#is it to try to show goodness that they don’t define him by the scar?

[adriancatrin]

it’s so wild to me that outside of the old ba sing se caverns, no one in the gaang once brings up zukos scar. it’s kinda sweet in a way i guess when sokka refers to him in season 2 as a freak with a “ponytail” and not scar, but it’s still just odd

[lalunanymph]

୨୧ zayne loses control of his evol and hurts you in more ways than one

✧.* warnings:- fem!reader, established relationships (zayne x reader), nightmares, minor depictions of PTSD, mentions of blood, mentions of injuries, ANGST, breakups, hurt and comfort, jealousy, slight xavier x reader, unresolved emotions, reader and zayne are bad at communicating with each other, mentions of foods, hospitals, medication, suggestive content, language, explosions, zayne is kinda soggy and pathetic in this one, canon typical injuries, reader is in a coma, talks of surgeries, makeup sex, size kink, oral sex, girl on top, petnames (little on, my aurora, my love, darling), overprotective tendencies, possessive bf!zayne

✧.* strap in slüts (affectionate) we have 15k+ of zayne angst let's go

If someone had asked you what Zayne’s deepest fear was, you might’ve told them it was a botched surgery, or wilted carrots in his fried rice.

It’s not as if your childhood-friend-turned-lover walked around with his fears stapled on his forehead; Zayne was a private guy, and even after months of dating, you were still trying to get used to his moods and needs.

However, oblivious to you, Zayne’s fear was entirely apparent.

Time and time again, he showed you the truth—without words or fanfare—whenever he scolded you for being clumsy on the field or forgetting to eat the entire day.

Zayne was afraid of you getting hurt. 

And he was afraid of hurting you. 

The bags under your eyes have gotten worse.

A week had gone by since you had slept a full five hours, schedule packed to the brim after a deathly Wanderer attack at the train station left seven injured and five more dead. 

Zayne wasn't faring well, either. His days were consumed with operation after operation; more broken and injured people filling the intensive care units till Akso Hospital had to transfer them to their sister hospital, Mariso.

The Association had issued out a full city warning for Hunters to patrol the streets from dawn to dusk. All your colleagues were burnt out, praying for this harsh season to end so they could return back home; back to normality.

In your shared household, the nightmare was on a constant loop.

For days on end, you and Zayne were fleeting shadows passing each other—the most contact being whispered good mornings or good nights, depending on the time, and once, his touch on your lower back when he gently nudged you away from the door so he could rush out for another surgery.

Things were catastrophic, to put it mildly. 

And it didn’t help that your insomnia and his nightmares were back. 

Staring up at the ceiling, you almost didn’t hear the bedroom door opening until you noticed his broad shoulders outlined in the dim darkness.

“Hey.”

Zayne’s voice is laced with exhaustion, and wordlessly, you open your arms for him.

He’s colder to the touch than you remember, a sign of his Evol losing its composure after days of insurmountable stress and adrenaline spikes.

He’s silent, holding you tightly to his chest. You smell the hospital standard bleach and anesthetic off his work clothes, feel the stuttering of his heart underneath your spread palm. 

“When will it end?” 

His voice, quiet and in a timbre you know and love, vibrates against your cheek. 

“I don’t know,” you reply to him truthfully, bleakly. “I’ve been asking myself that same question since this all started.”

There’s a whistling wind outside the windows, rattling the wooden panes. You close your eyes, trying to put aside the mental image of a Wanderer’s snarl and how similar it sounded to the rushing breeze.

“You should go to sleep,” he touches your face, strokes the back of his knuckles down your cheek. “I’ll go take a shower.”

“Can I come with you?” 

He huffed a laugh. “Of course. If I am correct to assume, you would be doing your skincare twice tonight. Would that not tire you out? Other than this inquiry, please. Be my guest.”

You chuckle slowly, and sit up, watching him undress. Lashes of scars on his defined torso, the sinews of muscles and sharp edges all stack up to create the man you missed with your entire soul.

Zayne fights back a smirk when he feels your arms around him, face tucked into the back of his neck.

“I missed you,” you breathed. “Feels like it’s been years.”

“Only a few days,” he corrects softly. Without sparing another minute, he turns, gathers you in his arms.

You spend the next few minutes showering with him, tracing the water trickling down his defined traps, obliques and abs with your wandering eyes. Lathering up bath soap and going over the spots of your body you had forgotten to scrub in your tired fugue, you discreetly watched him wash his hair, lost in his own thoughts. 

Zayne’s beautiful green eyes flicker to the present when he feels you sneakily coming up behind him, and he almost groans like a virgin teenager at the sensation of your soft tits pressed against his back.

He stays still when your wandering hands trace down his stomach, over his pelvis where his hips tick the second he feels your tiny hands wrap around his cock.

“What’re you doing?” he asks, trying to sound gruff, but it came out breathless instead.

“Showing my boyfriend how much I miss him,” you hum. 

Zayne bites on his lower lip, glad that he was facing the shower wall when you decided to play with him in such a risque way. 

“What a little vixen,” he groans, voice dropping an octave deeper; a baritone timbre which sends shivers up your spine. “It’s amusing. If I had any suspicions, I think you’re trying to get me riled up so that I would lose control.”

His observation was apt, as usual.

“You’re correct,” you brush your lips across a scar over his right shoulder. “So, should I give you a medal, Dr. Zayne? Or, a trophy for getting it right?” 

He breaks your hold on him, and you’re breathless, thinking he is going to reject you when he pulls you into his embrace. Your back meets the tiled walls, and his large hands grab fistfuls of your ass, hitching you up high enough so your legs can wrap around his slim waist.

“All of that is useless,” Zayne whispers huskily against your lips, and you swore your heart was about to double in size and burst out of your chest at his next words. “The only recognition and reward I need is your sweet little pussy, my Aurora. May I know if I can treat her well tonight?”

He didn’t even need to ask; you would serve your cunt on a silver platter for Zayne, no questions asked or needed.

“Yes,” you breathe, twining your fingers through his dark locks and tugging his face closer to yours. “You may, Dr. Zayne.”

His nightmares always started the same.

A dimly lit room. Chocolate wrappers on the bare, wooden floor. Loud explosions outside. And somehow, there was always a broken mirror somewhere in his periphery.

Zayne dreads (no, perhaps, it’s too mild a word)—he absolutely fears—what comes next. 

There’s a little boy, no older than seven who looks at him hopefully. Zayne always ignores him, preferring to watch a blinking red dot on his screen. 

He’s different here; dressed sharply in a dark trench coat, expression like a blank slate. Nothing at all like his focused, calm self in the present. And yet, Zayne recognizes him like how someone might recognize the back of their hand even under a different light. 

The man before him was him… but not exactly him. 

He’s been dreaming of this Zayne for a long time—ever since he turned twelve. 

And right now, he was about to see the extent of this alternate Zayne’s power. 

He can predict what comes next; the stretch of skin on the boy’s face snarling, broken bones sounding in the small room. The shard of ice through his heart which eventually ends his life. 

But, this time, the boy’s cries are different. They’re higher pitched. 

Feminine, almost.

Zayne’s heart races, his movements in the dream sluggish.

Zayne! Her voice reverberates, and he recognizes it. Zayne, please! Don’t hurt me anymore! Save me. Help me. You’re a doctor, Zayne. Not this. Never this. Please. Don’t hurt me—

The boy’s face disappears, replaced by one he knew all too well. His features morphed right into yours, and Zayne desperately lunges at the dark ice piercing your chest, fighting to get it out.

It would never move, no matter how hard he tugged on it or how much he willed his power to make it melt. You were dying with every wasted second, breathing growing ragged.

Zayne, Zayne… you never stopped calling out for him.

Zayne, help me. How could you hurt me like this? Zayne… Zayne…

A burst of light explodes behind his closed eyes. Someone is shaking him awake, the cadence of her voice familiar and sweet.

“... Zayne? Hey. Hey. It’s a bad dream. Zayne, you’re fine. Ssh, you’re fine.”

Her warm hands find his cheeks, pulling him right into her embrace. His face buries into neck, and he shudders, inhaling the sweet scent of strawberries from her hair.

“Zayne, you’re so cold,” you murmur into the darkness of the room. “You’re shivering.”

He was; huge tremors which rocked him from his very core. He feels the familiar tingle on his skin, the web of ice which encases his hands.

Before he can gather enough lucidity and control to push you away, it all explodes in one fell swoop.

Ice shoots out, hitting the ceiling, piercing through the wooden bedframe. 

“Zayne—!”

Your scream of pain rips through the night, and he frantically sits up, finding a huge shard piercing through your forearm. 

“No,” he whispers, fevered. “No, no.” 

His hands are stained with blood—your blood—as he tries to help you. But, the shard wouldn’t budge. 

“Zayne,” you hiccup, moaning lowly. “Shit… H-hurts…”

Nightmares become reality when it finally slams into him what he has done. 

“Hospital,” he mutters hoarsely. “We need a hospital.”

“Zayne—”

“Don’t argue with me,” there’s a feral note in his tone, a harsh reprimand which makes you flinch back. 

“Now, grit your teeth and bear the pain for a little while, Y/N. I am taking you straight to the emergency room.”

You felt like you were floating on auto-pilot. 

Colors and shapes melded into one strange blob the longer you sat in the examination room. After a few excruciating minutes of the ER’s doctor trying to get all the shards of hardened ice out of your arm, you were stitched up and given a heavy dose of painkillers, enough to knock out a horse.

But, you resolutely stayed awake, afraid that if you closed your eyes, something bad would happen.

Immediately once the minor surgery on your arm had concluded, Zayne had disappeared from your side, and you assumed he was downstairs by the general admission—filling up your details. He had stayed with you long enough for the extraction, giving you his hand to hold, though he remained tight-lipped and pale throughout the entire ordeal.

You wanted to see him again, even if it was for a few minutes. 

When the curtain parted, you looked up, expecting to find a pair of emerald green eyes, but were greeted with a pair of worried purple ones, instead.

“Hey, Pipsqueak. Zayne called me the second you got in. Grandma couldn’t come because she wasn’t feeling too well.” Caleb shifted the drapes aside, slowly stepping into your ward. He sat down on the chair by your bedside, the bags under his eyes heavy though his smile still held a teasing quality you were familiar with.

“Caleb?” you winced at how rough your voice sounded, reaching for the water bottle by your bedside. He beat you to it, grabbing the plastic bottle and tipping your head up, helping you drink.

Once your throat wasn’t drier than the desert, you sat up, the woozy sensation exacerbated from your sudden motion. 

“Hey,” he whispered, rushing to steady you. “Slow down. You’re injured, Pipsqueak.” He rearranged you back onto the bed, expression pinched. “What happened? Zayne sounded frantic on the phone and that’s something new. Always thought he could disable a ticking time bomb with how unruffled he is.” 

Despite poking fun at his childhood friend, it didn’t bring a smile onto your face. Caleb ditched his sunny disposition, becoming serious. 

“Y/N, are you okay? You’re acting strange. Did… did Zayne hurt you?”

Immediately, you whipped your head towards him, eyes wide. “N-no! Of course, not. Why would you think that?” You struggle to speak past the drugs making you slur. “He… he didn’t hurt me. Brought me to the hospital. I tripped.” 

A lame conclusion. Caleb’s eyes narrow, and he’s about to ask you again, when a familiar voice interrupts.

“She needs to rest. I thought I told you to come by in the morning?”

Zayne’s frosty glare sets off Caleb’s strained smile. Your childhood best friend's nostrils flare, and the whites of his teeth shine like the edge of a knife when he stands up to greet Akso Hospital’s best surgeon. 

“You made it sound like she was dying so of course I came as fast as I could.” Casting his amethyst eyes to yours, Caleb’s feral smile softens. “You’re right. I can see she needs some rest. Let’s go—” He clasps a hand on Zayne’s shoulder, and you don’t have to be on the receiving end to know Caleb was using his Evol to tighten his grip on your boyfriend. 

“You and I have a lot to discuss.”

Zayne grimaces, and you shoot him an apologetic smile.

Caleb turns to you with a cheery wave. You mouth don’t kill him and he rolls his eyes.

I’ll try not to, he mouths back.

Then, the curtains droop close and you settle back on the hard pillow, freefalling into a dreamless sleep.

Something was off the second you woke up.

Firstly, Zayne wasn’t with you again. 

It was Caleb’s dark bedhead which greeted you, his face inches from your arm, eyes closed and breathing steady.

You lean up, wincing when you felt your stitches pulling. 

“Hey,” you whisper, touching your best friend's broad shoulder. “Caleb? Why’re you still here?”

He groans, groggily opening his eyes. “M-morning, Pipsqueak,” he staggers through a yawn. “What time is it?” 

“I don’t know,” you whisper, feeling a huge migraine clustering behind your eyes. “Ugh, where’s Zayne?” 

At the mention of your boyfriend, Caleb blinks, wide awake now. “Ah. He told me he had some emergency surgeries lined up. He’s probably working.”

Oh. You fall into a disquiet, staring at the swathing white blankets. That uneasy feeling was back again.

“Did he say when he would be done?” 

“I don’t know,” Caleb confessed. “But, you have his schedule, so I think you’d know better than me, Pipsqueak.”

Right. Zayne was your boyfriend. Caleb would barely know the guy if it wasn’t for your insistence in the both of them meeting up once a month for dinner with Grandma.

Swallowing your disappointment down, you plaster on a bright smile. “Are you up for some coffee today? You’re always complaining about the ones at the Academy.”

Caleb smiles, and leans forward to ruffle your hair. “Y’know, if this was a normal day, I would totally take you up on your offer,” he becomes serious now. “But, you’re still healing, Pipsqueak. And caffeine is bad. Let me call the nurse to check on you first, okay?”

You nod, watching his broad back disappear out into the halls. 

Fidgeting, you touch your bandaged arm, recalling the clammy silence last night as Zayne drove to Akso Hospital; his jaw tense and eyes steadfastly not meeting yours.

He’s probably angry at himself, you reasoned. Zayne always was harder on himself than anybody else, and the guilt could be eating him alive. 

Feeling slightly reassured that nothing bad would happen, you lean back against the pillows again, closing your eyes.

You fell back asleep the second Caleb reappeared with the nurse; both of them politely closing the door and giving you some time to rest, your best friend’s eyes lingering right on your exhausted expression.

“Goodnight, Pipsqueak,” he whispers into the still air which was permeated with your steady breathing. “See you later.”

That night, you woke up to an icy cold hand in yours.

Fluttering your lashes, you find Zayne with his eyes closed and head bent forward, one hand in yours and the other braced on his forehead.

“Zayne?” 

He thaws from his uneasy doze, woozy emerald eyes widening slightly at your relieved expression.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers the second he finds his voice. “I lost control. I… I hurt you.” That last part was spat out, as if he was firmly disgusted with his lack of composure. “It was dangerous of me to even be next to you. I was aware of my nightmares and my Evol has been unstable as of late. I put you in harm’s way and I am forever sorry for doing so, my Aurora.”

His lips were cool on the back of your hand, those brilliant eyes fogged over with an unfathomable expression.

“Zayne… it’s okay.”

They flare back to life, this time electrified with an untamed emotion. “Okay?” he says slowly, like he couldn’t believe his sins were absolved that easily. “I’ve hurt you and all you can say is ‘okay’? Y/N, please. Be reasonable.” 

You open your mouth to counter his harsh words, but his hand had already detangled from yours. Zayne stood up, the look on his face awfully cold and distant.

“I don’t think this will work out.”

What? You wanted to voice out, but your words were stuck behind the lump in your throat. “Zayne…” 

You reached out for him, but all you felt was cold air where his warmth once stood. He had backed away, expression closed off and frigid. Shame and hurt filled you, threatening to pour out from your eyes.

He couldn’t bear to look at you, those emerald eyes latched to a water stain on the ceiling as if it was more interesting than the girl whose heart he was breaking right in front of him.

“What do you mean by that?” you demand, though it sounds like a plea in your thick voice. “Zayne, it was a mistake. A one-time thing. Don’t make it bigger than what it is. Please. Let’s talk this out—”

“No,” he stood to his full height, looking at you down the line of his nose. “It’s not something we can talk about. You’re better off without me, and I, you. I will drop your things off at your apartment the moment I get off work. Goodbye, Y/N.”

Hot pain sliced through your soul, leaving a gash where he once stood.

“No,” you murmured, though you were speaking to the thin air. Zayne had already turned and left. “Zayne? Zayne! Come back, we can talk it out—”

You tried to stand and run after him, but your body was weakened from the medication and lack of movement. Stumbling back, you sat on the edge of your bed, fisting the sheets and fighting back the urge to scream at him to come back. There was nothing you could do except watch the broadness of his back leave, disappearing down the hall and around the corner.

Easy. How easy it was for him to break things off like this.

Like you didn’t even matter.

You hang your head forward, the misting tears in your eyes pooling onto your lash line. You had no idea how long you stayed like this; frozen, immobile. Waiting for him to come back.

The curtains opened again, and you expected Zayne to be there with a change of heart. But, when you saw it was Caleb instead, carrying a box of doughnuts and his signature easy going smile, you couldn’t help the pang of disappointment coruscating on your trembling lips.

He sensed something was wrong the second you didn’t greet him, and he was right when he sat beside you and you broke down into tears.

Sorry, you gasped in between sobs. I’m so sorry. I’m usually stronger than this. 

Caleb didn’t push you or demand you tell him the reason why you were crying. He held you close instead, patting your head. When you wouldn’t stop sobbing, he rubbed your back, telling you in his low, reassuring voice that you were going to be okay.

He never did find out why you were crying, and neither did you voluntarily supply any information. 

But, when he took you home the next day and found your things neatly packaged in boxes waiting by the front door, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.

Zayne…?

You flinched when Caleb mentioned his name.

For a single second, neither of you said anything.

Caleb exhaled noisily, gripping your shoulder and pulling you into his one-arm hug. “I’m going to kill him for what he did to you.”

“No need,” you surprised him and yourself by how emotionless you sounded; nothing but exhaustion and resignation in your tone.

“It wouldn't be worth it—not at all.”

For days after that, you threw yourself back into your work.

The second Jenna called for volunteers for a dangerous mission, your hand would almost always shoot up. It didn’t matter how bad the fluctuations were or how big the threat was—your name was almost always on the list every single day. Even Xavier was starting to notice how impulsive you were becoming, though his worry was more subtle than the rest of your nagging colleagues (read: Tara).

“Wouldn’t your doctor boyfriend worry about you throwing yourself in such situations?” 

You fight back a wince, polishing the nozzle of your Hunter gun. Of course. None of your workmates knew the truth; they all still assumed you and Zayne were together.

“No, he wouldn’t,” you reply back mildly, eyeing the barrel down with a grimace. “He doesn’t care if I live or die.”

A gloved hand picks the gun from you, and you turn to find him frowning. Xavier’s pinched expression spoke volumes, though he didn’t ask any follow-up questions. 

Neither of you broke the silence, until you heard the gun clatter back down onto the floor accompanied by his tired sigh. 

“There are many, many stars in the night sky, Y/N,” he starts. You turn to him with a frown. 

Where is he going with this?

Xavier continues. “Even if one dies or explodes, another one will take its place. Don’t lose your light for a star who refuses to shine for you.”

Standing up, he extends a hand towards you.

“Since you’re not in the best of moods, I was thinking we could have some lamb hotpot tonight. What do you think? I’ll let you choose most of the ingredients.”

Though the idea of food sounded unappealing, you couldn’t help but smile at his attempts to cheer you up.

Taking his hand, you nod. 

“Sure. Can I also pick our second soup base?”

He huffed a laugh. “Why not, huh? You can hog most of the dipping sauce, too. I won’t complain.”

It was the first time in days since you had smiled, the expression foreign and almost painfully pulling your cheeks.

But, you do it anyway.

Despite his odd allegory, Xavier was right. 

Even if someone took their light away from you, it didn’t mean you had to stop yourself from shining again.

Zayne may have been the brightest star in your universe, but at the end of the day, you were the fucking sun.

And no one could take away your light without your permission, no matter how hard they tried.

Another long night at the ER, another cup of coffee.

Zayne puts down his glasses with a sigh, and hears his office phone beep. He barely has time to steel himself when the message comes through, urgent and demanding. 

“Dr. Zayne? It’s Dr. Lewis here. We have a code red down by Bloomshore Forest. Something about a fluctuation. Most of the injured are Hunters.”

His heart rate spikes and he immediately stands.

It’s been more than a week since he last saw you, and Zayne was almost at the end of his emotional tether. He had reacted poorly to the entire ordeal, and was now facing the repercussions of his hasty actions.

Nights were spent tossing and turning, his nightmares coming back at full force. Sometimes, he woke up and padded into the living room, trying to find respite on the couch where your old t-shirt still lay, smelling of you and his regrets. 

When he woke up, there was no one to greet him or kiss his cheek with her morning breath. No one who hummed in the shower while she got ready for work or left loud, theatrical smooches on his cheek before she rushed out of the door. 

There was no you in his life anymore.

Zayne was tired of shadow fighting with demons he couldn’t see.

Plain and simple—he missed you. 

And right now, he had to see if you were one of the injured; Zayne would never forgive himself if something happened to you and he couldn’t make amends. 

Rushing down the freeway, he passed by signs of destruction everywhere; torn up trees, fractured roads. Wanderers who left a trail of discord and mayhem wherever they went.

The flickering blue and red lights were what caught his attention, and he quickly disembarked from his car, hurrying to the thick of the commotion. Tents were set up, medical personnel running to and fro. 

Someone recognized him and handed him a pair of scrubs and gloves. Zayne immediately got to work the second Greyson approached him, gray in the face from fatigue.

“Dr. Zayne—”

“Give me a rundown, Dr. Greyson,” he mutters, hurrying to the closest tent. 

“Four injured and about ten with minor abrasions,” his assistant started, “We counted about two missing from the fray. A Mr. Xavier and… Miss Y/N.”

No. 

At the mention of your name, Zayne stopped in his tracks. 

Greyson looked apologetic, though for what, Zayne had no idea.

“When was her last contact?” he didn’t mean for his voice to rise, but it did, betraying his stress and fear over your whereabouts. 

“Two hours ago. A comm signal right in the middle of the N109 Zone.”

Zayne swore he felt his heart drop right into his boots. He gapes, opens his mouth and closes it, but no sound escapes.

“Dr. Zayne?” 

Greyson was waiting for his response. Zayne had to react, fast. 

“Set up the operation room for the four injured and get me a line with the closest hospital for blood transfusions. We need as many supplies as we can get our hands on. Has the Association been notified of their two missing Hunters—?” 

Before Zayne could finish his sentence, a commotion stirs at the fringes of the forest. 

Several people yell, and he looks up in time to find a limping figure supporting someone else. 

Your silhouette solidifies in the half light, dirt and blood caked on your face and limbs. Greyson gasps as well, muttering oh thank goodness. 

A nurse with a blanket rushes over to you and a fair-headed man whom he assumes is Xavier, wrapping the both of you in the thick fabric. 

Greyson doesn’t notice how his attention has waned, locked right on your smiling yet exhausted face. “We’re establishing a line with Mariso’s hospital down the block—hey, Dr. Zayne?” 

He zeroes in back on his assistant with a firm nod. “Do it, then. And keep me updated on the progress.”

There’s a pause.

“Aren’t you going to speak to her?” Greyson asks, curiosity lingering at the thought of why his superior wasn’t going to greet his girlfriend. Zayne takes one last look at you, and he drops his gaze. 

“No. I do not want to overwhelm her before her evaluations.” Straightening, he nods. “Let’s proceed with the different evals and prep. Line up the next surgery for hour 2045.”

There would be no time to let his heart take the lead. 

He had to focus on the task at hand.

Greyson’s expression fades in and out of focus. Zayne notices that Xavier has his hands on your face, inspecting a nasty cut on your cheek.

How easy it was for you to replace him…

“Hour 2045, surgery #1 is confirmed, Dr. Zayne.”

He tears his gaze away from you and nods; ignoring the hollow pang in his chest. 

“Let’s get it started, then.”

You didn’t expect to see Zayne in the distance when you returned back from a near death experience. 

A part of you wonders if your mind is playing tricks on you; if the adrenaline has you seeing things your tired brain can’t catch up with.

But, there he stands. Forlorn yet imposing. Expression a blank sleet. 

You swear he looks over in your direction, but when you look up, he’s walking away with a colleague, head bent low and eyes firmly on his tablet. 

How easy it is for him to walk away from me. 

“Hey.” Xavier brings you back to the present with a small smile and a cup of coffee in one hand. “No cream and three spoonfuls of sugar. Just like how you prefer it.”

You crack a smile, accepting the cup. “Are you sure you didn’t burn it this time?”

He chuckles, taking the spot next to you. “I told the nurse she had to make it and not me, so I wasn’t involved in the process whatsoever.” Your hunting partner blows steam off the cup, pursing his lips to sip on the dark liquid.

“Mhm. See? Sweeter than my burnt coffee.”

You follow suit and take a sip, nodding in agreement. “You’re right. It does taste better.”

Xavier follows your line of sight when he realizes you’re quieter than usual. His azure eyes land on the surgery tent in the distance where a few figures were milling around. 

“Are you worried for Tara?” 

You grip your cup tighter, fighting back a wave of self-loathing at what you had done.

“If I hadn’t asked her to accompany me near the fringe, none of this would’ve happened.” Your shoulders slump forward, and you feel Xavier shifting closer. “It’s all my fault, Xav. I could’ve gotten her killed.”

At the realization, tears prick your eyes. His arm hovers in your periphery and you sniff, imperceptibly nodding.

He wraps you in his one-sided embrace, holding your face close to his shoulder. “You couldn’t have known a protofield of that size would open. It’s not your fault.”

You thought back to Tara’s scared cries; how she dove head first to the ground to dodge the energy surges of that Berserk Wanderer.

The both of you would’ve perished if Xavier hadn’t stepped in at the last minute, breaking the field and swooping in to save you two.

“I need to apologize to her when she’s done,” you mumble softly, “I can’t get that mental image of her hurt out of my mind.”

As you spoke, someone familiar approached you. Blonde hair, blue eyes and a tight smile, Akso Hospital’s Dr. Greyson beckoned you over with a wave.

You shrugged Xavier’s arm off you and stood up, confusion clearly in your gaze.

“Hello! Miss Y/N, right? Dr. Zayne’s girlfriend? I need you to sign here as a witness for Miss Tara since her family is out of state.”

He procured a document and a pen. You took them mutely, unsure if it was rude to correct him on your updated status in Zayne’s life. But, figuring that it would be best not to trauma dump on a stranger, you sign your name on the dotted line without much resistance.

“Wonderful. Thank you. Dr. Zayne will step out and see you in a bit once he has some free time. In any case, please stay here and do not wander back for anymore Wanderers. We can’t have anymore of Linkon’s brightest Hunters hurt!”

Chipper and happy like he wasn’t in the middle of a dire situation, Greyson left you and Xavier alone.

“Nice guy.”

“Hmm,” you sit back down next to him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Zayne’s colleague. Older than him but a sweet one. I used to bribe him with fried chicken to get Zayne’s…” your breathing hitched, and you clear your throat. “... work schedule.”

Xavier’s body stiffens underneath your cheek and you immediately retract yourself away from him. “Sorry,” you mumble, unsure what had gotten into you; how you could’ve let yourself get this comfortable with your fellow Hunter of all people.

But, he shakes his head, patting his shoulder. “You can rest here if you want. I know you’re tired. I am, too.”

Cautiously, you lean your head back on his shoulder, eyes closing.

Xavier’s cheek gently rests on your head, and you hear him exhale tiredly. “I’m dead on my feet.”

“Mhm hmm,” you mumble, fighting the exhaustion caking heavily on your lids. “I could close my eyes and sleep for days.”

“That sounds like a wonderful time.”

The both of you take a second to rest, trying to recenter yourselves back to the reality of being safe and sound away from those terrifying Wanderers. 

You hear someone approaching, gravel crunching underneath a pair of boots.

“Y/N?” 

His soft voice fringes on your consciousness, and your eyes flutter open.

Zayne stands before you, tall and intimidating. There was no spark in his lustreless green eyes which flickered towards the dozing man by your side and then back to yours. You suddenly feel cold all over, like shards of ice were prickling underneath your skin.

