#look i know this isn’t the type of train the prompt meant but

[writer-of-sorts]

written with @wolfstarmicrofic prompt: train

The stranger on the train is dressed in ripped jeans, a black undershirt and a leather jacket, with heavy mascara lining his eyelids and a row of piercings lining his ears.

Despite his punk appearance, the man undeniably has the air of an aristocrat. He sits straight-backed and prim, one knee crossed over the other. A sketchbook rests atop the expensive-looking bag tucked against his side.

When Remus approaches him, the stranger looks up. The long hair curtaining his face draws back, revealing alabaster skin, sharp cheekbones, full lips and soulful grey eyes.

Quite frankly, Remus thinks this stranger is the most beautiful person he has ever seen.

Which is exactly why Remus stutters incoherently before proceeding to trip over his own lanky legs and swear like a sailor as he goes crashing down to the floor of the train compartment.

Except he’s not crashing down to the floor. Because there is a pair of very strong leather-clad arms holding him up.

Said arms straighten Remus’ body and then drop as he comes face-to-face with his savior. His very attractive savior, who just witnessed Remus nearly fall flat on his face.

Remus feels his cheeks grow hot as embarrassment washes over him.

“Es-tu blessé?” the stranger asks, eyebrows furrowed with concern.

And now Remus feels hot for an entirely different reason. He opens his mouth, then closes it wordlessly.

“Oh,” the man says. He smiles sheepishly. “Are you alright?” he asks, with just the faintest trace of an accent as he rolls his mouth around the r’s.

“Yes,” Remus breathes. He clears his throat. “My name is Remus, and” —he points to the empty seat across from the man— “I believe that is my seat.”

The stranger flashes a genuine smile, and Remus’ heart soars. “Sirius Black. Please sit down.”

word count: 300

[weird-and-unwell]

“Autism isn’t a disability”, “it’s just a difference”.

I am of lower support needs. I hold down a (part time) job. I have travelled around my home country. I live alone.

At work they complain about my speech. I’m too quiet, they say, “barely audible” is the words used at my autism assessment. My voice is all monotone, and it needs to be more expressive. I get this complaint every week for a year straight, until my manager gives up. I don’t attend trainings because I forget and find it overwhelming anyways. My coworkers form friendships, and I watch them talk, wondering how they make it look so easy. I get a new manager, I tell her I find the work socials too overwhelming to attend. She tells me I can just say I don’t want to come. I don’t know how to tell her that I desperately want to, to be like the rest of my coworkers, instead of constantly being the one sat on the sidelines.

I come home, and I can hear my neighbours again. The niggling background noise messes with my head, and I meltdown; I throw myself on the floor, I hit my head on the ground repeatedly as I scream and cry, tear out my hair and scratch my arms and face. When I complain, people tell me that I just have to accept that neighbours make noise, that I should just ignore it, or block it out. I am the problem, the one overreacting. I put in earplugs and it hurts and I'm crying again. I wear headphones but I can't handle the noise for that long.

I have reminders set for everything. Every chore, no matter how big or small. My phone beeps at me, reminding me that I need to wash the dishes. If I don't go now, then tick the little box on my phone to say I did it, it won't get done. My home is almost always a mess despite this. It's not just chores either. I won't think to wash, dress myself, brush my teeth or hair, without those reminders. And unless someone actively prompts me to do so, I will do those tasks "wrong". I haven't changed my underwear in a month, and I'm currently aware that's a problem, but within the hour I'm going to forget all over again until I'm next prompted.

I can't sleep without medication - it's not unusual for autistic people to have messed up circadian rhythms. Without my medication it's hard to even tell when I'm awake and when I'm asleep. When I was younger and at school I slept through so many lessons, and when I have my mandatory breaks from my sleep meds I sleep through every alarm I set. I want to work full time some day, and I'm terrified of what my sleep issue will mean for me then.

I don't travel independently. I don't travel anywhere alone, always with someone or to someone. If to someone, I have assistance the whole way. I find it embarrassing sometimes. Yes, I have a job that requires a certain level of intelligence. No, I cannot get on a train by myself. If I am not shown To The Train, To My Seat, I will be unable to travel.

Last time I travelled, I was left alone at the station for ten minutes. I stayed rigid and sobbed the whole time. I was overwhelmed. It was too loud, I didn't know where I was or where I was meant to be going, and until the assistance person came back I couldn't do anything because for some reason I cannot understand it.

I spend a lot of time trying to explain to people that despite my relative competence, I am unable to do many things. Why can I understand high level maths but not how to get on a damn train? No fucking idea.

"Autism isn't a disability" most severely affects those with higher support needs, and this is absolutely not to take away from them. But for fucks sake, autism is disabling.

Maybe you personally are extremely lucky and just find you're a little "socially awkward", or just find some textures painful or nauseating. Maybe you would be fine with just a couple of adjustments.

But for a lot of us, even lower support needs autistics, it doesn't work like that. I will never sleep properly without medication. I still have the self-harming type of meltdowns as an adult, over things that are deemed as being "just part of life". I live alone but have daily visits from family - if I'm left fully alone I forget all the little daily things one is "meant" to do. I had speech therapy as a child to get me to the "barely audible" "mostly correct" speech. I don't mask, I'm not really sure how I would to begin with.

I'm not unhappy with being autistic. It's just who I am. Life would be easier if I were neurotypical, but I also wouldn't be me. I just wish those luckier than me could...stop saying it's all chill and not at all a disability.

Because yes, socially, I am "awkward". I obviously don't make eye contact - I stare down and to the side of whoever I speak to. People think it's weird or creepy or a sign of disinterest. My autism assessor wrote down about how I often use words and phrases that don't make sense to others, even though they make perfect sense to me. In my daily life this means I'm frequently misunderstood, and have to try explain what I mean, when what I mean is exactly what I said, and the true issue is that what I mean just doesn't make sense to others. I gesture, at times, but again, my gestures apparently don't make sense in relation to what I'm saying. I take things literally, I have almost no filter, and I can't explain how I go from topic to topic.

And yes, I do have sensory problems. Sometimes people, including others with sensory problems, tell me that "sometimes sensory issues have to be tolerated", and I wonder what they think of as being sensory issues. I'm sure they do struggle, but if I say I can't handle a touch, I mean you will need to forcefully hold it against me for me to touch it more than a second and it will make me meltdown. If I say "I can't eat that", I mean that I am unable to swallow it, that I will gag and choke and inevitably spit it back out, as much as I try. If I say I can't handle a noise, I mean I'm so close to a meltdown and my meltdowns are a problem for everyone around me.

But yes. Autism. Not a disability. Just a fun quirky difference.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unparadiz’d

Warnings: non/dubcon, bullying, blowjob, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Part of Roo’s Pajama Party (October 7-8)

Prompt: Unparadiz’d - brought from joy to miserie. (List of prompts here) + this look

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. I hope you enjoy this one and have a lovely weekend.

This is the last of pajama party drabbles. Let me know if you want me to do anything else like this.

“Actually, you’re both wrong. Gladiators were more often highly-trained. In fact, many were soldiers, but they most certainly weren’t slaves,” you intone. 

You can’t help a smile. After more than an hour of chatter over things you didn’t know or care about, the conversation finally sways in your direction. History. That’s your ish. The Roman Empire especially. 

“And where did you get that?” Ransom scoffs.  

Charles rubs your back encouragingly. He hates how you tend to fade into the background. He needs someone who can stand at his side, not behind him. 

“Well, I studied history. Masters, um, but you know, I am always open to learning new things. So, perhaps you might have proof otherwise.” 

Ransom scowls. He hasn’t offered much more than that for most of the night. You don’t take it personally. He isn’t much better with the table full of people he calls friends. As the newcomer, you’ll happily just let it slide off your back. 

“I don’t care that much,” he snorts. “Whatever. Charles, what about that Corvette? Sounds like a broke down train pulling up.” 

“It’s antique. A classic. You would know if you had any sense of taste.” Charles rebuffs smoothly. “Safia, you’ll have to recommend me your chef. Mine can’t make ravioli for shit.” 

You smile prettily and keep your fingers pinched around the stem of your glass. Charles’ friends are the society type. Your own are few and far between and the most you did was go out for coffee or a movie. These people are intellectuals and you can’t help but feel like a pretender. 

“Stealing from me again, eh, Charles,” Safia drawls. “Mm, I might. If you’re a good boy.” 

Safia is gorgeous. Thick black brows, thicker hair, full lips. You can’t tell if she’s flirting or you’re just intimidated. 

“So,” Kimora turns to you pointedly, “you studied history. How cute. What did you study exactly?” 

“Hmph, Marie Antoinette and the like, I’m sure,” Ransom mutters. 

“Um, ancient history, actually,” you speak up. “Egypt, Greece, and Roman. But I was able to explore a bit more in my undergrad.” 

Ransom clucks and drains his glass of whiskey. Your eyes meet his stormy ones. You’re not sure if his irritation is meant for you or if it’s more a general disdain. Every time you speak only deepens his agitation. You might be better staying quiet. You can bear the lecture from Charles after, but the hatred in that man’s eyes pierces like a knife. 

“Well, if you’re looking for any writers on the subject,” Charles suggests, “I give her a five-star review.” 

“No one wants to read about dead people,” Ransom snips. 

You sip from your glass and lower your gaze to the table. You’re embarrassed. There’s really no particular reason to be but the way he talks scalds you with shame. Everything you do is wrong in his eyes. 

“I don’t know, Hugh, some of them are a lot more interesting than you,” Charles retorts. 

“Fuck off,” Ransom snarls. “Don’t call me that.” 

“Oh, my bad. At least Hugh doesn’t sound like it belongs on a dog,” Charles chuckles. 

Ransom slams his hand down, rattling his plate and cutlery, “you’re such a fucking smart ass, Charlie.” 

“Oh, behave,” Safia reprimands, “sit down.” 

