. thankfully you could save your face a little, since you were still early to the meet, a minimal amount of people lingering around the abandoned parking lot in their miniskirts and tights and tramp stamps — a look you definitely would’ve loved to try out if not for your boyfriend telling you you can’t show off your legs.

it’s like he has some personal vendetta against you, but really you think it’s just because he saved you from an unfavourable situation before and while at the time you expressed mutual feelings for him, he just might be holding you hostage with that favour he did for you, unconsciously feeling terrible if you were to leave him.

a few minutes pass, and then ten, and you’re waiting for a full fifteen minutes against a wall, all the while the classic crowd of tokyo is trickling into the car park, cars driving in slowly and you’re dreading every time someone enters, sure that you’re being judged for being daisuke’s significant other. and when the waiting time finally hits twenty, you’re taking matters into your own hands and turning the corner where he drove.

just to see him conversing with his loser friends who were already somehow there, showing off their own cars which they spent money on for nothing and laughing up a storm. you lug your body over, because while you were still somehow okay with daisuke, you couldn’t stand his friends.

“babe! ah, my bad, should’ve texted you that the boys were already here and that i was with ’em,” his affection was limited to just a hand on your waist, not wanting to look like a softie in front of them, “we were just talking about our updated NOS, or ‘nitrous oxide system’ for my cute baby who couldn’t remember it the first time.”

all you can do is burn in embarrassment as they laughed, ridiculing you for the mistake you made ages ago about the terminology of street racing that sometimes you couldn’t exactly grasp. you did your best each time, sometimes googling things about racing that you wouldn’t know otherwise, but because it was still pretty illegal in japan, it was difficult to find the specific terms they used. but with how much your boyfriend teaches you (as condescending as it was), you probably could’ve written an essay.

and it wasn’t a one-time thing either, from smacking your hand off the stick shift to pestering you about closing the car door more gently, you’re soon to reach your limit.

“yeah, i know what a NOS is, bitch.” you mumble under your breath, turning away from him as he continued joking with his boys before one of them shouted out someone else’s name, hiroshi, you heard and they all pile over each other like excited dogs, seeing his new and improved Mitsubishi Eclipse, a bright, striking green and your boyfriend follows them easily.

throughout the different races of the evening and the excitement, you’re left chasing after your boyfriend who can’t help but sidle up to different racers and their cars, and the dreaded situation you hoped wouldn’t arise, did. daisuke loved asking you questions with confusing numbers and letters, and then laughed in your face when you picked the wrong option.

so when he asked you whether a L72 or a 327 small-block was better for his sorry excuse of a Camaro from 1981, you answered that you knew they had used 327s for Yenko Camaros, but without the knowledge they had discontinued it since it wasn’t optimal performance for the car. “yeah, no, darlin’, they already stopped it and switched to big-blocks after ’69… i thought i taught you this!”

with lips pressed tightly together, you find that you hardly want to be here any longer, body turning hot with shame and tears prickling at your eyes. you don’t chase after daisuke when he walks off and nudges hiroshi about your limited knowledge about cars, hands clenching and unclenching into fists before you’re tugged gently on your jacket sleeve.

in front of you is a young boy, playing with his fingers shyly with a head full of messy black hair and strong features that scrunch up into an anxious expression and you’re squatting and wondering what business a young boy like him had in scenes like this before he’s explaining how he hates the loud music and noises of metal against metal and the sound of tires.

you frown, understanding him immediately as you ask if you can hold his hand to which he nods, “what’s your name, sweetheart?”

“fushiguro… megumi,” he mumbles, flinching when there’s an erupt of cheers from the concluding race.

“oh, honey, let’s go,” you squeeze his hand in solidarity, “let’s sit far away from the action, okay? you like music?”

megumi sniffles a little and nods again, calming down the further he is from all the cars, sitting down on the curb in an area where there’s fewer racers, it being a deadend for the route. soon, you’re fishing out your earphones to insert into his ears, playing a few favourites of yours at a softer volume to drown out the noise of the cars. you’re content to find someone as clueless as you in this whole thing, even if the other was a child, and you almost want to chastise his parents for leaving him so vulnerable in a place like this when said parent is looking left and right, jogging while looking for his son.

“that’s my dad…” megumi mumbles with hope in his voice as the man starts to call out for him, expression morphed into worry from the moment he looked down from his car to find megumi gone. the boy’s hands you back your earphones with a slight smile and a ‘thank you’ before running off, and you’re lunging forward just to make sure he’s safe, running a little behind him while he navigates his father’s voice. it seems like he doesn’t have much care for the loud noises when his dad is finally in view because he speeds immediately into his arms before a tall man comes into view, and you’re blessed with seeing this hot-ass dad in a baggy long-sleeved top.

“hey… thank you for lookin’ out for the kid. i’m fushiguro toji,” toji nods towards you in acknowledgement, looking past your face after appreciating it before glancing down to your figure. “what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?”

megumi who was propped up against his shoulder opts to cling to his father’s neck, hiding from the rest of the world while you walk slowly alongside the man, fingers thumbing the strap of your bag to keep your grounded. you were quick to explain that you were here because of your boyfriend, and you swear a glint of disappointment flashed in his eyes, but you don’t give it much thought because soon the man himself is running up to you with a renewed sense of confidence.

it was probably because toji was here; and sure, you knew about fushiguro toji and how much your boyfriend loved him, but you didn’t know how popular he could get, drawing countless pairs of eyes to your interaction. 

“hi! hi, fushiguro toji right?” and you’re already ready for the clownery to start when he opens his mouth, “i’m wakashita daisuke, big fan! any chance you’ll get back into racing?” daisuke is spouting so much shit you can’t even bear to look up but there’s one sentence that has got toji riled up, using just one hand to threaten your boyfriend who looks scared out of his mind. “you’d look so good with a Ford Mustang too, why don’t you sell off that old Corvette you’ve got—”

and soon toji is clutching onto the collar of his shirt, easily pulling him off the ground as the people surrounding you laugh and whoop. seems like you weren’t the only one who hated him.

“that Corvette means something to me, not like that piece of junk you call your Camaro. and at least i treat my car better than how you treat your girlfriend,” he spits the word like it’s venom, “who you can’t even respect as a person.”

daisuke is plopped onto the floor, but toji easily backs him up with a finger to his chest, “laughing like an idiot when she doesn’t know about engines and then saying you taught her — that would reflect your efforts as a teacher, wouldn’t it?” the man smirks when your boyfriend stutters out his answer, the crowd oooh-ing like it’s a free show.

“and then you leave her stranded for the whole night to hang with your boys, in a place where she’s uncomfortable and vulnerable. but you couldn’t give a shit, can’t you? you’re too busy sucking your friends’ cocks to notice.” there’s howls of laughter now (you can’t help but let out a giggle too) with how ruthless toji is being, all the while having a kid on his shoulder, but you imagine megumi is used to these types of altercations by now.

toji leans down to spit in his face, “you disrespect a woman in my eyes, you’re a joke to me.”

he just rolls your eyes, heading off from your stupid boyfriend and toji fully expects you to follow, beckoning you to go with him when you stay rooted. “c’mon, don’t mind him. he didn’t deserve you.” toji mutters, pressing a kiss to megumi’s temple as he leads you away from the scene silently, and you leap at the opportunity to thank him immediately.

“to be fair… i did all the research for my boyfriend,” toji interrupts with ex-, and you laugh, “yeah, ex-. but i’m not entirely opposed to learning about cars. they seem kinda cool.”

“is this your way of telling me you want me to teach you?” what’s a little flirting with a guy, anyway? even the other said it himself, daisuke didn’t deserve you. you nod with a sheepish smile, petting megumi’s head when he rouses from his dad’s shoulder, heart warming at how the young boy shoots you a gleaming smile.

toji shrugs with a little chuckle, “sure.” he’s keen on showing you his Chevrolet Corvette at the other end of the parking lot first, telling you about the specifications and the modifications he made for it to be suitable for drifting. he explains how his Corvette had to be converted to a rear-wheel-drive car, or a RWD to support the heavy stress on the back wheels to make a successful drift turn.

toji tells you the differences between a clutch kick and a shift lock and how to sustain a drift on a sharp turn, excited at finally finding someone who didn’t have a clue about racing. he even offers to show you, but you’re a little too intimidated by being in the passenger seat with him, especially when it’s going at high speeds.

“maybe another day,” you offer and toji picks up on your insinuation, trying to stifle at grin that maybe this attraction wasn’t one-sided. he liked the way you talked to megumi, he liked the way you intently listened about his love for cars, and he couldn’t wait to get you in his car with a hand to your thigh.

“i’ll hold you to your offer, darlin’.” the name sounded so much better coming from his mouth, an attractive smile lining his face before he offered his free arm for you to hang on, gasping silently when you felt how toned his arm was. oh, the late night thoughts you already knew you were gonna have…

“i’ll tell you about the other cars here, let’s go.”

thirsts and drabble requests are open!

[raguiras]

One of Deuce's old delinquent "friends" was being weird with Yuu (Allen)...

Reblogs are extremely appreciated! 👉👈

Allen suffers from major insecurities and trauma caused by people commenting on him and bullying him for his rather feminine appearance, and Deuce, who's already quite protective over casual friends, DEFINITELY ain't taking it.... That said, these two have a massive "cute mutual protectors" dynamic and Allen protects/defends Deuce equally much!

YEAHHH the third part of my Allen x Deuce ship introduction is here!! I'm brainrotting so hard—

Previous parts: part 1 // part 2

Next up is most likely the ship event post I mentioned before 👀

Below is the second part of Allen & Deuce's relationship timeline! Its first part can be found here.

SPOILER WARNING for Book 5 & Book 6!

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

BOOK 5:

Between Book 4 and 5, Allen finally had his top surgery (he's intersex & used to wear binders). Deuce not only accompanied him to the hospital, but also stayed in the next room for the entire duration of the surgery and made sure to immediately visit Allen once it was over. He sat by the blonde boy's bed, his mere presence comforting Allen and making him feel at peace. The following days, Deuce spent even more time at Ramshackle and strictly slept over every night as he wanted to be 100% attentive and take perfect care of Allen all around the clock. Needless to say, Allen constantly thanked Deuce for being there for him, and it only intensified his own feelings... Allen had never been taken care of this much before, and it was probably more than what an average friend would do for you, right...? Did this mean...? No, Deuce couldn't love him. Nobody could. That's what Allen had been taught all those years, after all. And if so many people had said it, it had to be the truth...