It doesn’t matter what it looks like to him, you glance at Xavier and pat his shoulder, trying to get him to wake up. Zayne and I are long over. 

“I need to run a checkup on you. Hunter Association’s orders. Can you follow me, please?” 

Xavier stirs the second you nod, and releases you from the swathes of blankets. A clash of azure blue meeting clear green; both men staring each other down while you shifted awkwardly from foot to foot.

“Make sure she’s all right,” Xavier says in a soft voice, though you don’t miss the steel underneath it.

Zayne nods, and turns around. Barely even looking back to see if you were following him.

Wordlessly, you limp after his broad back, consciously touching your face and trying to smooth your hair down.

Inside the tent, Greyson smiles and leaves you two alone for the first time in days.

There’s a makeshift desk and a chair beside it. An examination bed that had been hastily drawn open stands, forlorn and waiting.

You take a seat by the desk, hands laced onto your lap and eyes on the dirt-packed floor. 

“Are you alright?” 

You don’t delude yourself into thinking there was a hint of concern in his tone. Zayne was just being your primary care physician at this moment—nothing more than his appointed role in your life.

But, wasn't there a time when he was more than this? 

You shake off those thoughts, giving him one-worded answers. 

“Yes.”

He drags the chair by the desk and sits on it, unfurling a binder and picking up a pen. It clicks loudly in the silence, exacerbating how alone you two were with each other.

“Any dizziness? Loss of hearing?” 

You shake your head. “No, Dr. Zayne. I feel fine.”

“Please look at me in the face. I am trying to give you an evaluation for your Association’s report and I need to make sure you meet the health standard.”

Exasperation mingled with professional arrogance laced his tone. You bristled, but did as you were told, lifting your face to meet his eyes.

Those green orbs were galaxies you could get lost in. Swallowing hard, you repeat what you had said, this time in a forceful tone. “I feel fine, Dr. Zayne.”

You make sure to emphasize on his title, not wanting to appear weak in front of him.

How you had cried for nights on end when he wouldn’t return your calls or messages and now here he was—feeling more like a stranger day by day.

You promised yourself you wouldn't be that stupid, brokenhearted girl anymore. This would be the last time you let Zayne play with your resolve and mind.

He picked up a flashlight, beckoning you closer. Cool fingers touched your face, and you nearly flinched when the bright beam permeated your irises. 

“My apologies,” he mumbled, and you thought he meant the intrusive medical checkup when his next words catch you by surprise. “I didn’t have time to answer your calls or messages. I was busy cleaning up after last week’s attack. Please, forgive me.”

He whispers that last part and your mind blanks.

You don’t know what to say, or how to react. So, you settle for silence.

Zayne frowns, clicks off the flashlight. He writes down his findings and brings out his stethoscope. 

The cool circle touches your pulse point, your chest. He closes his eyes, listens to your heart.

“It’s beating faster than usual,” he mumbles, removing eartips and going back to his report. “Any fatigue? Dizziness? Perhaps vertigo hitting you when you least expect it?”

You shake your head. “I’m fine, Dr. Zayne. I told you.” Sighing, you plaster your eyes back to the ground to avoid his piercing stare. “I don’t think you should waste your time on me. There are other patients who need your expertise—starting with Tara. But, thank you for seeing me, anyway.”

He doesn’t get a chance to dismiss you before you’re standing up and walking out of the tent with your head hung low.

Zayne doesn’t call you back, and neither do you turn around to give him one last look, like you always do before you leave his office.

Meters of silence and unsaid words stretch between the both of you; coldness replacing once fond memories.

The flap of the tent falls close and a forlorn wind whistles through the air, ruffling the papers on his desk.

Zayne tears his eyes off your form, ignores how his heart squeezes when he sees you returning back to Xavier’s side. 

The other man smiles at you, and the look on your face is far from detached. Warm and inviting, Zayne can’t recall when was the last time you looked at him like that.

Shit.

Never one to be steeped in regret, Zayne finds himself wishing he could turn back the hands of time; change his actions the second after he had lost control of his Evol.

Not only had he injured you, but he had left you behind like so many others did before. 

That was the one thing he promised your Grandma that day he dropped by for lunch: I will protect her with everything I have, ma’am. I will never leave her alone for long.

And this was the best he could give you? Broken promise after broken promise?

For the first time in his life, he feels like a failure; an idiot with nothing but a lofty title and his big-headed ego.

He sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

Zayne grimaces, knowing how well you could hold a grudge if you wanted to. It looks like he has to temporarily play the role of the fool to get you back.

However, he relents and accepts his fate: this Herculean task of winning back your heart.

He would never say it out loud, but he admired your tenacity and determination; how you would always stick to your principles and never let yourself be swayed by a different current.

Reclaiming back your love wasn’t going to be an easy task. You would put him through the wringer—he was sure of that.

But, it’s what he deserves; what he could stomach and take after treating you so cruelly.

It was time to let the begging game begin. 

“... Tara, what the heck is all this?”

You had walked into work one day to a deluge of roses heaping onto your desk. Tara was halfway signing off the delivery man’s note with a gleeful smile, before she turns and offloads the last huge bouquet into your arms.

“Looks like someone’s ex-boyfriend misses her.”

She winks and skips away, leaving you floundering with at least six bouquets of blood red roses swarming around your desk.

You flush with embarrassment when Jenna walks in, her expression one of open curiosity at the sight of all those flowers.

“Looks like you have a secret admirer,” your boss muses. “Or, someone’s boyfriend has done something really wrong. Wild shot—I’m leaning more towards the former.”

It was no secret you were dating Dr. Zayne, but to have it so brazenly rubbed into everyone’s faces was making you cringe from head to toe.

“I’m so sorry, Jenna,” you blurt. “I’ll toss this all out. Don’t want bees in anyone’s hair.”

You chuckle nervously when she gives you a look.

“Oh, don’t be silly. Just hand them to the gardener downstairs. I’m sure she’ll know what to do with them. Such pretty flowers would be wasted in the trash.”

Nodding, you pick up every single bouquet, struggling to not drop one on your way out of the office. Tara sits smugly behind her desk, not even offering to help; wanting to see how far your pettiness could take you.

“Good… morning?”

You peek past the crest of roses to find Xavier’s scrunched nose and confused expression examining the blooms in your arms.

“Morning,” you mutter hastily.

He drops his bag and plucks two bouquets from your arms.

“Are we throwing a party? Or, did someone from our department get engaged?”

You feel like you could spontaneously combust, steeling yourself to reply to his innocent question.

“These are… for me. I think.”

Xavier pauses mid-stride, glancing at you through lowered, ash blonde lashes.

“Oh. Are they from Zayne?”

You pretend not to feel your heart soar in your ribcage at the mention of his name, preferring to plaster on an irritated glare.

“I hope not. That wouldn’t make any sense.”

Xavier doesn’t prod anymore, and neither do you offer to keep the conversation rolling.

He helps you duly dispose of the roses, the gardener’s toothy smile a small consolation for saddling her with this many blooms.

Once you get back to your desk, you pick up your phone and bring up Zayne’s name, finger hovering over the call button.

But, you change your mind at the last minute and click on the chat bubble option.

Please don’t tell me you robbed an entire florist to send me those roses.

Send.

Instantly, a chat bubble appears, his reply coming faster than you expected. 

Your accusation is inaccurate. I did, in fact, leave the old man a huge tip for procuring those roses in record time. You’re welcome.

Brows knitted together, you fight back the urge to roll your eyes.

I don’t want them. Please, don’t waste your time or effort on me anymore. It’s not worth it. 

The bubble appears again. Then, it disappears. Reappears.

You wait on the other end with baited breath. Never did a pair of ellipses make your chest hurt this painfully; wildly thrumming heart caught in your throat.

Your tone suggests I am far from forgiven for what I did. If that is the case, would you like to join me for dinner at The Promenade tonight? I recall you adore their chestnut ice-cream. I can pick you up from your apartment. I would very much like to make amends, Y/N. 

Clear and dry cut. Zayne was putting all his cards on the table for you to pick apart and prod.

You switch your screen off, unable to formulate a response.

The memory of how coldly he had treated you resurfaces; the cruel blankness on his face. The ease in which he left you like a man who had done it many, many times before.

Tightening your hands into fists, you fight back a fresh wave of tears which threaten to take you under.

Someone clears their throat, and you snap back to the present, blinking hard and pretending you had something in your eye.

Bless his heart, Xavier willfully ignores your lapse of control; he gives you a small smile, gesturing towards the pantry. “They… just brought in some new instant noodle flavors. I was going to make a cup. Do you want some?”

You plaster on a fake smile, nodding. Suddenly, your stomach rumbles, and he exhales a laugh at the well-timed interjection.  

“Noted. The beef broth one?”

“Sounds good.”

“Roger that,” he turns on his heel, and you don’t know what possessed you to call him back. He turns, waiting for you to speak.

“What’re you doing tonight?” you blurt, and he pauses, tilting his head to the side.

“Not much. I have this movie I really want to watch. Why? Wanderer hunting?”

Knowing it was your favorite thing to do to let off some steam, he waits for you to formulate your response.

“No. I need to inspect something. At that forest again. Something about the fluctuation pattern those few nights ago… Something doesn’t add up.”

Xavier considers it, shifting from one foot to another. “And if we do find it? What, then?”

“We come back here and fill in the team,” you mutter. “And we can finally match the fluctuation pattern to Onichynus’ fabricated Protofield. It would give us a clue to their plans.”

Despite his reservations at letting you delve deeper into this conspiracy theory, Xavier had a hunch that if he didn’t follow you, you were bound to do it on your own.

Whatever happened between you and Zayne must’ve driven you down this frenzied yet determined path; choosing to prioritize your job over the feelings you haven’t sorted out yet.

And who was Xavier to complain? If he had a few more moments to spend with you, he would take it, no matter the motivation.

“Sure,” he shrugs. “I’ll meet you tonight at the Fringe. 8 o’clock.”

You nod, casting your eyes back to your phone’s dull screen. Zayne’s text message taunts you, and you sensed there would be hell to pay for ignoring him.

But, you turn off those thoughts and focus on your desktop, sorting out your emails and mission debriefs.

There were more urgent things on your plate that needed your focus than an indecisive ex-boyfriend.

The biggest storm of your life was on the horizon, and you were so sure that come tonight, you would finally get the answers you needed.

The tapping of his fingers on the table resounds like a metronome in this quiet restaurant.

Zayne picks up his cup of water, brings it to his lips and pauses. Setting it back down, he glances at his watch for what feels like the 178th time in an hour. A bouquet of fresh jasmines lie on his lap, and he thinks they might be wilting by the second for every minute you don’t show up.

Though it was unlike him to jump to conclusions, Zayne held a small flicker of hope that you would change your mind and see him tonight—despite how his text to you remains unanswered.

Someone clears their throat, knocking him out of his reverie.

“Sir, may I bring you some appetizers while you wait?” 

The waiter’s smile is thin, and behind his sincere question, Zayne senses the pity shining in his eyes.

It bothers him, somehow, that people would feel sorry for him. 

If anything, he thinks they should mind their own business; not jump to conclusions.

He heaves in a deep breath and shakes his head. “No. Please, get me the bill. I apologize for taking up your time.” 

The waiter nods and disappears back to the kitchen—presumably to gossip to his colleagues about a random lonely man he had to serve tonight who was stood up by his date.

Somewhere to his right, a table full of young women were eyeing him, whispering behind their manicured hands. But, he pays them no attention, signing the bill and standing up, clutching the bouquet of flowers by his side.

Zayne steps out of the restaurant, and notices the darkening sky roiling above. 

It was going to rain tonight and he hoped that wherever you are, you would have an umbrella on hand. He wouldn’t want you to get sick, and was about to pull out his phone and remind you when he stops short at a message flashing across his screen.

She’s hurt.

Dr. Greyson’s chat bubble appears, and then pauses. It starts typing again, and Zayne holds his breath, suddenly feeling uneasy all over.

Your girlfriend. You need to come to the hospital now.

He barely wastes anytime, rushing right to his car. Zayne guns it down the highway, straight for the hospital, no thought in his mind besides worrying for your safety. When he arrives, it was like that night he met you near the Forest; a nurse was hurrying into the ER, someone was yelling for more bags of blood, and there, in the fray, was Xavier, broad sword strapped to his back.

“What happened?”

Zayne feels his heart in his throat when Xavier turns to him, grim in the face.

“A calculated attack… an explosion.”

“Explosion?” The surgeon feels like his head is about to combust. A vein throbs in his temple and he narrows his eyes. “What caused it? Is she okay?”

“I’m trying to find out, too,” Xavier mumbles back. “Besides, it was my fault. You don't have to worry anymore after what you did to her.”

Frost sparks on his fingertips, and Zayne tries to control his temper; willing his Evol to stay in line.

It wouldn’t be wise to lash out at Xavier; it would do nothing but make you madder at him.

“Which surgery room is she in? I can help resuscitate her if necessary.”

The Hunter opens his mouth, but it's Dr. Greyson who interjects. “Dr. Zayne, she’s in Operation Theatre 2. Awaiting anesthesia.” 

Zayne turns on his heel, leaving Xavier alone with his silent judgement.

“I need a full body evaluation on the patient to determine the exact location of overpressures and debris. Keep the defibrillator on standby. What category is the blast coded as?”

“Tertiary, Dr. Zayne.”

He swore under his breath, wincing. The same blunt force injuries that would traumatize a person who was involved in a car crash, fall, or collapsing building. 

What did you get yourself into, Y/N? 

Zayne has no time to ruminate; he has to save your life.

A hand on his shoulder stops him. Greyson’s heavy eyes permeate through his soul, rooting him to the spot. For a single second, the fatherly concern shining in his gaze reminded him of another elderly doctor; one who was forever lost in Mount Eternal. “Are you sure you can do this, Dr. Zayne? Are you well enough to take on this task?”

The implicit concern was clear.

This is your girlfriend we’re talking about. Can you handle trying to bring her back from the brink of death?

Zayne nods, bracing himself for another long night.

“I will try to undertake this with everything I have, Dr. Greyson.” 

He stops, correcting himself. “I have to undertake this with everything I have, Dr. Greyson. I believe I do not have a choice.”

Suspended. Floating.

Trapped.

It was completely dark where you were, no light but a flickering blue ember in the distance. Reaching out to it, you found it dancing just out of your reach; taunting you with even more confusion. 

You had no idea how you came to be here or what happened that led you to this strange place. 

In this limbo, time neither exists nor moves forward. 

You were just here. Just being.

Hours must’ve passed. Or, was it days?

You felt a softness wrap around you. Once or twice, you thought you remembered the feel of someone’s lips on your forehead. The shape of a hand whose fingers intertwined with yours. A whiff of a familiar cologne you couldn’t quite place.

It was dark where you were, but you were never alone.

Someone was always beside you. Talking to you. Drawing you closer and closer to that blue flame.

“... I’m sorry…”

You caught that word a lot.

Sorry. 

Sorry. 

But, for what?

Who was that voice apologizing to? 

And what had they done wrong?

You would never know the answer. Except, one day, it appears before you, shining like a periwinkle blue sky opening to a new world.

The blue flame glows brighter, almost encompassing you. 

Please… I’m scared… 

You tried to scream, tried to push back.

But, it grew bigger and brighter. About to swallow you whole.

Was this how a new star was born? Did they see an unbearably bright light before they were engulfed in the flames of being? 

Were you a star right now?

The flames hurt—fuck, they were lapping at your hands. Your arms. Your flesh turns a sickly pale blue, about to drop off your bones.

But, you don’t fight back this time. The burn feels almost sacrificial. Sacred.

Like a ritual you had to push through to see the other side.

So, you gritted your teeth and dug your heels in the ground; staying absolutely still. Letting the embers flicker at your feet, caress your sides and hair.

“... she’s waking up!”

“... quick… nurse!” 

“Zayne… she’s back…”

There’s a commotion in the distance. You feel like you’re about to orbit another universe, your space ship drifting and attempting to dock with this strange planet’s gravity system. 

The bright light pierces through your sticky lids, and you feel askew, like you could fall off this new planet’s axis anytime.

A familiar sharp scent permeates your nose, and you groan, the sound low and groggy.

“Ssh, don’t be scared.” His voice is familiar, a low timber which sounds exactly like home. “I’ve got you. Come back when it feels safe for you.”

Despite your hesitation, you drift back into the abyss, feeling the warmest brush of lips on your forehead again.

You want to reach out to that bright light, hold it in the middle of your palm. Fighting hard now, you wade past the molasses of your sluggish mind, forcing one eyelid to pry open. And then, another.

Finally, you blink, slow and unhurried. Swiveling your head to the side, it felt like you were in slow motion, every action delayed by three seconds.

The word was entirely made up of a blur. It was all too white. Too loud.

Someone cradles your face, and your world tilts. You find yourself sitting up slightly, a familiar face you knew and loved swimming into view.

His bright green eyes solidify, and you make a sound in the back of your throat.

“It’s alright,” he whispers, full of reassurance and relief. “It’s quite alright, my Aurora. You’re safe now. Safe here.”

“Z… Zay… Zayne?” 

You force your tongue to cooperate; it feels like a clumsy eel in your mouth, twisting and turning in a slippery mess. Moans and low grunts emitted from the back of your throat, and you wince with every word you struggle (and fail) to enunciate.

“Ssh,” he mumbles, and you feel something circular and hard slipping in between your lips. “It’s water. You have to drink it from the straw. Do you remember how to sip?”

The motion comes back after a few tries, and you hesitantly imbibe the cooling liquid. 

“Good girl,” he whispers, patting your head gently. 

You struggle to pin your eyes on him, wondering what type of lights were shining above for him to appear so bedazzlingly in front of you.

The room is empty, and it’s only him here with you. Outside, the world was pitch black, but here, you feel like every beam was dancing in Zayne’s eyes; the relief in them washing over you, calming your spiking heart rate.

“You’ve been in a coma for three days, Y/N,” he informs in a low whisper, sitting beside you. Taking your hand, he presses it to his lips, kissing each knuckle reverently. “I don’t want to push you, but you need to rest. You suffered quite the blast from that attack.”

It all came back to you in an instant: Xavier’s wide, azure eyes, the flash of golden light. Searing pain and an impenetrable darkness.

You start to shake, and Zayne notices, immediately bringing another blanket from your bedside shelf and wrapping you in it. When that doesn't work, he twines his arms around you, pulling you to his chest. Ever so tender, he cradles your body, gently rocking you from side to side like you were a terrified child.

“It’s alright. It’s alright. You’re alright. It is normal to feel shocked after what happened. But, you’re safe, my Aurora. I have made sure of that.”

You paw at his shirt, fighting to roll the words off your tongue; remembering the unanswered text message and your instant regret when you realized far too late during your failed mission that you had basically told him not to care for you anymore.

“S… Sorry…”

“Please,” he says in a soft, tired voice. “No more apologizing. Don’t ever apologize, Y/N. It was never your fault.”

Zayne tilts your head up, his eyes soft and warm in the dark blue expanse of this hospital room. His thumb grazes your cheek, your jaw and lower lip. 

“You should rest,” he murmurs, smiling when you start to pout. “Alright, my love? I am right here. I will keep you safe.” Leaning forward, he presses the softest kiss to your forehead, its warmth achingly familiar.

“I love you. Please—rest.” 

You close your eyes, inhaling his comforting scent. Nodding off, the last thing you felt was his lips in your hair, his soft whisper of, “I am so sorry for how I treated you” dissipating into the recesses of your subconscious.

Once more, you succumb to the darkness, but this time, you do so with open arms.

“Bedrest and lots of fluids,” Dr. Carol says sternly, much to your chagrin. 

Her salt and pepper eyebrows shoot up, daring you to fight back. You stay silent, staring at your lap glumly. 

The day is much too nice to be bound in bed; sun streaming in through the frosted glass windows, cherry blossoms dotting the sill and bird song fills the air—the heart of winter thawing right into a dazzling spring. 

Zayne is beside you, holding onto your purse while the doctor gives her diagnosis, trying hard not to smirk at your crestfallen expression. 

“I will write a note to the Hunters Association to give you a month off. Lay off the dangerous missions, wandering into closed off zones, and getting yourself into trouble.”

She signs the paper with a flourish, tears it, and hands it to Zayne. Not even giving you a chance to protest. 

“Thank you for the diagnosis, Dr. Carol,” your boyfriend says with a curt nod, pocketing the strip.

She returns his gesture, pushing her rimmed glasses up her blunt nose. “You take care of her, Dr. Zayne. Keep her out of trouble.”

Zayne helps you stand, letting you lean against his arm for support. “Oh, believe me. This little Hunter will be very well rested before she’s finally allowed back onto the field.”

You fume next to him, though with your warming cheeks, Zayne thinks you look a lot like an adorably pissed chipmunk. Before the door closes, you remember to politely give a small bow to Dr. Carol, despite how you were livid at her treating you like a wayward child. 

“Don’t pout,” he murmurs, poking your side as you both tread down the narrow hallway. You flinch, glare deepening. 

“What am I going to do for one month? Sit around and collect dust? Zayne, you have to speak to her. I can’t stay at home all the time,” your tone goes whiny, and he musters a quick chuckle.

“Darling, you know I can’t just interfere with another doctor’s advice. Besides, I wholeheartedly agree with the decided diagnosis.”

Warm sunlight spills across your cheeks; you take mincing steps, still getting used to walking after a full week of rotting on the hospital bed. But, Zayne is patient with you, holding onto your arm while he keeps you steady, matching his pace to yours.

He continues. “You’ve been overworking yourself since we took a break. You need to rest before your body shuts down.”

At the reminder of the separation you both endured, you made a face. “Maybe I should’ve stayed broken up with you for a little while longer to find my answers…”

“And risk throwing yourself headfirst into more conspiracy theories like a pig-headed fool? Be grateful we were given another chance,” he retorts without missing a beat. “You would be severely injured if I weren’t here to give you a voice of reason.”

You quieten, watching a cherry blossom break off a tall branch and float to the ground. 

Zayne notices your silence, and nudges you. Glancing at him, you see a shadow of a smile etched on his lips. 

“I know you must miss the outside. How about we come to an agreement? Take your medication, get loads of rest, and I’ll bring you out every evening to see the cherry blossoms. Would this be more suitable for a ‘punishment’, my Aurora?”

Your heart skips a beat; you’ve missed hearing your favorite term of endearment from him.

“Okay,” you murmur, considerably happier. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” Holding out your pinky right in his face, Zayne chuckles again, but indulges you, wrapping his smallest finger with yours.

“It is a deal,” his voice is softer, fringed with amusement and tenderness. 

Zayne is a man of extremes; rarely meeting you in the middle.

When Dr. Carol had advised against strenuous activities for at least a week while your body heals, she didn’t take into account that Zayne would refuse to even touch you in any way other than as a caregiver.

He would fix your meals, help you around the house, and even tenderly bathe you if you so much as breathed a request for it.

But, he would never—in any circumstances—take it further.

How long has it been since we’ve last been together?

You fidget in your seat, staring out a window. 

Far too long, the answer comes back to you like a nefarious whisper. You should do something about it.

And you do have a plan. Granted, it’s half-baked and needs a dash of liquid courage to work, but nevertheless, it was a plan. 

Zayne would be home in exactly an hour, and that was the bulk of time needed for you to get ready.

You washed your hair, brushed your teeth, did your skincare and makeup; there was an attempt to style your locks but you gave up halfway only to let it air dry while you slipped on some silky lingerie. It was his favorite set—black and lacy with a sheer mesh covering the cups that left little to the imagination.

Catching your lower lip in between your teeth, you try to rearrange yourself on the sofa, chest out and hoping your lipgloss hadn’t faded yet; squirming to position your limbs so that it didn’t look like you were a splayed starfish.

The door unlocks, and you hold your breath, a big grin fighting to break through your expression.

Zayne blinks the second he notices you, his doctor's coat bundled up in one arm and the other hand holding his briefcase.

“... Hello?”

You sit up, hoping to God you were at least seductive when you cross your legs, giving him a sweet smile.

“Hello, doctor. Welcome home.”

Those gorgeous green eyes flit to your chest, and his jaw ticks under your scrutiny.

You expect him to at least compliment you, or ask what you were doing in bewilderment. Not say—

“You are going to catch a cold if you keep this up.”

Before you can react, he sets down his briefcase and wraps you in his coat, drawing you to his side.

“Zayne—” you mumble, dismayed. He keeps you tightly to his chest, like you were going to disintegrate without his support anytime soon. “Zayne!” You fight free from his grasp, giving him an exasperated glare.

“Hello? Here I am trying to seduce you, and you just mother henned me!” Pressing your palms flush to his broad pecs, you push him back firmly—exasperatedly. “This is so embarrassing!” 

Petering off into a whine, you huff and cross your arms. Missing how his eyes darken ever so slightly at the sight of the skimpy fabric stretching across your tight nipples.

Taking in a deep breath, Zayne fights the urge to throw you over his shoulder and give your ass a firm squeeze (or smack, seeing as how his self-control was steadily declining). You were making it so hard to keep his composure under lock and key. He channels that frustration into a huge sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

“You are single-handedly the most infuriating woman I know on this planet.”

Without warning, he nudges you back, until you’re flush with a wall. He leans forward, and you hold your breath, feeling his eyelashes flutter against your jaw.

“You know other women?” 

He can’t fight back an exhaled laugh at your petulant words. “No. Of course, not. None of them can compare to you, my Aurora.”

His minty cool breath fans across the sensitive strip of your neck, drawing goosebumps down your arms. 

“You are so infuriating,” he noses the length of your jaw, breathing you in. The heat emanating from his broad chest is overwhelming; it makes you dizzy with lust, thighs squeezing together to alleviate the tension throbbing in between them. 

“A menace… you’re impossible to deal with.”

His large, veiny hands grip the fleshy domes of your ass, squeezing them heartily. “Haven’t had you in so long.” Longing coats his every husky exhale. “I miss you so much… but, you aren’t at your peak health, my love. I do not want to hurt you again.”

Zayne’s dizzying warmth distances away from you and you actually cry out softly, grappling onto his shoulders to keep him in place. He gasps, low and taken aback, hips clipping into yours.

“No, please…” you feel your face burning up; never were you this desperate to feel him. “I need you, Zayne. I really, really need you.”

His groan reverberates in his chest, sounding like it came straight from his tortured soul. “You’re going to kill me.”

“Please,” you whimper. “I need you.”

Strong hands lift you up, pin you right to the wall. 

Zayne doesn’t give you any time to breathe. His mouth is on yours, ravenously drinking your moans and mewls. 

For a man whose Evol is ice, his hands run ridiculously warm; grabbing at any flesh he can find purchase on—your thighs, ass, breasts—squeezing them firmly. 

Fuck, you gasp into his mouth. Oh… Zayne… 

The room spins, nothing but the sound of your blood rushing through your ears filling your mind.

He sucks on your bottom lip, desperately rutting his hips into yours. You feel him growing harder against your thigh, straining behind his slacks.

Boldly, your tinier hand rests on his bulge. 

Naughty girl, he rasps. You’re asking for trouble now, little one.

A shiver runs up your spine which has nothing to do with his now colder hands running down your sides.

His Evol drops the temperature around the room, a faint glow of blue ice coating his fingertips. He runs those freezing pads down your exposed skin, catching right on the tops of your breasts. Your pelvis. Inner thighs.

You cry out when he teases your mound through the lace with those cold fingers, back arching wantonly.

“I want to see this pussy beg for me,” he murmurs. “I want to see her drip.”

Slowly, like you were a present he was leisurely unwrapping, Zayne pushes down your bra straps, until the cups are barely clinging to your heaving tits. He presses loving kisses down the strip of your throat, stopping shy of your areolas. 

Stop teasing me, you whine, and his warm breath caresses your nipples as he exhales a laugh. 

I can’t… I’m having too much fun, my Aurora. 

He licks and sucks on them until they’re dripping with his spit, achy and tender to the touch. While he loves on your nipples, one hand slips in between your thighs, finding your twitching center.

Zayne eases the seat of your panties out of the way, and you bite down on a whimper when the cool air brushes your swollen clit and damp folds.