“Piss off, mommy dearest,” Ransom spins and stomps out. “Bunch of snobs.” 

As he storms off, Charles laughs louder and Safia tuts and shakes her head at him. Bronson reaches over to take an untouched quiche from Ransom’s plate. “More for us.” 

You stare after the angry man. Something must be wrong. It can’t just be the dinner. It’s been rather pleasant up to that point. 

“Well, we’ve almost finished the bottle,” Charles reaches for the wine. “You’ve got a spare bed?” 

“You know I do, Charles,” Safia affirms. “I had the guest rooms made up. I know you all too well.” 

“Oh, don’t act like you haven’t kept pace,” Kimora tosses back with a smirk. “Charles, save some for me.” She puts her glass out and you glance down at your own. You still haven’t even finished your first. 

The night wears on as you once more get lost amidst the garble. You put a word in or two but someone else always talks a bit louder or you find yourself without much to say. Finally, the plates are cleared and you disburse to find a room to sleep in. 

You didn’t expect to stay the night, but Charles seems to have anticipated it. He pulls a black nightie from his leather bag and fans it out on the bed. You stare at the dainty fabric. 

“Oh, wonderful.” 

You wonder why he didn’t mention the possibility. It hardly matters. Charles knows best. 

You change into the night gown. It’s tight and a bit short. You fix the straps as they dig into your shoulders. 

“I don’t understand, it’s your size,” he drawls and belches into his hand, “mm, those prawns aren’t settling.” 

“Are you okay? Should I get you some water?” You offer. 

He waves you off and grumbles as he stomps around the bed. You watch him go then slowly look down at the nightie. Your chest threatens to fall out of the bodice. 

You sit and wait and listen. The tap runs then shuts off. Charles’ wretch follows and his vomit hits the water loudly. You cringe and get up. You go to the bathroom door and nudge it open, “Charles, can I--” 

“Get the fuck out!” He barks and you obey. 

You back up to the bed and sit. You won’t be able to sleep. He’s sick and you just want to make it better. Well, it’s good he gets it out. You probably wouldn’t want someone hovering over you in the same situation. 

You wait for Charles. Twenty minutes before you get up and knock on the bathroom door. He doesn’t answer but as you try the handle, you find it locked. He’ll come out when he’s ready. 

You keep the lamp on and move to the top of the bed. You fold the blanket back and recline, but don’t cover yourself. You turn onto your side and close your eyes.  

As you keep your ears perked for Charles’, you slowly drift down. After the long night and stress of meeting new people, you’re exhausted. You cross your arms and sink into the mattress. Reality is vague on the other side of your eyelids as sleep creeps up your body. 

You lurch away as a door clicks. You roll onto your back and look toward the bathroom. The door is still closed. You blink as a shadow emerges from behind the other. The door to the hallway. 

You lay in disbelief, paralysed in surprise. It’s Ransom. He wears only a pair of silk boxers. He must have gone into the wrong room. 

“Um, hi?” You sit up, “I think--” 

He puts his fingers to his lips and you snap your mouth shut. Confused. Maybe he needs to talk to Charles. 

“Charles is just--” 

He wiggles his finger then points it as you. He comes up to the foot of the bed. He tilts his head as his eyes scour over your body. He smirks. 

“You know about gladiators, huh? Know everything, don’t you?” He hisses. 

“Erm, no, I... no,” you gulp. “I didn’t say that.” 

“But you had to say something,” he snorts. 

“No, I was only... talking,” you tense and bend your legs up protectively. “I’m just about to go to sleep. I can let Charles know--” 

“You can shut the fuck up,” he puts his knee on the bed and reaches for you. He snakes your ankle and pulls your leg straight. You squeal as he hauls you down the bed. “Make another noise and I’ll go find Charles and bash his head into the fucking toilet.” 

“Please,” you wisp. 

“I fucking mean it,” he wrestles your legs down as you try to kick. He crawls over your body to straddle you. You claw at his forearms and wriggle helplessly. “You think you fucking know it all, well, I’m about to teach you the most important fucking lesson.” 

He closes his hands around your throat and you cough. His thumb presses down sharply and you whimper. He shakes you until you’re quiet. Your eyes wet and you try to bat away the fuzzy sheen. 

“You don’t fuck around with me,” he growls as he glares down at you. “I don’t care if you’re fucking that cockwad, you speak to me with respect.” 

You wheeze and slap your hand on the bed. You didn’t mean to. You were just trying to fit in. Why is he so mad? 

“So let’s start easy. Don’t make a fucking sound, do you got me?” 

You nod frantically against his grip as your head pulses from the lack of air. He grins and slowly releases you. He brushes his hands along your shoulders and yanks down the straps of your dress. Your tits pop out and you close your eyes in shame. 

“Look at these things,” he gropes your chest greedily. “Guess that makes up for that mouth.” You sniffle and he pinches your nipples meanly, “look at me, you bitch.” 

Your eyes snap open and round, tears bobbling along the brims. He snickers and flicks his finger up your throat. He pokes at your mouth and toys with your lower lip. 

“I know exactly how to train that mouth of yours. Surprised Charlie hasn’t already,” he pushes his finger into your mouth, forcing deep until his knuckles press against your teeth and you gag. 

He rips his hand away and raises himself on his knees. You squeak as he rolls down his boxers and springs free. His dick bobs as he climbs over you and you shake your head and snivel. 

He grabs his dick and your head. He wrenches you up by your hair, straining your neck as he presses his tip to your lips. You clamp your mouth shut and whimper. 

“Open the fuck up or I’ll break your teeth. Don’t think I’m fucking lying. I’m here, aren’t I?” 

You tremble and give in. Your eyes flow over and blur with the wash of tears. It’s not just the violation, it’s that Charles is right on the other side of that wall. And you’re just letting this happen. 

Ransom rams into your mouth. He shows no mercy as he thrusts down and invades your throat. His hand fists in your hair as his other trails back to your throat. He rubs there as he pushes down to his limit. As he thrusts, he feels himself from the outside, growling and grunting as you gurgle. 

“Yeah, fuck,” He ruts harder and harder. Saliva pastes across your cheeks and your throat sears from his relentless fucking. “That mouth isn’t so fucking bad. Fuck. And those tits. You fucking play with those tits.” 

He straddles just above your chest. You bring your hands up and cup your tits in your hands. You babble and squeeze, squirming as he pumps into your mouth. 

“Like that. Huh? Listen to you. Sounds like he don’t fuck you good enough. He doesn’t punish this mouth how it should be,” he snarls and puffs as you feel the tension cord through him, “oh, yeah... yeah... yeah...” 

His breath rattles and he quakes. He yanks your head up so your mouth is right against his pelvis. He rocks slightly, suffocating you, and suddenly, twitches. You feel him explode in your throat. His cums flood you, rising into your mouth and coming out your nose as you choke and hack. 

You quake and cough as he pulls out of you, inch by inch. Your body lurches as you barely hold back a swell of nausea. He raises himself over you, his dick softening slowly as it shines with spit and semen. He groans and cradles his balls. 

“Actually, you aren't entirely useless.” He taunts. 

[devilfic]

Prob, wayyyy too damn specific but I saw posts of Matt and I just rewatched The Batman (2022) and like I had this prompt of:

Reader is pushed away by Matt and decides to not fall with more vigilantes but runs in with Bruce and marries him? Maybe and it becomes some love triangle plot or idk

Idk what you could do with this, pls feel free to ignore it or modify. It’s just a weird ass crossovers of my two husbands.

at first I meant to humor you a bit with my thoughts on bruce and matt as very similar lovers but then it just turned into a throuple. walk with me:

it’s funny because matt and bruce have very similar self-destructive behaviors when it comes to relationships, but I think bruce is a bit more indulgent (whether he’d admit to that or not is another story entirely).

where matt is clearly insecure about if he can protect you—certainly he will fight until his last dying breath to do so but would rather you never be in danger to begin with—bruce is (and I'm especially thinking of an older, more experienced bruce), I think, unwilling to let you know that he’s just as insecure. mainly because failure cannot be an option. bruce also has much more at his disposal to protect you (cough cough money cough) and has backup plans for days. at this point in time, bruce would be more willing to let others in and have a healthier (?) way of maintaining relationships.

matt is, to the best of his ability, an ordinary man who strikes suddenly, sometimes recklessly, and thinks better within the throes of action. matt strikes me as someone who carries too many burdens to ever think a relationship with a civillian would work. he is a martyr like bruce, but I think where matt is in daredevil and where bruce is in my mind (years later, a little less cynical) are different enough to make them stand out.

that being said, I think matt would be hella suspicious of bruce because let’s be honest…. everything about him is a red flag LMAO. I can imagine matt playing mind games with bruce if they ever met, perhaps matt is representing a client who is suing wayne enterprises and oh, look, there’s you and bruce all cuddled up in the courtroom. matt listens for bruce’s heartbeat whenever he asks a particularly pointed question about his life but bruce has trained his heartbeat to be steady, his reactions natural. he gets one past matt.

and you think this man has some NERVE interrogating your new boyfriend when he’s the one who put you out. you almost let him have a piece of your mind but think better of it.

matt wonders if you like being bruce wayne’s. are you even able to still be you? the you that he truly knows?

needless to say, if they cross each other in cowls, matt will know it’s him instantly. I think it would sting matt to know that not only had you moved on to a man of much higher class, you’d also moved onto another nocturnal vigilante. one who, apparently, had no hangups about having you.

bruce also isn’t stupid. he’d done his research into the masked vigilante running around the neighboring borough of hell’s kitchen. it wasn’t apparent to him when he’d first met matt, but a little stalking research down the line and he’d put it together. they don’t reveal this to each other at first.

but later that night, bruce is holding you and wondering… is that your type? if it was by the simple hilarity of the universe that you ended up falling for him, right after leaving a man not too different from himself.