Unfortunately, the VDC got announced shortly after Allen's surgery, and his recovery included a strict prohibition from sports or anything exhausting. Allen, being an aspiring musician and good dancer, cursed to himself — this would've been THE opportunity to go viral — and the Heartslabyul freshman listened to him rant. That's when Deuce ultimately decided that he'd audition... he wanted to support his mom with the money and keep an eye on Epel anyway, and now, he could not only fulfill his recovering crush's dream for him by performing and hopefully promoting Allen through it, but also impress him...

Little did Deuce know that Allen didn't need to be impressed. Watching Deuce practice — yes, even when he didn't get a single step right and tripped over his own feet — was super cute and gradually attractive to Allen, not to mention that the blonde boy really liked Deuce's voice as well...

Training was hard for Deuce, but knowing that Allen was watching certainly helped... He did his absolute best and followed Kalim and Jamil's guidance as closely as possible. Couldn't mess up in front of his crush, right!?

When Deuce got selected to be a performer and Allen became the manager, both of them celebrated in joy. While neither of them mentioned it, this meant that they'd get to spend even more time together...

...and when Vil decided that everyone would stay at Ramshackle for the preparation period, these two mentally celebrated even more. Now they'd officially live together for a couple weeks...

In order to prevent shenanigans and an angry Vil, Allen searched for sugar-free alternatives of Deuce's favorite snacks as well as food tasting similar to them. However, Allen would occasionally let Deuce snack on his own secret reserves whenever the two were together in Allen's room, away from prying eyes.

Deuce had problems sticking to Vil's prescribed skincare routine, so Allen decided to help him with it. He reminded Deuce of the routine every morning and evening and also helped him apply the products.

Deuce also struggled with the set bedtime and asked Allen to remind him to go to bed early. Considering that Allen had been struggling with his own sleep schedule for some time and would often stay up until past 3 am on the worst nights, the two decided to simply share a bed on most days so they could "force" each other to sleep on time. Not only did this intensify their relationship even more and excite both of them, but it helped Allen fall asleep much sooner... Deuce's presence was soothing to him and distracted Allen just enough for him to not overthink his life prior to going to bed.

During the preparation period, Allen offered to help Deuce with his vocals, which the Heartslabyul student excitedly accepted. Not only could he improve his own singing through it, but spend even more time with Allen and listen to his beautiful singing voice a lot, too... Additionally, Allen was able to efficiently teach Deuce due to being a self-taught singer with little knowledge on technical terms and theory, resulting in extremely easy and comprehensible explanations that could actually be understood by Deuce.

On occasion, Allen also taught the blue-haired boy basic makeup skills and sometimes even did Deuce's makeup for him. Needless to say, there were TONS of eye contact and blushing involved...

In addition to this, Allen kept helping Deuce with his gradually improving self-control and school work. Deuce, too, assisted Allen with the rest of his recovery and was super attentive.

Due to the combination of the shared dorm, their close friendship, their study sessions and the intense VDC preparation, Allen and Deuce were quite literally spending the entirety of every day together by now. While they had always been around each other a ton, this was what ultimately made them come off as inseparable.

You would've thought it would be impossible for Deuce to fall any harder, but oh boy... with every passing day, it only got worse. Deuce basically had heart eyes like a lovesick puppy at the mere mention of Allen.

While Deuce tried to hide his ginormous crush, it was impossible to deny. Everyone could see the way Deuce looked at Allen with nothing but admiration and love in his eyes, and Ace even started getting concerned due to how down bad & out-of-character Deuce appeared to be.

Whenever Allen wasn't around, Deuce would even ask Vil and Rook for advice on his appearance and compliments. He was desperate to impress and woo Allen and awkwardly admitted this to the two Pomefiore housewardens, too. Neither were surprised as they had already Deuce's crush on Allen, and they ended up actually giving the boy some advice.

When Deuce once came over to visit friends and pick up some things at Heartslabyul, Cater was blown away by the strong scent of his cologne. The fact that Deuce had suddenly bought something like that sure was surprising, especially considering that the boy was usually more of an Axe guy...

Not only that, but Deuce practiced the dance in front of his mirror extremely often, too. It had to perfect... HE had to be perfect for Allen. After all, the blonde boy was way out of his league...

Being around Deuce so much made Allen's feelings grow quickly, too. However, unlike Deuce, Allen absolutely HATED them and tried to get rid of them out of fear of being rejected and hurt again. All those years, he had been taught that nobody could ever love him and that developing a crush on him was basically impossible, so why would Deuce of all people like him back?! Allen actively denied his feelings... he couldn't risk this friendship or the possibility of having a broken heart again. He'd just wait for this phase to pass...

Grim noticed that Allen was suddenly spending even more time with Deuce and that the two also got progressively touchy. He confronted Allen with something along the lines of "Why're ya spending SO much time with him?! Do you have a crush on him or somethin'? Myahaha!". Shit, Allen thought to himself. His cat knew.

Vil knew, too. So did Rook. So did Jamil, Kalim, Ace, Epel and even the ghosts! The only ones who somehow didn't know about each other's feelings were Allen and Deuce...

Allen tried his best to deny the way he felt whenever Deuce would flash him a smile during practice performances. Deuce, on the contrary, would melt internally at every proud grin Allen gave him...

The fact that Deuce was now a better singer allowed him to approach one of Allen's favorite impulsiveness control methods with more confidence: singing and rapping out one's feelings and frustration.

Additionally, Allen admired the fact that Deuce was now trying his hand at ballet in order to overcome the last few traces of his old internalized toxic masculinity. Allen, struggling with some toxic masculinity himself and having been ashamed of his curves and rather androgynous appearance all his life, saw this as an inspiration to try his hand at more feminine fashion. He had wanted to do this for a long time, but held back out of fear of being seen as even less of a man because of it... and now here Allen was, wearing more feminine clothing for the first time and making Deuce fanboy even harder than usual.

Deuce was not the only one fanboying, though. During the entire VDC performance, Allen was cheering like a madman and couldn't keep his eyes off Deuce. So what if they had Vil, Epel and Jamil? To Allen, Deuce was the star of the show.

When Deuce finally discovered his Unique Magic, Allen was not only incredibly proud and happy for the Heartslabyul student, but was also reminded of an old character he had created as a younger teenager who had had the exact same skill as Deuce. Was this a sign...? ...nah, he must've been delusional.

BOOK 6:

During the invasion, Deuce immediately jumped in front of Allen in order to protect him, but got hit himself instead. When he got injured and passed out as a result, Allen absolutely panicked. He wasn't even really concerned about how the dorm was being damaged — only Deuce's wellbeing was on Allen's mind. Additionally, he felt overwhelming guilt that this had only happened because Deuce had protected HIM...

Instead of going to S.T.Y.X., Allen decided to stay at NRC in order to take care of Deuce. He spent most of his time in the infirmary, sitting by Deuce's bed and waiting for him to wake up. Why was he doing this?! Out of guilt only? Certainly not... Was he crazy?! Deuce was just a friend... just a friend... just a friend who he loved a lot and had undeniable feelings for. No matter how much Allen tried to fall out of love, it was impossible. Deuce had given him so much and it was the most Allen had ever been cared for...

When Deuce finally woke up, Allen immediately pulled him into a relieved, loving lung-crushing hug and didn't want to ever let go. Deuce felt as if he was about to pass out again due to the happiness caused by Allen cherishing him so much.

Deuce and Allen kept doing their usual activities — hearing each other out, helping each other, spending fun time together — while hoping for Grim and the housewardens to finally return.

Considering how often Deuce stayed at Ramshackle anyway, him and Allen decided that he could simply leave some of his belongings from the VDC preparations at the dorm. This only prompted Deuce to visit Ramshackle and sleep over even more...

Every night before going to bed, Deuce wrote about Allen into a little diary. Hell forbid Ace found it, but at least it allowed Deuce to openly express his feelings without being judged or teased. As he kept reading through the words he had written already over and over again, Deuce realized even more just how much Allen had helped him with various highly important things over the past 5-6 months of knowing each other... and that's when he decided to buy the giant Shiba plushie Allen had recently mentioned as a thank-you gift. Sure, he had already occasionally gifted Allen stuffed animals before, but maybe this huge Shiba would convey his gratitude and crush even more...

Needless to say, Allen was blown away by the gift and pretty much jumped Deuce out of joy. He had wanted this Shiba plushie for weeks now, and receiving it as a surprise gift from his crush was an indescribable feeling. However, Allen strictly viewed it as a platonic thank-you gesture and didn't (want to) get the hint. After all, why would Deuce be pining after him...?

Near the end of Book 6 [= during the time when the game's canon Yuu is still at S.T.Y.X.], Deuce suddenly received a call accusing him of highly offensive vandalism in his hometown. Both Allen and Deuce were absolutely furious at this unreasonable accusation, and it was a no-brainer for Allen to prove Deuce innocent. While Deuce broke down and complained about never being able to escape his past no matter how much he tried, Allen not only encouraged him and told him that he had become a much better person, but was also determined and already had a plan. Having excellent manipulation skills and a way with words, Allen got Crowley to give him access to all private cameras around the school to prove that Deuce had been at NRC the entire time and couldn't possibly have been the culprit. He mailed the recordings to the police station in Deuce's hometown, managing to prove that the Heartslabyul student was innocent. Allen also suspected that the person blaming the vandalism on Deuce was likely the culprit or one of their friends, encouraging the police to continue their investigation with them. Deuce, on the other hand, couldn't have been more grateful that Allen had successfully cleared his name and stood up for him like that. A week later, a call informed the two boys that one of Deuce's former friends had admitted to the crime and had tried to blame it on Deuce out of anger that he had distanced himself from them. Hearing how his old "friend" had betrayed Deuce only made him cherish his current friendships and especially the relationship he had with Allen even more...

BOOK 7:

[I haven't played Book 7 yet, so I'll either update this section later or share it in a separate post! Until then, we're assuming that they realized just how much they loved each other even more.]

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

That's everything for now! The final part of their relationship timeline (post book 7), including when they FINALLY get together, will be in my next Allen x Deuce introduction post!

However, my next overall post is likely going to be the announcement for my ship art/writing event 👀

Thank you for the support on my previous Allen x Deuce posts! It means ridiculously much to me 🥹🥹🥹

[bakugo-softski]

In which Izuku is left quirkless, so they find a new reason

Katsuki stayed crouched above Izuku, pinning one arm with his foot and clasping the other, pressed to the floor of the training mat. Almost in an exact replica of their fight at ground beta all those months ago, minus one arm and a slight change in hand placement. They both stay like that, breathing heavily, staring into eachothers eyes with the mutual feeling of impending doom sat heavily between them.

Because Izuku was getting weaker.

Katsuki had noticed, though he tried his best to ignore it. They both did, afraid to speak it into reality. Afraid for their dynamic to change. But as Katsuki had an easier and easier time pinning Izuku, as the embers slowly died out, they both found it hard to ignore that this…whatever it was they had, was coming to an end. Katsuki felt frantic, empty. Watching as something dear died before him, completely out of his reach.