“So wet,” he murmurs. One finger drags through the slick mess, finding your clit and rubbing circles on it tenderly. 

Proving he was more man than robot like how you always teased him, Zayne slides to his knees and looks up at you with pure devotion.

I’m going to eat you out right now, my Aurora, he whispers. Is that alright with you?

Fuck, yes. You almost scream. He didn’t need to even ask; you were begging for it. His tongue, friction, anything—you swore you were about to die from the anticipation. 

Hitching your right leg over his shoulder, he eyes your pussy with a dark look, one which makes you think of a predator cornering his prey. 

She’s so pretty, he muses. I wonder if she’s missed me at all.

“Yes,” you breathe into the darkening living room. The blinds are still wide open, streetlights staining his apartment floor a warm, orange glow.

She’s missed you so much, Zayne. 

The sight of his pink tongue flitting out to touch the corners of his lips, the perfect arch of his cupid’s bow running against the slinky lace, almost makes you explode.

Prying your panties crotch to the side with his teeth, Zayne breathes in your scent, his perfect nose pressed right to your glistening cunt.

“Good,” he mumbles to himself. “Because I’ve missed her like crazy, too.”

His tongue running through your folds catches you by surprise, your cry rebounding across the room.

If it weren’t for his strong grip around your thighs and waist, you would’ve melted to the floor like a snow draft on a hot summer’s day. Zayne held you up as he ate you out; lips and tongue giving you the sweetest friction you had been dreaming of.

You’re so worked up, he breathes in between sinful licks. Zayne mouths your clit, tongue sliding through your folds like he was made for this. There’s nothing but the wet sounds of his mouth on you; his tongue flattens, and you drag your clit over it, hips twitching, getting yourself off.

His cock twitches and he knows he would be the one to swallow his own words; how he wants to get you dripping when he’s the one leaking in his pants like a horny teenager.

Fuck, fuck, Zayne mumbles, peppering kisses on your inner thighs. He bites on the plush flesh, loving how you tense and squeal.

His teeth grazes the sensitive flesh, making you flinch. You’re so responsive, it’s making him heady.

Deep groans well from his broad chest, and you swell with pride. Only you had the power to make the reserved, stoic, measured Zayne go crazy on your taste. 

And he duly gives you the credit you deserve.

“You drive me insane,” he mumbles, lips brushing your skin. 

It’s intimate—how he’s looking at you. Those thick, black lashes that frame his perfect emerald eyes lowering; lust pooling in their depths. 

Zayne’s lips are puffy, coated with your juices. There’s a light pink dusting on the high of his cheeks. 

“Are you alright?” he mumbles softly, running those large hands you love up and down your thighs.

You nod, teeth catching on your lower lip. “Zayne,” softly, you voice your need. “Can you please fuck me?” 

How polite. He fights back a smirk, lowering your right leg back to the ground, giving your inner thigh a soft kiss.

He stands back to his full height, towering over you. His sheer size makes your heart quicken, and your back presses flush to the wall, anticipation right in your throat.

But, he’s gentle, as he always is, when he takes your hands, pressing them to his chest.

“Undress me first, my Aurora.”

A stern command wrapped in silk—I won’t touch you until you show me how much you want it.

Your shaky hands move to his shirt, tugging on it until those pesky white buttons loosen. Scars line his chest and pecs, each of them a road your tongue, lips and fingers have explored. Down his stacked torso, more of those white indents make a home on his skin, and you briefly touch them, grazing your fingers on the happy trail leading right to his defined ‘V’. 

The buckle of his belt goes next. You slip it off, working on his slacks and underwear. Zayne silently watches, not giving a reaction. He loves this part; how you huff and warmth surges on your cheeks—hating how much of a tease he was.

But, you’re always an obedient little thing for him. 

You would do as he said, knowing the rewards that lie behind these slight humiliations.

He shrugs his shirt and pants off, and you’re already on him.

Fumbling in the cocooning darkness, your lips paint over his collarbone and neck, right to his jaw. Zayne leans down, kisses you fully on your mouth as he lifts you back into his arms.

Swiftly, your legs wrap around his narrow waist, and he brings you straight to the couch; too impatient for the bedroom.

Your back meets the soft surface, a cushion haphazardly arranged underneath your head so you didn’t have to strain your neck. 

The mastermind has thought of it all. Your musings were cut short when he unhooks your bra, a deft, fluid motion with little to no fumbling. A surgeon’s hands surely were the steadiest.

But, they trembled lightly when he plucked at the band of your thong, gently tugging it down your thighs. 

Beautiful, he whispers, half to himself. 

Zayne, please. You twine your fingers in his hair, tugging his face closer to yours. Feeling his warm breath on your lips. Don’t keep me waiting. 

Hold on, beautiful. Zayne slots himself in between your legs, letting them rest around his waist. He grips your left thigh, hooking it on his shoulder and turns his head slightly to give your plush calf a kiss. His cock catches your attention, fully hard and glistening with pre-cum. Like his physique, it was girthy and thicker; imposing and intimidating. 

Will it fit inside of me after so long…? 

A bead of his excitement pearls on his tip, rolling down the impressive shaft. You smear it across his tip with your thumb, not missing how he shivered.

“I’ll go slow, darling,” he mumbles, locking your fingers with his, drawing your hands above your head and keeping it there with one hand. “Tell me if it hurts, alright?”

He kisses you fully on your parted mouth, drinking in your hitched gasp. I love you, my Aurora. 

Giving his cock a few strokes, he lines it right to your drooling hole, dragging his tip through your folds to prime you up. 

The thickness of him breaches past your tight opening, and you cry out, back arching. Zayne shushes you, focused on not splitting you open too fast. 

Shit, you’re tight, he hisses. I may not be able to hold myself back, my Aurora.

You shake your head, glossy eyes making something in his chest twinge. Don’t—let me feel you entirely, Zayne. 

“Almost,” he mumbles, and you feel the glorious stretch; how it burns in the best way. 

The sounds falling from your mouth were much too lewd, easily heard past the thin walls; though at this rate, you didn’t care who would complain.

He breathes hard, sweat bulleting down his forehead. Finally, with one push, he’s fully sheathed inside of you.

The both of you groan in relief, his forehead knocking softly into yours. He lets go of your hands, letting them wound around his broad shoulders.

You bury your face in his neck as he starts to move, tentatively rolling his hips to get you used to him again. 

“Taking me so well even after so long,” he breathes hard. “You’re always so perfect for me, aren’t you, my Aurora?” 

Mhm, your slurry moan brushes his heated ears. 

Falling apart. He was dissolving for you faster than snow under the sun. 

“I can feel your pretty pussy fluttering around me.” He brushes his lips across your cheeks and nose, those gorgeous heavy lidded emerald eyes sending jolts down your spine. “You really wanted this.”

You can’t do anything but moan for him, pleasure unfurling across your body like a cresting tidal wave. 

His hips clipping heavily into yours, the dense sensation of his cock filling you up over and over again, coarse pubic hair catching on your clit—all of it were slowly edging you towards the biggest release of your life.

He fucks you slower this time, wanting to draw out the moment. 

Weeks of separation and anxiety were condensed within this singular moment; thick gasps flowing from his mouth into yours and back again, filling the air with an unbearable tension.

I love you, he repeats again, figuratively and literally drilling his devotion into your lax body. I love you so much, my Aurora. 

My Aurora. Mine. 

His.

Zayne’s possessiveness leaves you reeling, overwhelming your senses. He was right, as he always was; you belonged to him, body, heart and soul. Every beat of your heart, every trembling breath—it was all his.

Only he could fuck you this good; this deep. Only he could make you tremble from such an onslaught of emotion and sensation. 

His thumb slips into your mouth, pressing down on your tongue; your lips hollowing around it, sucking on his digit like you would his cock. 

Good girl, he rumbles, removing his thumb and replacing it with his index and middle finger. So good for me—you’re my sweet little girl, aren’t you? 

Yours, you mewl, mouth and voice thick with his digits. All yours, Zayne.

The pressure builds—reaching a fever pitch. All of it piles up; heady breaths, sloppy thrusts, his moans and groans slurred into your hair. 

He moves his mouth to your throat; sharp sting of his teeth blends with his murmured praises. But, you can’t focus on anything beyond his cock pumping inside of you, the mess he’s fucking out of you. It smells like sex in this room; musky and heady. 

The couch is shaking, clawed feet dragging across the floor. Somewhere in your foggy mind, it registers that his downstairs elderly neighbor would surely be storming up to confront him. But, no distractions exist when you’re in the circle of his arms. 

He probably wouldn’t even hear her knock over your keening moans.

Something about Dr. Zayne—the meticulous, righteous Dr. Zayne—ignoring someone’s distress because he was too busy fucking you, makes the taut string of your impending orgasm snap. 

Good girl, he whispers; groans when he feels your nails stab into his shoulders. Doing so good for me. Generous hands grip your ass, lifting your back slightly off the sofa. Can you give me another one? 

His selflessness would be the death of you. Zayne hadn’t even cum once—too focused on your needs.

Your head lolls back, feathery moans tainting the air with pure sin. Your thighs spread further, taking him deeper.

“Zayne…”

“My Aurora?” 

He groans softly when you glide your tongue over the shell of his ear, breathily moaning, “Can you please cum for me?”

Strong shivers wrack his body; his sharp mind drawing a blank.

“Please,” you mouth his pulse point, drawing your hands back to his hair to give his dark locks a tug. “Give it to me, please… wanna feel you all hot and pulsing inside of me.”

Fuck, he bites your shoulder, thrusts growing sloppier. Fuck, fuck—

He’s been holding back on you; not wanting to hurt you when you wanted it to hurt. 

You wanted the heat, the overwhelming need. Whining, you whimper please, please, please, over and over again. 

Give me your cum, Daddy. 

That does it. Zayne grits his teeth, a lusty groan of pain and ecstasy brushing against your neck. His cum fills you up steadily, first in spurts, then a fulfilling warmth which coats your walls, drawing deeper into your body with every pulsing contraction; a mini release set off by his own.

He slumps over you, skin growing cooler to the touch. You glide your fingertips over his sharp shoulder blades, feeling frost coating your fingers. They melt instantly at your touch, leaving your skin damp with both sweat and the residue of his Evol. 

Zayne shudders, rubbing his cheek against your jaw and neck like a sated beast.

You twitch your hips, and he pulls out slightly; the fullness of him unplugging and dribbling down to join the mess of both your releases onto the couch. 

He stays deep inside of you, lips tangled with yours; the both of you unable to let the other go.

“Are you alright?” he asks into the afterglow. You squirm a little, feeling his softening cock twitch. 

“Mhm hmm,” you flash him a satisfied smile and he fights back a chuckle. You wiggle your butt, biting on your bottom lip. “I love how full I feel of you right now.”

Zayne squeezes your hips, an exasperated and exhausted smirk gracing his perfect mouth. “Little minx.”

He holds your cheek, smoothes his thumb over your lower lip.

“You do know how much you mean to me, don’t you?”

His face is hazy, eyes soft and full of love in the faint light. 

You rest your palm on the back of his hand, melting into his warmth with your eyes half closed and a small smile lifting the corners of your lips.

“Perhaps.” 

You don’t give him time to recover from your quip, flipping him over, both of you still connected from base to tip. 

Zayne doesn’t think he’s ever seen such raw beauty held in one person before; how your skin glowed in the muted orange glow, pretty eyes filled with a passionate ruin.

“But, if you let me take care of you this time, Dr. Zayne, I might be inclined to believe so.”

His hands span across your lower back, smoothing down your hips.

“Anything,” he mumbles hoarsely, an accessory to your seduction. “Do anything you want to me, my Aurora.”

You mumble his name, honeyed with devotion and lust.

And Zayne doesn’t care how many times fate would push you two away; like the tide to the sea, he would always come back for you. 

As many times as it would take. For as long as he could.

“I love you, Zayne,” you whisper, tinier palms pressed to his chest; taking your turn to fuck him.

And he knows you would do it again, too; go through it one more time for him. It was the nature of your love—a push and pull as old as the sea tides. 

But this time—most definitely—he makes a firm vow that it would be the very last time you were taken away from him.

— it is safe to say i am insane over this man i fear. reblogs and feedback are appreciated !!

©️ all works belong to lalunaymph. do not copy, repost, translate or share across any other platform

[auspicioustidings]

Kinktober Day 31

SUGGESTED POTENTIAL NON-CON

You have completed your contract admirably soldier, I think our mutts may miss you - Laswell

It’s strange. You wake up without your alarm in your own bed and it’s strange. You go put the kettle on for a cup of tea and it’s strange.

You are no longer under contract for the Kennel. The month had been defined as 30 days, so here you are with more money than you know what to do with, a body that is aching from all the hedonism of the past weeks and an utter uncertainty about what comes next.

You suppose what comes next is taking a week off to recover and not have to think about it yet.

So you showered (had you had to wash your own body at all in the last month or had there always been someone to do it for you?), dressed and went to get groceries. You caught up on TV shows mostly once everything was packed away.

It was sort of nice having alone time but sort of not knowing that it was probably going to be like this for the foreseeable future.

You had still been contracted at the end of the day, so it wasn’t like you were suddenly going to develop the ability to date. It was just sex. Just a release for people who needed it and were too dangerous to get it from civilians.

So why did you feel so conflicted about the likelihood of never seeing them again?

—

The day went quickly, but the evening lasted forever as you laid on the sofa and just tried to process. At least until you heard something from your bedroom. Could have been nothing, but you didn’t have a veritable shit ton of military and special forces training to dismiss things that could be nothing.

You had checked your house as soon as you had gotten back and it hadn’t been touched, so you knew there was a gun safely stowed away in a drawer of the coffee table. You got it out slowly and stood, going to investigate the bedroom.

Now you had never actually seen Ghost masked up before, it wasn’t like he cared about hiding his identity in the Kennel and the people he was around weren’t in any position to judge his scars, but you’d recognise those eyes anywhere. He was looking at the photo on your bedside table, you and your cat (she had died a few years back and it didn’t seem fair to adopt another when your work meant they would be staying with a neighbour most of the time).

“Gonna shoot me princess?” he asked, still looking at the photo.

“The Kennel shouldn’t be escapable” you said, keeping your gun trained on him.

“It’s not. Not if I was trying to get out alone. But give me a group of very motivated soldiers? Becomes a lot easier then” he said as he placed the photo back where it was and turned to you, arms crossed. “Get your sweet arse packed, I’m taking you home.”

“Nice try” you said, both hands steadying the gun.

“Gonna shoot me?”

“I don’t want to Ghost. You need to leave.”

“Then sink a bullet into me princess, because I’m not leaving without you and I don't much care if you're conscious for the trip.”

You aimed for his shoulder, just a warning graze but it must have hurt like a bitch as it took off a chunk of skin at the surface and his body jolted with the force. Good thing you picked a rural house, there were farms around here so gun shots weren’t totally uncommon with critters coming to feast on chickens.

“Yes you are.”

“Hmm” he chuffed, seemingly a little surprised you had actually shot him but not at all put out by it. “You never did let Mace fuck you with a gun did you? Could be fun you know.”

You were hopeful that it didn’t show on your face that your dumb hind brain found the idea a little hot. Mace had threatened it when you were playing the part of the doe-eyed step-daughter who idolised a daddy that definitely wanted to fuck her. Would he have went through with it?

“And if I said red?” you asked because there in lay the issue.

Under contract you had some protection. You did not imagine the same would apply if he took you back now.

You were furious with yourself when your wrists were twisted and Price disarmed you. You should have been paying attention behind you, should have considered that Ghost would hardly have come alone.

“Depends on my mood sweetheart. If I really think you need it I’ll let you safeword.”

You went for him, tried to get him down so you could rush past and get out of the situation. But your hand to hand was rusty and he was stronger than you, so it didn’t take him long to get you pinned against him and restrained.

“So what you just kidnap me? You’re supposed to fucking run the Kennel but I’m starting to think you should be a resident sir.”

“So am I sweetheart. Of course if you lived there then being a resident doesn’t sound so bad.”

“I’m not spending the rest of my life in a prison because you want a personal whore.”

“You’d be free to come and go so long as you came back to us” Ghost said, calmly watching the whole exchange.

“And what? I just get a brief everyday of who I’ve to service?” you asked, bitterness flooding your tone.

God it was so stupid. The deal was technically good. You got to live a life of luxury, got freedom to come and go and got to be intimate with people that you foolishly held affection for. Would it be so bad? So what if it wasn’t real? So what if you were just a means to an end for them while you would be doomed to pine forever for reciprocation of what you were sure would bloom into love?

“You’d get briefs from people who want to spend time with you so you can choose if you want to or not” Price answered, squeezing you a little.

“And if I never say yes?”

“Unlikely. We all owe you orgasms after being so mean with them yesterday, don't you want what you're owed?” Ghost laughed.

“I told you I’d only listen to a safeword if I thought you really needed it sweetheart. What you’re describing is a situation where what you’d need is a good fucking to remember who you belong to.”

“I belong to myself John Price.”

“Technically that’s true in the eyes of the law and God” Ghost said, considering, sly.

You could feel Price harden against your ass and you made a sound of protest.

“Can’t help it sweetheart, he’s got wedding bells in my head.”

“I- excuse me?”

“Seems a fair trade. You’d agree to belong to me and by extension all my dogs in the Kennel, I’d agree to belong to you and by extension they would too. Fuck you’d look stunning in white” he groaned, hips rutting against you.

“White?” Ghost said with a smirk.

“Doesn’t count if she was under contract. I’m sure Farah will lend her something borrowed if it comes down to it.”

—

She did. You wore a little reddish bead on a necklace on your wedding day. Price barely made it though the ceremony given that he was rock solid the whole time. Fucking wife kink.

It took place in the Kennel of course so everybody could attend. Things had changed. Velikan was a temporary resident now, mostly because he enjoyed trailing a step behind you when you went out shopping. Soap was permanent on account of Ghost saying he was sick of not having 24 hour access to his holes. You’d have thought it was romantic from how Soap preened about it. Valeria was gone but she visited sometimes. That iron control of herself she had meant the Kennel didn't have much justification to keep her locked up.

You met Nikolai in person and discovered him and Price made a hell of a tag team.

And you got to see what it was like when someone new was brought in with Kreuger. It wasn't pretty. You wondered if they had all been as untameably violent and angry about it when they first got here. If not for Mace and König you weren't sure the guy would even be unchained ever, but to your surprise they gelled well with him and turned out very good at keeping him in check.

By the time there was a second wedding he had calmed a lot. Enough that he got to attend with everybody else when Farah got a ring on Alex (another ring you thought given the ink that looped around his cock).

The only mention of the gunshot wound Ghost had was jealous looks from Nikto. Sometimes you thought about that little brand sitting on Ghost's skin and how it might look burned into yours. There were still silvery marks from the knife and you were almost sad thinking about how they would likely fade entirely.

You didn’t stop working, but then you were one of the monsters now so may as well do what you were trained for. Your radio and signals room was state of the art and half the kit in it was definitely not legal, but at this point legal was a pretty meaningless concept. You did horrible things, but at least there were always warm bodies to keep the nightmares away. Plus you had a little fluff ball companion keeping you company since a cat had shown up out of the blue (you were fairly certain exactly who had brought her in but he never mentioned it).

Sometimes you got whisked away. Ale and Rudy took you to Ale’s family vineyard for a week in the Mexican sun. Calisto surprised you with a romantic night in Paris. Keegan shoved you in a ridiculous dress so he could show you off to his team and you paid him back for every dig he took at you that night. Gaz took you to a football game during which him, Nova and Price argued the whole damn time. Lots of holidays, lots of laughter and dare you say contented happiness.

Now you just had to avoid giving in to that pesky fucking pregnancy kink half of them had.

[oreo-creampie]

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fluff, some hurt, HEAVY COMFORT, slightly suggestive, suguru bites you once, soaping up suguru's body, hinting at height/size difference, hints at smoking and drinking with suguru, toji doesn't die, NO! he lives with you his wifey and learns how to help you look after megumi, established relationship, daddy/mama/princess, toji feeds megumi with a little struggle, tired!Satoru is doing his best, hints at satoru missing dates,

𝐟𝐞𝐲: had to write some fluff after that last episode, I can't! Let me comfort them all

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮

He's frozen beneath the rushing shower water. Steam rolls off his muscular back, facing toward you. Splaying his large hand on the wall, his broad shoulders tense. Paying you no mind as you slip into the slower with him.

Slipping your hand through his. "The girls are asleep in the pillow tent. With some cartoons playing for background noise." Trying to ground him, when his brain caught reliving the past. Letting your hand go, turning around, anger and hopelessness hollow his face.

Grabbing your hips, spreading Suguru spreads his large thick fingers out. "Thank you love. You good?" His cheeks are thinner, with deepening dark circles beneath his eyes. The coldness melts in his narrow chocolate-colored eyes. His frown softens to a flat line.

Holding his face, reaffirming, "We're good," as he leans down, passionately kissing you, gently groaning. Parting your lips for him to slip his tongue into your mouth. Hugging Suguru tightly.

Slowly he breaks away, trailing kisses from your jaw to your neck. Biting around the small scar left over from Toji almost slicing your head off, then leaving you to bleed out. Squeezing along your sides.

Biting your lip to keep from crying out when he sinks his teeth in deeper. "I got you sugar-bear. Lemme take care of you." He pulls away kissing your forehead. "I have a blunt waiting for us. We sit on the balcony. I'll brush your hair out." You grab his round sponge hanging next to a unicorn and dragon-shaped loofas.

He won't talk, but you could attempt to distract him momentarily. Give him the attention and care he shows the girls and yourself. "I love you sugar-bear." Pouring his wild lands scented soap onto it. The shampoo's back states a wonderful mix of eucalyptus, white birch, and cypress.

Scrubbing Suguru's broad, muscular chest, rubbing your fingers over his firm tits. Sliding your fingers over his well-defined abs. "I love you too princess.” Trailing his loofa down, scrubbing his v-line and dark short hair. Carefully smearing soap down his soft, fat cock. Careful to make sure soap doesn’t get into his cockhead.

Letting go of his cock to squeeze soap from the loofa into your palm, fondling his balls. Suguru brings up, “I was thinking of cooking breakfast with the girls." He parts his thighs enough for you to clean his ballsack.

Smiling up at Suguru, puckering your lips he lean down giving you a chaste, sweet kiss. "We got the stuff for triple chocolate chunk. You can have Mimi with the muffins. Ko can help me with the omelets and blueberry pancakes." Crouching in front of him, scrubbing down his well-toned, legs, lingering on his muscular thighs.

Lifting his foot, his pale cheeks flushing light pink. “You don’t need to do all this..I can wash myself.” Getting the other one, then standing up. “Aren’t you tired mama?" That is new, but you couldn't help but like the affirmation of his future wife and mother to both adorable girls.

Standing up, getting on the tip of your toes, he leans down for you to kiss his cheeks. Scrubbing his broad shoulders and neck. “I’m tired, but that doesn’t matter." Going down his muscular arm, grabbing his large hand, admiring the size difference between his and yours.

Switching to his other arm, "I want to daddy.” Suguru eyes widen momentarily, the corner of his lips pulling up into a soft smile. "We're a family aren't we, gotta make sure you’re taken care of." A couple of tears trickle down his cheek.

Holding your hand, rising the soap off, “All that's missing is a ring." Kissing your knuckles. "I'm so grateful I have you and the girls."

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

Two hours late.

'We should cancel, 😥 it's good. See you when you can make the time. I understand you're busy 😘😘. I'm going to get cozy, order some takeout.🍴You got the key, be quiet coming in if I'm asleep.'

Unzipping your dress, slipping out of it. Walking into the bathroom to toss it the hamper of barely worn clean worn that you need to hang back up. Setting your phone down, it buzzes. It's screen lights up a text from Satoru.

'Got caught up. We can still go, I got time.'

You want to go with him on late night date, but you can’t stop thinking of his bloodshot, tired eyes the last time you got a peak. It has you thinking getting a full night’s rest sounds better.

'I know you're trying. If you can come in the next few by we chill, I'm tired 🥱 n' want to fall asleep with you watching some cartoons. 👩🏾‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼You could use some rest for once, 😴😴 otherwise this is the last kiss for a week. 😤����'

Snapping a quick video, blowing him a quick kiss. Adding I love you for the caption. You're cleaning your face when Satoru responds.

'Noooo you can't! EVIL. ✋🏻 I don't need sleep, fine 😒 😫😩😫😒 I'll sleep if you stay in the bed with me. 🥰🥰 I'll come right over in another hour 😖🥺.' 'Can you wait to eat till then, 🥺🥺 I'll bring something, anything you want. I left some work clothes over? I can walk around your naked 🥴'

Taking your fash wash, lotion, and face/eye mask out to start your face care routine. Waiting to see if Satoru would have anything else to say before texting him.

'Cleaned them so they smell like lavender. 😁 N' got some comfy clothes for you if you want them, you'll look good. 😮‍💨 But I don't mind seeing your sexy ass sleep-deprived ass resting naked in my bed.’

Opening Satoru’s blurry Snapchat video of him loudly proclaiming his love from an unknown location. There’s a loud boom marking the end of the video. Your chest tightens, breathing in till your lungs are about to burst and the slowly letting it go. Refusing to indulge obsessively thinking about everything that could go wrong.

It’s an hour later when Satoru sends; ‘I get kisses 👩🏾‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼👩🏾‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼👩🏾‍❤️‍💋‍👨🏼 and morning boob if I sleep? 😍😍 Also what are you craving sweetheart?’ Among setting your bed up with the squish-a-mellows Satoru adores cuddling into. You figured out what you want.

‘Cơm tấm! And the usual comfort favorite dessert. At least seven hours! ✋🏽😤 then morning boob 🥰😘’

The next time you hear from him is when Satoru announces, “I’m home! Give me kisses if you want your food.” Rushing into the living room, where he holds your take out above his head. Pointing at his cheek with an enormous grin on his face.

Loudly kissing his cheek and the tip of his nose with a “Mmmaw!” Grabbing the food once he lowers it. “Come on I got the bedroom cozy for us with some stuffed animals for you to knock off by morning.” Wrapping his arm around your waist, leaning down loudly covering your face in kisses.

Kissing your lips last, his breathy moan sounds as if he’s been waiting for this all day. Parting your lips for him for his tongue. He’s kisses are so gentle, passionate, and beautiful noisy. Slipping your fingers through his, breaking away, tugging him towards your bedroom.

“I’ll give you more kisses after I get you undressed, and relaxing before you fall over from exhaustion.” Taking the food from him, it’s crinkles sounding louder in the small space of the hallway.

Satoru scoffs, “You worry too much.” His large soft hand enveloping yours is comforting. He’s here, able to relax, and get some well needed rest.

Squeezing his hand, he squeezes back, “You shouldn’t worry, I’m the strongest.” Rolling your eyes, shuffling into your bedroom, dimly lit by vanilla and cinnamon candles.

Setting the food aside on the bedside table. “Don’t care what you call yourself, doesn't matter how strong you are," He flops onto your bed, burying his face into a multicolored squish. "You’re still mine to worry about, and care for.” He rolls over, pulling his mask up temporarily.

His dark circles have gotten bigger, the whites of his eyes tinted pink. “Can have a kiss n’ be small-“ he pauses yawning, "spoon tonight?”

𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

Wiping the sleep out of your eyes, shuffling towards Megumi's bedroom. "Latch fucker, you'll like the damn food n' sleep like baby." The golden glow of the lamp lets you see frustrated Toji cradling a grumpy Megumi trying to bottle-feed him.

Megumi is pressing his lips in a firm line, failing his chunky baby arms the best he can, kicking his little feet. Silently protesting the bottle Toji has.

Keeping your voice low, "He's going to mimic you when he can speak." You sit in the second rocking chair and leaning over. Smiling at your husband and son, Megumi's grumpy face matches Toji's too well.

Toji's eyes are bloodshot. "Then what do I do? Tell me so I can start figurin’ out how to be a good dad." His voice is rough, and you can smell whiskey on his breath. He's been up having a glass after another nightmare.

Megumi holds his hands out for you Toji scoffs, “He hates me already. What the-ugh.” You hold your hand out for Megumi to grab onto one of your fingers. His grip gets stronger with each passing month.