anon, I have a feeling that when you said love triangle, you really meant a love v as in bruce likes reader, matt likes reader, and reader likes both. but if I may talk my shit, I think these two might have a lot to like about each other. two vigilantes who operate by night and shadow, who have similar dedications to justice (matt’s being the idea of righteous and fair law, bruce’s being protecting the weak and innocent and rehabilitating or stopping the corrupt), two men leading double lives, two men as equally charming, and two men in love with you. bruce and matt find it hard not to see what you like in the other.

bruce befriends him. it’s kind of an accident the way he finds a kindred spirit in him, and at first it’s purely to keep an eye on this guy, perhaps to put together a contingency plan just in case. he starts sending nelson, murdock, and page cases in gotham that could use their legal advice, sending business partners and citizens alike to their door for referrals. matt isn’t sure what to do when they start getting a wave of new clients, all suspiciously right up their alley, but foggy and karen don’t mind the extra cash flow and matt struggles to find a way to not be okay with helping those in need.

matt returns the favor and starts training bruce on how to hone his other senses in combat. the two of them will spar for hours, only stopping if alfred were to come yank them apart or, god forbid, you come home early to find your boyfriend pinning your ex to the mat.

and you’re both horrified and fascinated to find that they get along really well. but you can’t just let matt back into your life after he’d all but slammed the door in your face. he’d given up on you. now he was weaseling his way back into your life with bruce—a happy life, might I add, although no less stressful—hanging around you like a dark shadow.

bruce isn’t sure how to feel about it either. he knows how much you loved matt, how much you still love matt, and he can tell matt is not over you no matter how much he waxes poetic about the greater good and why you two couldn’t really work out. bruce gets it, worries that maybe he should get it more and cut you loose too before something happens to you. it had always been their worry: that while they were off protecting the city, there’d be no one there to watch over you. and there was no one there to watch over you. once upon a time.

there is no organized discussion about it. bruce is less hung up about it than matt. it does feel odd, imagining him around you and it being… normal. inviting matt over for dinner with your permission, and sharing wine and heavy goodbyes as bruce pays a taxi to see him home safe. he considers the way you squirm at the table, trying to keep it friendly between you and matt but there is that ache in your chest that remembers this man differently. it feels disrespectful and rude to be friends with him now, having him around gotham. eventually bruce asks you as you wind down for the night, his rings clattering onto the dresser tray as you pull back the sheets, “you love him still.” well, he doesn’t ask.

you freeze, halfway into the sheets, unsure if you’d even heard him right, “I’m sorry?”

“matthew,” he casts a glance over his shoulder, “it didn’t really end between you. not on your end.”

“if you’re trying to accuse me of something-“

“I’m not. I can see it on you.” but bruce’s voice isn’t angry or mocking or blaming. it’s… oddly resolute. thoughtful, even. “I like him.”

“I… what are you saying, bruce?”

he crawls under the sheets, nonchalant, but he finds himself just a little (just a little) unsure. “I’m saying that… maybe the reason why he pushed you away isn’t a problem anymore,” he stares ahead, focused on the fireplace that burns low, “if you wanted him still. I wouldn’t mind it. I wouldn’t mind him.”

you almost can’t believe your ears. “and you like him.”

bruce takes a minute to shrug, as if he needed to roll it around in his mind one more time.

“do you… want us to be together? all of us?” you watch the reflection of the fire in his eyes, waiting with bated breath.

he turns his head to you, “if we can get the usher boy to agree.”

you have to have a long, long talk with matt. there’s tears and a little anger and a whole lot of uncertainty as you talk out your tumultuous parting but then, as matt’s guilt starts slipping in and he says he’ll stay out of gotham so that he doesn’t cause you more pain, you blurt it out. matt isn’t sure he’s heard you right. you have to repeat yourself, a bit more eloquently, “I said… do you want to be with me and bruce?”

he doesn’t immediately say yes. in fact, he takes a day or two to himself to think about it. he’s staunchly sure in the beginning that he will turn you down but the words do not form, the hesitance keeps him from calling. when he gets advice from foggy (who is twice as bewildered but all too excited by the prospect) about how to say he’s not interested, he writes it down and it just. doesn’t feel right. he finds himself rearranging the words in his mind to be softer, more… flexible. less “hard and fast no” and more “I just don’t know”. the more he thinks about it the less inclined he is to even SAY the word no. is it because it’d really, finally cut you out of his life? would he only be saying yes to have you again?

bruce would be there too, that’s the key thing. maybe it could start out as just him being with you and bruce being with you at the same time, but maybe that was too weird for him to think about. sharing you with someone else. he wouldn’t want to. but what would the alternative be?

he calls bruce to meet in hell’s kitchen where he feels safer. bruce is calm, not imposing in the least. he lets matt rant it all out and get his feelings in check. when he’s blown off all the steam, bruce just says, “if it comes down to it, there’ll be no hard feelings if it ends.”

“this is crazy.”

“you can say no.”

“yeah. I know.”

some time passes. bruce comes to stand beside matt sitting on the ledge of the rooftop, keeping his heavy gaze fixed on him. “they still love you.”

“I know.”

the two of them say nothing for a while. matt tries to focus on the city, as loud as it always is, but keeps zeroing in on the steady earnest thumping of the man’s heart right next to him. he is being honest with what remains unsaid, what you’d told matt days ago that he still struggled to believe. he tilts his head so, and bruce has known him long enough now to know that he’s thinking hard about what to say next, “I suppose you’ll have to take me on a date first. just so we’re all even.”

“is pinning you to the mat not courting enough for you?”

[kny-agere]

How do you think cg!Tamayo would react to baby/toddler Zenitsu? She seems like the type to adore babies even if Zenitsu would get nervous around her and cry a whole lot but she like is more in love because his cryin reminds her of her own babies. Sorry for the ramble I love baby Zenitsu and him with a mommy!Tamayo makes my heart swoon

Odd duo but I really enjoyed this!!

★彡☆彡★彡

Cg! Tamayo & Little! Zenitsu

Zenitsu was trying his very best not to freak out or run away. He was frozen wrapped up in his bed, whimpering quietly every few minutes.

Hashira training was in full swing which meant the butterfly estate was almost completely empty. Zenitsu was only allowed to stay under special circumstances, and there was no one else to keep him company. Shinobu, who might care for him on occasions like this, is far too busy to offer any comfort. The most she can do is give him a few extra blankets and a small collection of toys.

Zenitsu would be fine with this. A quiet room and comfortable bed is nice enough. However his sensitive ears can pick up the sound of two demons roaming the house as well. He vaguely knows about them, Tanjiro had disclosed their presence before, but the thought of two demons are terrifying. It’s what keeps him from relaxing fully. Each step outside his door makes him twitch.

Unable to regress fully or get any sleep the boy picks at the threads of his clothes. Aoi will yell at him for it but there’s little else the do.

For once his ears don’t pick up any noise until there’s a knock at his door. Zenitsu jumps and quickly fakes being asleep. He can tell it’s one of the demons outside. While the song leaking through the barrier is soft and light he still remains terrified.

Even without an answer the figure enters. Each step is careful and light until the demons casts a shadow over Zenitsu. He opens an eye to look, but realizes his mistake as soon as he does.

“Please don’t eat me!” He cries and hides underneath his pillow.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” The voice is woeful but what catches Zenitsu’s ear is the feminine lilt. His eye cracks open again to fully take in the demon.

She looks like a normal human woman, a bit older than Zenitsu. Her eyes lack the slitted pupils that even Nezuko has. Tanjiro has shared her name before but in his stupor it doesn’t come to mind.

“I-it’s ok.” The blonde is still slightly scared (and very embarrassed). He only manages to speak with his face half hidden.

The woman’s frown lessens but doesn’t go away entirely. “It’s late. I was surprised someone was still up. Even Kocho-san has passed out.” Her hand twitches but doesn’t reach out.

“Oh well-“ Zenitsu sits up but still clutches the pillow as a shield. He isn’t sure what to say. ‘I wasn’t able to sleep because no one was there to tuck me in and give me a kiss goodnight.’ The thought feels stupid now. Tears build up easily as he presses his lips together tightly.

“Would you like it better if I were to leave?”

Zenitsu can’t get any words out. The woman is a stranger and a demon, but she sounds nice and soothing. When she pulls away to leave the boy is finally prompted to shake his head. A hand shoots out to cling to her sleeve.

“I-I’m Zen, um Agatsuma Zenitsu. But everyone calls me by my given name,” He mumbles the last bit.

“Alright Zenitsu-kun, my name is Tamayo.” As the woman introduced herself she also crouches down by his bedside. Now she smiles, gentle and warm.

Zenitsu rubs at his teary eyes and tries to stop his leaky nose. “It’s nice to meet you Tamayo-san.” He still clings to her sleeve.

“Now let’s get you to bed. Lay back a little more for me.” Zenitsu follows her instructions obediently. He wiggles backwards and lays his head down on the pillow.

Tamayo is smiling gently as she reassures him. “Why don’t we relax?” She brushes his hands until they pull away from his face. Zenitsu can’t bear to look at her but for a moment he still catches the woman’s soft eyes.

As soon as his hands are at his sides she tucks the blanket underneath them. He’s pinned in, but the pressure is warm and welcome. Everything is almost perfect.

“Who’s the angry guy?” Deep inside the estate he can still hear the furious clashing noises of the other demon.

Tamayo laughs, a light noise that almost startles him back into wakefulness. “That’s just Yushiro-san. He won’t bother us.” She swipes another hand over his bangs. With the movement he squeezes his eyes shut again. “I told you to focus on going to sleep.”

Zenitsu relaxes under her tender touch. It takes a few minutes of petting but eventually falls asleep.

[elliemarchetti]

Gwynriel Weeks Day 4

I know I said I would write drabbles for this year's @gwynrielweeksofficial, but I got a little carried away.

The angst saga goes on.