Izuku had resolved to accept his fate, his eventuality. He didn’t mind being quirkless again. The loss held between them came from a different place, and they both knew it.

“…Kacchan?” Sad. So sad.

Katsuki released his hold and stood up, before offering Izuku his hand to help the boy up, too. They stood in silence, Izuku still breathing heavily and looking embarrassed about it, unable to find the words to express what they both clearly wanted to say to eachother.

“I’ll make katsudon tonight.” A common condolence when Izuku suffered yet another decline in power. It seemed now that one for all was gone for good, the embers inside izuku were dying at an increased rate than what All Might had gone through. The embers seemed to die at a steady rate regardless if Izuku used OFA or not. When they’d realized, they’d fought eachother deep into the night, openly crying at eachother and throwing punches. A silent agreement they’d do this as often as they could, until they couldn’t anymore.

This.. felt like a goodbye. Katsuki stared into Izuku’s eyes and felt like he was at a funeral.

“…okay. Thank you, Kacchan.”

With one last look into Izuku’s eyes, Katsuki turned and walked out, Izuku staying behind to put distance between them. To give eachother space. Katsuki managed to stifle the sob caught in his throat till he made it onto the elevator.

.

.

.

Katsuki poked the pork frying in the pan on autopilot. In his head, he thumbed through the same stack of thoughts sitting heavily in his mind like clockwork. He felt lost, weak, trapped. Condemned to a fate he had no control over. They wouldn’t be able to keep sparring. Izuku had stopped being able to keep up with catch-a-kacchan months ago, and they had been staying ground-level for a while but they both knew even that was too much for him now. The embers were barely even there anymore.

Katsuki hadn’t seen Izuku since he’d left him at the gym. They hadn’t texted eachother, either. What would they even say? There weren’t words. Katsuki didn’t have the words.

At this, Izuku makes his first appearance in hours, to slink into the kitchen and stand beside Katsuki. He’s silent for a moment.

“…Can i help?”

Katsuki is relieved those were the words that came out of Izuku’s mouth, instead of..well.

He lets out a little breath of relief.

“Sure. Grab the egg, mirin and soy sauce for me.” Mix those together-equal parts, four eggs, and chop some of those green onions while you’re at it.”

“Got it.” Izuku flits around the kitchen grabbing ingredients and settling again beside Katsuki, beginning his task.

They don’t know how to bring it up, but the silence is somehow comfortable, each settling in to their tasks, accomplishing the same goal of katsudon together. Katsuki can’t say it, but he’s thankful to have a reason to be near Izuku like this. Even if it is just making a meal together. They don’t say much else, afraid to break whatever fragile comfort they’d created.

They ate in silence. And then stared into space together, in silence. And then Katsuki said he’d wash their dishes, and then Izuku left, in silence; and Katsuki wished he’d asked for help instead.

.

.

.

10:24pm.

Katsuki stared into the dark, in silence. Thought about texting Izuku. Couldn’t find the words.

.

.

.

It’s Saturday. Katsuki came down to make breakfast. Hoped to see Izuku, but he didn’t show. Thought about taking the food to him, put it in the fridge instead.

.

.

.

4:24pm. He’d stayed in the common room the whole day, but Izuku never showed, and Katsuki couldn’t find the words to give him a reason to seek the boy out. What could he even say? “You haven’t eaten all day.” ? As if. How stupid for Katsuki to care about that when…when he couldn’t even..

Fuck it. A reasons a reason, he supposes.

Katsuki sped through the curry prep, in a hurry to get it to Izuku’s door and tell him he hasn’t eaten all day. With two steaming bowls held on a dish platter, because he didn’t want his to get cold while he ate alone, he marched his way up to Izuku’s room and knocked firm, once, twice, and waited.

Izuku opened the door quickly, and Katsuki saw he was in a similar shape to himself, dark circles under his eyes. He hasn’t slept either.

“You haven’t eaten.” An observation, a request, a plea.

Izuku looked at the bowls, took one. Stood in the doorway, awkward.

At the same time Katsuki makes to turn away, Izuku speaks up. “Do you want to come in? You just, you have two bowls. You don’t have to…but. Um. I’d like you to.”

His response was immediate. “Yeah.” A breath, a small relief. A break from the pain.

They both settle down on Izuku’s bed to eat, backs against the wall. Close, even if neither one of them acknowledged it. They didn’t speak. Until,

“Um. So, theres a show I started a couple days ago. Do..you wanna watch it with me?” Izuku digs around for the remote. Kacchan grunts for him to go ahead, so he turns it on from the beginning and they settle back in to eating, watching together.

.

.

.

8:52pm.

They’re on episode five now, bowl’s of curry empty and forgotten on the floor beside the bed. They’ve pulled Izuku’s blanket up over their legs and are zoned into the show, a merciful relief. A reason. Katsuki hides his yawns as subtly as he can, and Izuku pretends not to notice.

They both pretend not to notice when Katsuki subtly shifts further into the bed, afraid to break the spell. They’re both tired enough to not think about it.

.

.

.

6:46am.

Katsuki blinks his eyes open and finds the clock on the wall that doesn’t belong to him, and then feels legs that also don’t belong to him entangled with his own. He can’t find it in himself to feel embarrassed about it. Izuku is sleeping peacefully, soft snores and breaths coming out in little puffs, one hand resting peacefully on his chest and the other holding Katsuki’s forearm, which was sat snuggly against the curve of Izukus side, being held in place in the air. Katsuki didn’t dare move. The TV sat dark and paused on the wall, long forgotten. He’d have to check to see when they both fell asleep so they knew how far back to go, he thought idly. A problem for later, though.

He closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

.

.

.

When he woke back up Izuku was silencing his phone, his ringtone for Uraraka being cut short and detangling his legs from Katsuki’s in order to stand up from the bed.

“We uh...we fell asleep last night.”

“…Yeah.” A yawn.

“The show’s good. Whats the last part you remember? We’re probably gonna have to find where we left off.”

“Oh uh, i think..the new guy, the blonde one had just fought with that guy in the boat restaurant. I think he was gonna leave.”

“Huh? The last thing I remember is whats her name and whats his face playing some drinking game.”

A chuckle. “I’ll go back and find our spot tonig-when we-um. Anyway. I’m..I’m glad you liked it, Kacchan.”

“I’ll come back tonight. And we can watch more.” Small reliefs. Small reliefs, small reliefs.

A smile, small, shared. “I’d like that.”

Silence.

“So. Um. It’s..it’s Sunday.”

Sundays they typically spent the whole day in the gym, sparring, being in each others company. Katsuki didn’t get much physically from their sparring sessions these days, they both knew it. They seemed to be at an understanding though, of what they got from their Sundays together.

Suddenly, Katsuki had a thought. The words are out of his mouth before he can think better of them, eager to run from the conversation he so badly feared having.

“Lets go play some fucking baseball, Zuku.”

Izuku’s eyebrows shoot up and he looks funny like that, Katsuki thinks. It makes his stomach do a weird little flip that he usually only felt in the heat of the moment during their fights and sparring sessions, back when Izuku was at full strength. The feeling puts a surprised little crease between his own brows.

“…hah..what?” Izuku’s smiling, confused.

Katsuki keeps going, fueled by the quick return of the feeling he hasn’t felt in months, replacing the impending doom.

“C’mon, nerd, let’s go to the batting cages back home and play some fucking baseball. Maybe we can stop at your moms and say hi or something while we’re out.”

Silence. But..different this time. Better. Expectant.

Izuku huffs out a little laugh, relief of some sort.

“Yeah, Kacchan, that sounds good.”

It does sound good, Katsuki thinks.

.

.

.

“Hold your fucking arms higher, nerd!”

“Shuddup! I know how to hit a ball, Kacchan!”

“Getting cocky? Since when do you talk back to me you little shit?” Katsuki hasn’t felt this much like himself in months.

“You make it easy being such a know-it-all, Kacchan.”

“I’m a know-it-all, because i know it all, you little asshole. Don’t you patronize me.”

They’re both laughing, and Izuku is trying his best to hit the baseballs flying towards him in between snorts of laughter and playful banter. It’s so easy like this. Katsuki had imagined the day Izuku’s ember’s went out a million times, he imagined it like death, but this didn’t feel like death at all. This felt like..the birth of something new.

Then, suddenly,

“Lemme show you how it’s done, nerd.”

Izuku backs up and turns to hand Katsuki the bat but Izuku misinterpreted what he meant, because Katsuki turns him back around and comes up behind him with his hands on his shoulders.

“Pick your arm up dummy, higher, angle it like this, you want to meet the ball at the same angle its coming at you.” Katsuki takes Izukus arm and imitates hitting the ball the way he wants him to, and then pushes Izuku forward again. Izuku is weirdly quiet, now.

“Try it like that. And don’t be pissed when it’s better than your way.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Kacchan.”

*CRACK*

“…Fine. Don’t be rude about it, though. You’re still a know-it-all.”

Katsuki can’t contain his shit eating grin, and that feeling in his gut is back with a vengeance.

“There’s a reason for that, Zuku.”

.

.

.

Inko was delighted at the unexpected visit, flitting around to whip something up for the two and offering apologies for not having more ready for them both. In the end, they’d eaten curry for the second day in a row, but neither of them commented on it, happy to be in Inko’s company, happy to see Izuku happy. Eventually they’d thanked Inko and ushered themselves off into Izuku’s bedroom for a while before they went back to UA.

Izuku was pulling All Might merch and knick knacks out of every corner of the room, handing them to Katsuki along with stories and “do you remembers” and Katsuki felt overwhelmed. The feeling in his stomach only grew the longer the day went on and he found it harder and harder to keep the stupid, easy grin off his face. He felt so happy it almost felt wrong.

“Ah! kacchan! Do you remember when we drew these!”

They were two sheets of paper, one, in big letters, labeled “KACCHAN”, punctuated by tiny explosions in between each letter, and the other, “IZUKU” written neatly, simply across the top of the page. Underneath each name was a drawing to match, the both of them drawn in crayon as heroes, in gear that hadn’t quite matched up with what they’d grown accustomed to.

Katsuki took the papers from Izuku and stared, and stared, and stared, and only snapped out of it when a single tear drop hit the page.

And then it happened again. He spoke without meaning to.

“I don’t want to go back to the way we were before, Izuku. I-i don’t even care that we can’t spar anymore. I don’t care about that. I just-i wanna keep hanging out with you. I don’t care what what we do. I just-“ he was shaking, fat tears rolling down his cheeks. He’d feared this conversation, so.. why did this feel like relief too?