Megumi finds comfort in holding your hand, trying to put your fingers in his mouth. Settling his kicking legs, holding them in close to his self. “He doesn’t, being a parent going to be challenging the whole time but we can do it together.” You don’t think your words reach him.

After years by his side he’s slowly divulged his fear of fatherhood. Letting you know part of his fucked up childhood in after some liquor loosened his tongue.

Megumi presses a hand to Toji’s cheek. He flushed pink, his eyes soften as Megumi grins. Kicking his little legs and cooing. You point out, “See he is just happy to see me. Since he has settled lightly put some milk on his lip. He'll lick it and then want some more.” Slowly pulling your hand away, Megumi lightly pats Toji’s cheeks with soft smack.

“Eyy! What this attacking you’re old man? I’m tryin’.” Toji gently squeezes the baby bottle, droplets of milk over Megumi’s bottom lip. His little tongue darts out to lick it, his eyes widen, letting go of your finger to try and grab the bottle. This time he latches when Toji gives it to him.

“There he goes!” You can hear the pride in your husband’s voice. Standing up kissing Toji’s cheek, and crouching down to kiss Megumi's forehead, overcome with love. "I love ya both, I'm tryin' sweetheart. At least he isn't crying at me anymore." Megumi manages to grab Toji’s fingers, digging in his quickly growing baby nails.

“We love you too Toji. Gumi will let you know when he gets a little older. It won't be too much longer and he'll be four years old running around with your grumpy face." Lightly rubbing Megumi's soft baby head, fuzzy with short, black fluffy hair.

Toji hisses, "Ow!" Looking up you, "when the kid gets older I can play some games with him. But for now, tomorrow we need to cut his nails." He wiggles his large finger that Megumi is latched onto. Standing up, yawning, stretching your arms out trying to keep yourself awake to enjoy this moment with your family.

Ghost your fluffy white cat scambles into the room, hoping onto Toji's lap. Softly sniffling Megumi. He lets go of Toji in favor of gently grabbing a tuff of Ghost's thick white cheek fur. "Hey, that doesn't mean you can join." Rolling your eyes.

You call Toji out, "You spoil Ghost more than I do. Don't act like you don't cuddle her, give her wet food, make sure her fur isn't tangled." Easing Megumi's hand out of Ghost's fur. She hops onto the side table, adoringly staring up at Toji awaiting her moment to have his attention.

You add, "I've seen how hard you've worked on yourself to be a better man for me to marry. Now I know you'll do the same for our baby." Megumi closes his eyes, his suckling slowly down. Milk trickled down his chin onto the little towel Toji put, trying to keep Megumi's onesie clean.

Toji lowers his voice leaning in for you to hear him. “Why don’t you go back to sleep, Once I put him down, I'll come back to bed, hold you too.” Frowning, taking your seat back by him, and making yourself comfortable.

Petting Ghost between her fuzzy ears. She instantly climbs into your lap, curling up. Her loud purring filling up the room. "I'm good, want to share this with you." This bonding moment is too cute for you to walk away from.

strawberry brat all works

[jmliebert]

hihiiii! if you take requests / suggestions, i’d loooooovvveeee to see something for halsin with an insecure partner, like maybe they’re insecure about scars or something like that, and how halsin would react to that (being as shameless as he is lol)

oh! I absolutely love this request, I was thinking about it for some time and came up with little something(s), enjoy ♡

♡ halsin turning your insecurities into unapologetic love (halsin x shy!reader)♡

Halsin has lived for a long time, long enough to see beauty through more than just limited lenses. He is wise and understands the ways of the world deeply enough to recognise that beauty is everywhere; in tall grass, in abandoned nests, in sunlight filtering through the leaves, in a mother's love, and in acts of kindness. He sees beauty in you as well, and it’s a shame you don’t see yourself the way he does.

"You're a gift of nature,"

he says, and he means it. To him, your scars are a testament to your story and a path leading to untold pleasure (one of many). He doesn’t merely see them; he reveres them. His lips trace every mark and line with a gentle touch, each kiss so lovely and intense it leaves you breathless. His hands explore your body with a passion. He finds beauty in your stretch marks, in the irregularities of your teeth, in every scar. To him, these are not flaws but unique traits that define you. And he loves you.

Halsin’s eyes are ever-watchful, never leaving your body. It’s impossible to hide anything from him for long, as his gaze is both penetrating and tender. He seeks to know and see everything because he desires to embrace all of you. He wants to cherish you completely because he is forever hungry when it comes to you.

During intimate moments, Halsin’s gaze becomes even more intense. Sometimes you catch his eyes flickering with a golden light, a hint of the beast inside him barely held at bay. He locks eyes with you even when he is buried between your thighs, giving you pleasure. He looks up at you, his eyes filled with unabashed longing and the curiosity of a lover, wanting to see if he’s making you feel good. He smiles when you nod at him, his lips and chin smeared with your wetness.

If Halsin shows naked in front of you and you find your eyes on the ground, suddenly all bashful (I would be bashful too, seeing him in his full glory out of nowhere) he smiles to himself; your reactions endearing to him. Then he gently takes your hand and guides it to his body, letting you explore his chest, face, his back, teaching you that it’s okay to touch, to look, to desire. He’s all yours, completely and utterly. His gaze never wavers, and if you try to look away again, he will softly lift your chin with a finger, smiling warmly with reassurance. He lets you touch his penis too, heavy on his thigh. And with every touch you give him, he melts, and moans quietly showing you how good you make him feel.

Whenever you express any insecurity, Halsin responds with an embrace that is both intense and passionate. He pulls you close, his hands roaming your body with a hunger that leaves no room for doubt about him being completely feral when it comes to you. He inspects every part of you, worshipping each inch with kisses, caresses, and gentle bites. If you ever feel the need to hide your breasts (for whatever reason) or any other part of your body, he gently moves your hands aside and showers that area with loving attention.

“Never hide from me,”

he whispers, his voice filled with reverence.

So... yes, Halsin lavishes attention on the parts of you that you’re most insecure about, turning them into focal points of his erotic devotion. He kisses you with a primal need, making you feel like the most desirable person in the world—in his eyes, you truly are. He sees your insecurities as areas that demand his passionate adoration, ensuring that you feel cherished and loved through every touch.

He is often shameless (!), because he’s not afraid to show what he likes, and he intends to show it to you. His desire for you is vocal and unapologetically honest. He frequently whispers dirty words against your skin, his breath hot and heavy as he tells you how much he wants to take you right then and there. His passion is unbridled really. Basically he wants you everywhere, in every position, every state and he isn’t afraid to tell you so and it feels good, sooo good knowing he wants you so much.

“I love how you whine when I enter you,”

he might say, his voice thick with desire. He's not telling you this to make you shy of course, he just says it because he means it (so cool).

“I love the way you hold me with your legs."

"The frown between your eyes."

"The way your gaze changes when you desire me.”

(...)

His praises are specific and heartfelt, making you feel adored and seen. Halsin teaches you confidence and self-acceptance through his lovely and endless affection. He helps you see the world and yourself through his eyes, where every imperfection is a unique beauty. He even initiates intimate rituals to help you become more comfortable with your body, massaging you with warm oils, his touch both soothing and arousing. But it's not only that. He guides you hands to touch your body, explore it. Showing you how to find pleasure in your own skin.

Halsin treasures the moments when you reveal your insecurities, responding with love, acceptance, and tenderness. He never laughs or dismisses your fears, no matter how ridiculous they may seem. Instead, he offers soft smiles, wise words, gentle kisses, and loving touches that make you feel safe and wanted. Over time, he helps you believe in your own beauty and worth, which is truly wonderful !!!

In bed, Halsin delights in making you moan and whisper his name, using his expert touch and passionate kisses to dispel your insecurities. He believes that your pleasure is the most beautiful sound, and he works tirelessly to elicit it. He encourages you to express your pleasure openly, teaching you that there is no shame in experiencing such profound joy and ecstasy.

As your confidence grows, you begin to explore your sexual fantasies with him, and Halsin is always very (!) eager to make your dreams come true. He creates a safe space for you to express your deepest desires, responding with enthusiasm and acceptance. He sees you as a divine embodiment of nature’s beauty and primal lust, worshipping you with reverent and hungry touches that make you feel like a goddess.

Because to him, you are a goddess, and he worships you.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

maybe, just maybe I got a little carried away....sorry

but also (!)

about these sexual fantasies, maybe you have some suggestions what could they be? I want some inspiration for some naughty short-story maybe, so please don't be shameful ;) and write to my inbox or sth, also if you want some particular headcanons featuring some characters from bg3 hit me up as well I'M THIRSTY!

and!

you can find more of my works about halsin ♡here♡ hihi

[victoria-grimesss]

Hello! I was reading what you are okay with to write and I noticed that included angst and self harm? I know that's a heavy topic, but if you're still okay with that, could I request Gale and Astarion finding out their fem Tav (separate please) has self harm scars? I have my own and this game is currently my comfort. Thank you

masterlist

->Pairing: Gale x Fem!Tav, Astarion x Fem!Tav ->Warning: Trigger Warning for talk of self harm/suicidal thoughts. Please do not read if you are not comfortable with these topics. And if you ever are going through anything please reach out to someone, you matter and are loved :) My inbox is always open. ->A/N: Some game spoilers. I wanted to use both character's stories to really connect them to Tav. I hope this is something like you wanted!!

->Astarion:

He had been troubled since opening up to you about Cazador. You never did mention the scars on his back after your first night together but he saw your lingering stare. He wondered what you thought. He never really cared about what others thought about him until you. Others were always just pawns to be played, what could he gain from them? How could he get them back to Cazador easily? But you ruined his whole plan, he didn't like how mushy he felt around you. How his walls were coming down and he didn't know how to handle it. So he turned his back on you, becoming shorter and more distant. Trying to build the wall between you two back up.

--

Everyone was asleep by the time you had wrapped up your night and approached his tent. He was staring at the symbol on the ground, the marks on his back you had so kindly drawn into the dirt. The scowl on his face was evident.

"It's repulsive, isn't it?"

You cross your arms, sympathy blooming in your chest.

"I find no part of you repulsive Astarion. This being one of them."

You point to the ground. He scoffs, his eyes rolling before he huffs and sits before the marking.

"May I sit with you for a while?"

"I suppose."

You join him on the rug adorned right outside his tent, it's a tense silence. You're not quite sure what to say. Of how to approach this.

"We'll figure out what it means, I promise." You place a hand over his in a way to comfort him. He pulls back, if eyes could burn that dirt would be lit-aflame by now.

"And what good will figuring it out mean?! It will still be there, a reminder of all the torment and years Cazador had-has a hold on me.”

“Maybe it can give you some closure, we’ll figure out what it means and we’ll take down Cazador together.”

He laughs a bit, standing and looking down at you. “I do admire your ambition darling but I don’t think you know what you’re up against. And gods even if we did kill the bastard what then? It will still be there. Taunting me, reminding me of what those 200 years held.”

You chew your lip, somehow comforting people was the hardest battle you’ve encountered.

“Your scars are a reminder of how strong you are, of what you’ve gone through and survived. They don’t define you.”

By now he’s grown frustrated, trying to maintain his suave composure and demeanor.

“Right. And what would you know about scars hm? Did you have them forcibly carved upon you while all you could do was sit there and bear it?”

“I do.”

“Oh”

He’s surprised, he certainly didn’t mean to taunt you with those words, all those times he fed on you he never saw any scars. But to be fair you were quite elusive with exposing yourself.

You clear your thoughts and urge him to sit beside you again.

“I may not understand scars being forced upon me, but I inflicted them upon myself.”

Your eyes move to your sleeve where you roll it up, your scars being shown to him, your past on full display.

“Darling, I-”

“It is fine Astarion. These scars are just a part of me. Within the darkest part of my life, I carved them, hoping they could take my pain away. But I look at them now and I see a stronger version of myself. I lived through this dark time and it shows I am stronger than my haunted past. I want you to find your strength in yours. You are more than your past. I fell in love with the man before me for who he truly is.”

“Gods you truly do speak like those romance tomes don’t you.” He speaks through a sniffle that’s masked with a laugh.

“Well, this has turned into quite the sappy night.”

He laughs but his eyes are watery, as are yours.

"Plenty of adventuring to be done tomorrow, lets go to sleep yea?"

"Yea, lets. My sweet."

--

->Gale:

What a kind man.

He was always so honest and caring towards you.

It had been a long day, grueling and never-ending. Your thoughts just yearning for any kind of rest. You slowly make your way over to Gales's tent, he's propped up on some pillows inside reading as usual, candle-light flickering, painting the walls of the tent with shadows. His eyes light up seeing you there.

"Hello, my love what a pleasure seeing you tonight."

You smile and he pats the spot next to him, you oblige and lay next to him, his tent smells of old books and tea leaves. It's instantly soothing, you study him in the low light. How the veins from the orb move and weave around his chest, lightly dancing around his cheekbone.

"I can feel you staring." He looks at you from the side of his eyes, a smirk just barely there. You hum lightly,

"Just admiring you." He traces your eyes back to the orb, then refocuses on the book.

"Does it bother you, it being there forever?" You ask quietly.

He closes the book and sits up more, full focus on you.

"I mean, seeing how the route I plan to take will keep it there forever I have.. made my peace with it. Although your generosity with those magical items certainly makes it easier. I do owe you that much. Why do you ask darling?"

You grow quiet, nerves playing with you.

"I just, sometimes I wonder if I will grow comfortable with mine as you are with yours."

He seems to understand the gravity of your words.

"Oh Y/N."

He grasps your hand before placing a kiss on the back of it,

"I may not be able to make you comfortable with yourself or your scars but I assure you, you are everything one could want and more. I assure you I see the most beautiful woman in front of me and nothing in your past or present could ever change that."

Your free hand comes to cup his cheek, pressing your lips to the other one.

"Promise?"

"My lady, you have my word."

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍

summary: opening up about your insecurities is a daunting thing, but suna lets you know you’re in good hands

pairing: suna rintarou x afab! reader

warnings:  smut/ comfort, minors dni; skin-related insecurities (acne, scars, bumps, etc) with comfort, unprotected sex (use condoms, don’t get a kid or a std), pet names (doll, pretty), marking, very wholesome spice if you can say that jsjsh, also very self indulgent; i wanted to name it ‘under my skin’ first, so now i have mirotic stuck in my head

happy birthday, rin!! ♡

haikyuu masterlist

Flickering colours illuminated your dimly lit living room in arrhythmic sequences, the voices of actors paired with underlying music bouncing around the apartment. Next to you, snuggled up under a cosy blanket with you, was your boyfriend, his eyes fixed on the TV but keeping you close to his side with an arm curled around your middle. 

Leaning against his sturdy body, you sunk further into the hoodie you had stolen from his side of the closet earlier and you inhaled a noseful of the scent clinging to it, a familiar mixture of Suna’s body wash and cologne. Underneath you, you could feel his muscles flex and relax with every breath and every laugh and, inevitably, your mind drifted from the scenes on the screen to the man next to you.

There was no doubt about it, when it came to boyfriends, you somehow managed to snatch up the price catch all for yourself. Suna was attentive, caring and funny; he always checked in on you, brought food when he knew you hadn’t eaten, sent you photos, voice messages and even flowers when he was away for work and generally pestered you to take care of yourself. 

Besides all of that, he was also, of course, ridiculously beautiful. Be it his well-built body showing through every outfit he wore, whether it was loungewear, work out clothes or a suit, or the defined features of his face, the sharp slant of his olive eyes only being the highlight, he was sure to garner attention. And he did. Quite a lot, actually. The fantaken videos of him sighted on the streets or the edits you scrolled past on your timeline definitely proved your point.

Still, Rin never made you feel unwanted, the opposite, really. You could be lazing around on the couch when Rin made it seem as if you were posing for the cover of Vogue, bending down to shower you in kisses as his hands wandered like he had no control over them. Or the way he’d sidle up behind you, leaning his weight onto you like an overgrown cat just to show you dumb videos while you go about what you were doing.

Your own mind, however, was not always as kind to you as your boyfriend.

Case and point, as you looked up at him and studied his sharp jaw and smooth skin, your thoughts started heading to a darker place, one you normally kept under tight lock and seal. Certainly, no matter how genuine his compliments were, there was no way he actually meant any of them, only trying to make you feel better about yourself. After all, what would someone like him see in someone like you? 

A tap to the tip of your nose pulled you back into reality, blinking to see bright green eyes sparkling down at you. The arm around your waist adjusted its grip, allowing you to turn towards him better but holding you close again the second you had settled.

“What are you thinking about? The film’s not that deep of a thinkpiece.” The lighthearted tone and tiny smirk playing around his lips were contrasted by the inquisitive raise of a brow, letting you know he was quite serious about your answer. “And it’d better not be anything stupid.”

“Oh you know,” you vaguely gestured towards the screen as you avoided his gaze, “there’s just no way they could’ve made it out of that building before the bomb went up. That was so much longer than 30 seconds.”

There was a soft touch against your cheek where calloused fingertips tilted your head back towards him, not forcibly but determined. You were more starkly made aware of the heat radiating from his body as he leant further into you, the arm around your back giving you no chance to wind yourself out of his proximity. Under other circumstances there would absolutely be no way you’d want to in the first place. But you knew Rin was sharp enough to deduce exactly where your mind had gone if you gave him only the faintest of clues and you really didn’t want to disrupt your movie night with your insecurities.

“Very cute, doll, but you never pay attention to realism. Besides,” the ends of his hair tickled your face as his lips ghosted the shell of your ear, “do you really think I didn’t notice you burning holes into the side of my head? If there’s something you want, you only need to ask.”

“That’s what you got from that, Rin?” You laughed, pushing his head from the crook of your neck with the pad of your forefinger. “Could it be that you're projecting your own thoughts onto me?”

“What else could I be thinking about when someone this pretty has been clinging to my side the entire evening?” Your boyfriend hummed the question thoughtfully before your centre of gravity shifted. A surprised gasp later, you found yourself in his lap with your knees bracketing his hips, courtesy of the muscles flexing against the small of your back where he kept you pinned to his front. “You can’t blame a guy for getting ideas when you’re this cute.”

“You’re such a horndog, Rin,” you giggled, melting into his hold as his large palms smoothed out the material of his sweats covering your thighs, the repetitive motion relaxing as you lost yourself in each other’s eyes, despite having done so a million times before.

“It’s all your fault, doll,” Suna murmured and your gaze automatically tracked the movement of his mouth as it formed the words. Inspired by you, he mirrored the action and then his lips were on yours.

The kiss was slow and unhurried, your lips moving languidly against each other, giving you all the time in the world to bury your fingers in the hair of his nape. The swipe of his tongue asking for entry was accompanied by firm hands grabbing at your hips and pulling you so flush against him, it was like he wanted to become one entity altogether. You happily parted your lips for him so your tongues could tangle together in the same rhythm of his arms moving you to grind down on him.

When his warm hands explored the bare skin under his hoodie, however, it was like someone had sounded the alarm bells in your head. Sure, you’d been intimate with Suna plenty of times, that was nothing new, but so far, you’d avoided any positions where your back would be on display or his hands could roam too freely across it. Up until this point, you’d put up excuse after excuse and the brunet had respected your wishes but slowly you were running out of fronts to put up without addressing the real issue.

Over time, you’d gotten used to Suna seeing your face with all blemishes and impurities on display, more out of necessity than free will in the beginning. You couldn’t hide your face from him forever after all. In typical Rin fashion, he’d been so gentle and reassuring about it, thanking you for putting your trust in him and nearly making you cry in the process. 

Your back, however, was an area you could cover up way easier and that was how you kept it. The thought of him seeing the redness and scars littering the expanse of the skin there, running his hands over it and feeling the bumpy texture where other people’s would be smooth, it made you shrink in on yourself. As you wrecked your brain for a new excuse and got ready to push his hands down to your hips again, he withdrew them from the hoodie himself, making the garment feel much too big on you as he took his warmth with him.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while now,” Suna began, his voice calm as one hand settled back against your hip and the other cradled your cheek. Your fidgeting must have conveyed your discomfort, because he started drawing tiny circles onto your cheek bone, the callouses from years of playing volleyball contrasting the softness of his touch, making you subconsciously lean into the movement. “I didn’t know how to bring it up but at this point I feel like I need to know… Is there a reason you’re so reluctant to show me your back? And don’t say you don’t know what I’m talking about, I know you better than that.”

“Ah, so you noticed,” you meekly replied, swallowing hard around the words stuck in your throat. “What gave it away?”

“You’re not the best at lying to me, you know. It was pretty obvious you were making excuses for something else.” You felt like a cartoon character getting hit with an arrow through the stomach. “I just want to understand what’s putting you so on edge, so I can fix it. Whatever it is, you can tell me and I’ll work hard so you can trust me. But I won’t know what I did if you won’t tell me.”

“What you did?” You echoed incredibly. “Rin, you’ve done nothing wrong, more like the opposite, honestly. You’re like the guy out of anybody’s dreams, of course I trust you.”

“Then what is it? I don’t want to pressure you but I hate to see you uncomfortable,” Suna’s voice was soothing like a fireplace in winter as his finger smoothed out the furrow of your brows, silently telling you to take all the time you needed, he wouldn’t judge.

“It’s just– My back it’s so ugly,” you weakly admitted, opting to hide your face in the crook of his neck when holding eye contact became too painful. For a split second, Suna went as rigid as you had earlier before gingerly setting his hand down on the top of your back and running it lightly up and down to test your reaction. “Everyone has this perfect, smooth skin but mine is full of scarring and blemishes and I… I don’t want you to see how hideous I– it is.”

“Oh baby, that’s not true,” he soothed. “You are so stunning, I could never think you’re ugly.”

“No, you would,” you disagreed, shaking your head. “I already don’t know how you can say that with so much confidence, I don’t want to ultimately prove you wrong.”“So instead you just made the decision for me?” Ah, his signature deadpan response.

“Huh?”

“You are so convinced of your own perception you won’t even entertain the thought I could see something else entirely. I’m a lot of things but not a liar, doll. When I tell you you’re beautiful, I mean it.” To show he wasn’t taking offence at your words, he tapped the tip of your nose again when you emerged from your hiding spot to peer up at him. Bouncing you in his lap as if to jostle the negative thoughts from the forefront of your mind, mischief gleamed in his eyes. “Do you really think I’d put myself into this position just to make someone feel better? Usually, I only try to fuck unbelievably attractive people on my couch.”

“Oh my god, Rin! You’re such an idiot!” You were well aware your boyfriend had the tendency to be shamelessly blunt and it still made you smack your palms against his chest, though your shoulders did feel lighter at his very characteristic way of encouraging you. “Also we bought this couch together, so it’s mine as much as it’s yours.”

“The point still stands,” he nonchalantly answered, trailing one finger down the dip of your neck as his half-lidded eyes tracked its path before finding yours again. You knew that look well and it made your earlier arousal flare up again. “You’ll give me a chance to prove you wrong, won’t you, pretty? I promise you won’t regret it.”

You hesitated for a moment before mustering up all your courage. Suna had never betrayed the trust you placed in him and he’d not given you any reason to doubt him this time either. “Alright, fine.”

“Thank you.” You could feel his smile against your temple when he leaned forward to place a small peck there. “Hmm now where were we? Oh, that’s right.”

Long fingers splayed over the back of your head to tilt your head up so he could reconnect your lips once more. Just like before, the kiss started off slow and built in intensity until you were gasping for breath, a thread of a saliva connecting you until it broke from the rocking of your hips. Having foregone a bra that night, your nipples rubbed against the soft lining of the sweater, perking up from the friction.

This time, when his hands snuck under your clothes, you didn’t move to stop him, instead letting the warmth of his palms spread across your back. Slowly but steadily his touch rose higher, his fingertips nearly massaging the skin with the light pressure he was exerting. At the same time, his mouth moved south as if he wanted to meet his hands in the middle, trailing a hot path of kisses from the corner of your mouth to your jaw to just below your ear.

“The calluses of my hands, do they bother you?” A little disoriented by the low timbre of his voice and confused by the sudden question, you quickly made it known you liked them quite a lot, to which he chuckled. “See, at first, I was really insecure about it. Such rough hands handling something so precious, that didn’t seem right. But I learnt pretty quickly I was fussing about nothing, considering how you seem to love holding my hands or cumming all over my fingers.”

“That’s not a fair comparison,” you nearly whined, both at his choice of example and the way he bucked his hips up into yours. Your face felt as if it was set ablaze as his hands roamed and kneaded whatever part of skin they could find and your hips kept up a steady rhythm. “You have such nice hands, Rin.”“Something you made me aware of,” he smiled. When his lips reached the point where the collar of the hoodie wouldn't allow him to go any further, his hot breath fanned the expanse of your throat and his fingers played with the hem of his piece of clothing. “Let me do the same for you, yeah? Are you comfortable with taking this off?”

“Yeah,” you quietly affirmed, nodding your head at his request. With his help, the soft material slipped over your head and arms before being tossed somewhere next to the two of you and you fought hard to return your hands to his shoulders in lieu of covering up your bare body. 

“Shit, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing these,” Suna groaned, cupping your breasts with appreciative hands, forefingers and thumbs immediately working on rolling your pert nipples between them as the other digits fondled the surrounding area. “Look how perfect these look in my hands, like they were made to be held by me.”

A soft sigh of his name escaped you as you tilted your head back at the sensation of his warm hands contrasting with the temperature of the living room. It drew his attention back to the exposed column of your neck, focusing on the task of sucking a pulsing bruise against the spot that he knew made you weak. 

However, what you didn’t expect was him reaching around you to ghost his finger up the length of your spine, sending electricity right through you. Combined, the actions effortlessly pulled a gasp from you as you arched your back against his chest, which resulted in you pressing down hard against his bulge. His groan reverberated against your chest, a beautiful and husky sound which made you crave to hear more.

“Did that feel good? I bet it did,” Suna whispered against your feverish skin, fingers splaying out in the dip oy your back to keep you steady. “I can make you feel so much better, you know that. Just say the word.”

By now, your panties were probably soaked through as your clit pulsed with need, hips rocking in search for more friction but not getting enough to satisfy that itch inside of you. With how your heart was hammering against your ribcage, you could’ve bet Rin was able to feel it too, even through the material of his shirt. Balling the material in your fists you whimpered, “Rin, I need more, please.”

He grinned against your shoulder, pressing your chest tighter against his and grabbing the fat of your thigh with his free hand. Without any strain, he flipped you over so your back hit the couch cushions and he towered over your form, your legs still spread around his waist.

Running his hands down and back up the length of your legs, squeezing your thighs and calves appreciatively, his touch made goosebumps spread all across your body, no matter how seating it was on you. When his fingers reached the waistband of your sweatpants, playing with it as he leaned into your space, his heavy gaze met yours once more.

“Can I take these off?” No matter how clear it was you wanted this too, Suna would always ask. This night too, you willingly lay yourself in his hands as you lifted your hips to help him shimmy your pants off you, tossing them in the vague direction of the hoodie without taking his eyes off of you. He especially didn’t want to miss the string of slick sticking to your panties as they followed suit.

Drinking in the sight of your nude form, he traced a reverent finger over the seam where your legs met your hips, purposefully applying only a hint of pressure, knowing the featherlight touch was driving you positively insane. Slowly circling further in, he then caressed your outer lips covered in soft pubes, collecting your arousal with an experimental stroke over your slit but intentionally missing where you wanted him most.

“Rin, don’t tease,” you whined, squirming against the couch cushions.

“Sorry, doll, but you just look so pretty like this,” he mused, bright eyes showing not a hint of remorse. “I just have to indulge a little.”

And indulge he did. When he finally grazed his thumb over your neglected clit, his touch seemed to scorch, which only served to fuel the desire inside of you and it inevitably coaxed a wanton moan from you. Incredibly adept at reading you and keen to hear more of your sweet noises, Suna easily slid his middle finger into your hole, that at this point had been clenching around nothing. With how wet you were, he was met with no resistance at all and soon complied with your pleas for more and added his ring finger to the first.

“Shit, baby, you’re clinging to my fingers,” Suna voiced his thoughts as he smoothed one hand down the length of your leg once more to grab your ankle. Keeping up the steady pumps of his hand, curling his digits right into the spot that had your leg spasming in his hold, he turned his head to kiss the joint in his hold. However, he didn’t stop there. 