Prompt: Warriors

Words: 920

War meant death, and loss, and suffering. It was horrible in all its forms, but war against a god of death and his followers was devastatingly cruel. It didn’t take place in an open field, it had nothing to do with the honour and the thrill of battle that was talked about in books. It was made of secrets, some to be kept hidden at the cost of one’s life, some to be uncovered regardless of what one had to sacrifice to do so. Gwyn didn’t think she was cut for this type of war, a constant battle between survival and feelings, between integrity and safety. She had realized it some time ago, when she would’ve died rather than leave Nesta alone on that sacred mountain she would’ve preferred to see razed to the ground, and even before, when she had sacrificed her innocence just to save the children of Sangravah. The training she had undergone after had taught her she should’ve behaved differently, be more selfish, but at the same time her mentor told her she did the right thing, making her incredibly proud.

It happened during one of their private sessions: they were both sweaty and exhausted, but battle don’t stop when you wish for it to, so her instructor had tried to end the fight as quickly as possible, to teach her a lesson and return to his rooms, where he would’ve washed the dirt away and from which he would’ve then disappeared until the next day, but he scared her, and a single tear had run down her freckled cheek. He had let her vent, he had let her cry and scream in despair and sob without ever showing the slightest sign of mercy, his fists clenched as if to keep himself from killing those responsible, souls he had already reaped during another war, against another enemy. He had saved her, and had massacred anyone who so much as laid eyes on her, yet he wouldn't tell her where he spent his nights, if he had a home in Velaris, an apartment whose location only the High Lord knew, or if he flew every night to his mother’s house.

Gwyn knew she was stupid for having fallen in love with a mystery. She realized the complexity of her feelings when no one heard from him for a while during a mission and even his closest friends began to accept the idea he might be dead. She had talked with Emerie about going after him, and had even argued with Cassian, but in the end she had waited like everyone else until he returned, unharmed and distant. Those who knew him well had told her it was normal, that Azriel never talked about what he had seen and had to do during his travels, but Gwyn wanted to know, she wanted to take that weight off his heart and see his shoulders relax under her touch. She yearned for a moment of intimacy, and prayed every night that the Mother or the Cauldron would allow her to be seen by him as a possible partner and not as a mere pupil.

“You did the right thing,” he had told her on that occasion too, when they had finally found themselves alone after weeks spent being constantly surrounded by priestesses, friends, and allies. She may have done the right thing, but she still felt guilty, because the male she loved took for granted that no one would ever come looking for him, that no one would ever enter his study looking for clues as to where he was headed.

“You could have found a mangled corpse, a rotting carcass devoid of meaning,” he had warned her, and when she told Nesta, her voice breaking at the mere thought, she had suggested that perhaps the spy’s path wasn’t her vocation.

“Nothing will ever take away the title of Valkyrie and Carynthian from you,” she reminded her during one of their sleepovers. “But maybe a role that puts such a strain on your morals isn’t what you need to heal.”

Gwyn had been tempted to agree with her, to end her training with Azriel and forget about Koschei, but when he had sent her a note in his familiar handwriting, a simple white card with a date and time to meet, her resolve crumbled and she showed up at the training arena right when the first star started to shine in the night sky. They had fought, sure, but for the first time he had taught her to recognize what was happening around her when she was deprived of her predominant sense.

“Fae and mortals are equal in this: we rely on sight because we’re used to, but when it’s taken from us we must still be able to protect ourselves and prevent the enemy from turning us into weapons,” he had explained, standing so close to her she had felt his hot breath on her neck and the ghost of his wings caressing her back. She almost fainted at the sensation, but the lesson had been helpful, more than she liked to admit.

“Do the right thing,” he had told her some weeks later in a foreign land, when their vision started to diminish and everything around them faded in pitch black darkness. A spy would’ve run, a soldier would’ve listened to the orders given by a superior, but she was a warrior, so she put his arm around her shoulders and began to trudge in search of shelter.

[beyondthegame]

ooh if you’re still taking prompts maybe “friends pointing [it] out” for L??

You and L going out together after training was pre-planned. You had texted each other and found a new restaurant that’s opening close by and thought to check it out.

“You’re on time,” L exclaims with a smile as you meet them outside the entrance. Their eyes subtly roam over you. “And you dressed up,” they breathe out.

You have, and they have too. For once, L’s hair is out of its regular bun and they’re wearing attire that’s a little more formal.

You chuckle. “You said this place has a dress code. So, you know, I, we, adhered to it.”

L isn’t an open book, necessarily. But considering they’re the captain of the team you both play for, it was never going to take long for you to become friends. It probably took mere days. So you know that them being lost for words is far from normal.

You tilt your head. “L…?”

“Yeah?” they utter absentmindedly, suddenly realising that their gaze on you has lingered. “Oh, right! Um, what I meant is that you look good,” L says all too quickly before twisting on their heel. “And I reserved us a table so we should go eat.”

—

There’s something different about being with L outside of a sporting environment. If possible, there are more laughs, more smiles, conversations that don’t involve the phrase ‘are you ready for our next match this weekend?’ It’s all effortless and easy, and you can talk about things that don’t involve work at all.

“You chose a good spot,” you mention as you take a sip of your drink.

“I suppose,” L murmurs as they take a quick glance around. The two of you are sitting together at a corner table. “I got the most private spot here considering we’re both getting more well known by the day.”

“Oh please, being in the press has never bothered you,” you say playfully.

L thinks for a moment. “True, I am a media trained darling,” they say with a laugh, “but one on one time without a camera around is nice.”

The two of you are doing it again. The thing where you find yourself in a magnetic field with one another, where you enjoy the other’s company a little more than you should and you’re trying to figure out why.

The notification tone of L’s phone pulls you both out of it. They send you an apologetic smile before opening the text on their phone.

Thing 1: L you at home??

L: Nope. At the restaurant I told you about.

Thing 1: Who with?

L types out your name and sends it to their twin, Leandro, without any hesitation. L expects that to be the end of the conversation until their eyes widen at the next message.

Thing 1: ooo, right… your date ;)

L: You’re being stupid. It’s not a date.

Thing 1: Don’t make me laugh. Anyone w/ eyes can see you’ve both got something going on.

That last message takes something out of L and it’s visible enough for you to notice. “You okay?” you ask.

L turns their phone face down on the table and gives you a weak smile. “Yeah, just… my brother being annoying.”

You arch a brow. “You have a brother?”

“Yes, my twin.”

You smile. “You’re the older one, right?”

“Of course,” L says with a laugh.

You turn back to the meal in front of you. “You’ve been a leader since the womb, then.”

L’s smile widens at the joke. Yet the only thing that’s going through their mind is their brother’s last text message.

[angelbroad]

"Do you recognise this?"

Type: Fanfiction

Fandom: Mortal Kombat

Characters: Kuai Liang, Kakkō, Lui Kang

Kuai Liang listened intently to his brother’s conversation with Lui Kang. They were talking about a certain mission regarding some disturbances from Outworld. It seemed that they were building their strength. They were in the room for a very long time, and Kuai Liang almost missed the weight of his mask. His ears then caught some wooshing sounds outside, paired with sounds of breaking wood and straw. He couldn’t help but try and find the source of the noise.

 His distracted behaviour must have been obvious, because Lui Kang addressed him.

 “Kuai Liang.”

 The man turned his head to face the god.

 “Is everything alright?”, Lui Kang continued.

 Kuai Liang nodded, “Yes, pardon me I was just..distracted.”

 Lui Kang seemed to understand, “Ah, Kakkō. Is their training too distracting?”

 Kuai Liang raised a brow, but the conversation quickly went back to the mission with Bi-Han's directing. Alas, Kuai Liang’s curiosity got the better of him, and he silently left the room to go and take a look. He knew how shaolin training usually went, and it did not involve such sounds. He was not sure if Lui Kang had noticed him leaving, but that thought still crossed his mind.

 He made his way to an empty training area, very few training dummies still standing and or in one piece. He took a few steps further inside the arena, and just as quickly he had to block a sharp object coming for his throat from the side and flung the assailant on the nearest wall.

 The smaller person got up with a grunt, still holding on to their weapon. Kuai Liang finally got a good look at his attacker. They were wearing shaolin garbs, their black hair tied in two long braids, and their eyes a dark brown. They looked like a teenager, more so when they folded their arms.

 They just stared at each other for a while before the other person sighed.

 “What do you want here?”

 Kuai Liang blinked at the sudden response, but responded nonetheless.

 “My brothers and I were here to talk with Lord Lui Kang.”, he explained, earning an eye roll from the kid.

 “Of course you did.”

 “So, you are Kakkō, right?”

 “How do you know my name?”, they said defensively.

 Kuai Liang put his arms up to assure he meant no harm. Kakkō’s gaze turned down to his belt, their eyes widening as they saw the kunai spear. They looked back up at Kuai Liang as if he had stolen something from them.

 “Is....everything okay?”

 Kakkō pointed at the kunai spear, prompting Kuai Liang to look at it as well. He lowered his right hand to reach the kunai, taking note of how Kakkō took a defensive stance. He stopped his movements and looked at Kakkō.

 “Listen, kid, I don’t want to hurt you.”

 That earned him another distrusted look. Kuai Liang quickly took his spear in his hand to show it to them, taking note of how Kakkō stepped back. Kuai Liang lowered the kunai, pointing at it with his free hand.

 “Do you recognise this?”, he asked.

 Kakkō stared at him for a solid minute before shooting their own kunai spear, this one with chain instead of rope, and pierced through a dummy’s head, pulling on the chain and bringing it back to them, the head landing on their feet.

 “Yea.”, they responded.

 Kuai Liang had to make sure he was seeing right. He pointed at Kakkō.

 “..How?”

 “Do you honestly think the Lin Kuei are the only ones that know the kunai spear?”

 “No, I just...why is the chain attached to a shackle on your wrist?”

 Kakkō whipped his head to their wrist, hiding it with their other hand in clear embarrassment. Kuai Liang raised an eyebrow.