Katsuki just let himself cry, tiny sobs crawling the way into their atmosphere.

He looked up through wet lashes just in time to see Izuku launch himself into his arms, throwing him back into the bed and burying his face into Katsuki’s neck, sobbing with all the intensity Katsuki felt in his soul.

“I wanna be with you too, Kachhan, always, always. I-i..just want-to be around you...”

Katsuki wraps his arms around Izuku and lets the relief wash over him. Katsuki doesn’t know what compelled him to say it.

“I love you.”

Silence.

Izuku pulls back just enough to look into Katsuki’s eyes. His heart is hammering in his chest, stunned speechless, and as Izuku searches Katsuki’s face he feels the boys breathing become panicked, coming out in short puffs verging on hyperventilation. Katsuki barely opens his mouth to take it back, to unscare Izuku when he seemingly realizes this and smashes their lips together in an effort to stop him.

It’s sudden, scared, mutual. Blissful.

It takes Katsuki all of two seconds to come back online and fit his hand into Izuku’s hair in an effort to keep him there, and returns the kiss in full. Izuku grunts out a little sound that seems pained but somehow matches that feeling in his own gut, swirling and verging on the side of too much too much too much

They break the kiss at the same time, leaping away from eachother and doubling over themselves, anxiously giggling against their will and breathing heavily. Izuku leaps to his feet and starts pacing, muttering all the while, energy buzzing within him with the same intensity as one-for-all and Katsuki feels it seep into everything, feels his limbs buzz, heart racing, mind running a mile a minute and somehow not at all.

“Ahhaah, AHHH, Kacch-i love you, FUCK I love you, holy-sh-shit, holy shit, oh my god. kachhhANNNN OH MY GOD.”

Izuku’s yelling and Katsuki finally yanks himself out of his shock to speak up just in time for Izuku to run out of the room screaming.

“Hey-what the FUCK, IZ-get back here!” And then he’s off the bed too and running out the door behind him, leaving a stunned and confused Inko sat on the couch.

.

.

.

Katsuki catches up to him already at the bus station, pacing circles around the bench, laughing and crying hysterically. He catches a glimpse of Katsuki right as he stalks up to him and grabs Izuku’s arm.

“Caught you.” He grins triumphantly, and so, so happy, and doesn’t even give Izuku the chance to respond before he captures the boys lips again.

Relief.

[sharkenedfangs]

— SUFFERING FROM A FEVER, BUT I REALLY NEED TO FUCK A FEMBOY OR TOMBOY . . .

it’s getting bad again , robin . hnnngh . . . fuuck .

Running down bad with a fever, my words make no fuckin’ sense and half of what I’ll write will be incoherent, horny bullshit but I gotta— I gotta fuck a motherfucking femboy or tomboy in the ass. Either will do cuz’ sure I’m suffering like hell here, stuffed nose, annoyingly itchy throat and godawful temperature, though I’m pretty sure cummin’ inside one of those two or even fuckin’ better, both — will do just fine. Seriously, I mean it.

some slut shaming, weird gender roles, y’know.

FEMBOY ROBIN. Really, really gotta. Y’know, there’s nothing more embarrassing than to properly wear such a skimpy skirt in the own, tight confines of his narrow room with your watchful gaze carefully set upon him, but what’s even worse? Same thing in public, comfortably sat atop your thighs as if nothing is amiss because yeah, surely, nothing is. Nothing wrong with two boys casually hanging out which, said boy is humiliatingly dressed up like a girl right now — who no one truthfully knows nor is consciously aware of. Cock pitifully tented against the front of his summer dress, yellowish material darkening in shade from the oozing pre uncontrollably spilling forth.

And, it’s not like you’ll actually try anything with the towns-folks eyes hidden amongst the lurking shadows, right?? You wouldn’t— you’re not truly like them, the fuckin’ perverts. Shamelessly slobbering over every inch of his untouched, pristine skin, skirmish legs and nervous fingers tentatively messing with the hem of his silken skirt as if your firm grip isn’t steadily increasing along his plush thighs. Like, you’re not ‘discreetly’ spreading his legs apart so that an unfortunate passerby may consequently catch a perverted glimpse of his cock all flushed and leaking for you. Quivering tip, hot and red, trickling out more beads of pearly pre-cum to messily stain at the ground below. It’s not that he means to get all hard like that! Shit— this is solely your fault for deftly exposing him to a hefty crowd like this, your little, pretty ‘girlfriend’ you coyly call him as, might as well proudly show her cute, pink cock to the world if she’s gon’ be such a crude, perverted freak ‘bout it. Only deserving of the typical ‘girlfriend’ treatment which merely entails the usual of having his slutty hole stuffed full of cock, his own miserably swaying with every subtle bounce of your hips upwards, flushed against his ass. Whoops, better luck next time! Try not to dress like a little, fuckin’ whore if you don’t wanna get publicly fucked in broad daylight, Robin!

As for TOMBOY ROBIN? Would it have been any different for her case? Treat ‘em equally, they say — fuck, yeah — you definitely will, with your face snugly nestled between the gap of her thighs, wobbly lips and scrunched up features straining from every careful lick of your wet, pink tongue provokingly huffing against her bare cunt. Uh-huh? Pretty girl likes that or maybe, you should openly refer to her as your pretty, innocent boyfriend, arm contentedly slung over her shoulder because ain’t this how friends typically treat each other as? Promise, they do, Robin.

If anything, it’s an actual tradition to help each other out as good buddies habitually do, as per usual. Yeah, that also naturally involves your skillful fingers knuckles deep inside her drooling cunt, sickeningly wet squelch! of your digits fervently being sucked inside by the wet, welcoming heat of her pussy. Like that? Dizzyingly spreading her folds apart, relish in the slick dripping out as if you’re not the byproduct of it to begin with. Precariously squished against the bricked near in an isolated corner within the school yard and, hell— you’re acutely reminded of the possible consequences that may unfortunately come with it, knowing what that shit headmaster does to said students caught misbehaving or plainly fuckin’ on the school’s ground. Does it stop you, however? Fuck no, and neither will Robin’s adorable, feeble whimpers, bouts of ushered protests wistfully sent your way as if you’re not currently, crudely spreading her cheeks apart to display her two, needy holes for your viewing pleasure. Teasingly rubbing along the edges of her slippery cunt to then, promptly fuck her ass raw as a ‘boy’ should take it. What’d ya mean you want your needy, puffy clit rhythmically toyed with while you’re at it?? A real good boy properly takes what he’s given, alright? So, fuckin’ suck it up and keep quiet till then, ‘kay? “Wouldn’t want anyone to hear, do you, Robin?”

[chkn-soup]

.PUDDLE.

—————————————————

Warnings: These little demons are too silly..silliness overboard (also some slight sexual innuendos/references)

Syno: Helluva cast and what they’d do if there was a puddle or wet spot infront of you while you were walking to your date…(this is so stupid..)

(Suffering with severe writers block rn but I managed to juice this out of me, bare with me yall!!)

—————————————

Moxxie:

Moxxie is a die hard gentleman, and I will stand by that. So he will totally be prepared for this occasion (like he was in the Loo Loo land episode with his little Fanny filled with meds for Via) He’d most likely whip out some sort of plastic or cardboard like walk way for you to step on..and he just like had that..on hand, meanwhile you’re saying things like…”I can just walk around it”, but please let him be cautious and spoil you, he loves being prepared for such drastic situations to get his partner away from danger..even if the danger is just getting your shoes wet. Afterwards he’ll ask if you are alright..as if walking over a puddle is traumatic or like it took a toll on you.

Blitzø:

Blitzø probably won’t care or even notice the puddle in the first place. In fact if he does notice it, he’ll purposely push you into it so your feet get all wet, especially if you’re trying to avoid it in the first place, then he’ll laugh at you and your pouty face. But if you’re actually upset about it and don’t start laughing with him he’ll definitely be like “What..you mad your shoes are wet?” Once he realizes you’re pretty pissed about it he’ll say “Ok ok..sorry.” And will then join you in the puddle and make sure his feet end up equally as soaked or even more so just so you aren’t mad at him the whole night.

Stolas:

Stolas will most definitely see the puddle and he’s all for keeping his partner out of harms way especially the smallest ounce of it, and he knows that appearance is everything and so is comfortability, he doesn’t want your feet to be wet and soppy therefore uncomfortable for you. So he’ll do the reasonable things and use his powers to make you float over it…like Stolas..really? He’s one that likes to one up, and he really loves to show off, especially to his partner. So he will use his magic for the smaller things just to impress you, that includes making you float over a puddle just so your precious feet stay dry and warm.

Fizzarolli:

Our little froggy will do what he does best and leap! You don’t think he’ll extend the both of you over a mere puddle then you are wrong, Fizz is the king of Drama, and he will be super dramatic about this whether you like it or not, He’ll extend the both of you over thoroughly and will look very badass while doing so. And he’ll even ask too “didn’t I look so cool.” Sure Fizzy, the coolest.

Asmodeus:

This big boy will not hesitate to pick you up into his arms, and he IS strong enough to do so, all while he walks into the puddle himself, but you know anything to make sure his sweetheart is alright, and no no, he won’t be setting you down afterwards, he’ll just carry you the whole way to the date just because he feels like it..and you know what you’re much safer up there with him anyways…so why would he let you down?

Striker:

This mf cowboy (“save a horse” iykwim) will not hesitate to pull some dramatics as well, he’ll whip out his little lasso from his side and wrap it around you throughly while he pulls you away from the puddle in the last moments before you even get the chance to step on it and he’ll draw you in to send you spinning (or more like falling) straight towards him and into his chest..he’ll hold you mighty close to him as he walks the both of you to your date and he will keep the lasso on you…just incase there’s anymore danger up ahead, or he’ll totally lay down his jacket for you over the puddle, just like an old school gentleman would do.

Mammon:

Mammon will definitely pull a Blitzø where he’ll purposely push you into it and will laugh at your reaction but on the other hand he won’t join you in your wet shoe’d state, he’d rather just laugh at you and say that you should audition for his pageant because watching you in dreadful situations is funny to him. He will be kind enough to dry your feet up at home/or even the restaurant, and he’ll make sure your feet are dry.

—girls—

Millie:

This precious lady will honestly want to get into the puddle with you just to splash around, it doesn’t matter that you have reservations that you’re already 20 minutes late for, she’ll dead stop and be like “Baby look a puddle!!” and you’ll understand her and begin to jump in it with her, she loves just doing childish things with you even if some people might find it gross. But! if you don’t like puddles and won’t jump in it with her she understands completely and will quite literally pick you up over her head and carry you over it…doesn’t matter if you are taller or bigger than her, she’ll carry you anytime, anywhere.