As if your leg was a fuse and he was the fire, Suna leisurely crept his affections higher, over your calves and past your knees, until you really felt ready to explode. Dimpling the flesh under his fingertips, he tightened the hold on your thigh so he could suck a myriad of hickeys on its expanse, unbothered by your incessant writhing. 

His hot breath fanned your core as his plush lips mapped out the juncture of your leg, paying careful attention to the area littered with stretch marks and covering the cause of some of your insecurities with his own marks. Like he wanted to claim your body as his, not that of the doubts in your mind. When he was satisfied with the blotches of red forming on your skin, he finally pulled back to admire his work.

“Have I been neglecting you lately?” Suna whispered, almost drowned out by the squelches of your pussy as he scissored his fingers. Looking up at you over the length of your heated body, he replaced his thumb with his kiss-swollen lips, placing a sweet peck against your clit and teasing it with the tip of his tongue. “Don’t worry, I’ll make up for it. You should never feel like this about yourself.”

“It’s not your fault, Rin,” you breathily reassured him only to be shushed by idle fingers dancing across your lower stomach, then precisely pressing down where his other hand was crooking up into.

“What kind of boyfriend lets his baby feel anything less than gorgeous?” Snaking one arm around your arched back, his long fingers covered a large part of it and held you steady against his chest as the coils in your stomach wound tighter and your toes curled at his sides. “I wish I could show you what I see. But since I can’t, I’ll have to settle for conveying it like this.”

His thumb had taken up its former spot again, resumed drawing firm figure eights on your clit and your nipples rubbed against the front of his shirt where Suna curled over you to reach your lips with his. Under the influence of his messy kiss, you felt like you were set ablaze as your boyfriend encouraged you to let go for him.

Someone might as well have replaced your blood with molten lava as your orgasm washed over you with fiery intensity and sweat pearled on your temple. Your arms slung around his body as your hands searched for whatever they could grab to hold on, be it the muscles of his shoulder or his dishevelled dark locks. Your lungs were already burning with the need for air but if you stopped kissing him, stopped vocalising your pleasure right for him to swallow it up, you thought you might die.

Suna kept up his ministrations until you were trembling like a candle in the wind before he even considered pulling his fingers from you. With half lidded eyes you watched as he brought the digits up to his mouth, cleaning up your mess with slightly exaggerated lewdness and moaning at your taste.

As he sat back up, he kept you flush against him and returned you to the position that started this all. Only this time your heightened sensitivity made you hyper aware of his arousal underneath you. 

“How are you feeling, pretty?” Nosing the crook of your neck lovingly, Suna nibbled on your salty skin where your quickened pulse thrummed underneath. His strong hands massaged your sides as you caught your breath and willed your chest to stop heaving. “Do you want to keep going?”

“You can’t do all of that and then deny me this,” you laughed breathlessly as you rolled your hips into his prominent bulge which caused him to inhale sharply. On top of everything, your boyfriend was also fucking hung, something his sweats didn’t hide in the slightest. “But I need you to take this off first.”

“Your wish is my command,” he chuckled, shrugging the shirt over his head unceremoniously, his biceps and triceps flexing in the process. While he busied himself with untangling himself from his pants, you ran an appreciative hand over the firm planes of his abs and up his pectorals. “Like what you see?”

“You know I do,” you mused, pressing a kiss against his jaw. “Got so lucky with you.”

“Hey, that’s my line,” Suna smiled, letting his hands roam over every dip and curve of your body as he urged you to straddle him again. Wasting no time, you started rocking yourself over his length, gasping every time his head caught your clit while you covered him in your arousal. After starving himself of stimulation earlier to focus entirely on you, your boyfriend shuddered at the contact. “You already feel so good doll, how am I supposed to last like this?”

“It’s okay, I want you to feel good too, Rin,” you stated but your movement was promptly stopped by two heavy hands on your hips. There was a subtle flush decorating his complexion and your heart skipped a beat. Was he really this affected just because of you? “As tempting as that sounds, tonight is all about you. No room to argue.” There was a tender finality in his tone, one that made clear he really wouldn’t budge on the topic, so you relented and melted into his hold. “Are you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

Yes, this wasn’t the first time you’d been intimate with Suna, but it still felt like it. Every time he sunk his cock into you the stretch had you tossing your head back. From the way his thick tip slowly breached the tight ring of muscle, to the pleasant friction of his veins sliding against your walls and the satisfying feeling of being stuffed full, you believed you’d never get used to it.

“You always take me so well,” Suna panted as he bottomed out, fingers flexing against the pudge of your ass as he willed himself to patience to let you adjust to his girth, no matter how heavenly your warm cunt felt enveloping him. 

“Fuck Rin, I need you to move. Please, I–” Your brows were furrowed and you supported yourself on his chest as you started circling your hips against his while his cock pressed against all your sensitive spots so nicely.

And who was he to deny you when you asked so sweetly? 

Starting with slow and deliberate thrusts, you both knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long. While Suna normally prided himself on patience, even his was running thin by now and soon after, the rhythmic slapping of your thighs on his echoed around your apartment as he effortlessly moved you up and down on him, each thrust seemingly deeper as the previous one.

Not able to keep yourself upright for much longer, you slumped against his equally sweat-slicked chest and surrendered yourself completely to his actions, opting instead to claw at his back every time a particularly well aimed stroke had you clench your eyes shut. It was the best kind of torture and if you were exposed to it for too long you might actually go mad.

With your head nestled in the crook of his neck it gave Suna the perfect view down your back, admiring the way it bowed so graciously against his broad body or how your ass bounced with each slap of his thighs. How you were able to see anything but your beauty was something he just couldn't get behind; not because he was without insecurities but because no part of you could ever be a flaw in his eyes. Not when it made you who you were.

His fingers fluttered over the curve of your spine again, eliciting a more visceral reaction as your body shuddered and you pressed yourself tighter against him, trying to evade his searing touch while simultaneously craving more of it. Your whole body felt like you were boiling from the inside out, every part his scorching hands touched sizzling with nerves.

The constant grind of his pelvis against your clit had your walls gripping his length like a vice, making it increasingly harder for your boyfriend to pull out, let alone hold his own release back for much longer. Dipping his head down with a groan, his lips connected with your shoulder as his fingers kneaded and fondled wherever he could reach. Perhaps by the time you woke up tomorrow you wouldn’t see the blemishes you agonised over but the imprint of his fingers on your waist or the love bites littering your shoulder.

“If you don’t like these marks, I guess it’s on me to cover them with my own,” he mumbled lowly, perhaps more to himself than to you. Either way, the deep rumble of his voice so close to your ear followed by the sound of him reattaching his lips where he had left off shot down your spine like a lightning bolt. “You’re close, aren’t you? C’mon, you can do it. Show me how beautiful you are when you cream on my cock.”

The effect Suna’s voice and words had over you should maybe concern you. But you didn’t care as you came for the second time this night with a cry of his name on your lips, weightless as your boyfriend rode out your orgasm while chasing his own. Just as you came down from the aftershock of pleasure, Suna pushed inside of you as far as he could and painted your insides white.

For a few minutes, neither of you said anything, content to stay lost in the feeling of the other as two sets of hands explored the shared silhouette of your bodies. Kisses were exchanged or randomly placed wherever you could reach, Suna caressed your sides and you swept sweaty bangs out of his eyes.

“So,” Rin broke the comfortable silence, “are you still hellbent on arguing with me on this?”

Picking up his hint of playfulness, you decided to lean into it. “Hmm I dunno, the jury’s still out.”

“I thought you might say something like this,” he chuckled, pinching your side between his eyes, resulting in you yelping in surprise and sending him a half-hearted glare which was only returned in mischief. “Good thing I already planned to bend you over the back of the couch and paint your back. Bet you’d look lovely, even if you can’t get any more gorgeous than you already are. Same place and time tomorrow work for you?”

“You’re such an idiot, you know that?” You laughed at his shrugged ‘Might have mentioned it before’ before leaning up for a brief peck. “But sure, I’ll clear my schedule for you.”

After your movie night had effectively been rebranded into a shared bath Suna had drawn for you, you let the warm water rinse away most of the soreness you felt in the moment. Despite the tub being a rather snug fit with your professional athlete occupying a big chunk of it by himself, you let yourself relax against his chest.

Rin had taken it upon himself to gently scrub your body down for you, being extra careful with any of the spots he might have been a little rougher on. When it was time to dry off, he took his time to shower your back in kisses; every mark he left, every scar, every blemish, he covered them all equally in his affection and adoration. 

“I love you,” he murmured when his eyes met yours through the mirror and he tangled your fingers together. “I would never dream to change a single thing about you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered back, like it was a secret only meant for his ears. “Thank you for being so patient with me.”

“It’s nothing you have to thank me for.” Suna brought your hand up to his lips to leave a lingering kiss there too. “I’m just doing what any good boyfriend should.”

Later in bed:

“How much did you have to hold back from saying ‘I’ve got your back’?”

“You have no idea.”

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sinful I

18+ readers only please lovelies!! (this is for a reason please listen<3)

little synopsis: the reader is tonys daughter (he had her young, canon doesnt exist) theres tension between you and stephen, an obvious age gap keeping you from eachother (26, 40). theyre 'trapped' in an elevator together and the tension crumbles.

pronouns: female pronouns are used

relationship: fem reader x stephen strange not established relationship

note: i do not know what possessed me to write this shit, i will not apologise. i love you <333

warnings: defined age gap, stephen being possessive, controlling smut, dd/lg kind offf, petnames

you could always tell when stephen strange was in a room you were in without even looking. he was the type of man who had one of those commanding prescenses, maybe it was his ego you thought to yourself. either way, for weeks you had continuously been trying to block him out of the forefront of your mind. but no matter how hard you tried, you just couldn't shake his presence. it was like he was a part of your subconscious, a part of you that you never wanted to acknowledge.

you knew that you had to find a way to cope with his presence or it was going to drive you crazy. you had to find a way to remove him from your thoughts. you had to find a way to make him go away. you could swear he knew how infatuated you were with him, how you’d drift off in meetings with thoughts of him racing through your mind. you wanted to wipe that god awful smirk off his face, and the way he looked at you like a starving wolf. that look terrified you, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t make your stomach flip. fucking Christ.

he was 40 years old. the thick grey streaks that run through his tousled hair becoming prominent. he carried himself with authority, his body language conveying strength and confidence. his eyes were sharp and focused, his expression serious and determined. you shook him out of your thoughts, standing in the empty elevator, holding a binder you were supposed to speak about at an avengers meeting. something important about presenting to the government. it was an important event, not the type of meeting you’d show up to in your training gear. your eyes met his shiny leather dress shoes. shit.

“stark.” he confidently spoke in his baritone voice nodding at you, his scarred hand extending to hold the elevator open before he stepped in silently, standing tantilizingly close to you. closer than any other coworker would.

“oh. good morning, stephen.” you spoke back softly, anxiously tapping your foot. it wasn’t the meeting you were anticipating. you were met with silence as he pushed the button to go to the floor of the meeting you were both attending. the elevator slowly went up. 

“you seem nervous, stark.” he looked straight ahead, not making eye contact with you. 

“just not a public speaker, that's all.” you managed to squeak out. you could tell he was smirking, that sick bastard knew what he was doing. you couldnt. you were only 26, and here you stood head over heels for some magical doctor who’s ego towers over him. suddenly the sound of clanging pipes could be heard followed by a deafening screeching. the elevator came to a halt, but the doors stayed closed. stephen scoffed and hit the ‘open door’ button. nothing. he chuckled under his breath. 

“we can miss this meeting. oh please no.” you started pressing the button as you panicked.

“oh come on darling, it’s not as if this is the worst situation in the world, is it?” he stood facing you. darling. get fucked. 

“i don’t know what game you’re playing, strange. now could you just portal us out of here?” you checked your watch. “we’re 7 minutes late.”

“i don’t have my sling ring on me, not exactly something you bring to an all-important government meeting, now is it?” you sighed, that sarcastic attitude would be the death of you. 

“why don’t we just sit tight, mm? nobody is going to come save you, they’re all busily writing notes on something some superfical united nations member has to say.” he stared into your eyes, clearly unbothered. you nodded, what else could you do? you were stuck. slowly backing against the metal back panel of the elevator, you slowly slid down in defeat, sitting on the cold metal with your legs stretched out. he did the same. 

“wouldn’t want to dirty that suit.” you mumbled, annoyed that you were here, stuck with the last person you’d want to be in a confined space with. 

“wouldn’t want to dirty that pretty little dress. oh. that’s right, daddy will just buy you a new one, won't he?” te bit back. being tony’s daughter had its perks, but many people mistook you for a spoiled brat. 

“what, you tight on money or something, strange? need me to spot you? buy you lunch?” you scoffed. he laughed, loosening his tie and sighing from relief. you crossed your legs in response, he's almost your fathers age, why are you pressing your thighs together? jesus - you thought to yourself. 

she looked over at him, his collar was turned up on one side after he loosened his tie. you leaned over the cold metal floors and reached him. 

“oh here. let me fix this for you.” you whispered, stumbling as you ended up straddling him as you fixed his collar, his hot breath fanning your face as you were inches away from eachother. 

“hi darling..” he whispered seductively. you were burning red, your mouth slightly parted as you sat there flushed and frozen. 

“dont get all shy on me now, hm?” he laughed, his scarred fingers reaching to trace the side of your jaw. 

“stephen.. we can’t. it would be wrong. this is sinful” you whispered against his lips. 

“then why does it feel so right? i see the way you look at me. the way your breath hitches in your throat when i walk in front of you. the way you stumble over your words when you speak to me. tell me this is wrong one more time, and I’ll leave. we'll stop.” he stated, looking at your lips and then gazing back into your eyes. you kept your eyes on him and your heart raced. you knew that what you were doing was wrong, but you couldn't help it.

you wanted to stay. he was hypnotizing, it was cruel. you launched closer into his embrace, kissing him passionately as if he was the last man you’d ever kiss. he groaned softly into your mouth in shock but quickly moved one hand up the side of your hips and the other was holding the side of your cheek. you felt a warmth spread through your body as his lips moved against yours, and you felt yourself getting lost in the moment. you pulled away reluctantly, your heart still pounding as your eyes met his. 

he lingered there for a moment, and then his lips curved into a knowing smile as he slowly pulled away. he was aware of your attraction and you were both enjoying it. he rested both of his hands on your lower back, holding your hips as you were sitting in the same position. he slowly moved you forward, rocking you, the friction was you were grinding on him creating warmth and longing to be touched. you were inexperienced, shy. no man had ever made you feel like this and you couldnt help but softly moan into his ear and he moved you. he did all the work, picking up the pace and praising you. 

“that feels good, huh baby? oh fuck. keep making those pretty noises for me. anyone ever made you feel like this?” he groaned, watching you sinfully as you rocked your lips back and forth against his lap. you closed you eyes in embarrassment. the answer was no. you shook your head gently, rocking against him, mewling.

"atta girl" he groaned in your ear.

“oh stephen..shit.” you moaned, louder than before. he grabbed your waist, stopping you. 

“keep moving, and i won't be able to stop. at least let me be a gentlemen” he scooped you up and slid his sling ring out of his coat pocket. 

“you dirty liar!” you scoffed in his arms as he opened a portal.

“oh come on sweetheart, you know i always have it on me.” he chuckled, walking through the portal. you were in his bedroom. the dark oak panelled walls of the sanctum were glossy and rich. the 4 post bed was the star of the room, overshadowing everything else. he laid you down on the bed. part of you expected him to be sweet and gentle with you, caring almost. tt was almost as if he could read your mind. 

“i’m bad for you baby. i want to be selfish with you, i’ve wanted this for so long.” he said as he threw his suit jacket to the floor and the clinging of his unbuckling belt made you whine.

"be a good girl for me, yeah baby?" you were about to lie on your stomach so he could unzip your dress, but without hesitation he knelt straddling you. He placed his scarred hands on the neckline of your dress and ripped it down the middle as if it was paper.

[blancetude]

One Mora. Two Mora. (2)

Childe x Zhongli x Fem!Reader

( ANON REQUEST )

➢ 18+ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ

➢𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: Childe lets his best friend have a taste.

➢𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: smut

➢𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: consensual non-con, dub-con, public sex, fingering, degrading, double pen

➢𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 1.7k

** NOT PROOFREAD **

➢𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

Part 01

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-

You barely had any time to recover before you were being swept up in a pair of strong arms and plopped down onto a firm lap, your legs being spread open by thick thighs and gloved hands digging into your flesh.

The room was spinning so you nuzzled into the crook of the neck before you, taking in the scent of crisp ocean water you’d come to adore.

Childe chuckled at how your cute actions rivaled your lewd display in front of his trusted friend.

“Don’t give up now baby, you still need to take care of Mr. Zhongli don’t you?” He cooed into your ear, his soft voice making your cunt clench desperately as his warm release was slowly seeping down your thigh making Zhongli’s jaw clench at the sight.

Childe moved his gloved hand from your thigh to your aching entrance, dipping two fingers in to spread you apart in a vulgar display.

The red-head smirked against the crown of your head as Zhongli’s eyes glowed golden as he watched your body twitch and squirm beneath him.

“Go on,” Childe said mischievously as he kissed the top of your head lovingly, “you don’t want to keep our princess waiting do you? Look at how ready she is, isn’t that right angel?”

You desperately nodded and clutched at Childe’s jacket, your hips rolling back to meet this fingers’ pace.

“Use your words.” He ordered, his tone firm.

With weak arms you placed your open palms against his chest and lifted yourself up, turning your neck enough to see the other large man towering over you, his golden eyes moved their fixed stare to your own teary ones.

“Please Mister.” You whined, arching your back to present yourself so beautifully, “I’ll be good for you, I promise.”

Any resolve Zhongli held onto was now out the window as he cursed under his breath and began to shed his restrictive clothing off much to the delight of your needy eyes.

The little show didn’t last long however as Childe lifted his other gloved hand to grip your chin and turn your face back his way bringing his lips to yours hungrily, his larger tongue played against yours as he explored you carefully, groaning softly as he never grew tired of your sweet taste.

A large warm hand broke you from your trance, Zhongli’s slim fingers gingerly cupped your bottom giving it an appreciative squeeze before pushing down against the middle of your back so you could arch for him.

You looked back only to gasp at the sight of his arms. His exposed torso was littered in scars of all kinds much like Childe’s, but what really caught your eye was the pitch black skin with gold designs running up his muscular arms.

Tattoos? No– where they glowing?

“Surely you’ve caught on by now haven’t you angel?” Childe chuckled as he brought up his gloved hand to his lips and bit the leather material, slowly shedding them off.

The gears in your head tried to turn as fast as they could but all thoughts dried up when the raven haired man began to pull his pants down, his thick cock slapping his defined tummy as he kicked the rest of his clothes away and made his way back to you.

If you thought Childe was huge you were positive Mr. Zhongli would absolutely tear you apart.

“I-I can’t!” You said in a moment of panic, trying to squirm your way out of a Childe’s hold only for said man to wrap his arms around your torso in an iron clad grip. He’d moved your face back into the crook of his neck as he began to stroke your hair tenderly.

“None of that now princess. You promised you’d be a good girl right? Unless you want me to bring in some Agents and let them watch as I punish this cute little hole. Maybe let them have a taste?”

You immediately shook your head in apology, the disappointment laced in Childe’s voice was enough to make your heart sink. You wanted to make him proud of you, even if you were a bit scared but you had to be his good girl.

“I’ll be gentle.” Zhongli leaned down to coo into your ear as you felt the thick head of his cock nudge between your lips, collecting the mix of your and Childe’s release before bullying himself into your sopping heat.

There was slight resistance as he stretched you out just a bit more but you muffled any noises of discomfort as your teeth sank into the juncture of Childe’s neck, making the red head groan at the delicious sting.

Zhongli gripped your trembling thighs, trying to stay grounded as he felt himself slowly lose himself in your heat, and he hasn’t even moved yet.

“Fuck–“ the ex-Archon cursed under his breathe making you shiver, never having heard anything remotely improper from the man before.

Zhongli held still for a moment for you to catch your breathe before he slowly pulled out, the pull of your walls desperate to keep him in enough to throw all rational out the window and slam his hips back into your ass, pushing you up higher Childe’s chest as your fingers held onto his jacket for dear life.

The room filled with sounds of skin on skin, your muffled cries, and a few deep grunts that slipped from Zhongli’s lips that only made more slick drool from your cunt down Zhongli’s hard shaft.

In any other situation you’d be mortified to be seen in such a state by anyone other than Childe but the way the other man’s fingers ran down your body to rub hard circles against your bundle of nerves had you panting out incoherently.

“Don’t hide those pretty sounds from us baby, let Mr. Zhongli know how good he’s making you feel.” Childe chuckled as he took a handful of your hair and tugged your head back, revealing your fucked out expression.

“Look at you, absolutely fucking beautiful.” Childe praised before a second hand tilted your chin up and a pair of soft lips muffled your moans.

You felt your eyes roll back in ecstasy as Childe took advantage of your position to lean down and take your left nipple into his mouth, rolling the hardened nub between his teeth before giving it a hard suck.

“She was made for this wasn’t she? Her greedy hole keeps sucking me in, you gonna milk me dry honey?” Zhongli said almost mockingly into your ear. The deep rumble of his voice forced your toes to curl as you babbled a broken sentence that made the men chuckle.

Childe released your nub with a wet pop before sliding his hands down past Zhongli’s until he was able to trace where you and the ex-Archon were connected.

Your head snapped down, eyes wild and pupils blown out with lust as Childe’s middle finger prodded at your already stuffed hole. “Such a cock-hungry little thing deserves to be spoiled doesn’t she? Think you can continue being my good girl?”

Your heart beating picked up, the muscle beating loudly in your ears as you processed what he had meant. They really were going to tear you into two pieces.

You nodded before your rational and fear could catch up to you making Childe beam with delight. He reached down and slipped his already hardened length from his pants to position towards your hole.

Zhongli slowed his pace until he came to a full stop, looking down and spreading your cheeks before spitting right where you connected forcing a terrible feeling of shame and lust combined.

“She can take it. She’s begging for it.”

Childe would have prepped you better, he honestly would, but the need to feel your wet heat around him was greater than anything else so he didn’t think twice when he bullied his thick length into you, shushing your pained wail with a gentle kiss.

Your body trembled as pain shot up your spine and clouded your eyes with white stars. It felt like minutes, hours, centuries until you were able to focus on Childe’s ocean blue eyes through your own teary ones.

“Shh, it’s okay pretty girl. You can take it, I know you can.” Childe peppered kisses along your cheeks and jaw while Zhongli gently stroked your back until you felt the familiar feeling of the knot in your stomach pull at the stretch.

You muttered something softly, making the men turn their attention down to you. “What was that princess? We can’t hear you.”

You hesitated for a moment before speaking up. “Please move, I can’t take it anymore.”

Something feral exploded within the two men at your words as they suddenly moved into action, their large hands holding whatever part of you they could before pounding into you.

Your body and mind failed to work any further as you lay limp between the two bodies and let them use you for their own greedy pleasure.

“Just one more, come on, give us just one more.” Childe groaned as he played with your clit, forcing the coil in your tummy to tighten, tighten, tighten, until suddenly the pressure was too much and your release washed over you like a cold wave.

You didn’t even know if you cried out or not as a deafening white noise clouded your mind.

Childe was the first to release followed quickly by Zhongli who leaned down and bite into your shoulder much to the annoyance of Childe who was too blissed out to be too upset about it.

Your body looked more like a rag doll than a person as the men gently pulled out of you and laid you next to Childe with your back against the hard couch.

The red head lifted your legs apart and groaned at the sight of globs of cum being pushed out of your cunt as it clenched pitifully around nothing.

“Did I do good?” You managed to mumble through your dry throat. You looked over at Zhongli who was busy getting re-dressed as if nothing had happened before turning to you with a soft smile.

His tall figure leaned down and gave you a sweet kiss to your forehead, one re-gloved hand brushing your sweaty bangs from your eyes. “You were perfect.”

Childe was quickly to push in between you two and place his jacket over your nude form. “Rest now princess, you deserve it.”

[aliveinacoffin]

Hello. Can i please request a part 2 of Hating You As Well? It was so good! 😩 Can part 2 be Aizawa’s and readers relationship developing and getting better throughout the year or something? Maybe throw in some aizawa getting a little jealous over reader’s relationship/friendship with another hero (maybe midnight or snipe)? Thank you so much! Feel free to ignore if you don’t want to write a part 2! xx

AAAHH I LOVE YOU GUYS FR 😭😭😭 and but of course, i live and breath to serve yall munchkins.

Hating You As Well

(And Loving You Just As Much)

Part One, Part Two (you're here dummy), Part Three

Aizawa still isn't honest with his feelings, but you weren't exactly one to jump ship and demand a relationship. So now, in this grey area, you two are forced to co-exist, while other feelings grow and fester.

Fem!Reader, She/Her pronouns

TW!: Slight descriptions of violence, nothing too crazy, suggestive language

You two didn't speak about what happened on the couch afterward. You not wanting to bring it up and him just avoiding you. You got most of your papers graded, and when Aizawa finished with his portion, he rushed out of the living room. Your heart dropped to your stomach, watching him leave without a word. Sighing, you went back to your papers, trying to just get them done.

___________________________________________

The next morning was silent, the night before Aizawa hadn't come out of his room at all, and you watched his door, trying to listen to what he was doing. The next morning, you hadn't slept in, getting up early to go on a run. You knew Aizawa wouldn't be awake at this hour, but he probably would soon. So you started a large pot of coffee and grabbed a sports drink and made your way out.

The wait in the elevator was tedious, but you took the time to adjust yourself. Thinking about your life, thinking about him. Did you really like Aizawa? Maybe (yes), but did he like you? Maybe? I mean, there would be no other reason for him to also lean into a kiss, the feeling of his strong and large hand haunted you, fingers reaching around your shoulder blades. Dammit Hizashi, you spitefully thought to yourself.

But what would've come from it? Would there have been an awkward moment of 'where do we go from here?' or would there be an admission of feelings, but what feelings? Would there have been an unspoken moment of understanding?

You shook your head, willing away unnecessary thoughts. The elevator doors dinged open, and you happily trotted out, all you needed was an early morning run to clear your head, and everything would be fine.

___________________________________________

Okay everything was not fine.

When you came back, very sweaty and gross from your jog, you should work out more damn, Aizawa was already up. The slut* was walking around with absolutely no shirt on, and only the tightest goddamn pair of black boxers ever. His defined and scarred body on full display, lean but built body, languidly lounging around in the light morning sun. His dark and long hair was up in a messy bun, with a few strands of hair falling out. The scar beneath his eye was on full display, only adding to that rugged and overtly masculine look.

Cheap shot you bitch.

He was sipping coffee while leaning on one of the kitchen counters. Oddly on the one that faced the front door. He watched you pant in, immediately going to the cupboards to fill yourself a glass of water. You felt his eyes watching you, felt them watch and analyze every curve and scar, every dip and bump, every beauty and imperfection. You downed your cup, not acknowledging him in the slightest, lest you show the effect he had on you. Neither of you said a word to the other, not even a head nod to show that you had seen the other. Just ignoring him for the time being, with no complaints on the other end.

At the staff meeting later that day, you happily sat by Hizashi, joining in his excited chatter.

"I know this sounds cheesy, but I can't wait to see the students come back again! I've missed them." Hizashi swooned, a sad puppy dog look on his face.

You laughed and opened your mouth to join into his lighthearted admission before another voice cut you off.

"I don't, the little bastards have already gotten in enough trouble. I can't imagine what it'll be like when they move in." Aizawa grumbled out, looking in front of him with a disgruntled look.

You and Hizashi froze, just staring at him for a moment. He usually sat on the other side of you 'loudmouths,' usually too tired to deal with the shenanigans that you, said blonde, and Nemuri got up into. (Usually just passing notes between all three of you with the smashabiltiy of your coworkers and other heroes (also dicks, but not from the person you'd think)) So it was shocking to see him willingly sitting next to you three while earning a death glare from Anan, whose spot he'd stolen.