 “I....wait-I don’t have to tell you anything!”

 “You are right, you don’t. I was just curious, that is all.”

 Kakkō turned their head to the side and on their floor. They mumbled something under their breath.

 “Excuse me?”

 “The person that taught me this isn’t around anymore! So I...got rusty...”

 “A previous Scorpion?”

 They nodded. Kuai Liang was surprised, because they certainly didn’t look old enough to have received training from a previous Scorpion. Maybe an old member of the clan for a brief period of time? Madame Bo was a great example. He slowly started walking closer, trying to appear as non-threatening as possible.

 “If you would allow me, I could help refresh your memory.”

 Kakkō looked up at him, their face reading both distrust and anger. But slowly, something else started to cross their features, which they shook off just as quickly and looked away from Kuai Liang. Kuai Liang understood the message and he went to leave. A voice addressed him when he was halfway to the exit.

 “Maybe....one sparring session..”

 Kuai Liang turned to them and gave a gentle smile.

 “What’s you name again?”, Kakkō asked as they turned to him.

 “Kuai Liang.”

[theimperialnuisance]

FFXIV Write 2023 || FFXIV Write info\\Prompt list\\Character info \\Master post ||

Prompt 11: Once Bitten, Twice Shy

used to mean that a person who has failed or been hurt when trying to do something is careful or fearful about doing it again.

Character(s): Atticus Wolfram and Shaili (belonging to @tokki-yue) Cw: none Word count: 863 Notes: Out of all my ocs, I think Atticus fits this one best <3 Set around Endwalkwer time but no real set place in the story. Also, did anyone else get the forbidden xmas song stuck in their head when they saw this? No? Just me?

Atticus was the type of person who wouldn’t get close to people. Couldn’t, was more of a better way to phrase it but he never said that aloud to anyone, knowing that would lauch into a myriad of questions he didn’t want to answer. This was especially true when it came to loving people. 

He had loved once before. A childhood friend who he grew close with. They trained together, joined the Legion together, shared every moment together–Atticus had built his entire world around him, feeling that he was his forever. He had been so blindly in love that he slipped up and exposed his father’s rebel operation against the Empire to him, believing he would feel the same. He hadn’t. He had a deep love for their homeland, and sense of pride and duty to the Empire that Atticus couldn’t relate to. Perhaps if he had been raised in a different household, things would have been different. 

Even so, Atticus knew, deep down, he was never meant to stay in Garlemald. 

He just wished he hadn’t said anything to him about it. Maybe things would have been different and he wouldn’t have destroyed so many lives for his mistake. He vowed to never let himself get to close to anyone like that again. He couldn’t trust himself to not get hurt and he couldn’t trust himself to not hurt them. 

But with her, it was different. She knew where he came from and what he had done. And while most people would run away, she stayed. She was willing to see past his flaws and mistakes, and she didn’t hesitate to call him out on things. She kept him grounded and in check, and even if she didn’t feel the same about him, he certainly couldn’t ignore the way his heart fluttered to his stomach every time she looked at him or smiled at him. There was always this strange tightness in his chest whenever he was around her, and if given the chance he would tell her everything just as he had before with him. And yet, he still hesitated, even if all the signs were there.

Some things, he had learned, were always left better unsaid. And sometimes, second chances were never worth it. 

“There you are!” 

Atticus was pulled from his thoughts, blinking the moisture back into his eyes from staring too long at the water. He turned around to see Shaili just coming over the crest of the hill gazing at him with a mixture of impatience and relief. He gave her a nonchalant wave, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. 

“You can be quite difficult to track you know,” Shaili stated matter of factly. “I feel like I’ve searched this area at least twenty times before spotting you on a cliff of all places…what are you, a cat?” 

Atticus laughed. “Maybe on another shard, I am.” He turned back to fix his gaze at the water again, quietly adding, “I just like the view of the ocean from here–really helps clear the mind when you need to think.” 

“You, thinking?” Shaili hummed playfully as she stood next to him. “Well that’s the beginning of disaster, isn’t?” 

Atticus leaned sideways in order to nudge her slightly off balance, she made a small protest but managed to catch herself. “Aha, but sometimes that disastrous thinking of mine has saved our necks more than once, and you know it.” 

Shaili let out a scoff in reluctant agreement but smiled down at him all the same. Atticus couldn’t help the small intake of breath at the way she smiled at him. “Well, if you’re done thinking, we’re going to grab dinner at the Last Stand, if you want to come.” the Au’ra turned away, muttering. “I mean, you don’t have to–you can stay up here and think until the sun sets for all I care, but Anya was insistent I go find you beforehand and ask, so here I am, tracking you down when I should be eating…” she trailed off and Atticus couldn’t help but chuckle.

“It sounds as if you want to me to be there since you went through all that trouble searching the city for me,” Atticus teased playfully as he stood up and brushed himself off. “So I suppose I should honor the lady’s request.” he tossed her a charming smile and a wink.

“Oh shut it,” Shaili rolled her eyes but the Elezen caught her lips tugging into a small smile before swiftly turning on her heal and heading out down the hill again. Atticus watched her go for a few seconds, a fond smile on his face as he placed a hand on his chest to still his fluttering heart. 

Despite everything, she was still willing to give him a chance. It was only fair to return the gesture, right? 

Shaili stopped and turned around, arching an eyebrow when she saw the Elezen hadn’t moved. “Hurry it up, would you?” 

“Yes, of course, I’m right behind you.” Atticus laughed as he followed her and they continued down the hill, side by side. 

Perhaps she was worth the second try. 

[pedgito]

Cute prompt idea: Vamp!Eddie having a soft spot for paranormal investigator! reader (can be gn! or open to other pronouns)

Also lovely writing! 😍

author’s note: uh, this was meant to be short but y’all know how that goes with me. it took on a life of it’s own and i hope it isn’t completely off track from what you were requesting.

cw: sfw, vampire!eddie, gn!reader, all types of paranormal creatures exist, gang is basically monster hunters, dad!hopper vibes, eddie is just sweet and curious, mentions of injury/blood, fighting off ghouls and use of weapons, blood drinking (not how you think), light/silver still effect vampires, this is just super cute and a break from my smut momentarily

word count: 4k

A normal work shift consisted of coming in, grabbing your assignment for the night, grabbing your gear, and heading on your way to whatever undisclosed location was sealed inside the folder. It was an easy routine to fall into; despite how dangerous the job actually was, you were good at, great even.

It’s part of the reason why Hopper chose you to train the new recruits—that and Dustin couldn’t be trusted with the new ones, he was incredibly skilled at scaring them away within the first few hours and it quickly turned into a problem. Hopper needed staff and staff didn’t exist whenever Dustin was training so, the responsibility fell on you.

“I’ve got a new one for you tonight,” He announces from the moment your foot crosses the threshold, his wide shoulder and head peeking out of his office door, “he should be here any minute.”

“You’re kidding?” You ask with a reasonable amount of disbelief, having only finished training someone last week. “I just finished up with Wheeler.”

“And he’s already doing great,” Hopper points out, “I just sent him off on his first solo and he’s loving it—says he learned a lot from you.”

You really hated being good at your job and loving it just as much—it meant that you were more inclined to feel obligated when asked to do things, like training another new employee for back to back weeks, which was a tedious enough task in itself.

“I really deserve a vacation,” You tell him, “or a raise—even a thank you would be great.”

“You know how much I appreciate you, kid.” Hopper says.

And you do, he’s always treated you like family from the beginning and that’s never changed. You always had a place to call home with him.

You sigh, loud and dramatic, “Okay—well, is there anything I should know?”

Hopper’s face changes slightly, contemplating his next words.

“Come here,” He nods toward the interior of his office, “you’ll probably want to take a look at his file.”

The red flags shot off in your mind immediately, but your feet moved for you, following him into his office, letting him slip the Manila file into your hands as you sifted through.

“Edward Munson,” You test the name on your tongue, glancing down to see the preferred shortened version of his first name, “—oh, Eddie. Eddie Munson? Am I saying that right?”

Hopper nods, pointing toward the bottom of the file, a portion that was usually left blank. It’s only been filled one other time, long before you, and it wasn’t something that Hopper took on lightly. There had to be a reason.

Your eyes widen, shoving the file back at him quickly, as if you’d been burned. “A vampire?” You say seethingly, “Have you lost your mind?”

“Look—the kid means well.” Hopper tells you, “I know his uncle—the boy has a good head on his shoulders; just a lot of unfortunate circumstances he’s been involved in. I told him I’d do him a favor—we can at least try it out.”

“And after last time?”

“It’s the last time I ever hire a werewolf during the week of a full moon,” Hopper admits his wrongdoing, but lowers his voice to level with you, “—just give it a chance, for me?”

“You’re lucky I don’t hate you.” You say begrudgingly, eyes narrowing. You pull at your bag, the weight of it slipping off your shoulders. “Is that all?”

“Don’t bring it up.” Hopper warns, “Kid gets real sensitive about sometimes. He’ll talk about it if he wants to.”

“You know I’m dealing with ghouls tonight, right?” You tell him, feeling that he should know, considering how much he despises the supernatural beings. “The ones out at the cemetery that we’ve been trying to contain for weeks.”

“Sounds like fun,” He grimaces, “seems like you’ll both be getting a real hands-on experience.”

You smile smugly, “Don’t worry, Hop—I’ll make sure to bring you back a souvenir.”

He sips at his coffee, fluffy mustaches covering his top lip, “It better be a goddamn keychain and not another severed hand.”

You shrug indifferently, “I’ll surprise you.”

“And I’ll put you on cleanup duty for a month.”

It was an empty threat. He’d never be able to go through with it, he relied on you far too much.

Eddie is entirely too curious and touches everything, like those annoying kids with sticky fingers that love to find their way into everyone’s business. He asks too many questions, he talks far too often, and you almost forget that giant blinking red sign in your head that keeps screaming ‘Vampire’—nothing about him gives it away.