Loona:

She’s another one who will pull you into her closer so you aren’t near the puddle but instead near her. She doesn’t want your feet wet and will try to protect you or prevent you from going into it, just because she knows how annoying wet socks are, But don’t even try to mention she did it or she’ll go back/find another puddle to push you into….the shell feel bad and will lend you her socks..don’t mention that either.

Verosika:

Hehe..Verosika really loves you she does, and that’s why she has high expectations of you. One of them being that you’ll carry her through the puddle instead of her carrying you. So she’ll see the puddle, purposely get closer to it and pause when she’s a step away from it..she’ll look down roll her eyes and say something about her shoes,…take the hint [reader]! And if you do take the bait and carry her (if you can) well..she’ll give you Tenfold for treating her so nicely and will peck your cheek after..but don’t think you’re putting her down immediately after..the fun has just started.

Stella:

Hello..??? She’s royalty and is lowkey a little bratty (she need a brat tamer..I’m here for her😏) so she’ll obviously expect you to do something for her to get her out of this drastic situation, do you want her new heels to be ruined by mud? She doesn’t think so. So she’ll pause before the puddle and eye you to see what you’ll do, you can do anything and she’ll absolutely love it, pull her out of the way, lay your jacket on it, or even carry her and she will laugh and grin smugly, kissing you before continuing to walk with you again. She likes when you treat her nicely..she’ll do the same for you coming back that way at the end of the date.

——

Hello my loves! I’m trying to write your requests, thank you all for being patient and supportive I love you all and you deserve your asks to be answered, you beautiful people!!🫶🏼🫶🏼!!

[goddessofmischief]

I see you are taking requests for the one piece bois so I thought I’d throw an idea your way!

(Oh my god I’m so sorry this is so long!)

F!Reader X Mihawk where y/n is fairly new to the straw hat crew. There’s a huge battle between pirates and marines, the battle field is brutal. Mihawk is there fighting the Marines when he sees the straw hats do a group attack together. Y/n was launched by Luffy and Sanji straight into the middle of the battle field with her sword and daggers. Mihawk takes notice of y/n being launched into the battle thinking she was gonna get taken down quite easily. He doesn’t recognize who she is so obviously not strong enough to know who he was.

Little to Mihawks knowledge, she spent her entire life being trained to be an assassin against her will. Once she escaped and joined the straw hats she started training with Zoro and she improved so much. She starts to love the thrill of the fights so she ends up training even harder and goddamn is it noticeable.

As y/n is falling towards the marines she unsheathes her dark black sword covered in haki and lets out a huge attack that split the ground a few miles apart. The straw hats join y/n after she lands in the open field she just mowed down. Mihawk is baffled by how fluid she is with her attacks, not missing a single mark and meshing with her crew so well.

Y/N then gets launched AGAIN by a new admiral through the air straight at Mihawk. He notices and breaks her fall, not wanting her to hit the ground for some reason. That’s how they introduce themselves and they end up fighting the new admiral together.

They end up battling perfect together, perfectly synchronizing their attacks and blocks. Mihawk thinks he might have found his person.

That’s kind of all I got so far, sorry for it being so long! I hope it makes sense and if you do choose to write this I hope you have fun with it as well!!

I love long asks, it makes the fic so much easier to write! (requests still open for mihawk & shanks)

Warrior | Dracule Mihawk x Reader

Well, this was certainly an interesting way to start a new job.

You'd been with the Straw Hat crew for nearly a month now. As an old friend of Zoro's, nearly equally skilled with the blade, you had proven yourself to be a valuable asset. The longer you knew them, the more you began to feel as if the Going Merry could be your home.

That's when the Marines showed up.

They were after Zoro - of course - and someone else, too, someone you couldn't quite place. Zoro seemed to recognize the name, cower at it, even, but it wasn't familiar to you.

Mihawk. Dracule Mihawk.

So here you were... hopelessly outnumbered, or so it would seem. Hundreds of Marines, and in opposition only you and the Straw Hats, plus a few other pirate crews.

You held your breath as you glanced back at Luffy and Sanji, giving them a nod.

"Are you sure?" Sanji asks, obviously reluctant. You smiled.

"Just do it."

Luffy used his rubber arms to propel you back like a slingshot, straight into the middle of the battlefield, daggers drawn.

You landed on your knees, slightly scuffed, and pointed one of your daggers in the air.

"Charge!"

Across the field, a warlord of the seas had begun to notice the other warrior. Nothing much escaped his notice - not the weather, not the weight of his weapons in his hands, not the bodies littering the field.

You were far more subtle, but no less obvious. You moved through the battlefield like liquid, like water, your blades dancing through opponent after opponent until few remained. Then, when it seemed that your smaller blades would no longer suffice, you removed a much larger sword from a sheath on your back - a black sword, covered in haki. The weight of it, sinking into the earth, split the ground and forced both Marines and pirates apart.

He didn't know you, but he felt he knew something about you. Something about how you must have suffered to have gained such skill.

You had. You had been trained to become an assassin from a young age, after all, and it was nearly all you knew. Zoro saved you, trained with you. One day, he left to turn in a bounty at a Marine base and seemed to have vanished forever. A year later, he returned to bring you with him.

Your crew had assembled around you, he noted - you seemed especially close to a man in a suit, another man with green hair - Zoro, Mihawk recognized, Roronoa Zoro.

Well, of course he liked you, of course he appreciated your skill. Zoro would not waste his time nor protection on someone undeserving.

But your crew had been distracted by other assailants, it seemed, and you stood alone. A newer Marine admiral, someone Mihawk recognized as a person he'd rather not mess with, engaged you directly in combat. Your sword hit his shoulder, but did nothing. He was too strong, and you were overpowered.

The force of the sword's vibration threw you back several feet, and Mihawk realized with a start that you were about to land beside him.

It seemed too cruel to let you die, he reasoned. Not merely cruel - senseless. If you died, who could measure the loss of the things you might've done, the lives you may have saved? Someone like you, someone with potential - someone like that deserved to be saved, someone like that deserved to live.

With a considerable sigh, he held out his arms, and you fell neatly into them.

You looked around, wide-eyed, confused as to where you were and how you'd gotten there. Instinctively, you put your arms around the place where you'd landed, hanging on for dear life.

Mihawk cleared his throat. You blinked at him, still struggling to understand what had happened.

"I caught you."

You nodded, still in a state of shock.

"...Who are you?"

"Dracule Mihawk," he said, drawing out every syllable. He sounded annoyed, but he wasn't, not really. He was amused, but more than that, he was curious. Curious about you, a strange little human with a powerful sword and seemingly no Devil Fruit powers to speak of. He wanted to stay with you, to help you.

...You didn't need help, obviously, but if you ever did, he would gladly provide it.

Mihawk set you down, legs trembling. You reached for your sword again.

"I'm trying to kill him," you said grimly, gesturing at the Marine admiral. "Help me?"

Mihawk pulled Yoru out.

"Obviously."

...

comments and feedback appreciated!

[soupandsimple]

Just The Three Of Us (with James Potter)

[ you and James consoling your little boy after Harry leaves for Hogwarts ]

* fluff!

** warnings? pregnant reader ; Hogwarts exists but other than that the story is non-magic

This was requested: see the ask here

…………..

“Love. Over here,” you heard James call you from across the hallway.

Harry had headed off to Hogwarts that morning and although not biologically yours, you felt every bit of pain any mother felt at being separated from their first born child. But even with your six month pregnancy hormones it had become obvious after getting home from dropping off Harry at the station, that you were not who was being affected the most by the departure of the 11 year old.

As James closed the door behind him upon arriving at the house, you excitedly asked your six year old son Maximus what he felt like doing for the rest of the day. Equal in tone, James threw in some fun options for Max to pick from but instead of getting a reply from the little boy, his lip quivered and he immediately turned and sped off up the stairs.

“Was it something I said?” James wondered out loud to you.

“Honey,” you said, failing to smile with a shake of your head, “c’mon let’s go talk to him.”

Making your way up, you let James rush up ahead while you took your time going up behind him. Your pregnancy wasn’t at the point of needing help walking up the stairs but it was starting to slow you down some.

“He’s not in his room” James announced once you finally reached the top.

“Check Harry’s room, I’ll check ours” you instructed.

It wasn’t until after you looked under your bed, the closet and your bedroom bathroom that James called you over from across the hall. Instantly, you beelined to the sound of his voice coming from Harry and Max’s shared bathroom. That bathroom connected the boys bedrooms but also had a hallway door which is where you entered from.

When you walked in, James signaled with his head over to the little boy huddled by the hamper. He had his face covered with his little hands and although silent, you could tell he was steadily crying. You wanted to crouch down to his level but of course that wasn’t possible right then with your belly so you made do with softly speaking to him from above.

“Maxie, what’s wrong baby?”

Max didn’t answer.

James then squatted down and affectionately rubbed one of his small knees.

“Buddy, c’mon tell us what’s the matter. I bet we can help.”

“You can’t help,” Max spoke, hands muffling his voice.

“Well we don’t know that for sure unless you tell us what’s wrong first,” James replied.

Max went silent for some seconds then removed the shield he had created from his face. Wiping at his eyes, he then looked down at his damp fingers.

“I didn’t want Harry to go.”

You looked at James and he to you; both with sympathetic expressions. This revelation was a bit of a surprise seeing as how days prior, Max had been all smiles helping Harry pack his things and had been all too pleased stuffing himself full of cupcakes and cookies at Harry’s going away dinner. To think he felt otherwise didn’t cross either of your minds then or now.

“Honey, why didn’t you say something sooner?” you asked him.

Max shrugged his shoulders and wiped at his eyes again.

“Has this been bothering you for a while now?” James asked, trying to remain composed. Remain composed because seeing his children or you hurting was something he had never been able to bear easily.

“No, but when I saw him leave on the train today it made me know he was going to be gone now.”

James and you both felt a huge wave of relief wash over yourselves because although Max was sad right now, knowing he had only just started feeling this sadness today and had not been silently suffering alone with it the past few days was of most alleviation.

“Didn’t hit you he’d really be leaving until then huh?” James gathered from Max’s confession.

Max nodded up at his dad then looked down to the floor.

James didn’t even have to look at your face to know that you wanted to hold your little boy so he stood up, took your hand in his and aided you in sitting yourself down on the floor. You winced at the ache you felt in your back upon lowering yourself to the hard surface, then slowly criss crossed your legs as James squatted down again to his previous position.

“Maxie, I’m sorry you feel this way” you said, taking one of his little hands in yours. He looked up at you and you stretched your other hand out, creating open arms to invite him to come sit on your lap.

Without a hint of hesitancy, he stood up and did just that…ever so cautious of course, just like James had told him to be with you ever since your belly had begun to grow.