"Don't act like you don't love them you Tsundere. You'd probably eat your arm if it meant they were happy." You teased, sighing while you poked at him.

He deadpanned you for using such an outdated term but just grumbled while hiding his face in his scarf. Hizashi elbowed you, wiggling his eyebrows at you while smirking. You were confused for a second before you realized what he was implying, hitting his arm to make him stop. He yelped, angrily muttering curses at you while he looked down. Principle Nedzu loudly cleared his throat, standing up straight while looking at all of you. He clapped his soft hands, signing the beginning of the meeting.

___________________________________________

Well that meeting was a waste of your time. All the meeting was about how we should pay a little more attention to the students now that we're all in dorms. Those who work at night, namely Hizashi, Aizawa, Nemuri, etc., were asked to make sure they don't sneak out and do room checks randomly. Heroes who work in the day, you, Anan, Ken, and others were asked to make sure students acted right during the day, and stayed inside school property. Simple enough but...

"That could've just been an email." Nemuri sighed, peeling off her mask and putting her hair up. Ken was doing the opposite, putting down his cement-like hair and flattening it against his head.

"Agreed. I understand communication is important, especially during such difficult times but..." He sighed, rubbing his flat face.

"It's super annoying. We should all get coffee cups that say 'this meeting could've been an email' on them and just use them every time we have one." You sighed, adjusting yourself to make yourself more comfortable as well.

"Well, now that that's over, and we don't really have anything else to do...wanna go out for drinks?" Hizashi perked up, green sunglasses perched on his head, hair still gelled up.

"It's one o'clock in the afternoon." Aizawa scowled, looking disapprovingly at the man.

"I think he just wants to hang out rather than drink." You slung your arm over Aizawa. He scowled at you but didn't move your arm.

"No, I'm totally gonna drink." Hizashi said while walking backwards, already calling a cab.

"Oh yeah me too." Nemuri agreed, nodding her head.

___________________________________________

"I don't know why I came." Aizawa was acting pissy, laying down his head on his crossed arms, glaring at the loudmouths around him.

"Because you loveee us, admit it!" You sang, stirring the drink in your hands. You weren't drunk per say but you were definitely looser and happier now. "Cmon, won't you drink a little?" You looked down at him, smirk on your face.

He scoffed and looked away, sitting up straight. "Someone needs to get you home, and we share a living space, so I'm forced to babysit."

"Dawww, it's okay to show your emotions." You tugged on his uniform sleeve, putting yourself in his personal space.

"Hey!" Hizashi called out to you, definition more drunk than you were. "Let's do karaoke!" He motioned you over, pointing to Anan, who was already singing. You happily jumped up, waiting behind Sekijiro to sing.

When it was your turn, your singing was horrid. It was off-key and loud. Most of your friends just laughed and egged you on, spurring you to sing louder and worse. Still, even in your fuzzy mind you recognize on pair of dark eyes just staring at you. Not in a negative way, no, there was something in his face and eyes that made you quiet down some. Just so he knew you were singing for him.

___________________________________________

You don't know how you got home, but you did. Looking at the time, it was seven PM at night. You groaned, rubbing your head while your other hand limply hung off the couch. An oversized jacket was forced on you, baggy, and so so warm.

"Drink this." You looked up to the dark presence above, squinting at the harsh contrast of the shadow to the bright apartment. You got up and groggy drank the water.

"Thanks." You sighed, looking up at Aizawa.

"Sure. Just try to be more responsible next time. You have an image to uphold." He snatched back the cup when you finished, which you realized had prints of black cats on it.

"Mehmehmehmeh." You made a face, mocking him in a high-pitched voice while making a puppet with your hand. The man you were making fun glared at you from the kitchen, activating his quirk while washing your dish.

"I'm being serious. Anyone could've walked in and seen a UA teacher acting a fool at a bar." He growled, now in the drying process.

"Ahh, it was one drink! And plus, none of our dear students are gonna walk into a bar." You got up stretching, scratching your leg while walking past him.

"It was more than one drink!" He called out to you.

"One, ten does it matter?" You replied, entering your bedroom and shutting your door behind you, ending the conversation.

The next morning, you found yourself with a jacket you'd never had before. It was baggy, many sizes too large for you, and something right out of a goth magazine. You don't know where you got it from, but it was warm and comfortable, plus it smelt nice, so you added it to your closet.

___________________________________________

The students finally arrived and settled in the dorms, now UA dorm life was in full swing. It was peaceful to see such vibrant characters and youth constantly surround you, it filled you with a new vigor. That was, until now.

Loud crashing woke you up in the dead of night, and you immediately jumped up into action. You didn't yell or scream. Instead, you grabbed a flashlight and a small knife. You slowly opened your bedroom door, crouching out and keeping close to the wall. There was a large imposing figure standing in the middle of the hall, leaning against the wall while fussing with their boot.

Taking the chance, you kicked off the wall and laughed yourself forward. Landing on the interlopers back, you wrapped your arm around their neck, using your free hand to press the switch blade on their face. Your legs immediately wrapped around their muscled frame, trapping yourself onto them.

"What the fuck are you doing in my home." You growled in their ear, putting pressure on the knife to start to dig into their cheek.

"Getting my dumbass kids." Aizawa growled out, hands trying to rip you off of him.

You froze for a second, eyes going wide and mouth going slack.

"Huh!?" You yelled out, toppling off of your roommate. Knife clattering somewhere into the kitchen.

Aizawa turned to you, pissed off and resuming his fussing with his shoes. He tilted his head in your direction but not looking at you. You sat on the ground, still processing everything.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. Did I get you anywhere?" You finally came to your senses, scrambling up to check him. Grabbing his chin, you tilted his head back and forth, inspecting.

"I'm fine. I've got to go." He ripped his head back, leaning away from your touch. He finally got his boots of fully, walking into the kitchen and to the front door.

"No you're not, I cut you." You ran into the kitchen, pulling out the first aid kit from under the sink.

"It's fine." He was already at the door, but you ran to him and grabbed the back of his shirt.

"No, it's not, I could've really hurt you." You had grabbed an antiseptic wipe and a bandaid to clean up the cut you made on him. It was small, a nonconsequential wound. But you still took delicate care to cleaning it and covering it up. He didn't get the chance to see what kind of bandaid you put on him, but he felt that it was small.

"As if." He mumbled, eyes fluttering closed as he accepted your gentle touch. There was no bite in his tone, like he was just saying it to say it, to keep up an image. You pulled back, and gave him a once-over.

Aizawa opened his eyes again, and turned to the door to hide his face from you.

"Now you can get your dumbass kids, asshole." You smiled softly, and even if he couldn't see your face, he registered the softness in your tone. The fondness.

When Aizawa got done with yelling at his two problems children, he turned and stomped away, leaving them to be angry at him.

Midoriya remembered something for a moment and hesitantly turned to his rival/best friend.

"Hey Kacchan, was there a Hello Kitty bandaid on his face?" Midoriya seemed a little dumbfounded. It couldn't be true, Aizawa with a bandaid on his face, let alone a Hello Kitty one?

"Hah? The fuck are you talking about?" Bakugo was still clearly pissed, but he was more taken aback than angry.

"That little pink sticker on him, I could swear I saw Hello Kitty on it." Midoriya responded, adamant that he did see it.

Bakugo was silent for a moment, and the freckled boy thought he was ignoring him. So he just sighed and returned inside.

Bakugo smirked a little, now fully remembering. Yeah, he was.

___________________________________________

The next morning you decided to ask what happened.

"My two biggest problems decided to sneak out and fight. It hasn't even been a week, and they're already trying to kill each other." Aizawa angrily muttered into his cup of coffee.

You stared at him for a second, pursing your lips. "Did you expel them?" You tilted your head, eyeing him warily.

"I wish." He chuckled, drinking his coffee.

"Ah, so they're your favorites." You smiled, wiping your hands and heading to serve yourself a plate of food. You heard the stern teacher sputtering behind you, coughing as a result of his reaction.

"I have no favorites, and those two would never be them." He responded, setting down his cup heavily.

"But you didn't expel them. You just gave them house arrest and chores. Your favorites." You shrugged, turning around to smirk at him.

"Well, it..." Aizawa shook his head, face pulling into one of anger as he looked for an excuse. He gave up, flopping his hands down to look at you. "They'll learn. They just need more discipline. It's hardly a call for expulsion."

"Let's see," You set down your toast to count examples. "Sneaking out after curfew barely a few days into moving into dorms, destructive of school property, assault on another student, three students snuck out without permission to save another classmate, Midoriya being the ringleader, anddd..." You screwed up your face, and you tried to remember more. You snapped your fingers and pointed at the scowling Aizawa. "Oh! First day, you should've expelled Midoriya and transferred him to another class, but you didn't." You leaned on the counter and tilted your head. "Instead, you let him stay in the hero course because you believed in him. Plus, that whole unwritten speech about Bakugo when he was kidnapped? There was nothing in our notes that said anything of what you said. But you said it anyway, from your heart."

Aizawa had a carefully neutral face, just staring at you while you grilled him.

"So my only crime is believing in my students." His voice was monotone, any semblance of emotion wiped from his face. If it were anyone else, you would've thought they were pissed at you or angry. But you knew better, you recognized that face from last night. The 'I'm pissed because I expected better from you' face.

"No," You grabbed your plate and walked past Aizawa to lounge in the living room, patting his shoulder as you walked. "Your only crime is having a huge heart, but the inability to even show you even have one."

___________________________________________

There was no real reason for you to be here, you thought to yourself. You barely helped out when the kids picked out their ultimate moves, and you were definitely not one of the teachers who regularly trained with the kids, but you still found yourself being dragged to go to the hero licensing exams.

You adjusted your hero costume, pulling down and pulling up the outfit where need be.

"Why am I coming again?" You asked Aizawa, turning to him to see he was already staring at you.

He shrugged, "Principal Nedzu just said you were to come." He looked away, fiddling with his phone while he waited for you to get ready.

"Well, sure, I got that, but he didn't email me, and I don't exactly see why-" You were still pulling yourself together, grabbing an over-the-shoulder bag and checking whether or not you had your keys, your wallet, and extra makeup and other stuff you might need.

"Are you ready yet? At this rate, we'll hold up the whole class and make them late." He interrupted you, crossing his arms impatiently.

You deadpanned him and adjusted the strap. "Yes, I'm ready. Dick." You stuck your tongue out at him while he held the door open for you, trying to push you out.

"You need to watch your mouth more. Who knows who's listening." He scolded, pressing the elevator button. The elevator dinged open, and you two stepped inside. Aizawa went to press the floor button, but you beat him to it. He gave you a look.

You smiled. "I like pressing the buttons."

"What are you, a child?" He scoffed.

"Then you'd be a predator." You shot back without thinking. Both of you realized what you meant by that, but before you could spit out on explanation, the door opened again.

Hizashi strolled in, whistling a tune. "Hey guys!" He cheered, ignoring the tension behind him. "What's up?" He turned around, looking at your blushing face and Aizawa's blatant ignoring of you.

"Nothing, what are you up to?" You chuckled, rubbing your head.

"Gonna go out and be a radio host and communications guy." He smiled, but you heard the strain in his voice.

Your bashful attitude dropped, and you held out a hand. "Hey, don't spread yourself super thin." You advised, voice full of worry.

The elevator dinged to all of your last stops, and Hizashi strolled out before the two of you, walking backward to face you.

"Don't worry about me! I'll be fine." He waved you off, turning around to walk normally with his hands in his pockets.

"I worry about him sometimes." You admitted, stuck in place. Aizawa walked out before you, holding the elevator so it didn't close on you.

"He's fine, trust me. Hizashi doesn't think about much other than music and having fun." He shrugged, looking off.

"That's because he thinks through you. He speaks Aizawa and thinks Aizawa." You stepped out, walking out the bottom common room to the main grounds of UA.

Aizawa shrugged, not saying anything as he followed you. You looked out to all the excited students, the air buzzing with conversation.

Aizawa got his classes' attention, speaking to all his students.

"Now listen up. This is the most important test of your life, and only fifty percent of the whole student body will pass." That made the class tense up and freeze, dramatic whispers grew between them. "Even though some of you are in trouble." He made direct, unashamed eye contact with both Midoriya and Bakugo, "You will all take the test. Now let's go before we're late." He led the class in the bus, you two being the last ones in.

"They're your favorite." You sang, tapping your knees. You two were sitting in separate seats, but you two were as close to the edge as possible.

"Keep your voice down." He snapped but didn't deny it.

___________________________________________

Ms. Joke was awesome.

She shamelessly flirted with Aizawa, if not being a bit pushy with it, and teased him.

You knew of her, you had some run-ins with her when you first debuted. She was a light-hearted, strong woman who had a good sense of humor, she often used to make you double over in full-out belly laughter. But there was something different this time, she was funny, that didn't change, but you weren't laughing so hard you cried now.

"Eraser," Ms. Joke was barely holding back laughter now, "Your fly is down."

You and Aizawa sat next to each other while Ms. Joke was two seats away from you two. That... wasn't all that funny....huh. Maybe Aizawa's bitterness rubbed off of me? Aizawa just sat there like he hated the world, but especially her right now.

"I can't believe you have a full class! Usually, you would've expelled someone by now. You must actually like your class." She turned to him, and you leaned over.

"Right! I think he has a secret soft spot for all of them, but especially-" You exclaimed, excited that some outside of UA had noticed this.

Aizawa cut you off by putting his hand in front of your face, now angry at the world, Ms. Joke, and you.

She laughed, and you giggled. "You're so predictable! Date me." Ms. Joke immediately turned to him.

"Shut up." He scowled, and she just laughed in response.

You sat back up now, looking at him teasingly. "If I have a say-"

"You don't."

"I think you two would make a great couple!" You grabbed Aizawa's shoulders and leaned him to the loud woman, and she just laughed in response. Strangely, you could see her breath from this angle, but you could also see Aizawa's hair float up for a mere second before it dropped again. An action so small and unnoticeable that if you hadn't been so close, you wouldn't have seen it.

You let go, and she leaned to you two, a slightly angry look on her face.

"But c'mon, you both know what's going to happen in just a few seconds." Her eyebrows were slightly furrowed, a strained smile.

You looked at the dark man beside you, really he sticks out pretty bad here, and gave him a confused and slightly scared look.

You heard her say something earlier, but you had no idea what it meant, let alone now.

"And yet, you didn't say a thing to your class. Every year the test is always different." She rested her chin on her fist, looking determined out on the field. Aizawa was blankly doing the same, but there was a different look in his eye, one you recognized. One of a teacher who knows what his students can do.

You were shifting on your seat, watching class 1-A break up into factions, trying to understand what the other woman was saying.

"It's a tradition during the exam, most if not almost all of the students have equal footing. Except for one." She dropped her hand, sitting up straight. You were watching her, a feeling of foreboding coming over you as she delved more and more into her dramatic rant.

"UA has a serious disadvantage. Showing off the country's top schools sports program to the whole country, which showed off not just your students' quirks, but their weaknesses and their fighting styles too." Your eyes widened, and you turned back to the field. Watching the majority of the class you grew to care about deeply, be unknowingly followed. "It's a little funny, isn't it?"

That made your heart race, surprise written all over your face. Aizawa ignored her, eyebrows deepening.

"If you actually liked your class this year, you should've warned them about this. It happens every time your school takes the exam, UA is immediately crushed." She said, and to prove her right, a crowd of students all aimed for one group. Yours.

You looked at Aizawa, wondering why he kept quiet about all this. He glanced at you briefly before nodding his head back to the field with the tiniest of motions. That feeling of dread was replaced with pride as you watched Midoriya effortlessly kick away a storm of balls with one kick. From this angle, Ms. Joke assumed you turned away from Aizawa, feeling a little awkward that she had now seemingly made you upset. What she didn't see was your proud smile, your smirk of arrogance. Yeah, they'll be fine.

"I don't really see a reason why I should've warned them. Nothing would've changed if I did, either way, they would've had to deal with it." You and Aizawa watched as your students effortlessly dodged and moved, using their quirks to the best of their abilities to take back the advantage that was stripped away from them. It was taking everything in you not to just cheer out for them, not to scream, hell yeah!

"Real heroes turn around any situation. Besides, when they become pros in the spotlight, they'll have to face villains who already know their quirks." His voice was stern and sharp, with no room for argument. "Perhaps at UA, we look further ahead than other schools." Even though he still had that monotone voice, Aizawa had a passion for his students, one that he barely contained.

A dark shadow fell over the laughing woman's face, now at an angle where she could see the both of you. She watched with bated breath as you watched Aizawa. Smiling while she huffed out a nose laugh. She recognized that look, looking down at her ring finger, she fiddled with the gold ring. There were rings decorating all her other fingers, but the one on that ring was the first and most important one. She's made that face hundreds of times at her own wife, and only a fool would mistake it for anything else.

___________________________________________

“‘UA looks further ahead than other schools’, huh? That’s pretty condescending of you to say Eraser.” Ms. Joke piped up, the two had been going back and forth, but you decided to ignore their banter in favor of anxiously watching the students, afraid. “There are as many kids who want to be heroes as there are stars in the sky. The strength of that will has nothing to do with being famous.” Ms. Jokes face had gone back to being serious, and it made you a little unsettled. The woman, in even the short amount of time you’d known her, had taken everything with a grain of salt. Never the one to take offense to someone's words or actions. But here she was scolding Aizawa. They really were the same. They hide the same deep love and care for their students, and the moment someone says something slightly mean, they pop off.

“If you act like you’re the stars of the show and look down on everyone else, then you’re only showing off your true weakness.”

While her words were true, they seemed a little misplaced. Aizawa constantly humbled the students to remind them that no matter how far they got, they would always have room to grow and improve. Not just in their physical strength, but their mental capabilities as well. Maybe it was about the students themselves? Bakugo and Monoma were the students that popped up in your mind immediately.

“You’re right, we will take your advice and make sure our stars don’t think they’re the only ones who shine.” You nodded, sliding your eyes over to her. She nodded, a small smile on her face. Aizawa looked over at you in a questioning manner. 

“Our students are great and all, but sometimes they need to be reminded that they’re not the main character, even if they act like it.” You smiled slightly, easily finding Bakugos yelling from in the arena.

“...Agreed.”

___________________________________________

Finally, after what seemed like forever, the test ended. Rubbing sleep from your eyes you walked by Aizawa while he went through the paper work he now needed to fill out. 

“You know, I’m starting to see why you’re so tired all the time.” You laughed, tapping the stack of appears in his hands.

He gave an airy laugh, “Sometimes I think they do it on purpose.”

“Well, I can do some it for you. I don’t spend as much time with the kiddos like you do, but I’m sure I could get the hang of it.” You offered, slightly pouting your lips. 

“You’d probably mess it up, or mark them in that atrocious pen you have.” He shook his head, tilting the papers away from you.

“Huh?! Why do you have such little faith in me!? I’m trying to be nice, you-” Kaminari was with his usual group of friends, but he was side-eying the two of you, snickering while watching your interaction. “Jerk.” 

“Good save.”

“Shaddup.” You punched his arm, snatching some of the papers away from him. “I can do this, no sweat, and I promise to use a normal pen.” 

He glared at you, before sighing and shaking his head. “Fine.”

Ms. Joke trotted up to you two and offered to do joint training. Aizawa accepted the offer and walked away, loading all the students onto the bus. 

She turned to where you were still standing, trying to organize and smooth out the stolen reports. “My real name is Emi Fukukado, by the way.” She held out a business card in her gloved hand.

You took it appreciatively. 

“Thanks!” You introduced yourself in turn, shaking her hand.

“Hey, between us two, you and Eraser would make a pretty cute couple.” Fukukado said nonchalantly, smiling easily.

“Hah?!” You exclaimed, freezing on the spot. Your face grew hot, and you tightened your grip on the jokesters hand.

Fukukado pulled away, smile never going away. “I recognize that look in your eyes when you look at him, and Aizawa doesn’t put up with just anyone you know.” She laughed slightly, putting her hands on her hips. “Trust me, my wife looks at me like that all the time, and we’ve been married about ten years now!” 

“Hahhhh?! You’re married?!” 

___________________________________________

“You didn’t know? She always wears her wedding ring.” Aizawa sat down heavily beside you on the couch, grunting while he leaned forward. 

“She wears like, ten. How would I know?” You shrugged, pulling down the black pen behind your ear, unglittered unfortunately, to continue your journey of legal HPSC papers. 

“Didn’t you know her when you were younger?” He raised an eyebrow to you, his dark hair out of his face and into a bun.

“Yeah, but we weren’t friends. It was more like, you’re a young woman in the same male-dominated field as me, if anything goes down we’ll have each other's backs. Not friends friends. I literally just learned what her name is.” You turned your attention to the work, already halfway through your stack, while Aizawa was just starting his.

“Women are weird.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Oh yeah? You’ve known Hizashi since high school and you still deny you two are literally best friends.” You rolled your eyes, remembering how vehemently Aizawa denied the two literally aren’t two peas in a pod.

“Because we’re not. We’re good friends.” You groaned and flicked a pen cap at him. He growled at you, but otherwise turned back to his work.

“Anyyyways, I still feel kinda bad that Todorki and Bakugo failed. That test was really important, and they’re the only two in 1-A who failed.” You sighed, eyes running over Bakugo’s paper.

“That’s their own fault, if they had seen above their own hubris, they would’ve acted better and passed. They will learn to do better at the retake.” The dark-haired man shook his head, sighing.

“True, it was their own pride that was their downfall.”

“Make sure to mark the date in your calendar, it's about three months from now.” He added nonchalantly, now fully focused on the papers.

You looked up and made a confused face. “Why would I need to, I’m not their homeroom teacher?” 

He didn’t respond for a moment, avoiding eye contact. You saw his ears go red slightly at the tips, perking up. “Because you went with me to the first exam, why not help me at the provisional?” 

“W-well, I guess. But I won’t be of much help.” You looked away, remembering the words Fukukado told you the other day making you go hot yourself. 

You both fell into a comfortable silence, the only sounds now were the ticking clock and the sounds of papers shuffling and pens scraping. 

It was nice.

___________________________________________

“Wait wait wait-” You were laughing now, holding a hand over your mouth. Hiazshi was smiling at you, and Midnight was shaking her head in disbelief. “He got naked?” 

“He didn’t get naked, his quirk made his clothes phase through him. So he ended up naked. There’s a difference.” Aizawa shook his head, sipping his coffee.

You laughed out loud now, leaning on Hizashi’s shoulder while he joined with you.

“I was shocked at first too! I mean, yeow! Everything was out.” That only spurred you on more, tears gathering in your eyes.

“Oh man,” You sighed, wiping away those tears. “I hope they helped him out with his costume, I mean, there’s no way that's safe.” You shook your head, sitting on Hizashi's armchair now.

“They did, they made it out of his hair, so it would phase with him.” He nodded, stuffing food in his mouth. You quirked an eyebrow but ignored it.

“That must’ve taken forever.” 

“Yes, it did.” Aizawa butt in, now fully paying attention to the both of you. You couldn’t see Hizashi smirk, but you were caught off guard by such aggressive behavior. 

“Oh,” You looked away, now feeling slightly awkward. “What was the point of them visiting, anyway? I mean, not that it’s bad to introduce the classes to the big three, but why now?” 

Aizawa sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “To have them talk about the work studies.” 

The air in the teacher lounge shifted, now to a tense one. There was a meeting the day before the new term started, an open discussion on whether or not UA students should be allowed to even let them participate in them. Just like the internships, it was a heavily debated argument. You, Aizawa, Snipe, and Anan were against it, saying it well it went last time would only embarrass/harm UA’s reputation further. Nemuri, Sekijiro, Ken, and Ectoplasmi were for it, their reasoning that the students would need the practice. Others fell in between and allowed themselves to be swayed by the opinions of others.

“Oh.” That was all you said.

“Yeah.” That was all he replied with.

When the school day ended, Aizawa met you at home. He angrily kicked off his boots and hung up his capture scarf by the door. You turned around from the sink, hands wet from washing the dishes.

“Hey.” 

“Hey.” He looked up at you, standing at the doorway. “I don’t agree.”

“I don’t either.” You turned back, immediately knowing what he was talking about.

When the HPSC had first sent the letter to UA stating they would like the school to participate in the work studies, the teachers erupted in conversation. When the staff didn’t agree, Aizawa stood up an brought all the attention to him.

“Did we forget what happened the first time we allowed our students into the hands of the HPSC? My own students had gone off and could’ve gotten killed. I had no idea, thanks to the lies administered by the commission. Do we need a repeat of that?” He sat back down, looking angrily out at his fellow staff. You stood up beside him.

“I agree, who knows what danger is out there, and we all know from the past that the Hero Commission will just lie to us.”

Snipe nodded in agreement beside you. Ectoplasim stood up. “I assume your classes will have their provisional licenses now? Our students have grown since then, and they now have the ability to make their own calls and decisions.” He rebuttled. This statement only made a fight break out.

In the end, your side lost.

Aizawa was leaning on the counter beside you, hands clutching the counter in a white-knuckled grip. “They lied to us, three students could’ve died.” His voice cracked at the end, face screwed up in anger. You whipped your head at him, looking at him wide-eyed.

You decided not to say anything about his emotions, instead, you dried your hands and turned to him fully. 

“Want to spar?” You offered, holding out his goggles. Aizawa stared at them, then stared at you for a long moment. He snatched them up and quickly put them on. Wordlessly, he got back dressed in his hero outfit, and you complied by getting your shared duffle bag and followed him out. You both had decided to share a bag, hey, it would be easier to carry one than two, since you spar so often anyways.

___________________________________________

The next few weeks became hell. Immediately something was brewing, you, Aizawa, and other UA students were invited to an important meeting hosted by Sir Night Eye. You’ve heard of him, mostly through what you know about All Might, but you have never really seen him in action. He was a pretty cool dude, if not a little too serious for your liking. You could only deal with one grumpy man in your life, you didn't need to. There were also friends you made through your line of work, like Toyomitsu/FatGum, Takagi/Rock Lock, and Mr. Brave, you never learned his name, interactions were always brief, but friendly.

You mostly just listened in, you didn’t really have any new or helpful information to hand out to aid in the meeting. You had become slightly boring ever since you became a hero at UA, hero work slightly slacking now that tests and assignments stood in your way of aiding your friends. That is why you had an uptick in your sparring matches with Aizawa, no excuse to fall behind.

Takagi spoke up, questioning why your students were here in the meeting. Toyomitsu, in a burst of passion, declared that the students had valuable information to share. He then introduced himself, and when his attention turned to your side of the table, you waved at him happily.

Aizawa looked at you through the corner of his eyes, a small smile on his face. You elbowed him in response, brushing him off. Aizawa was called to speak, and his leg started to bounce from under the table, only you noticed.

“The bullets effects seem to be different from my Eraser. When my quirk is activated, I don’t attack the quirk itself, instead, I temporarily affect the genes themselves, but no permanent or harmful damage is done.”

“Immediately after Takami was shot, we rushed him to the hospital to have him looked at. We found his quirk was deactivated, but thankful after his rest he was returned back to normal.” That was a relief, not only were the effects of the bullet temporary, like Takagi had said, but the effects weren’t harmful in the long run. When it was revealed that the contents of the bullets were filled with human blood, everyone froze. Disgust filled you, wondering what kind of person would do that. 

“A man named Kai Chisaki is the young Yakuza head of this group, and is turning his daughter's body and blood to make the bullets.” You had decided to tune back into the conversation at the worst possible moment, or maybe you tuned out during the worst conversations of your life, your body tensing up as horror filled you. Aizawa sat slacked beside you, his eyes widening in horror as well. Tears sprung into your eyes, and your hand immediately flew up to cover your trembling mouth. How..how could anyone do that to a little girl? Let alone their own daughter?

The meeting went on with the same tense and angry energy, people piping up with their own angry opinions. You watched with a feeling that you were floating outside of your body as Nighteye folded more and more into himself. The pressure everyone putting on him only added to the guilt you knew he carried. 

The meeting was over late into the afternoon, and packets and folders of information were handed out to all of you. Aizawa was to patrol more in the designated at night, and any possible chance you were to follow yours.

Now you were situated in Aizawa’s car, his hands gripping the steering wheel while you leafed through both folders.