Well, maybe the outfit, the hair—but definitely not the personality. The ones you’ve met were always brooding, pensive, dealing with ventures of guilt and trauma. Eddie was brand new, practically a baby, fresh-face and untouched.

You smack at his hand with the tip of your flashlight, clinking against the dense metal of his rings. His eyebrows furrow, making a small noise of disapproval as he pulls his hand back.

“Stop touching everything.” You warn him, sorting through the gear in the back of your van, gathering the supplies you needed on your belt and vest, watching on as he struggled with his own. “Some of this stuff is used for lethal force.”

“You think they’d make these things a little more practical.” Eddie complains, pulling desperately at the clips, trying to force them to connect around his chest.

“It’s because you grabbed the smallest size.” You deadpan, dropping what you were doing to assist him, yanking at the clips until they click together, watching as his back straightened in discomfort.

“Well, good thing I don’t need to breathe,” Eddie comments idly, pulling a soft laugh from your chest. You weren’t sure why you were expecting him to be secretive about it. He was far too giddy to hide it, he was being himself.

“We can switch.” You offer, already pulling at your vest before he answers, watching as he silently unclipped his own in the process. You switch without a word, and the fit is more comfortable, for him, at least. “Is that better?”

“I’ve dealt with worse.”

It was only one minor inconvenience in the giant problem that was your life; you’d survive. You shoved the supplies into the vest, handing Eddie a flashlight before taking one for yourself.

“I don’t need one,” Eddie tells you, holding the flashlight up with a loose grip, “I can see fine.”

You pointedly shove it back toward his chest, “It’s not for you,” You say flippantly, “just take the damn flashlight.”

Eddie eyes you for a moment, trying to decipher you. He’d always been good at reading people, but you were giving him a harder time than he’d expected.

“Sorry,” He apologizes, clicking the flashlight a few times, light shining in your eyes obnoxiously, “—oh shit, I-“

You sigh through your nose deeply, eyes falling shut to calm yourself.

You speak slowly, face scrunching up in focus, “I’m begging you. Please stop.”

Eddie sets the flashlight down carefully, hands crossed in front of him as he stands back, forcing his curious hands to halt.

“When we get in there I need you to listen to me,” You tell him, trying to emphasize the severity as much as possible, “you might not be able to die so easily, but I can.”

“I wouldn’t let that happen.”

For some reason, you believe him—but his giant, doe eyes have seen nothing yet; they’re unscarred to the wonders of things that go bump in the night, aside from himself. There’s too many things discovered and undiscovered, and even you didn’t know everything. But, the job was serious—and you knew he’d take it as such.

“Let’s hope so.”

The walk to the cemetery is long and quiet, for the most part, aside from the few attempts at small talk that Eddie tries.

“So, how often do you deal with—“ Eddie pauses, thinking of the name, the word slipping his mind.

He takes too long, “Ghouls?” You finish for him.

Eddie nods, curls bouncing against his shoulders. He smiles a lot, too—it’s only slightly alarming because his fingers are so prominent and he doesn’t try to hide them.

“Not often—only once a year, usually,” You tell him, “and they don’t always show up so close to Hawkins, but we’ve been tracking them for a while and they’re supposed to feed tonight.”

Eddie nods slowly, following your words carefully.

“They eat the dead.” You explain, earning an odd look from Eddie, it’s almost poetic. “Don’t worry—you’re safe. Besides,” You stick up the flashlight, shining the light back in his face, “I’ll be there to defend your honor.”

Eddie winces, shoving the light away gently. He blinks rapidly, like he’s struggling to see and you realize your mistake, quickly shoving the flashlight back into its secured spot on your vest.

“Shit—“ You start to apologize, “I didn’t mean to hurt you with that. Are you okay?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” Eddie lies, rubbing at his irritated eyes, “just burns a little—I’ll be okay.”

You feel bad and you hate it, because it feels like every moral in your body is turning against itself. In his defense, he was just as much a capable person as you, albeit some differences—and it wasn’t unusual for people like his kind to meld into and function in society to some capacity. It was new to the world, but it worked—he wasn’t the first vampire you’ve met, he wouldn’t be the last—but they usually ended up on the other end of spike after trying to kill you, so yes, things were a little different.

You take a step, slipping on the crack in the concrete as you’re lost in thought, nearly tumbling toward certain death, but Eddie catches you, one hand wrapping around your waist, the other grilled tightly on your bicep, pulling you upright and against him.

“Are you sure you should be out right now?” Eddie asks, “You seem distracted.”

You nod gently, not asking him to let go, his hands squeezing you reassuringly, just a soft touch that would go unnoticed if you weren’t so hyper aware of his hands on you, freezing cold to the touch.

“It’s a lot to deal with in one night,” You admit honestly, “This is more high risk than most cases and Hopper wanted me to train you—it’s literally your first, plus you’re a—“

“You can say it.” Eddie says, head tilting to meet yours as you look up at him. “You don’t have to feel weird about it.”

“I kill people like you,” You say softly, “all the time.”

“I’m sure they deserve it, though,” He offers, which couldn’t be truer, “I don’t want to hurt people—or you, at least.”

You smile awkwardly, eyes wandering to his lingering hands.

“You can let me go now.”

Eddie pulls away quickly, hands settling at his side.

“My bad,” He excuses, “—are you sure you’re okay?”

You nod quickly, walking the rest of the path until you meet the gate closing off the cemetery, pulling at the chain wrapped around the only entrance you have to get inside.

“Did you grab the bolt cutters like I asked?” You turn to Eddie, catching the telling and guilty look on his face as soon as your eyes fall on him. “Eddie, come on—“

“I got it, I got it,” He says defensively, nudging you out of the way to grasp the chain in his hand, but the moment he touches the chain he’s pulling back with a shout of pain, “—fuck, are you kidding me?”

“You didn’t think that one through, did you?” You ask, pulling at the tightly bound chain. Eddie’s face falls, staring down at his wounded hands, healing slowly in front of you. “Works well, doesn’t it?”

“Uh, yeah,” Eddie scoffs, hissing slightly at your touch, hands tracing over the slowly healing scar on his palm, “I’ve never—I didn’t think that was real.”

“Silver is pretty effective,” You tell him, his skin now fully healed as you let go, placing his hands back at his side, “it can take down a full grown man, if needed.”

“Good to know,” Eddie laughs weakly, balling his hands into fists a few times, testing that his skin was back to normal, “—so how are we getting in?”

“You forget the bolt cutters—figure it out.” You tell him. It was one of the best ways to teach, you’ve learned, allowing them to problem solve in situations that seemed impossible; it always spurred the best ideas.

“Well, I could turn into my bat form and fly over the gate.”

“Are you fucking serious?” You ask with wide eyes, “Is that actually a thing? I thought it was a myth.”

“You’re so gullible.” Eddie laughs, pointing toward the top of the gate where a few spikes had been worn down and left a convenient opening, “We’re climbing, right?”

“Bingo.” You smile, “You gotta lose the jacket, though. I’m not ruining mine.”

Eddie mumbles begrudgingly, shifting off his vest to reach his jacket, tossing the thick piece of clothing at you. You toss the jacket over the edge, pulling until it sufficiently covers the sharp edges.

“Can you do it?” Eddie asks, nodding toward the ledge, hands poised to help lift you. You shove him away, assuring him you’re fine. You push off with your feet, barely missing the edge—you sigh, take a breath, and jump once more. Eddie stifles a quiet laugh beside you, knowing that your pride was too high to ask now that you already denied his help. He’s silent when his hands grasp your hips, careful as he squeezes and lifts you up. You freeze, letting out a soft noise of surprise as he pushes you far enough to where you can grab the ledge, pulling and throwing yourself over with a little less grace that you intend, flustered by how easy he was able to lift you up.

Eddie climbs the gate in two movements, a large leap as he grabs the ledge and flips over with practiced precision. You’ve never seen anything like it before, his feet hitting the ground simultaneously. You huff in annoyance, watching as he yanks his jacket down, shifting his hand through the gate to grab at his vest, the biggest, smuggest smile on his face.

“Show off,” You remark, earning another soft laugh from him, “just hurry up.”

You weren’t sure what to expect walking into the nest, but it’s eerily silent, like Hopper got it wrong and they hadn’t migrated here for the winter, but then you’re being blindsided, thrown off to your side and away from Eddie—leaving him to handle the hoard of them blindly, your body colliding with the stone buried in the ground, collapsing weakly onto the grass.

“What do I do?” Eddie panics, pulling the large machete from his belt, swinging wildly in an attempt to fend them off, your vision blurry as you search for him, focusing on his voice.

“Their heads,” You shouts, clutching your side to dull the steering pain, hand wetting with what you can only assume is blood, shirt tacky and damp as it stuck to your skin, “cut off their heads!”

There’s a loud commotion, screaming from Eddie and the hoard of ghouls, you can’t focus, the pain in your side is more overwhelming than anything you’ve felt. You close your eyes, attempting to breath through the pain—you hear the cracking of foliage behind you, an all too familiar feeling creeping up your spine as the creature leaps over your back, ghastly and horribly smelling, you push and fight, trying to keep it as constrained as you can while you search for your knife, only realizing once you find it that it’s the source of your pain, lodge in your side, just under the skin. It couldn’t have been more of a freak accident, somehow managing to miss anything fatal, but the pain was still unbearable.

“Eddie—help, please,” You plead in a moment of vulnerability, teeth gritting in pain as you groaned, using every ounce of strength to fight the thing off, only finding relief when the ghoul is being pulled off of your forcefully, shoved on the ground as Eddie shoved the machete through its skull, the disgusting squelch making your stomach turn, “—thank you.” You force out through a weak breath, clutching your side as you try to rise to your knees, only to be subdued by Eddie, gently forced back down.

“Don’t move,” He warns, hands hovering over your side, your own hands stained in blood, “you’re bleeding too much.”