You kissed his little head and wiped at his eyes to get some of the drying tears off best you could.

“We’re all going to miss Harry sweet boy, but it’ll be okay. I know it’s going to feel different without him here but we still have each other and it’s not like we’re losing him forever. He’ll be back for Christmas pretty soon and in the meantime, we’re going to write to him so much to keep up with all he’s doing at school and to tell him all about what’s going on here at home.”

“I can write now some too, remember...” Max quietly added.

“Of course we remember,” James spoke, ruffling his son’s hair. “I think it’d be a good idea to go out and let you pick out a stationery set for your own letters to Harry, hm? How does that sound?”

Max’s eyes twinkled with excitement but his smile was still a weak one. Seeing that, you pressed a quick kiss to the side of his head and tenderly squeezed him further into you momentarily.

“But we’ll sit here with you until you feel you’re ready, okay? There’s no rush.”

“She’s right, we’ll sit here until needed,” James repeated, sitting his bum all the way to the ground then criss crossing his legs like you had. “This is actually a pretty cozy spot and hey, if we need to use the toilet at least it’s right here.”

Max laughed as James patted the closed toilet seat and after a few seconds, voiced a concern of his.

“Will my baby sister be here soon? Because I really want someone to play with while Harry is gone.”

“Well she won’t be here for another couple of months..” you frowned, rubbing at your belly. “But we’ll be more than happy to play with you in the meantime,” you kindly assured.

“That’s right. But I mean it is going to take your sister some time to grow and be able to play with you anyhow so I don’t know…maybe we can also look into getting a dog?” James said, eager eyes shifting over to the six year old.

“Yes!”

“James!”

James chuckled at Max and your distinct reactions to his suggestion and raised his hands up in defeat in your direction.

“Okay, okay we’ll think on the dog…” he said to you but with a wink shot over to Max.

Max smiled big, stood up and got behind you and draped himself on your shoulders. “Mum, let’s go buy my stationery now! I need to hurry up and write to Harry about the dog we’re getting!”

“Uh-uh-uh… maybe getting a dog” James corrected Max before you could shoot him a stare of doom.

“Okayyy maybeeee .. but let’s go buy my stationery anyways! I wanna tell him some other stuff too!” Max urged, running out the bathroom presumably straight to the car.

James smiled to himself then stood up and once again stretched out his hand to help get you up from your spot on the floor.

“You just really had to go and bring up a dog did you now? A dog won’t replace Harry y’know,” you teasingly scolded as you walked down to the front door.

James pouted as he walked behind you. “I know, I know but I am going to miss all the noise he and Max made together. It’s going to be so quiet around here these days.”

“James Potter, you’re going to be begging for a quiet house once this little girl of ours shows up” you laughed as you reached the bottom of the stairs.

You were then able to tell this was something James really wanted for Max though, because instead of reacting to your jokey comment, his expression remained contemplative.

“Baby,” you began softly, “look I know you mean well and want to fix the way Max feels right now and believe me, I do too, but let’s give it a little time and spend a while with just him for a bit… this period in life of just us and him is only going to come once. Can we do that, give it some time? Afterwards I promise we’ll talk dog ...yeah?” you asked, reaching up to push back some of his front hair with one hand and caressing one of his cheeks ever so lightly with the other.

James exhaled and relaxed in your touch. “You’re right. You’re always right” he admitted with lovesick eyes and a kiss to your lips. “Don’t know what I’d do without you love.”

“Probably get a dog anytime you or someone you loved was upset…” you taunted.

He chuckled at that and gave you another kiss. “The dog can wait a bit, now let’s go start spending time with just our boy.” <3

[affableramen]

Assorted creditor Pantalone x afab!debtor reader headcanons. Episode one

((highly requested))

tags: tsundere!pantalone ; condescending, slightly vulgar villain ; he is a meanie ; toxic relationship ; early stage of relationship ; manipulative Lone ; slight degradation+humiliation ; choking ; slap dynamics (you slap him) ; degrading names (“bitch”) ; pet names (“kitten”) ; sexual themes ; criminal themes ; pantalone has chronic illnesses

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT Madman’s note: I like mean guys and judging by what we know about Pantalone so far (Arlecchino’s voice-line, Lazzo teaser, Wriothesley’s weapon, Pantalone’s artefact) he fits this category perfectly. I see the pattern of a rude boy here. Charming on the outside but once he opens his mouth it’s disgusting (hahaha.) He probably likes mocking and lecturing others, that’s for sure vibing in the Lazzo. He also talks a lot (thanks Cholde). As for the toxic assorted au, Ik half of you don’t like reading gentle n sweet Pantalone, but when I see this man I just can’t imagine him being cruel to his lover who accepted him when the Gods did not. I really think he is very soft inside (with a person he trusts). He’s all about equality and fairness so probably he treats people the way they treat him, and if ur nice to him, well Panty acts with equal respect to you back. That’s for the personality part. Speaking of other aspects, at least you guys get a happy ending. Coz I hate bad endings. Don’t wanna fuck up huge efforts. The angst and struggle was worth it. Come get your man guys. He’s like the mean classmate who bullies you but is secretly in love with you. As for the gentleman part, I wish I could write something more than just him protecting the lady, coz I believe Pantalone to be a big deal of a gentleman who has his standards even though what he does for a living is very questionable. I’m afraid it will be too much information for this post already. I must also mention that he might say a lot of disturbing and condescending things in the beginning. Oh, and to avoid any misconception--i don’t like writing innocent readers. My reader is fierce, chronically exhausted and crazy.

⟣

“You will be my prize. A perfect fit for a powerful man like me. You have no friends, your parents are far away, the only person to care for you is your grandmother who was, for sure, foolish enough to take a loan from Northland Bank. You are helpless in front of me, and I enjoy seeing that smug smirk disappear from your face once you realise you’re completely at my mercy. All alone, with your life depending on me. And I will, by any means, show you mercy if you are worthy enough.”

Said Pantalone as your résumé was forcefully slapped down on his desk. Your past jobs, experiences and skills — all in front of him, in his long fingers which are sliding through the pages as if it were an action book.

Your grandmother, indeed, was the only dearest person you had and, unfortunately, in order to save your life (and future) she took the risk of becoming a debtor to the old devilish banker who was by any means an extremely questionable person.

You had a rough path of changing jobs, trying to find the most fitting and well-paid one, however ending up in only worse conditions. A few years passed like this, the workload traumatised you so much that you couldn’t believe two years had passed since you started doing work for a living. Your grandmother was too prideful to retire, but you both knew her money alone could not sustain your happiness.

And thus, you ended up under Pantalone’s sharp gaze. Now, standing up in front of him with an unfazed expression, knowing too well this man just adores chewing on others’ suffering.

“Fuck you and your long ass monologues”, you think but your face remains cold.

The tapping of his fingers suddenly stops. You feel your heart sink, and it makes you wanna vomit.

“What was that? The look on your face just a moment ago”, Pantalone takes his glasses off and looks at you sharply. You can feel that heavy presence with your skin alone. The violet charm of his eyes suffocating you. His whole presence does nothing but choke you.

“Beg your pardon?” You narrow eyes and ask him as politely as possible.

“Were you thinking something a bit ago, dear? Or should I say, were you doubting my professionalism?”

“Shit, he is reading my mind. I have to think about something stupid.”

“You’re so untamed and so… wild, I’d say”, he says as he rises from his desk and approaches closer to you. “But alas, I can’t discount your value after one mere impression, can I? That would be too unconscionable of me as a businessman.”

You see him lean to your ear, his body bending cause of how tall he is, and you feel nauseous once he opens his mouth again.

“Your résumé is trash, but I’m not a monster everyone thinks I am. I will let you work under me because of how persuasive your grandmother has been. Though, I’ll be watching you, kitten. Perhaps I’ll even put you under my strict supervision—"

A sharp slap lands on his cheek. That is the moment Pantalone should realise that your pride cannot be underestimated. With his face thrown to the side, he pats his cheek, holding his fingers on the reddened skin.

“…at the lowest position”, he finishes the sentence. “Heh, the audacity of yours.”

Pantalone grabs your throat, your is suddenly pulled closer. While being choked heartlessly you turn your eyes to him and hold them for a few long deep moments.

“I’m not afraid of you”, the words come out of your mouth weakly. “Just let me work for you. I won’t be plotting anything. Not interested, to be exact.” He keeps suffocating you, you almost roll your eyes at the back of your head before the banker finally releases you. You slowly fall onto your knees. “Haah… hha…”

“I’d never be mean to a lady. But a particular someone just doesn’t know any manners.”

He signs the papers quickly, squeezes a used draft in a ball and throws it into the trash bin. The signature he leaves on your zero-hour contract is so lazily made as if the man wanted to deal with you as soon as possible.

“Don’t disappoint me. You wouldn’t like to see me when I’m angry.”

“Thank God”, you sigh in relief, despite being choked a few seconds ago.

His movements, his body are so quick and flexible, you do not notice how the eyeglasses return to his face.

“You have a zero hours contract here, but I’ll personally make sure you work not less than six days a week.”

“Just so you know, I won’t kill for you. That goes against my principles.”

Pantalone raises his eyebrows, giving you a bored look.

“I wouldn’t let you have a privelege like that anyway. I have enough henchmen of my own to stain hands with unneccessary violence.”

When the conversation ends, you go to the bathroom and throw out. This man gives goosebumps, and he is not easy at all.

To your biggest surprise, as a leader Pantalone turns out capable enough. Just seeing him intricately managing his resources and employees makes you admire him at some point. No matter how unattractive his personality, for sure, was, none could not deny the fact that he is a skilful individual. He possess finesse and determination. Though speaking of his other traits, you cannot ignore the fact how suave he is. Women touch him with or without his consent all the time. And you’d agree: the man is attractive. Affable demeanour in public, though quite closed in private. “Closed” is an understatement. He is, in fact, incredibly emotionally unavailable.

His ill-favoured personality, hidden under that affable demeanour and polished looks, however, could not prevent you from falling. For him. And you are gradually finding yourself more and more addicted to him. Brushing off these ideas as soon as possible, of course. Occasional touch of your fingers, frequent looks he’d give you. You cannot remember the exact moment when Pantalone started showing signs, but you remember well that his glances in your first meaning were anything but interest. As you are a “special” debtor with a large sum to owe, Pantalone almost cages you in his main office buildings. To your knowledge, there were a few of them, but out of all people the fate of working with him has fallen onto your shoulder.

There was one day when he scared you.

“You… killed someone?” You ask, holding your hand to your chest as you walk into his office to bring some papers. But they are dropped down the moment you see the so-called crime scene. The heavy metallic scent of blood blocks your breathing and you dream of disappearing from this room, however it is too late.