“Lock Rock is right. There’s no need for them to be there.”

“I know.” Your voice was watery, sniffing while you tried not to cry onto the packets. “But we don’t have a choice.”

There was silence when he rolled up to a red. A large hand came into your peripheral, pulling the folders away from you. Aizawa threw them in the back of his car, and you heard them scatter. 

“Don’t worry about that now, we can go through them when we get home.” You looked up at him, and while his expression was still guarded and hard, there was something soft hidden in his face. Maybe it was the way his eyebrows were turned up ever so slightly, or his sad eyes, either way, you nodded.

“I just hope we can save that little girl. She’s so small, and she must be so scared.” The light turned green, and he resumed his journey.

“We will, I know we can.”

___________________________________________

The next few weeks were hellish, after school you barely saw Aizawa, and he in turn hardly saw you during breaks/lunches/and during the weekends. You worked from sun up to sunset, using as much time as you could. During the day he worked with the others to make sure everyone was updated on information, whereas during the night you caught up on both your school work and added your own information. You left coffee and easy lunches for him to take out, and he left you jelly packets and energy drinks. 

Finally, there was one day when both of you were home, lying exhausted on the couch together. You were lying on your back, hands covering your eyes while you rested your legs on his. Aizawa complained at first but made no move to stop you, too focused on his iPad sifting through and adding important information. 

“Apparently, Nighteye has picked out people he thinks are assisted with Kai Chisaki. He’ll try to find out more before we move further.” He said out loud, not doing anything to get your attention.

“Good.” Your voice was raspy and tired, flopping your hands down you could barely keep them open. “I’m so tired.” Your voice was filled with pure exhaustion, running on less than thirty hours of sleep for the whole week.

“Me too, I can feel this coming to an end.” You could still hear him clicking away.

“God I hope so, I just want to save her already, I’m starting to see Eri in my goddamn dreams.” You shook your head, tears hotly running down the corner of your eyes. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe it was because of how emotionally drained you were, but you just couldn’t hold back the floodgates.

You heard Aizawa stop tying, but you didn’t dare look over at him.

“Me too.” His voice was filled with utter grief.

___________________________________________

Finally, it was the day.

Nighteye had found one of Chisaki’s minions and tracked down the spot where they had been keeping Eri. Now everyone had gathered around in a large group, waiting anxiously in the bright early morning for their commands. You were following Aizawa tiredly, energy absolutely sapped out of you. Aizawa walked up to Midorya, who was surrounded by the only other UA students. 

“I am moving with the Night Eye agency.” You peeked out from behind the dark man, waving happily at your students, string to hide how tired you were. “Do you understand what that means?” 

Midoriya nodded, a hard look on his face. Aaizawa turned back to you, grabbing your shoulder to push you away. “What was that about?” You asked, confused as you turned and waved goodbye.

“He still hasn't earned my trust for running off last time, so I told him I expect him to do things right this time.” He looked down, still walking to get in position.

“You’re such a hardass.” You smiled, shoulders bouncing while you looked away.

“Good, then they stay on their feet and do their best.”

___________________________________________

Chaos quickly erupted outside, and you were stuck batting away villains with clubs of pure light. You swung around your makeshift weapons, filled with electricity and a feeling of burning pain. Police surrounded you, blocking your view of not only the entrance but of your allies. 

“This way!” A strong hand grabbed your arm, and you turned and growled. Your guard dropped when you saw Aizawa dragging you inside with him. Quickly, you put as much light as you could in your pockets, quickly closing them so they wouldn’t escape.

“I’m getting kind of worried, man.” Takagi admitted, looking around for any dangers.

“I wonder if anyone leaked information.” Amajiki admitted aloud, but the chief rebuttled him.

“If they had, one would think they’d be smarter to avoid us.”

“They all should be used to working together already, a bond formed through devotion to their boss. They might feel ashamed now, Chisaki and the top brass haven't even shown themselves yet. They’re probably underground getting ready to flee or hide right now.” Aizawa pipped in. All of you were still running down the impossibly long hallway, hearts racing as one.

“No, there’s no way. That villain busted out the doorway as soon as the chief rang the doorbell, no one just does that. Plus, with how big these guys sound, there's no way they’d just leave.” You shook your head, mind swarming with what was to happen. Kirishima looked over to you, conflicted on whether to agree with his homeroom teacher or his history teacher.

“Either way, we’ll take them down.” He decided to say, not favoring either theory.

Suddenly, Nighteye skidded to a halt, stopping in front of an indent in a wall. He seamlessly opened a secret door, and everyone was thankful for his foresight. 

Three henchmen popped out of the darkness, trying to take the group by surprise. However, they were unable to be successful with Bubble Girls and Centipeder's quick thinking. They stayed back with Nighteye’s order to make sure they didn’t come after your group, and you rushed down a concrete hallway, only to be halted by a dead end.

Takagi called out to Nighteye in anger, but Midorya and Kirishima quickly resolved the problem by kicking through the thick wall that had been placed up. The room suddenly became less solid and started shaking around in an ocean. Panic filled the room as it rolled and changed around you, shoving you all around. You, Aizawa, and Toyomitsu formed a triangle. 

“Eraser, can’t you get rid of it?” Takagi yelled out, but Aizawa just shook his head. 

“Not if I can’t see the main body.” He called out, voice strained as he fought off nausea. 

“We need to hurry!” Your voice wobbled as you tried to find steady ground, “If they’re changing the building, then they can escape before we can even get to the end of the hallway!” You tried to step forward, but the mere action of moving knocked you off kilter, so you stood, fighting off gravity as you tried to move. You have to try!

The room stopped moving as violently, and Lemillion took action to run ahead, moving through another hall. You wished you could follow him, try and at least be there for the kid. A scream ripped out of your throat as the ground under you disappeared. You landed on your stomach, the breath knocked out of you on the dirty floor. Aizawa heaved you up, looking around and assessing the situation. 

Three villains made themselves known, launching themselves at Amajiki. Eraser quickly stepped up, erasing the blonde quirk before he could do serious damage to the kid. 

“Suneater-!” You called out, trying to stop his stupidly brave act.

“Go! I’ve got it.” He turned to you all, nodding towards another hallway, the others ran ahead, but Midoirya, Aizawa, and you staggered for a moment.

“Make sure you tie them up, my quirk will wear off soon.” He jogged off, the green-haired boy behind his teacher.

You nodded at him. “I believe in you, do your best.” You nodded at him before following your companion. Quickly you lost Toyomitsu and Kirishma, as they were sucked into and trapped in another room. 

“We have to keep going, there's no time.” Aizawa pulled you forward, trying to get you to keep moving.

“I know, it just feels like we’re purposely being split apart.” You followed him, worry filling your entire being. 

Takagi locked the room in place as soon as it started to move again, even if it was a tight fit, it allowed you all to push forward.

“Stand back, he’s coming from the places I haven't locked down.” Takagi held out a hand to stop you all from moving forward, and you watched as the end of the hallway rushed towards you all.

Midorya rushed again, kicking away an entrance point. The path never cleared, so the young boy continued his assault. The wall immediately retracted, clearing away the path for you. 

“What the hell..?” You wondered but were quickly cut off by the room changing once more, separating the main group into smaller groups. You were stuck with Aizawa and Midorya.

The wall dropped again, revealing two Takagi’s, and you stood in confusion between the two of them. Aizawa was fast and quickly attacked the fake Takagi before it could attack Midoriya. Himiko Toga was forcefully revealed, squealing while she chased after the boy. As effortlessly as he could, he dragged the crazed girl away, but not without getting stabbed in the shoulder.

Once more the room shifted, and tunnels of dirt and concrete erupted from the walls, you all looked around widely, trying to see where the dirt was coming from. Midoriya took action almost immediately, shooting up to kick where he thought Mimic was. The boy revealed the villain, and in an instant he erased his quirk, watching him fall to his death. 

“The League betrayed them?” Aizawa questioned looking out to where the two voices had come from.

“Seems so, and they used us to aid in their scheming. Though, at least we're on solid ground now.” Nighteye adjusted his glasses, looking forward to the dark hallway, police officers scattered around.

You took a moment to recap and interrogate Irinaka, but that led him into an angry frenzy. 

“As officers of the law, we cannot let them escape.” The chief held up his gun, his underlings looking around as well.

“It sounded like they were escaping, we should focus on our top priority for now instead of going into a circle.” You said, looking around. Takagi agreed with you, deciding to split up the pros with the mission and the police with the League. He decided to stay, you pulled out a small knife, handing it to him.

“Just in case.” He nodded, face still screwed up in pain. 

His speech renewed the hope in your heart, you and Aizawa shared a glace and immediately ran ahead to save Eri, trying to catch up before it was too late.

Following in Midorya's shadow, he bounced ahead of the villain lying on the ground, smashing the wall in front of the group. There a sight for only the strong-hearted was seen, Chisaki and Togata were already engaged in battle, with the electric blonde already having a considerable amount of damage. Aizawa immediately yelled out commands, ordering you to round up the fallen villains. Already quickly rounding up the three villains, you were hit in Chisaki order to Chrono. Aizawa called out to Midoriya, but his body screwed back to look at you. You grunted in pain, feeling like your body was put under molasses. Chrono had gotten straight through your side, cutting a clean medium-sized hole in your midsection. And before anyone could stop him, or help him, Aizawa blinked.

The ground erupted in spikes, sending you flying through the air. Thankfully, you landed in a hole in the ground before you could get caught by the spikes. Aizawa and Chrono were already down there, the latter of the two setting atop Aizawa. Both of you were practically paralyzed, with Aizawa immediately incapacitated by his quirk. He spent the time monologuing about Chisaki, explaining the relationship that Eri had with the others in the Yakuza. Shut the hell up you scum. You couldn’t even growl out loud. Straining as you tried to get him, you were behind the two, and he must not have even realized you were down here. You heard Aizawa grunting as he slowly moved away, you watched as Chrono took out Aizawa’s own knife, opening and getting ready to stab the man with it.

You took out a small piece of light from earlier, the electric gold energy lighting up the dark room.

“Huh?” He looked around to see you, and in one fell swoop, you slashed along his Achilles heels. “You bitch.” He groaned out, dropping the knife to clutch at his heels. At the same time, Amajiki appeared, stabbing his arm with one of his food quirks. There you saw the teenage boy surrounded by police officers, guns ready. He just glared at them in defeat.

The officers helped you up, someone pulled down the bandages on Aizawa's face, and he quickly removed the effects of the quirk. You were taken in an ambulance and Aizawa was taken up to the ground floor. 

“Wait! I can still help!” You tried to squirm out of their grasp, but Aizawa shook his head ‘no.’ Tears sprung in your eyes, did you do bad? You did your best. Still, you were forced into an ambulance.

___________________________________________

You were in and out of consciousness the first day, one part of the injury, but mostly out of laziness. Lack of sleep finally caught up to you, forcing you to pay your debts. Still, it wasn’t like you were out of it, you could hear voices, smell the clean hospital air, feel the thin sheets below you, and taste your dry mouth. Different types of voices visited you, your friends, you recognized dimly. But there was one who stayed as long as they could, and whenever they spoke, you turned your head to them, smiling and appreciating the smooth bass. A large and warm hand felt your forehead, then checked your cheek. But their touch lingered on your cheek, gently cupping the part of your face.

“Hmm, s’warm.” You mumbled, not really awake as you squished your face further in the hand.

“So weird.” But they never pulled away.

___________________________________________

The next day, you were fully awake, still in a little bit of pain. Thanks to quirks and advanced medical technology, your wound was mostly closed. It was still tender to the touch, and still able to open, but as long as you were careful, you’d be fine.

Now you were hungrily inhaling the food the nurse had dropped off, Aizawa watching you in muted disgust.

“Wha’?” Your mouth was still full, flakes of rice and meat juice surrounded your mouth.

“You eat like you’re an animal and not a fully grown woman.” He shook his head, eyeing you like you were gonna eat him next.

“I’m hungry dick!” Still, you wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, eating more delicately. Aizawa rolled his eyes but stopped to watch his hands.

“I have a favor to ask of you.” He didn’t look at you. 

You wanted to tease him, but there was something about his demeanor that made you hesitate. “Yeah, what do you need.” You set down your food, gently sitting up to stare at him.

“The little girl, Eri, her quirk is unstable and dangerous.” Aizawa looked up now, reaching behind him to grab a small packet of papers. He handed them to you, continuing to talk. “So is her emotional state, there’s no telling when she’ll get upset and activate her quirk.”

Multitasking, you opened the folder while listening to him Rewind. She can rewind the state of a person, down to nothing. You looked up with worried eyes.

“She’ll need someone who can stop it, and watch over her.” His words hung heavy in the air, and he was tense now, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

“Of course, what will you do with her?” He still hadn’t relaxed, hands clenching.

“I was thinking that she could live with us. We could watch over her.” Your eyes widened, mouth parting slightly.

“I-why me? I’m not exactly mother material.” You laughed nervously, looking at him confused. Why does he have to rope you into everything he does? Would you even be good enough to watch over the girl?

“She doesn’t need a mother, she needs someone to help her. And I..we live together, so it makes the most sense.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. Yet he was still tense, but why?

You looked down at your own hands, looking over her patient file. She was a traumatized little girl who needed help.

“What i…-what if I mess something up, what if I’m not good enough?” You voiced your concern, voice wavering already. When did you get so emotional?

“You won’t be doing it alone, I’ll be there.” Aizawa's voice was soft, comforting you. You looked up at him, staring into his soft eyes.

“But why me?”

“Because it’s always you.”

___________________________________________

You, as well as the other students, were released from the hospital not too long after the raid. The drive home was silent, both of you sleepy for different reasons. You were getting used to not sleeping all day, and Aizawa was exhausted from watching over Eri all night. Even if Aizawa never put on the radio, even if you hit every red light, even if the late-night roads were quiet, neither of you spoke about what he said in the hospital. Not even when you were in the hospital. 

Tiredly you both made it back home, stumbling in the dark room. 

“Aizawa wait.” You held out a hand, getting his attention while he poured his cup of coffee. You turned to him, “Where is she gonna sleep? There’s only two rooms.” 

Aizawa gave you a blank face, overpouring his cup, hot coffee spilling out from his hand and to the floor.

“Aizawa.” You repeated, his face still blank.

___________________________________________

“I could sleep in the living room.” Aizawa offered, both of you had your hair up/out of your way as you looked around the shared living space.

“Well that’s not fair to you, I’ll just sleep in the living room. You can keep the big room, which I still haven’t gotten over, by the way, and she gets the smaller room. You’ll be right there for her and I can just hang out.” Your hands on your hips while you stared out into the living room, staring down at the beige couch.

“I shouldn’t let you take the living room.” He shook his head, shooting down the idea immediately.

“Why not?” 

“One, because you’re a slob.” Aizawa looked over to you, “Two you have far too much stuff, and three you’re a woman.”

“Okay one, kiss my ass.” You faced him as well, crossing your arms. “And what does me being a girl have to do with anything?” You gave him a dirty look.

“Oh don’t look at me like that, I mean, if anyone needs their own space it should be you.” He waved you off, turning around to head into the kitchen.

“Well, Eri above anyone needs her own room, sooo…” You shook your head at him, giving him a look while he rustled through the cabinets. You thought for a moment, and a terrible idea came up in your head. Aizawa looked over at you, jelly pouch hanging out of your mouth.

“What terrible idea do you have.” He looked at you warily, still hanging into the snack through his teeth.

You shook your head, making a disgusted face.

“What?” He prodded.

“You’re not gonna like it, I don’t even like it, but we could share your room. We could buy another bed and separate the room into two.” You slowly lifted your hands in a questioning manner, your voice high.

Aizawa stared at you, one of his eyes raising in an annoyed look. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Well, what other idea do you have?”

He looked around, thinking for a moment before he groaned very loudly. “You just want to have the bathroom in the room, don’t you?”

“I’m merely making the conscious decision for the both of us considering your situation.” You held your hands up in a non-accusing way, trying to fake some sort of innocence. 

“Fine.” He grunted, turning around to wash the dishes in the sink. You tried to ignore the implications of what sharing a room meant, far more intimate than sharing a home. Walking past, you willfully ignored his blushing ears.

___________________________________________

Aizawa’s time was spent between watching over Eri and working as a teacher. So you didn't see him often for a while, whereas you were suck with redecorating and adjusting your home. You started off slow, just buying kid shit for her, like books, stuffed animals, and cubbies. But when it came time to put together said cubbies and bookshelves you let them build up, and you very pointedly ignored moving the beds. Aizawa was too busy for you to ask, and you sure as hell couldn't, or was it wouldn't, who knows, do it all by yourself. So you called the one man who you knew would help you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“No lift with your legs.” 

“I am lifting with my legs! Hurry up jackass, I’m gonna drop the bed on my foot!” You groaned with the effort, damning yourself for wanting such a heavy frame.

Snipe sighed, rolling his eyes at you while he backed up. He had one hand holding the bottom of the sideways bed, the other supporting the top. Ever so gently he led you out of your old room and into Aizawa’s room.

“Okay ready? I’m gonna set it down, and you have to do it with me.” He looked back at you, his sharp eyes piercing. 

“Yup.” Your voice was strained, trying not to drop the bed. Following his lead, you turned the bed slowly and dropped it. You sighed, leaning over on your knees while you caught your breath. “Fuck.” Looking up, the bed was in the middle of the room, and you needed to shove it to the other side of the room, opposite to Aizawa’s

“I got it.” Snipe waved you away, immediately going to drag the bed in place.

“Thanks.”

You knew Snipe would answer your call, often times you hung out outside of work, and on the rare times he hosted an outing, you went with him. He stood back up, the muscle shirt he was wearing doing wonders for his body, showing off his toned arms and flashing you his exposed sides. And for a man whose quirk was a gun, he sure as hell did have a slutty waist.

“Alright break time.” You walked out of the room, Snipe following you with laughter.

“We’ve barely started.” 

“And now it’s break time.” You filled up two cups of water, handing one to him. Your hands brushed briefly, his course fingertips quickly ghosting over yours. There was a beat of silence, he made direct eye contact while he took a sip from his cup.

It’s not like you haven't thought about it, even before Snipe showed his face you knew he’d be hot under there. It was sometime after the final exams in the first term, he had been retelling the embarrassing story of his run-in with Hagakure. You had laughed at him loudly in the warm night air, tears springing to your eyes. You could feel his eyes on you, even if you couldn’t see them.

“Why do you wear your mask all the time?” You asked out loud after calming down. He stared ahead, and instead of responding he just tugged it off.

He looked at you with brilliant grey eyes, little targets in them. He had dark and thick eyebrows, long pretty eyelashes, and his full lips pulled in a smirk. Across his face was a gnarly scar, it looked like he had been slashed at an angle across, leaving behind a slightly raised thick wound.

“You’re face is a little lighter than your body.” You said stupidly, brain short-circuiting.

He just laughed and looked back out into the courtyard. 

“I know.”

You cleared your throat, willing away all of the not-very-safe-for-work thoughts that filled your head.

“I have to wonder, why are you and Aizawa sharing a room?” Snipe sat on the table, leaning back to watch you. His thick thighs were highlighted when he sat down, shorts leaving nothing to the imagination, and you swore he widened them when he caught you looking. Damn these slutty men.

“It’s nothing like that,” You waved him away. “Have you heard about the little girl that's going to be living here?” He nodded.

“Her name is Eri, and her quirk is unstable, so Aizawa has guardianship over her so she doesn’t accidentally kill someone. Which means that she’s gonna live with him, which means she’s gonna live with us.” You sighed.

“But why does that equate to you and Aizawa sharing a room?” He waved an arm, looking at you curiously.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you’re jealous, Snipe.” You smirked, but it dropped. “Eri immediately gets a room, that’s a given, but I wanted Aizawa close by, but he thought it’d be inappropriate for me to sleep out here. So now we’re bunking together.” 

Snipe hummed, closing his eyes and looking away. But out of the corner of his eyes he peeked at you. “You could always spend the night at my place if you need, Sejikiro doesn’t mind guests over, since he’s usually out.” 

Before you could respond, a presence made themselves known.

“That’s completely inappropriate.” Aizawa snapped, holding a bag of groceries. 

“Hey, Aizawa.” Snipe turned in his direction, waving hello.

“Why are you here?” He greeted back.

“He helped me move my bed, and he’s helping me put together the bookcases and Eri’s bed.” You peeked over, looking at him. Aizawa was just angrily looking at Snipe, who was staring back.

“You couldn’t have asked me?” He was pissed at you now?

“You’ve been busy.” You shrugged, stepping out to try and cool the angry man.

“I would’ve helped, you just needed to ask.” Aizawa growled out. “Now I’m here, so you,” He looked over to Snipe, who was just lazily watching the whole conversation, “Can get out now.” Aizawa sidestepped the door, motioning for him to leave.

“I’m already here now, plus if we all three work together, I’m sure it’ll go by quickly.” He tried to soothe the stern teacher.

“I’m sure you’re very busy, get out.” Neither Aizawa nor Snipe moved, silently challenging one another.

Snipe got up without a word, and on his way out he turned to you. “Call me whenever you need help, you have my number.” He waved goodbye, Aizawa slamming the door in his face.

“What the hell was that?” You asked in disbelief, watching the man you lived with as he strutted across the room. He threw the bags on the groaned, angrily opening the edge door to shove the food in there. “Hello?” You got closer, standing right behind him.

“I didn’t know you were calling other men to come by our house alone. You can’t do this when Eri comes in.” He was basically throwing in the food now, the poor grapes and carrots chucked to the back.

“Like Snipe isn’t our friend, what was going to happen? He helped me move the bed.” You were leaning over him now, anger now filling you. It’s been a while since you fought, the song and dance you both created had shifted over time.

“He’s your friend, not mine.” Aizawa stood up. “Plus, anything he did I could’ve done easily, there was no reason to call him. I live here too.” Aizawa got in your face, glowering.

“You’ve been busy. I’m not going to bother you-” 

“It wouldn’t be a bother! All I’ve been doing is making sure Eri’s healing process goes as scheduled, nothing I couldn’t have left to help you.” 

Both of you just stood there, breathing angrily in each other's spaces, chest to chest.

“Why do you care so much? Aren’t you happier that I’m taking the work off your hands?” You asked, anger ebbing away.

Aizawa said nothing in response, looking away slightly ashamed. 

“Because I don’t like other people in my house.” Bull.

“What about Nemuri or Hizashi? You have no problem with them coming over? Or Anan and Sejikiro?” You asked, genuinely confused.

His shoulders slumped, eyebrows slightly going up. “It’s different.” 

“How? In what way?” 

Aizawa’s tired eyes looked at you, and you realized what Fukukado was talking about.

“I recognize that look in your eyes when you look at him..”

“It just is, if you need my help, you can just call me. I’ll be there.”

___________________________________________

The first thing you noticed was how small she was, and how stringy and thin her hair was.

You were sitting in the hallway of the front door, wearing a Hello Kitty jacket and baggy sweatpants. Eri was clutching onto Aizawa’s hand painfully, but he made no move to pull away.

“Hey, little one.” You made no movement, both you and Aizawa letting her decide what to do. He was just staring at her, gauging her reactions.

She said your name, asking whether or not you were you.

“Yes I am, did Mr. Aizawa tell you I was a hero?” You asked softly, smiling at her. She nodded, one hand on her face.

“And I’m going to be living with you too?”

“Yes ma’am.” You nodded dutifully.

“Why, uhm..” Her voice got quiet, and she mumbled into her hand. Aizawa crouched down, getting on her level. He whispered something in her ear, and she nodded shyly. She turned back to you, big eyes filling with tears. “Why didn’t you see me in the hospital?” She asked, looking down while her voice wavered. In turn, your eyes filled with tears, guilt ripping you open. You swallowed away your tears and leaned forward. 

“I’ve been busy getting your room all ready for you. Remember when Mr. Aizawa asked what your favorite animals and colors were?” You asked.

She turned back, eyes widening as she nodded.

“Well, want to go see?” She nodded enthusiastically again. You slowly got up, holding a hand out for her to grab. She did gratefully, but she never let go of Aizawa’s forcing you to walk side by side as you walked to her room. 

You opened the door, and she gasped, running in and looking excitedly at everything. You and Aizawa watched in adoration as she squealed, never moving from the doorway. 

You looked over at him and saw he was already staring at you.

“What?” You asked, laughing while a bashful blush spread across your face.

“You’ll do great, I don’t understand why you were so worried.” He shook his head, a small smile on his own face, ears burning hot. 

You exhaled out of your nose, smiling as you turned back to Eri, who was watching you two. She just slowly crawled up to you two, slowly hugging both of your legs. Her grip became tight, and you and Aizawa shot each other’s worried looks. 

“What’s wrong honey?”

“Eri is something wrong?”

She looked up to you two, face red and eyes watery. “You guys are like mommy and daddies.” She sniffed, “I promise I won’t hurt you.” 

You frowned deeply, eyes filling up again with tears. Aizawa started to blink rapidly, inhaling deeply as he looked up.

“Oh Eri, you could never hurt us. I promise to protect you.” You hugged her tiny frame, soothing her shaking. Aizawa joined you, hugging her just as tight.

“We’ll always be here for you, alright?”

That was a promise neither of you would break, no matter what happened.

___________________________________________

they make me mentally unwell,,AND BEFORE YOU ASK YESS I'LL WRITE A PT 3 its just this was already 12k words, and i knew that it would jest get more unreasonable the more I wrote,,,soooo,,,they make me so ill I just,,,

Also I know eri doesn't come home till later, but lick my bawls,,,I'm forcing parenthood on them

[lottiette]

Hort X Self Harming Reader.

Authors note: Hi everyone, I know I haven’t posted in forever. Just haven’t had any motivation and just got done with exams. I’m going to try to get to some of the requests I have. This wasn’t a request but I’m literally in love with this man, and I’m struggling a bit at the moment so it helps. Also this is book and a little bit of movie Hort.

If you are struggling with self harm; please try to reach out. I know it’s hard. But you are worth so much more than misery. Please take care of yourselves.

Trigger Warning: self harm, mentions of killing(nothing graphic or anything, just Hort:), mentions of scars

- He would wolf out/kill anyone who dare lay a finger on you, so you hurting yourself is a big no no.

- When he first saw cuts/burns on you he almost wolfed out then and there. Who the hell had the audacity to even think about touching you! (Especially if this is during the third book, “Last Ever After” He is jacked and at the top! He’s captain for goodness sake. You’d have to be an idiot to hurt something of his.)

- So when he goes to try to find out who did it, you have to explain that they’re self inflicted. If you’re open about it, he listens. But if you try to give him stuff like “It’s nothing.” “Don’t worry about it.” “It’s not a big deal.” “No one hurt me.” Etc. He’s not taking that. You being stubborn isn’t going to stop him from finding the perpetrator.

- He’s devastated when he finds out that they’re by you. Like what do you mean his favorite person, his queen/king hurt themselves? He’s angry. Not necessarily at you, but with the thought as a whole. Why? Why? Why would you do that?

- He wants to understand. He really does. He wants you to tell him.

- He listens to you but you’re not hurting yourself anymore. Not happening. He’s possessive. You’re not hurting you because that hurts him.

- He monitors you. He watches your interactions with others more closely. If you show any signs of “getting itchy” he’s pulling you out of there.

- If anyone says anything negative about you he’s beating them up.(he already would’ve done that, but it’s more intense now.)

- He’s going to protect you no matter what. If that’s taking away sharp objects, pills, lighters, whatever it may be, he’ll do it.

- He would wrist check you(or wherever you self harm), but not openly. Like he’s not going to go “show me your wrists” but he’s going to subtly look in the spots where he knows you self harm.

- He’s the type that would rather you cut him than yourself.

- If you don’t properly care for the injuries, he will. He doesn’t care how much you object.

- He checks up on you a lot. Just little “How are you?”s and if he feels like you’re lying he’s calling you out on it. He’s been manipulated and lied to a lot, you’re not doing it too.

- If a person is the problem(like you’re being bullied or something) they’re dead. If it’s past traumas he’ll listen. He can’t really kill the problem cause it already happened but he wishes he could.

- If you’re in a depression and can’t get out of bed, then he’s going to drag you out. Sometimes he’ll lay and hold you there(because let’s be honest sometimes we just can’t get up. And that’s okay.)