“I’m sorry,” You don’t know why you’re apologizing, but it feels right in the moment, given the circumstance, “I can wrap myself up—or try—I don’t want it to bother—bother you.”

You can see his pupils dilate larger, eyes focused on the blood pooling against the ground, but aside from that, he’s calm. It’s unlike any other interaction you’ve had with someone of his mind—but Eddie had contradicted most of what you knew, even in the small amount of time you’ve interacted.

“I can help you,” Eddie suggested, “but only if you’re okay with it.”

Your eyes narrow, urging him to continue.

“I guess you’re unfamiliar with how healing works,” Eddie assumes, pressing his hand firmly to add pressure to your wound. He can hear the blood flowing through your body, the sound rushing through his ears, the smell invading his nose—normally he’d jump at the first hint of blood, feed on whatever unfortunate stranger was around at night, but there was nothing like this—he didn’t want to hurt you at all, he wanted to fix you, help you—he’s only ever done it once and he knows it works, but the process is…intimate, “are you?”

You shake your head weakly.

“My blood, it’ll heal you.” Eddie explains, “but you have to…”

He can’t say the words, seeing the way your face creases, a sudden realization hitting you. “No—no way.”

“It’s safe, I promise”. Eddie says, “But, we can always call Hopper—“

“No, no!” You stammer, shaking your hand out in disapproval, the movement makes you wince, your hand clasping over his own where it’s pressed to your side, the sharp metal of the knife pressing sharply into your side. “God—I need to take it out.”

“If I take it out, you’re going to bleed even more,” Eddie explains, “Look—I get how weird it is—I do, but I promise it’s safe. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

You’re not sure why you trust him so easily—maybe it’s his eyes, so innocent and pure, like there wasn’t a lie he could tell.

“Do it,” You say quickly, tired of lingering on the thought, “just do it.”

Rip the bandaid off, stop the pain.

“Are you sure?” Eddie asks, taken back by your sudden agreement.

You nod furiously, the pain and blood loss starting to take toll, feeling yourself go lightheaded and slumped, moaning softly.

You watch as Eddie pulls his sleeve back, the sharp point of his teeth digging into his wrist, carefully angling his arm as he pulls away, leading it toward your mouth slowly. You can see the blood seeping out—his other hand coming to cup the back of your head gently, tilting it back comfortably until your lips meet his skin.

“Slowly,” Eddie intructs, “just suck—but be careful.”

Your brows furrowed in concentration, lips pursed to suck gently—you’re not sure what you’re expecting, but it’s not the taste that hits your tongue initially; sweet and tangible, like a drug that would easily become addicting. It’s not bitter, or copper-tasting, and it throws you for a loop. It’s fuzzy, the feeling as it flows down your throat, your free hand comes to wrap around his wrist, eyes squeezing shut as you sucked harder, whining at the sensation, a type of pleasure you’ve never felt before.

“Hey, hey,” His voice is soft, but stern, “slow down—you don’t need that much.”

You pull back with a heat to your face, feeling embarrassed. Eddie releases the back of your hand, pulling quickly at the knife—you are numb to the pain, body already trying to heal itself as he throws the knife to the ground, letting it clammer loudly against the concrete.

“That was intense.” You admit honestly, letting Eddie wipe the stray string of blood away with his thumb, using the pad of his sleeve to wipe your mouth clean. It only makes the embarrassment worse.

“How does it feel?” Eddie asks curiously.

“Feels—fuzzy, tingly, I guess.” You tell him, “Like a high, maybe?”

Eddie makes a subtle face of surprise, laughing quietly at your description. “Well, looks like you’re all good now—like it never happened.”

“I’m not gonna end up turning in my sleep, am I?” You ask jokingly, letting Eddie pull you to your feet slowly.

“No,” He chuckles, “I meant what I said. I wouldn’t try to trick you. But—you might feel weird for a day or two, it’ll fade.”

“Oh—okay,” You nod, glancing around at the mess of bodies lying about, left for you both to clean up. “Well, we should probably finish up the job—Hopper is probably wondering where we’re at already.”

“Are you going to tell him—“

“No.” You respond immediately. “No one needs to know about it—or that I got hurt. I’d never hear the end of it.”

“Okay,” Eddie nods in understanding, releasing you when he thinks you’re stable enough, “our secret—got it.”

You smile softly and Eddie does too, you’ve never felt more nervous.

When you finally drive back, it’s at the peak of early morning, sun still down and most of everyone has gone aside from Hopper, who practically lived at the place—Eddie grabbed most of the gear for you, lugging it in his arms as you followed closely behind.

“Looks like you two had a night,” He comments, stepping out of his office to watch your two frazzled, worn out faces walk down the hall, “how’d he do?”

“He’s alright,” You shrug and Eddie laughs to himself, continuing down the hall as Hopper stops you in your tracks, “—what?”

“You alright, kid?” He asks, “I know how rough ghouls are—you don’t have to play it down.”

You shake your head, “No, we’re good—he’s really curious but…he’s got potential.” You tilt your head slightly, watching down the hallway as Eddie turns the corner, “If you want to pair him up with anyone—it can be me, he’s not as bad as I hoped for.”

“Told you,” He teases, poking your arm gently. “—must’ve really had an effect on you, though.”

You shrug, “Someone’s gotta control the chaos,” You say, “and sticking him with Dustin is an accident waiting to happen.”

Eddie laughs quietly down the hall, unbeknownst to you as he listens in on your conversation with Hopper.

“Alright, if you say so.” Hopper relents, hands held up in defeat.

You weren’t sure how or why, but Eddie had quickly snuck himself into the soft spot of your heart, your thoughts—and maybe it was the blood, or the general effect that Eddie had on people, but you were fine with that.

“Looks like I’m out of here for the night,” Eddie comments, sneaking up on you two easily, enjoying the startled looks on your face, he smiles, “—made a good impression, I hope.”

“You’ll survive another day.” You tell him snarkily, “I guess.”

“Good—now if you don’t mind, I’ve got a coffin waiting for me at home—“

“Okay—now you’re just gloating.” You say tiredly, turning on your heels with a quick wave to Hopper, a smug smile written all over his face.

“I’m not joking.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Is that a challenge?”

You smile, catching his bashful grin as you shake your head at his terrible flirting. You were game, fortunately for him.

“Yeah, it is.”

[levicanpunchme]

Please read part 1 before, otherwise this doesn’t make any sense, here .

Levi X Y/N [Part 2]

Genre: Romance/Fluff/Angst (kinda)

Prompt: You feel Levi drifting away from you and it’s killing you to not know why he has pushed you away. As you approach his room that night, you throw away your morality to have him by your side.

TW: kinda r-rated make-out

Agony

You were back in the comfort of your room, laying on the bed with a heavy duvet covering your frame. If someone saw you, they would assume you were staring at the ceiling in boredom; however, there was an uproar inside your mind. An uneasy heaviness weighted down your chest as your mind replayed his words again and again.

‘I won’t, anymore.’

He had said it so causally like it were a walk in the park. It was so effortlessly easy for him to throw you away, trample on your heart. He had flushed you out of his life like this whole time, you were just a menace-as if he was waiting to get rid of you.

You held his pendent above your head, observing it’s sharp curves. After your encounter with Levi, you had decided upon grabbing the discarded pendent from outside the window and taking it back with you. You took it home like a coward; scared, he would never come out to take it and that would actually mean the end of everything.

Distraught, you brought his pendant close to yours, which was resting against your chest, and joined the two semicircles; their union sparked a sense of hope, that maybe, just maybe, the two of you would reconcile just like the two pieces of the moon.

How pathetic.

The matching pair resting against your chest started feeling like a burden.

Your heart began to ache as memories upon memories flooded your mind, your eyes filling up. You loved him so much, that despite his obvious detachment, you still didn’t think of him in distaste. You could never loathe the man who gave you a reason to survive this ruthless world. Overcome with grief, low sobs filled the four walls of your lonely room.

If he never treated you the same, how would you survive in the survey corps?

The clock struck eight, your gaze lingering on its ticking hand. As obedient as a trained soldier, you sat up, fumbling the duvet off. The chill air struck your warm skin, sending goosebumps down your spine and you shivered uncomfortably. Your eyes wandered to the glass window from where rays of the blinding sunlight streaked through the permeable blinds.

As you proceeded to walk to the washroom, you felt an uncomfortable ache spreading in your legs and arms, as if you had been beaten down. Ironically, the practise last night was less intense yet your body seemed to have been drained. You never knew that feeling emotionally drained was worse than the physical one.

Walking through the hallways, you felt like a Titan roaming the earth. No, it was worse than a titan -at least those creatures had a purpose. You were wandering aimlessly, strands of hair falling on your face from the disheveled bun.

“Y/N!” A chirpy voice called out. You turned around and met the tall, ginger-haired woman, Petra.

“Oh god, are you okay?” She walked to your side, her wide hazel eyes flooded with concern.

“I’m okay,” you replied, nonchalantly.

“You look far from it, girl. Did the captain give you a hard time yesterday?” You felt your heart stammer as you looked up, eyes wide in disbelief. And then it clicked. Petra probably meant, hard time training.

“Yeah, he did.” You weren’t lying. He did give you a hard time. Burning resentment lingered in your heart.

“I wonder why he always picks on you. Captain isn’t the type to nitpick unless you really test him,” she teased, her eyes glimmering in fascination. “Come on, we need to get going to the dining hall,” she insisted and dragged you along with her.

Was he acting this way because you were the weakest link of the team? Did he remove himself from your side because you were a lost cause and he was tired of giving you extra training hours?

Your heart felt like it was sinking in a pool of misery.

You reached the dining hall and instinctively your gaze sauntered to the room, like an unchangeable habit, you always searched for Levi’s mist coloured eyes. The tables were populated with the cadets, enjoying their lunch. You caught sight of Sasha, shoving mouthfuls of mashed potato in her system while Jean and Eren furiously eyed one another down, Mikasa sitting unbothered watching the two go at it and Connie and Armin looking like they were mediating through the tension.