“Just taught a disagreeable debtor a valuable lesson”, Pantalone walks out of the shadows, lighting the cigarette right in his own office.

Your eyes widen at the sight of the blood on his face once he makes himself visible.

“What are you doing here? Ah, the job. I almost forgot.”

A panic attack crashes you sooner than Pantalone inquiries.

“Why the sour face? Just put the papers here and you’re dismissed.”

You look down at the body next, and even if!(fat chance) that person is alive, you cannot pull yourself back into the calm state.

“Are you deaf? Put your stuff on my desk,” the banker commands, wiping the blood off his cheek.

Your vision goes blurry when you see his stained with crimson skin and you feel like fainting.

“I don’t… exactly like… seeing blood, yes.” You turn away but lose your consciousness the moment after.

When you wake up you find yourself lying in the leather couch, a blanket dropped sloppily over your body. Pantalone is sitting at his desk per usual, working on his papers when he sees you slowly come to senses.

“Alive? Good. Now go back to your duties.”

You rise from the couch slowly, pulling the blanket down and slightly wobbly proceed to the door.

“Y/N.” Pantalone stops you with his voice.

“What now…” you think. But your expression softens one you hear what he tells you:

“There is a bottle of water I left for you on the desk. Take it. I’m not exactly eager reviving you after another fainting because your careless ass is dehydrated”, he stops writing with his left hand and says again, this time harsher: “And never enter my office announced again.”

“Thank you”, you take the bottle of water the Harbinger offers you. It has a distinct spicy scent from cologne lingering on it. “Your couch reeks of tobacco, by the way.”

One time, when you save him.

Pantalone storms into the office visibly injured and infuriated. You can see his secretary come up to him, presenting some sort of intel while her hand slips under his sleeve trying to pull his gloves out. You see it all through the small doorway.

“Lord Harbinger, you must have had a tough mission, let me release this stress of yours…”

The other employee of his, a male, presses a wet sponge against his expressionless face. Pantalone, seemingly weak and tired doesn’t respond immediately to the secretary boldly roaming her lustful hands over him but a while after his consciousness makes itself known. He grabs the recently presented papers and slaps the woman’s hand with them.

“Sir—”

“Have you two no shame? I need privacy. For once, just leave me alone!” He shouts, uncharacteristically to him. Both the secretary and the lowly subordinate rush out of the room under his strict command.

When the shift ends you can see everyone leave the office, however there has been not a single move from Pantalone’s office since he shut his door. You look on the clock, it’s already 9:15 p.m. Why is he not going home? You decide to spy on Pantalone. Soon, as everyone has left the office empty, you raise from your working desk and go to check on your CEO.

“Pantalone.”

You knock, but the response is none.

“Pantalone, coming in.”

You push the door slowly. Even his spicy cologne mixes up with the metallic scent of blood. You walk in the office and feel your heart sink at the sight: the banker is lying on the floor, as if he had fallen from his desk, there are lots of tablets scattered around the floor, and a bottle of wine, shattered, the salty smell filling your nostrils. The ashtray on his desk is full and messy. Everything looks chaotic and Pantalone himself is, for sure, out of character.

He is unconscious as he is lying on the floor. You rush to him, gently placing your hand on his shoulder and start shaking him.

“PANTALONE!!”

He doesn’t wake up and you have to resort to drastic measures. You slap him. At that, he finally comes to the senses.

“This is the second time you have slapped me. Are you not afraid of the punishment I might force upon you?” he asks, groggily putting his body into a sitting position.

“Why didn’t you go to the doctor?”

“I’m perfectly fine handling some scratch.”

“Just a scratch? Then, what are the tablets for? I thought they were painkillers.”

You see as Pantalone examines his own mess, and his expression is calm yet a hint of exhaustion can be spotted.

“Clever”, he says. “I was beaten up, and my muscles obviously hurt.”

“And the wine?”

“To relax.”

“I see.”

Pantalone eyes you once again, his face extremely pale and tired. “Are you done? You can go home.” He turns away from you, you don’t know what he’s doing but you hear a drawer being pulled and Pantalone let out a short sound similar to groaning. His knuckles turn white as he grips the edge of the desk. You see a used needle roll across the very same desk…

“You’re… you’re diabetic?”

“An astitute observation” (silently). “Didn’t I tell you to go home?”

You analyse him from the top to bottom and deem this person likely not being able to get home himself. You open your eyes to offer taxi, but realise that he has a personal chauffeur. “Right, rich people…”

“That’s all? You won’t even give me a lecture for spotting you in such a vulne-” Pantalone’s gaze becomes so evil that you rethink over the choice of your wording. “In such a predicament. I mean, shouldn’t your mighty self cut my tongue in order to prevent me from gossiping about your health concerns?”

“You’ve been reading far too many detective stories. I’m not so…” he sighs, realising that given the circumstances of his long list of crimes even as a polished businessman he is a perfect match to Meropide. So Pantalone cuts his wording as well. “Forget about it.”

“You sure will be alright?”

“Worry of yourself, it’s getting quite dark and seems like rain and thunder.”

Wow. That’s a gentleman indeed! He won’t even offer you a lift? You roll your eyes.

“I’ll get home just fine. And also, you reek of alcohol. Can’t have the employees think poorly of you.”

You don’t even know if you are happy with your doing or not, because if you didn’t wake him, he’d probably be lying there on the floor until the very morning.

As you’ve cleaned your desk and taken your coat on, ready to leave, you see that the raining outside has become even more aggresive.

You walk outside and slip on the first level of stairs. “Great.” Before you could dial the number of the taxi, you hear the voice behind you stopping you.

“Don’t need to spend money. You’re coming with my chauffeur.”

“No thanks, I am quite fine being al-ready indebted to you.”

“That won’t need repayment. You saved my life. If I were not woken up in time, and didn’t inject insulin, I would most certainly end up in a coma not long after.”

“Especially considering that you drank wine”, you think.

“If you insist. Look like today I’m but a slave of the weather conditions.”

Pantalone hums to your response and leads you to the sleek black car. He throws the door open for you and gets onto the back seat with you. Once he’s settled and you wait to be dropped off your place you notice the holes on his gloves, revealing already dry blood stained cuts. You are only able to see them properly now, due to your close proximity.

“May I ask who attacked you?”

“It happens quite often so no one is really surprised by now”, he clears throat. “An assassination attempt. But I’m faster” he gives you a warning look, by which you conclude that the killer is no longer alive.

“I see.”

As you’re dropped off safely to your place, you sneak into your bedroom before your grandma has questions. As you lie in bed under a fuzzy blanket you cannot brush his scent, the mix of spicy cologne with blood, off your mind. The sight of him almost helpless, injecting that insulin like he was on a thin ice, stays carved into your mind as well.

⟢

[thedovesaredying]

Monsters in the Dark | Nikto x Reader | Cowboy AU

Prologue

Introduction to my fic set within the cowboy AU created by @ghouljams for our dear boy Nikto. This is just a quick starter piece to set the scene for the fic so to say. Also decided to include Sputnik since I don't see many fics including the precious baby!

A/N: Obligatory note that I do not condone the owning of dangerous or wild exotic animals as pets regardless of a country or state's laws. Exotic animals require a large amount of knowledge in their husbandry and specific requirements to ensure the highest standard of welfare is maintained. They should never be treated like domestic animals, they do not make good pets.

Warnings: Discussion of Serious Injury, Limb Amputation.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

Next Part

Nikto had been waiting for death to greet him throughout the entirety of his career. It was simply an inevitable fact of life both in the military and working as a mercenary for hire. People died constantly at his sides, and it quickly became a question of “when” and not “if” the final string would be cut and his body would fail him for the last time. 

There were days when he almost wished for the reaper to claim whatever remained of his empty heart. Torture was tolerable, an old friend at this point, but the months and years of recovery afterwards were what really felt like suffering.  

Alive, and yet completely useless. A fractured mind trapped within an equally ruined body.  

The only thing he could look forward to was getting back to work once his body was finally strong enough to pass medical approval. Tedious as the waiting game could be, he wasn’t stupid enough to push himself beyond his limits like some honour-hungry rookie. No, he waited and saved his strength for when it would one day be needed, for the days when nothing but sheer willpower can save his pitiful soul.  

And yet despite his many brushes with death, he had still yet to be taken by it, even when by all rights he should have been. Death yet remained a stranger.  

But why? Was his mind too corrupt and darkened for even the devil to want to touch? He had never believed in any God, but surely there was one looking down on him and mocking his pathetic existence. How else could he have survived an injury that should have killed him?  

He could remember little of the mission, only the sounds of people shouting orders, the potent scent of smoke and chemicals in the air, and pain. Certainly not the worst pain he’d experienced in his life, a blade to the gut still had the honour of that, but close to it. He was fortunate that the concussion he’d received had left him drifting in and out of unconsciousness for most of the trip back to base.  

His arm was fucked. According to the doctor and the reports from various other operators present on the mission, his elbow was bent in a way it definitely shouldn’t have been, and there was enough shrapnel in the remaining flesh that he might as well have lopped the whole thing off entirely.  

Which is exactly what the doctors ended up doing.  

It was their last resort, but with the complete lack of feeling in the limb coupled with an infection that just couldn’t be stamped out no matter how many antibiotics they pumped into his IV, it was necessary. They tried as hard as possible to save it, but necrosis had set in, and the safest course of action was to remove all damaged and dead tissue.  

He still wasn’t sure what would have been worse, being taken out by sepsis, or dealing with his current existence.  

And what a miserable existence it is.  

KorTac wanted to keep him on – surely, they couldn’t just let a wild beast like him roam free without a firm hand on his leash – but there was very little they could offer for him. Stay with the PMC and become a glorified guard dog? Train bratty little recruits? Sit behind a desk pushing papers nine to five? No, that would destroy what little grasp he still had on his sanity.  

That was how he ended up standing on the rundown porch of a house that could be described in a single word as dilapidated. It was cheap but came with enough land for him to not need to worry about nosy neighbours. He’s so far lacked the motivation to do anything to try and restore the building, but it has four walls and a roof, which is more than can be said for some of the “safe” houses he’s utilised over the years.  

He’d been lucky to discover the place at all with how small the town is. A passing comment from a fellow soldier about the region had caught his attention and, considering the impossibility of returning to Russia, he’d decided to look into it. America was a massive continent, and in the US he wouldn’t be questioned for owning weapons. Even better? This particular state allowed him to continue to keep Sputnik without suspicion.  

The old man who had been selling the house had been sympathetic after he’d played the whole “injured veteran” card and had even offered him a reduced price for the property. It still sickens him to think about how weak he must have looked in that moment, but needs must, and what he needed was a place to call home, even if only for a little while.  