- He really just wants you to be okay, and he’ll be there every step of the way, no matter how long it takes.

- He’ll kiss your scars/injuries and remind you that they don’t define you or make you ugly.

- He thinks that you’re worth so much more than the pain you’re putting on yourself, and he’s going to make sure you see that too eventually.

- If you’re someone who doesn’t cover their fresh cuts/burns/whatever (Let me just say real quick: People who don’t cover fresh cuts/wounds are not attention seekers. They just do not care to cover them because people don’t usually notice or say anything anyways. They are just people who don’t care to sweat in hoodies and stuff. There are people who do self harm for attention, but even still if someone is hurting themselves for attention it still shows that something is wrong and they need help. Never judge someone based on a scar.) Anyways, if you don’t cover and someone says something ☠️. Hort is not tolerating that. Or if they say something about scars. ☠️

That’s all for now unless I think of more. Bottom line is he just wants you safe. Remember if you are self harming, you aren’t alone. There are people who love you and will want to help you. It’s okay to reach out, and it’s okay to be scared. I love you guys, take care of yourselves.

[bluedalahorse]

Morning commute thoughts about Sara and Wilhelm

Well, okay. Maybe you can have a little meta, as a treat.

I pretty firmly believe that we’re supposed to see connections/parallels between how Sara treats Simon and how Wilhelm treats Simon, especially by the end of season 1 and then moving into season 2.

Consider how:

Sara and Wilhelm both betray Simon at the end of season 1. Wilhelm by denying his involvement in the video, Sara by letting August buy her silence.

Both Sara and Wilhelm think they can hold August accountable by acting alone. They do this without asking Simon what he thinks is best or enlisting the support of trustworthy adults. Sara attempts to emotionally support August enough that he holds himself accountable, while Wilhelm goes on a classic revenge spree. Neither approach is 100% effective because they’re working alone and because both of them are up against untrustworthy adults working behind the scenes (the royal court) who make situations worse.

Even when things are fraught for the reasons mentioned above, we still see evidence that they care for Simon and that their relationship with him is worth preserving. Wilhelm and Simon’s moment where they take a running shortcut at rowing practice is one of them. Sara hugging Simon after he sings his song is another. There’s more, too! I will let y’all find those things as I’m late for work.

Both of them have their poor decisions clouded by first love. Sara gives August more space than she probably should to change because they’re in love with one another (something that’s been brewing even before the video, so even if August never released the video, they still might have had some kind of relationship even though it may have looked very different.) She also assumes Simon’s scars from the video have faded somewhat so it’s okay to keep pursuing her relationship. (How many of us have assumed something affected someone less than we thought it did only to later find out we were wrong? Certainly I did, when I was a teenager.) Wilhelm, meanwhile, is in love with Simon, but at the beginning he is far from being a Model Boyfriend. He initially attempts to pressure Simon into a secret relationship and does stuff like read Simon’s texts. This is frightening enough when it comes from someone the same social class as you, but Wilhelm is a prince with a lot more access to wealth and people who can like… request your phone records and stuff. He never uses his power that way and I don’t think it occurred to him to, but I think we’re supposed to understand that this could have gone south if he didn’t have people like Boris helping him. (Meanwhile, Sara’s romance with August feels like a more dramatic betrayal in some ways than Wilhelm reading Simon’s texts and Wilhelm denying he was with Simon on live TV, but Wilhelm also has a lot more institutional power behind him while Sara is in a relationship when she lacks institutional power and her intimate partner has a lot to hold over her if their relationship sours.) The show is very clear that falling in love is a morally neutral thing—falling in love, whether it’s with a “generally good” or a “generally bad” person, is something you can’t control, but the choices you make as a result of being in love are what defines your moral stance. By the end of season 2, Wilhelm has grown and made the choice to express his love for Simon in more conscientious ways. He becomes aware of the role his status plays. Meanwhile, Sara has chosen to give up her first love—even with the possibility that she could face brutal retaliation from her partner—to try and achieve justice for Simon’s sake.

I feel like we’re 100% meant to see these parallels and feel equal amounts of sympathy for Wilhelm and Sara as they grow and work out who they are in the world and what they can do next. Which is why if I had to guess, Wilhelm and Sara having a bonding moment will play some role in Simon’s reconciliation with Sara. And even if it doesn’t, I guarantee you that the writers were thinking of them as having parallel arcs.

Anyway, I love both Wilhelm and Sara so much. They both have amazing growth! That’s why I want to see them interact and become friends.

[ros64]

From @dianagabaldon site

⚠️⚠️ATTENZIONE SPOILER PER CHI NON HA LETTO TUTTI I LIBRI FINO A BEES ⚠️⚠️⚠️

Today is the Fourth (and final) Sunday of Advent. The waiting is almost over, but the anticipation is still to be enjoyed. The final candle (since we’ve used the other labels) is Peace.

Peace is one of those things that you can’t really define (not that people don’t, but—like love—it has depths and shimmering facets of meaning), but you know it when you encounter it. Hence the Biblical quote, “The peace that passeth understanding.”

Peace often comes and finds you in the midst of Things (like realizing you’re leaving for the journey to another city for Christmas in two hours, and you haven’t yet wrapped the presents that you need to drop off at FedEx on the way…), and we often don’t realize that this happens because we carry peace with us, all the time.

Peace is part of our nature, just as we’re part of nature.

Now, I’m a biologist by training, and am also one of those people who (as my father disapprovingly said (manymanymany times), “have your head in the clouds!” (Like this was a _bad_ thing…) Yep. Also on the ground.

Rocks come and find me, and it’s rare for me to come home from a walk _without_ a rock in my pocket. So a few days ago, I was walking with Lucy the dachshund, to whom “walk” means “sniff everything in sight, pausing occasionally to pee on it”, and as usual, glancing over the ground we were walking on, which—being a desert front yard in Scottsdale, was mostly crushed granite. But in the midst of this layer of pinkish rock was the little gray visitor you see in the photo above.

This is a tiny survivor of a volcanic explosion that took place many miles away. Plainly, it’s a rock—but one that’s been through Stuff. It’s been melted by the heat of the Earth’s core, and blown far abroad, with those little holes the scars left by the violent gasses that propelled it.

What could be less peaceful?

And yet, there it is. Basking in the sun, resting among strangers.

No matter what’s happened to it, it remains what it is. It carries peace, because peace is its nature—as it is ours. Wait, and listen for the peace that lives within you to whisper your name.

Merry Christmas!

EXCERPT from BOOK TEN (Untitled), Copyright 2024 Diana Gabaldon

William washed his face—it was thick with stubble, but no point in trying to shave without mirror or soap—and made his way downstairs.

The smell of food reached him at the top of the stairs and drew him down like a mosquito scenting blood, single-minded in his voracity. And a good thing, too, he realized as he entered the kitchen. He was so hungry that he’d suffered no hesitations regarding his welcome.

In fact, while everyone at table turned to look at him, all the faces bore smiles, whether shy or broad, and he bowed to them, smiling back.

“Good morning,” he said, and the smallest girl—Amanda, that was her name—giggled and pointed her spoon at him.

“Your beard looks like Grand-da’s!”

A ripple of stifled amusement ran round the table, but before he could think of something to say, Mother Claire rose and took him by the sleeve, showing him to a place on the bench beside Frances, who looked up at him demurely.

“I hope you thl-slept well?” she said. Her cheeks were pink, but she met his eyes straight on, and he felt a slight jolt; her eyes were very much like Jane’s.

“Immensely well, I thank you,” he assured her. A trencher appeared before him, piled with toast and bacon, and Amanda’s brother—James? No, Jeremiah, Jem, that was it, a tall, red-haired boy, thin as an oak sapling—shoved a pot of strawberry jam across the table.

“What do we call him?” the boy asked, turning to his grandfather. “Uncle Billy?”

William choked slightly on the mouthful of beer he’d just taken. Frances, Claire, and the three little girls _all_ giggled, and he thought Fraser might have done as well, were he capable of making such a sound. As it was, Fraser kept a relatively straight face, and replied, “Not unless he asks ye to. ‘Til then, ye can call him Mr. Ransom, aye?”

William cleared his throat.

“You may call me William for the present, if you like,” he said to Jem. “I haven’t had a great deal of practice in being an uncle, as yet.”

“Don’t pester your uncle,” Mother Claire said, setting down a dish of succulent, glistening sausages, smelling of sage and onion, in front of William. “Let him eat.”

He ate like a ravening wolf, listening to the conversation with one ear, but making no effort to join it. His cup was filled—and refilled—with the very good beer, and he finished the meal replete—well, stuffed like a goose—and wondering whether he might go find a tree to sleep under for a bit.

“I’ll be goin’ to and fro on the Ridge today, fettling my tenants,” Fraser told him, brushing crumbs off his lap. He handed a fragment of toast to the big bluetick bitch who had been waiting patiently by his feet, and rose. “D’ye want to come with me?”

“I—yes. I suppose so,” William replied, taken aback at the invitation. He remembered Mac the groom saying “fettled,” with regard to grooming and feeding horses, but he supposed that Fraser merely meant that he proposed to tell his tenants that he would be gone for some time, and arrange for payment of rents to some factor.

Fraser nodded.

“Aye, good. I’ll say you’re my son, though most of them will ken it already, after yesterday.” He cocked a brow in question. Was that agreeable to William?

That made his full stomach drop another inch or two, but he nodded back.

“Of course. May I take time to shave?”

“Aye. Use the soap and basin in my room. It’s the one in front, on the left as ye go up.”

The room was large and pleasant, the window opened for air, but screened with muslin to keep insects out, and the diffused light gave the room a pleasant, quiet feel, like being inside a cloud, despite the muffled racket from the kitchen below. William found himself breathing shallowly, aware of the unfamiliar, intimate scent of the room. The bed had not yet been made, and while the thrown-back sheets were clean, they held the faint, disturbing musk of recent bodies.

If the intimacy of the Frasers’ bedroom was disturbing, the intimacy of using Mr. Fraser’s shaving soap was more so. It was soft, white Castile soap, and smelled of olive-oil, but also of basil and what he thought was marjoram, and…could that possibly be geranium-leaf? He hadn’t seen or smelt a geranium plant since he left England, and it gave him a brief sense of dislocation, a vivid sense of his Aunt Minnie’s conservatory, redolent with foreign flowers and writhing exotic greenery.

The thought made him feel more settled in himself. No matter what the future held, he still had both a past and a present, and those must be sufficient to keep him in countenance for what might come.

Refreshed and clean-shaven, he came downstairs, ready to see exactly what “fettling” might involve.

Oggi è la quarta (e ultima) domenica di Avvento. L'attesa è quasi finita, ma l'attesa è ancora da godere. L'ultima candela (dato che abbiamo usato le altre etichette) è Peace.

La pace è una di quelle cose che non puoi davvero definire (non che la gente non lo faccia, ma, come l'amore, ha profondità e sfaccettature scintillanti di significato), ma la conosci quando la incontri. Da qui la citazione biblica, "La pace che passa la comprensione".

La pace spesso arriva e ti trova in mezzo alle cose (come renderti conto che stai partendo per il viaggio in un'altra città per Natale tra due ore, e non hai ancora incartato i regali che devi lasciare da FedEx sulla strada...), e spesso non ci rendiamo conto che questo accade perché portiamo la pace con noi, tutto il tempo.

La pace fa parte della nostra natura, proprio come noi facciamo parte della natura.

Ora, sono un biologo di formazione, e sono anche una di quelle persone che (come ha detto mio padre con disapprovazione (molte molte molte volte), "tai la testa tra le nuvole!" (Come se questa fosse una cosa _brutta_...) Sì. Anche a terra.

Le rocce vengono a trovarmi, ed è raro per me tornare a casa da una passeggiata _senza_ una pietra in tasca. Quindi qualche giorno fa, stavo camminando con Lucy il bassotto, per la quale "camminare" significa "annusare tutto ciò che è in vista, fermandosi di tanto in tanto per fare pipì sopra", e come al solito, guardando il terreno su cui stavamo camminando, che, essendo un cortile del deserto a Scottsdale, era per lo più di granito schiacciato. Ma nel mezzo di questo strato di roccia rosata c'era il piccolo visitatore grigio che vedi nella foto sopra.

Questo è un piccolo sopravvissuto a un'esplosione vulcanica che ha avuto luogo a molte miglia di distanza. Chiaramente, è una roccia, ma una che è stata attraverso Stuff. È stato fuso dal calore del nucleo della Terra, e soffiato lontano all'estero, con quei piccoli buchi le cicatrici lasciate dai gas violenti che lo hanno spinto.

Cosa potrebbe essere meno pacifico?

Eppure, eccolo lì. Crogiolarsi al sole, riposare in mezzo agli estranei.

Non importa cosa gli sia successo, rimane quello che è. Porta la pace, perché la pace è la sua natura, come è nostra. Aspetta e ascolta la pace che vive dentro di te per sussurrare il tuo nome.

Buon Natale!

Estratto non indedito dal Libro Dieci (Senza titolo), Copyright 2024 Diana Gabaldon

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Rilasciato sulla pagina fb di diana per la QUARTA DOMENICA di AVVENTO

William si lavò il viso - la barba era folta , ma non aveva senso cercare di radersi senza specchio o sapone - e si diresse al piano di sotto.

L'odore del cibo lo raggiunse in cima alle scale e lo attirò verso il basso come una zanzara che fiuta il sangue, con la sua voracità. E fu un bene, se ne rese conto entrando in cucina.

Era così affamato che non ebbe nessuna remora riguardo alla sua accoglienza.

Infatti, mentre tutti i commensali si voltavano a guardarlo, su ciascun volto compariva un sorriso, timido o ampio che fosse, ed egli si inchinò a loro, ricambiando il sorriso.

"Buongiorno", disse, e la bambina più piccola, Amanda, questo era il suo nome, fece una smorfia e lo indicò con il cucchiaio.

"La tua barba assomiglia a quella del nonno!".

Un'ondata di divertimento soffocato fece il giro del tavolo, ma prima che potesse pensare a qualcosa da dire, Madre Claire si alzò e lo prese per la manica, indicandogli un posto sulla panca accanto a Frances, che lo guardò pudicamente.

"Spero che tu abbia dormito bene", disse. Le sue guance erano rosa, ma lo guardò dritto negli occhi e lui provò un leggero sussulto: i suoi occhi erano molto simili a quelli di Jane.

"Immensamente bene, grazie", le assicurò. Davanti a lui apparve una teglia, piena di pane tostato e pancetta, e il fratello di Amanda, James? No, Jeremiah, Jem, ecco, un ragazzo alto, dai capelli rossi, magro come un alberello di quercia, spinse sul tavolo un vasetto di marmellata di fragole.

"Come dobbiamo chiamarlo?", chiese il ragazzo rivolgendosi al nonno. "Zio Billy?"

William quasi soffocò con il sorso di birra che aveva appena bevuto. Frances, Claire e le tre bambine ridacchiarono tutte e pensò che anche Fraser avrebbe potuto farlo, se fosse stato capace di emettere un suono simile. Invece Fraser mantenne una faccia relativamente seria e rispose: "No, a meno che non te lo chieda lui. Fino ad allora, potete chiamarlo signor Ransom, d'accordo?".

William si schiarì la gola.

"Per ora potete chiamarmi William, se volete", disse a Jem. "Non ho ancora fatto molta pratica nel fare lo zio".

"Non infastidire tuo zio", disse Madre Claire, mettendo davanti a William un piatto di salsicce succulente e luccicanti, che profumavano di salvia e cipolla. "Lascialo mangiare".

William mangiò come un lupo famelico, ascoltando la conversazione con un orecchio, ma senza fare alcuno sforzo per unirvisi . Il suo bicchiere fu riempito - e riempito di nuovo - con dell'ottima birra, ed egli finì il pasto sazio - anzi, ripieno come un'oca - chiedendosi se poteva andare a cercare un albero sotto cui dormire per un po'.

"Oggi andrò in giro per il Ridge a "sistemare" i miei fittavolii", gli disse Fraser, spazzolandosi le briciole dalle ginocchia. Passò un pezzo di pane tostato al grosso cane bluetick che aspettava pazientemente ai suoi piedi e si alzò. "Vuoi venire con me?".

"Sì. Suppongo di sì", rispose William, colto di sorpresa dall'invito. Ricordava che Mac lo stalliere diceva "fettled/sistemare", riferendosi alla strigliatura e al nutrimento dei cavalli, ma immaginò che Fraser volesse semplicemente dire ai suoi affittuari che sarebbe stato via per qualche tempo, e organizzare il pagamento degli affitti a qualche fattore.

Fraser annuì.

"Sì, bene. Dirò che sei mio figlio, anche se la maggior parte di loro lo saprà già, dopo ieri". Aggrottò un sopracciglio in segno di domanda. William era d'accordo?

Questo gli fece stringere lo stomaco pieno di un altro paio di centimetri, ma annuì.

"Certo. Posso avere il tempo di radermi?".

"Sì. Usa il sapone e la bacinella nella mia stanza. È quella di fronte, sulla sinistra salendo".

La stanza era ampia e piacevole, la finestra si apriva per l'aria, ma era schermata con una mussola per tenere lontani gli insetti, e la luce diffusa dava alla stanza una sensazione piacevole e tranquilla, come se ci si trovasse all'interno di una nuvola, nonostante il frastuono ovattato proveniente della cucina sottostante.

William si ritrovò a respirare superficialmente, consapevole dell'odore intimo e sconosciuto della stanza. Il letto non era ancora stato rifatto e, sebbene le lenzuola gettate all'indietro fossero pulite, contenevano un lieve odore persistente di corpi .

Se l'intimità della camera da letto dei Fraser era inquietante, l'intimità dell'uso del sapone da barba di mr Fraser lo era ancora di più. Era un sapone di Castiglia bianco e morbido, che profumava di olio d'oliva, ma anche di coriandolo e di quella che pensava fosse maggiorana, e... poteva forse trattarsi di foglie di geranio? Non aveva più visto né annusato una pianta di geranio da quando aveva lasciato l'Inghilterra, e questo gli diede un breve senso di dislocazione, una vivida sensazione del giardino d'inverno di sua zia Minnie, profumato di fiori stranieri e di una contorta vegetazione esotica.

Il pensiero lo fece sentire più stabile. Non importava cosa gli riservasse il futuro, aveva ancora sia un passato che un presente, e questi dovevano essere sufficienti a fargli mantenere la calma interiore di fronte a ciò che sarebbe potuto accadere.

Rinfrescato e ben rasato, scese le scale, pronto a vedere cosa esattamente implicava questo “sistemare”.

[sadquickchristmassnowman]

3x15 origins of vampire mythology has to be one of the community eps I quote the most. there’s so much good stuff in there guys. I’m watching it rn so I’ll list my personal favorites (there’s a lot oops)

• troy and abed’s handshake at the beginning “best friends best friends making a cake”

• “I’m sorry britta, some things are funny because they make no sense, and that is Not one of them”

• “ex-boyfriend named blade alert”

• “make it yourself!” “I don’t know how 😰”

• “annie subdue your guest 😐”

• “that’s right. it’s a banana”

• “but we are not defined by our limitations! we are defined by our potential!” “I have the potential to watch blade”

• “there’s phones in the refrigerator. 😦 oops.”

• “you’re monsters! you’re hitlers! you’re racist pedophiles! you’re the opposites of batman!” “YOU DONT KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS”

• “I need help reacting to something 🧍🏾”

• “you’re the only one who really understands me”

• “you take that back! he could do plenty better than me. I was the first to say Yes 😁”

• “have fun forcing life” “We Will.”

• “he’s not as good looking as you.” “I wasnt fishing for that.” “no, I know, I offered it freely :)”

• “what’s wrong, annie? you came out of the bedroom smiling, and then your smile faded as you leaned against the door :(“

• “yeah, you’re just like blade, man, straight up”

• “you could change it” “to what? tempelton ferrari the third?? won’t change how mustard tastes”

• *pierce and chang walk past shirley and jeff, arm in arm, laughing* “how many times are they gonna do that”

• “dean. why are you here” “ouch 😟”

• “hello??? blade???” “…” “aaeeooöööugghhhhahahaeuaghghh 👹”

• “she’s whipped by an imaginary douche!” “hey, don’t knock it till you try it”

• “why do you wanna know the secret to making a woman psycho??” “why do we wanna know how to blow up the earth or grow a human ear on a mouse?? in case we have to, shirley. in case we have to.”

• “dean! why are you here??” “yikes!”

• “well. that didn’t work. that’s what I get for improvising”

• ”who hurt you??? and why didn’t it stick?”

• “he’s brain damaged.” “well let’s not be petty 🙄” “no I’m serious. he showed me the scar”

• “I have to go to him.” “No, Woman. ✋🏻😒”

• “Come Watch Blade 😑”

• “this movie is fantastic ☺️”

and the entire end tag with abed’s stand-up routine that’s basically just about the trobedison apartment and troy is absolutely eating up all of his jokes. plus “TOASTER OVEN!” “it’s from his album”

anyway just thought I’d spread the 3x15 love I’ve been watching this ep in my head all weekend and am finally watching it irl. 10/10

[ncisfranchise-source]

I think back to what I said about last week’s episode, NCIS: Origins Season 1, Episode 10 ‘Blue Bayou’ outdoes what was already an outstanding hour and is, without a doubt, the best hour in the show’s young season. Big words considering the episode barely has basically no Randy, only a little Franks and Lala, and basically focuses on Gibbs before he came to NIS and his friendship with his landlady, Ruth.

And yet, this hour—which is both incredibly sad and truly emotional, manages to give us the best version of Gibbs. The one that cares. The one that tries. The one that truly struggles, but that wants to be better. And the one that can form a real bond with a woman who was only supposed to be his landlady and truly became his best friend.

The thing about Gibbs is that, as we will get to know him later, as we’re getting to know him now, there have been a lot of important people in his life. Sometimes that makes it feel like there isn’t space for any more. Like there’s a finite number of people that can define someone’s life. But that isn’t so, it never has been. People can come into your life, change it and go, for many different reasons. Gibbs just happens to be someone who has been lucky, at different points in his life, to have found the people he needed when he needed them. This part of the story is about what he needed right after he lost Shannon and Kelly.

SHE WASN’T EVEN MINE TO LOSE

NCIS: Origins Season 1, Episode 10 ‘Blue Bayou’ isn’t really about Gibbs and Lala, but in many ways, it’s leading to a new version of Gibbs and Lala, one where they are actually partners, and perhaps from that a little more. If NCIS: Origins was trying to pretend their dynamic didn’t have romantic undertones, that’s done now. This episode puts that to rest. But the reason it is that, that it can be that, it’s that Gibbs hasn’t had someone he feels like he can trust, someone he feels he can open up to, rely on—and more importantly, someone he wants to invite into his life, as messy and dark as it sometimes is, in a long time.

And funnily enough, neither has Lala, even though she very recently had a boyfriend. We don’t yet know enough about her to know why she’s hiding pieces of herself, why she’s only showing the people closest to her what she thinks they want to see, but there’s no doubt that Lala isn’t truly being herself. And just as there’s a part of Gibbs that senses he can be himself with Lala, there’s a sense that she feels Gibbs might be the person she can be herself with. That if she shows him her scars, her “ugly side,” the things she’s always been afraid of people seeing, he won’t turn away. Just as she didn’t turn away from his.

It’s a rare thing, to find someone that isn’t scared of the worst parts of you. Not someone who loves the bad side, no, but someone who can embrace you fully and say, “I got you, I don’t care if it’s a good day or a bad day.” Has Gibbs ever really had that with someone else?

WHEN YOU GOT A PARTNER

..you only gotta do two corners each. This is the lesson of Ruth in NCIS: Origins Season 1, Episode 10 ‘Blue Bayou’ but it will apply to Gibbs with multiple people in his life, starting with Mike Franks. It was a little begrudgingly, of course. Franks didn’t really want to involve himself in Gibbs’s life. He didn’t want to care. But Mike Franks is the kind of guy that, once he’s in, he’s all in. And right now, he’s fully in with Gibbs.

But the thing is, so are Lala and Randy. That’s a corner for each. That’s the thing about having a team, not just a partner. There are fewer corners for you to take on. Gibbs will go on to have a team in the future, once he leads, but it’s very clear that the foundations of that, of how to work with a team, how to rely on how, come from this time in his life, these people. From Mike, Randy, and Lala. From NIS. And from a woman who saw a man sleeping in his car and said, you know what, no. You’re not going to let yourself die out here.

Instead, you’re going to go out there and you’re going to get better, one puzzle piece at a time. And you’re going to become the man you were always destined to be. Not for me, and not for the family you’ve lost, but for you. Because you deserve that, Ruth was the first one who saw that. And, perhaps, because she did, at one point, Gibbs did as well.

Things I think I think:

“She knew I killed the man who killed my family.”

“She would have been right to tear me up for going outside the law, for not telling her the truth, hell she would have been right to turn me in. She didn’t do any of that.”

But the fact that she couldn’t bring herself to look at him was probably worse.

“I’m sorry.”/”For which part? Someone killed my family, I don’t know what I’d do. Maybe the same thing you did.”

The problem is trust.

“I don’t trust you. I don’t trust Franks. I sure as hell don’t trust the two of you together.”

“What kind of team is that?”

AND AFTER ALL OF THAT, “It was my first Christmas without my family.” This episode is pulling no punches.

“She wasn’t even mine to lose, not even close.”

A man can, indeed, only take so much.

Ok, what was that call?

Well, I guess we’ll move on from building things to the boats.

Man, I get Franks not wanting to know, I do. But what did he expect out of Gibbs.

Ruth doing puzzles with him killed me.

“Sometimes it’s better to feel sad than feel nothing at all.”

“I tell you I’m a crap mother, you tell me you killed a guy.”

That letter! “Don’t be a little bitch.”

Of course, she’s sick. Of course.

No wonder he failed his psych eval!

A bar fight to “Blue Bayou.” Fitting.

Kinda fitting that it is Ruth who kinda convinces Franks to give Gibbs a chance.

“It is your business. You just wish it wasn’t.” Ain’t that the truth?

“One day, over beers, he told me about his talk with Ruth.”

“I wish I could have saved her like she saved me.”

I’m not crying, it’s just raining on my face.

But she got to spend time with her son!

Okay, what’s Operation Sundown?

Is it a long story, though?

“I got time. My meeting with Wheeler isn’t until Monday.”

“She was still a long way from trusting me, but she said she wanted to try.”

“When you got a partner, you only gotta do two corners each.”

Second sniper??

[cerberuspuppy1]

ATLA actor au

Ok so hear me out, an Avatar the last airbender actor AU set in modern times. But it’s just a random kinda dingy YouTube channel Sokka runs. He started it when he was really bored and managed to rope Aang, Katara, Toph and other characters into making a YouTube tv series with him. The first videos are somewhat akin to the ember island players in their bad overdramatized acting, props and editing but over time they learn from experience and the videos start looking like a real show. Better than some in fact. (Looking at you big movie corporations who try to make as many things as possible so they have a lot of media but it’s really bad quality.) Here Zukos been their friend for a while before they start and gets typecast as the villain because A) scar and B) dramatic monologuing. All the benders have their bending still. Either they have superpowers or magic but they have their bending and they use it. Through the channel more people start to gain confidence in the fact that they have superpowers or magic or are metahuman too because they see on screen that their powers don’t define them. Also Zukos family is toxic and Iroh fights for him in court and gains full custody.

OR. Sokka starts this YouTube channel but it’s just him vlogging his life. They could have their bending/powers they could not. It doesn’t matter as much for this version. It starts with meeting Aang the weird new kid. This could be at his school or in his town. And it covers meeting Zuko the school/towns resident bully, Toph a kid who ended up joining his friend group and everything else. More of a modern AU focus. Zuko would have his scar from his dad no matter what. Without powers the Todoroki treatment and with just like canon. Ozai would run a large business I think. Zuko still has an abusive family and would be in the process of a court custody battle between Ozai and Iroh. And the peak of his character arc would be learning his father isn’t good for him and choosing Iroh.

I kinda want to timeline/outline the second version now. Well if anyone want it just ask. And if anyone wants to write any of this please tag me!