One terrible accident and he’s reduced to begging for help like a stray dog wanting scraps.  

His irritation has the hand of his prosthetic curling gently into the fur of Sputnik’s pelt. All it can do is open and close around things to allow him some form of grip, but it works, and he supposes that’s all that matters. His girl doesn’t seem to care that it’s not a flesh and blood hand petting her, leaning into him regardless.  

She’s the centre of his current predicament and the reason he’s been forced to reach out for help. No amount of puppy dog eyes and wide grins sent his way are enough to save her from a trip to the vet. Or rather, a visit from one.  

He waits patiently as a large car rolls down the gravel road that leads to the small house from the property’s front gate. Sputnik whines as it draws closer, before beginning to laugh with nervous excitement. The moment the vehicle pulls to a stop she moves to investigate, but is quickly stopped with a barked, “МЕСТО!” command from Nikto.  

Sputnik huffs, unimpressed with not being allowed to greet their visitor, but settles for sitting at the top of the stairs while her master approaches.  

In all honesty, Nikto had been expecting a grizzled old man or woman with decades of experience under the belt when the receptionist had promised to send someone with knowledge of exotics. What he wasn’t expecting was... you.  

[justinalovee]

𝑩𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒐𝒖𝒍

Pairing: Aegon Targaryen x Reader x Rhaenyra Targaryen

Word Count: 1246

Warnings: Incest, oral sex

Summary: Y/n Targaryen, wife of Aegon and lover of Rhaenyra, does her best to try to help her husband adjust to life in Dragonstone

A/N: All characters are 18+! minors DNI. Aegon is a good guy in this universe

Your heart hurts.

It hurt to know your husband was in physical and emotional pain.

It hurt to hear him cry.

“Hush now, sweet boy; I’m more than happy to be married to you. Our life might not look like how we imagined it, but I wouldn’t change it or change you for anything in the world.” You say it softly while rubbing circles onto his back, soothing him as if he were a child. “We will be happy here, I promise. It will just take some adjusting.”

You desperately hoped that was true.

Aegon rests his head on your shoulder. You kiss his crown gently before running your fingers through his thick, wavy hair, careful not to touch the sensitive welt on his cheek. When Aegon announced you were moving to Dragonstone, his mother slapped him hard across the face, not only hurting him but humiliating him as well.

Alicent had never hidden her disgust at your unconventional relationship with Rhaenyra. She thought it was disgusting, and when the king declared you, his niece, were to marry his firstborn son, Alicent did everything she could to stop the wedding, but the Queen never got her wish, and your betrothal went ahead.

As the only child of Orys Targaryen, the younger brother of King Viserys and Prince Daemon, you had been doted on your whole life, but unlike Rhaenyra, you didn’t have the pressure of ruling one day hanging over you. Your mother, Dana, died on the birthing bed while bringing you into the world, so you grew up extremely close to your father until he died during the battle of the stepstones. He died while riding dragon back; he’d suffered many blows, but an arrow through his neck killed him instantly. The only things that helped you get through such a loss were Rhaenyra and your dragon Meraxes; that was until Aegon came into your life.

“My love?” He says this, gaining your attention. “You seemed so lost in thought; what were you thinking of?”

“My father. I think he would have liked you; you enjoy a lot of the same things.”

Aegon wipes his nose with the back of his hand, shuffling back slightly so he can look up at you through his swollen eyes. Unconvinced, he asks, “Like what?”

“He enjoyed watching plays, sword fighting, dragon riding, and learning about other cultures.” To most people, Aegon was lazy and uninterested in anything other than drinking, but that wasn’t true. He just preferred to learn about things on his own rather than being taught. You smile at him and say, “And you both love me.”

He kisses your cheek and says, “That I can agree with, although I imagine it’s different types of love.” Aegon’s hand travels to your lower abdomen, drawing soft circles over it with the pad of his fingers. “One day, when the time is right, I’ll put a baby in there, a child that will know nothing but unconditional love.”

—

“Rhaenyra?”

You watched as Rhaenyra silently rose from the chair she sat in, leaving you momentarily confused in a crouching position. Rhaenyra had felt neglected the past few weeks with you spending so much time with Aegon, helping him adjust to life in Dragonstone. This was the first time you’ve had time alone together since arriving. The moment you got her to yourself, you practically latched your mouth to her nipples, making sure to give equal attention to each of her soft breasts, leaving a trail of purple marks scattered behind.

Bending forward across the table, Rhaenyra pulls her gown up to her waist, revealing her bare ass and pussy while her breasts press against the cool wood underneath. You smirk, noticing she had no small cloth on, and you move so you are now behind her. You grip her thighs while waiting to get the heads up to start pleasing her, flicking her silver hair over her shoulder. Rhaenyra gives you a small smile, then nods.

Gently, you scrape your fingers over her cheeks down to her perfect cunny. You spread her pussy lips and plunge your tongue deep inside her, tasting the sweetness of her arousal, your thumb rubbing circles on her clit. Her soft moans of pleasure fill the room while you continue with the same actions as before, occasionally smacking her ass, leaving a faint red mark.

“Oh fuck,” Rhaenyra moans as her legs begin to tremble. “I’m cumming! I’m cumming!”

You continue lapping at her folds, delighted as her fluids cover your mouth and drip down your chin. You shuffle back as Rhaenyra straightens her dress, dropping her gown back into place. Taking your hand, she helps you stand, tasting herself by kissing you on the lips.

“I have missed you, cousin. It's not just us being intimate,” she says, handing you a napkin to wipe your mouth with. “But just us spending time together. We haven’t been dragon riding together in some time.”

“I know,” you say, kissing the back of her hand. “I’m sorry, Nyra; I promise I will make it.”

She smiled and said, “Don’t apologize; you are just looking out for your husband. How is Aegon settling in?”

“He’s… adjusting. He wants to start a family soon.”

“I’m delighted for you. Motherhood is a wonderful thing; the love you experience is unlike any other,” she says brightly. “If there’s anything I can do to help make my brother feel more comfortable, please let me know.”

“Of course, thank you.” You thought it would be a good idea for you and Aegon to do more things together to slowly bring him out of his shell. He attended most family meals but remained silent throughout them. He found it difficult to be around loud children and laughing adults when he was used to small talk or silence.

The flapping of wings outside caught your attention, alerting you that your uncle Daemon had returned. Rhaenyra’s face lit up with excitement. Her relationship with your uncle was special; the love they shared was something out of a storybook, however unconventional it may be. “I will leave you to your greetings and see you tomorrow.”

—

You rest your head on Aegon’s lap while he reads to you in high Valyrian from The Volcanic Doom of Valyria, “flames shot sir eglie se bane bona sesir zaldrizoti zaltan.”

You repeat his words. “Flames shot so high and hot that even dragons burned.”

Aegon places the book down on the sheets beside him, careful not to lose his place. The fingers in his free hand brush your hair behind your ear. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking.” You sit up to face him. “Why don’t we do something fun tomorrow? I was thinking we could go see a play during the day then visit the street or will at night if you like.”

Aegon raises his brows, surprised by your suggestion; he seemed to be torn thinking about it. It saddens you how nervous he appeared. “I would like that, but... I don’t want my mother to know we are there.”

“I understand your love.”

“We could wear disguises,” he suggests. “With our silver hair hidden, we’ll blend in.”

“What an excellent idea.”

“So…” A mischievous glint appears in his eyes. “If we go to the street of silk, does that mean I get to fuck you in a brothel?”

Nodding, you pull him in for a kiss. “I want you to fuck me in all the brothels.”

[purble-turble]

i can 100% see Nezha and mk's relationship (regardless if it's platonic or romantic) being equally beneficial and detrimental. like there so much they could help each other with but also subconsciously cause serious problematic habits/ thought processes/ coping mechanisums for each other and themselves the biggest thing my brain latched onto was how MK could become Nezha's first truly safe space.

Nezha going what i know and understand about his lore and what we can glean from the little we know in the show's canon, definitely has it rough in the celestial realm. he had a very troubled childhood and is clearly haunted by his past and is being defined by it despite his efforts to grow and prove that he's better now. he can command respect for his strength and power but people still question him as a person, always waiting for him to slip up. what relationships he does have he probably doesn't feel fully safe expressing his real self and thoughts because it poses potential risks. then mk comes into the picture. Nezha's given him a safe place to talk openly and he'd want to offer the same to the prince. even if he can't help directly he knows just having someone to vent to can help. its small stuff at first, little complaints here and there about work and the celestial realm, but slowly nezha starts to open up about more personal stuff. stuff with his family, with other celestials, and about his past. and to his amazement and relief is met with only empathy and understanding from mk, even after learning about the darker stuff MK never judges him. Nezha doesn't have to mask anything about himself around mk, infact he's being encouraged to relax and just be his natural self around him. he's truly safe when its just him and mk, that feeling has to be euphoric for the poor guy used to being on guard constantly even around the people he loves.

but of course, could easily lead to a mutually unhealthy co-dependency. nezha's already been isolated to some degree having never had much of a positive support structure, and mk's slowly isolating himself away from his established support structure. resulting in an echo chamber of two very well-meaning but very mentally ill people.

(i'm so sorry this turned into a short essay I've been waiting three hours to get of shift so i can spill my brains out about this. i have more but I'm going to end it here in fear that i'm being a bit much about these two)

Noo don’t worry about this being long, I absolutely love it!!

You’re so right, Nezha and MK are at the same time a good counterbalance for each other while also being accidentally self-destructive. MK is a chaotic lil gremlin who follows his emotions and worries about consequences later and Nezha (in LMK at least) seems to be trying very hard to come at things logically and approach from a more grounded, duty-based perspective. They both could use a splash of the other’s energy in that manner, so in that way it’s for sure a good thing that they’re getting closer.

Problem is, like you said, these boys are sooooo mentally ill 😂 The feeling that they need to constantly be proving themselves, giving a little more away every time, pushing their own boundaries and suffering in silence because it’s what someone else needs- these are things they might accidentally end up encouraging in each other…. Actually, probably not even accidentally. They see the other working crazy hard and being run ragged physically and probably emotionally too, and they’re like “I am SO proud of you for sacrificing so much!” ..and both of them have never felt so seen as when the other says that to them. It’s validating their worst impulses to just keep going and giving because their own feelings about it are less important than everyone else’s.

Also, the fact that they feel like they can expect to get that praise when they admit to being stressed might even make them be more open about it. Only with each other, though… if they were to mention feeling overworked or burdened to their families, they know already that they would not get the response they were looking for.. but again, even if it means they’re being more open, it’s still not a super good thing that it’s reinforcing destructive behavior. :U