The hall was surely busy but you didn’t see him.

Was it because of your presence? You gulped, sitting beside Petra on the table where Hange and Oluo already sat eating.

“Hange-san, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Petra teased and Hange broke into a chuckle, the last spoonful of potato entering her mouth as she munched it profusely.

“I just felt like coming but to my disappointment, shorty is nowhere around,” she sighed, her tone filled with boredom. “Y/N, you both are usually glued together. Why isn’t he down for breakfast?” Hange quirked an eyebrow, her tone ambiguous. Even with glasses, you could tell her round eyes were playfully twinkling.

“I don’t know,” you muttered lethargically, running fingers through your disarranged hair, your head aching at the mention of him.

“Did a truck run you over?” Oluo huffed, a large grin splayed against his lips and the others joined in, cackling at his statement.

Normally you would fire back with sarcasm, but today you simply didn’t have the energy to entertain his antics.

It almost felt like a crime, walking out here with a lethargic body, scruffy hair and droopy eyes, yet you didn’t have any other choice. You felt like you would go insane alone in your bed, thinking about him.

“Hey, Y/N, is the captain in his room? Erwin wants him in his office,” Gunther appeared from behind Hange, his words hurried.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, gulping down your annoyance.

“Erwin is gonna kill me. Why’s the captain missing? No one’s seen him around.” His stoic eyes, bitter words from last night replayed in your mind.

“Well, I saw the captain last night- I don’t know what got into him but he was walking around manically looking for something,” Oluo added, shrugging his shoulders uncertainly as he sipped the bowl of stew.

Your blood ran cold, eyes growing in alarm. “Looking for what?” You interrupted, jerking awake.

“Woah, Y/N why do you look so-” Gunther interrupted but you ignored his remarks. “Oluo, answer me,” you sternly replied, your heart picking its pace.

“Man, I don’t know. I asked him and he just walked right past me,” the man huffed and you thought back to yesterday.

‘I won’t, anymore.’

The pendant.

You saw red.

Your clenched jaw unclenched. Without a moment’s thought, you rose to your feet; the sudden movement making your head feel heavy but you ignored it and quickly scurried out of the dining hall. With the remaining stamina, you trudged through the hallways, towards his room, the air hitting your skin making you feel colder each second as if you had caught a fever.

Breathless, you stood panting against the door of his room. You knocked once. Twice. Then you impatiently yanked the door open. What greeted you was an empty-spotless-bedroom. You faltered, stepping back and proceeded to check the training grounds, meeting room and the commander’s office.

He was nowhere to be seen.

You felt your knees beginning to give out as you neared the plains, green as ever with towering trees. You looked to the farthest green land, searching for him. Again, you were met with disappointment.

You were about to head back inside when suddenly your head flicked. You still hadn’t checked the stables. You turned back and dashed across the plains, towards the horse barn. Struggling to breathe, you pushed through the ajar door and you sped inside.

And it was like you felt him before you saw anything. Your heart eased, as if growing aware of his presence: Levi Ackerman, the man who had you at chokehold with a single glance, the man you would throw away all your sense of reasoning for, the man you were devastatingly in love with.

His back was turned to you as he kneeled against the hardwood floor, body mechanically, digging through bales of hay. His hands were impatient, tossing the hay aside, due to which the entire barn seemed chaotic. You drew closer, curiously.

For someone who was extremely sensitive to sound and movement, he didn’t seem affected. He paid you no heed, his entire attention directed towards his ongoing hunt. You walked closer.

His peripheral vision caught sight of you. His jaw clenched, body taut like a deer caught in headlights. He looked up, disarrayed hair, falling against his eyelids as if he had run his fingers through the soft strands. His cloudy eyes were darker than usual, exhaustive dark circles cladding under them.

His expression suddenly dropped to an estranged one.

“Why’re you here?” His tone was acrimonious, but you kept your composure. Not sure why, but he was purposely trying to get under your skin.

“Why’re you here?” You shot back sourly.

Levi’s head snapped up, his brow twitching, seemingly taken aback at sudden display of confidence, vibrant in your tone.

He didn’t say anything. Neither did you.

The next few moments passed by at turtle’s pace. You refused to open your mouth to answer him and he didn’t budge either, watching you, his gaze unreadable.

He tore his eyes off you and resumed his hunt, tossing aside more bundles of hay.

Great, he was back to ignoring.

“Answer me!” A frustrated cry left your mouth. “What’re you so desperately searching for?” You questioned, your body’s heat growing every second as you awaited the truth.

He didn’t spare you a glance, his hands hurrying through the mess, searching the floor and stack of hay. It was truly a sight: this was a neat freak, who didn’t let anyone clean his room or touch his things, kneeling on the dirty straws, searching through a pile of smelly horse feed while his olive cape clung to his sweaty back.

Your patience was wearing thin as you hovered around him, awaiting his response.

Instead, you heard a dejected sigh and he stepped up, on his feet. He turned away and proceeded to stalk out the barn, his stoic face unchanged.

“You’re looking for this, aren’t you?“

The man paused in his tracks. When he turned around, his pupils shook. You stood before him confidently holding up the pendant.

You saw the tension leave his body, his fists unclenching as he exhaled a soft sigh. His previously stern face lightened up. Your heart stuttered at the sight. Seeing his facade drop, your suspicions owed to be correct.

He took short strides towards you and put his hand forward, signalling for you to give it back.

You wanted to smack him.

“You said you didn’t need it,” your harsh tone made his cold demeanour return, eyes now blank.

“Why are you looking for it?” You interrogated, your tone challenging and you held your chin up, determinedly. You didn’t know what point you were trying to prove but you were desperate for answers.

“It’s mine,” he simply declared, his teeth gritting.

“No. It isn’t just yours,” you muttered, aggressively, your gaze never leaving his. “You share this with me,” you corrected him.

“Give it back,” his tone grew impatient, uncompromising as if he was damned without the necklace. You could tell his patience was wearing thin, but so was yours. You needed him to come clean- explain to you why he decided upon parting ways.

Your fist that held the necklace, defensively, clenched tighter, its sharp crevice burying inside your palm, tearing into your skin. If there was burning, your mind didn’t prioritise it, instead your entire body was respondent to his words only. Your stagnant posture remained as you held the pendant with iron’s grip. Levi noticed your reluctance and attempted to reach forward; however, you proved your skills by dodging him.

“Stop being so childish,” he scowled, his frown casting a grievous shadow over his features. He stepped up again and you quickly recoiled, stretching your arm behind you.

His jaw tightened. Your heart almost fell out as he charged forward, lunging at you. His thin stature was always an advantage. In a flash, he had his arm smoothly curved around your waist as he jerked you into his embrace. His scent flooded your senses, soap and a hint of woody musk, which you recognised as his distinct fragrance. You breathed him in, knees feeling limp like jelly. Your senses were heightened upon feeling drunk on his touch.

You saw something flick in his eyes-something you had seen before but never figured out. It was different from his normal stoic self; they were dark, not aggressively black but desirably bleak, rapturous almost.

You wanted to stare deeper to understand him more but his hands caught your attention. The arm resting around your waist grabbed your clenched arm. Your eyes widened, grip tightening.

You reminded yourself, he was here to get his moon.

Levi pushed forward, his body flushed against you and his chin resting on your clothed shoulder. His hands grabbed your clenched fist and he, forcefully, tried prying your fingers open.

You struggled, your fist aching to give in as the pendant pricked your flesh, drawing blood. You felt the burning sensation rise and your eyes screwed shut in building frustration.

“Stop fighting me!” He roared, now both his arms cradling you, his body warming up as he used his full strength.

You didn’t last long.

Soon his long fingers found a way, pushing inside your palm and he felt the warm, metal chain against his skin, quickly grabbing it. With his other hand, he pulled at your fingers and finally, your strained muscles exhaustedly gave up, losing its grip. As you let the pendant go, your face fell limp on the side of his neck, humiliated and defeated. As if someone was slicing onions, your throat started burning, heavy tears clouding your vision.

Levi flinched. His breathing faltered. You felt his heart pound against his chest. The reason why he stalked over to you was the pendant and now that it was in his grip, he should let go of your waist and go away, away from you like he wanted.

Though, he didn’t move a muscle.

He held you close leaning back, his face collapsing into dismay and his eyes growing large as his mouth parted. He stared at you, dumbed for a moment.

“Are you okay?” He suddenly asked, his grip on your waist tightening.

“Leave now that you have it,” you muttered, your voice was hoarse. You had tried so hard, but in the end, he didn’t care.

Levi, suddenly, brought his hand to your forehead and his eyes grew double in size. “You’re burning up,” he rasped. What he said didn’t matter. Your head was drowning in a pool of glory as his callous fingers touched your temple.

“Oi, y/n!” He raucously shouted.

You winced, opening your mouth to respond but you already felt your body swimming through a sky.

You didn’t know when, your knees gave out and his hefty arms scurried to catch your fall. You didn’t lose consciousness though because you felt his arms enveloping your frame, cradling you into his chest; his rapid heartbeat, thrashing inside his body; his frame, heated against you.

You heard his boots thump against the floorboard like he was hurrying out of the barn. There were distant chatters from some passerby. “Captain, commander Erwin really needs to see you-” and his fiery rebuttal, Levi’s words laced with hostility. “Get a bucket and towel in my room immediately.” And off he hurried.

He mechanically ran up the stairs, ignoring all passerby’s questions. You realised he must’ve reached his room as he paused and kicked the door open. His arms holding you slackened and he gently plopped you into his bed. You wanted to persist the removal, but when your body hit his sheets, your heart tranquilly calmed its pace. His sheets smelled strongly of him, his wooden scent. You felt like you were drowning in him.

Were you dead?

You vaguely felt Levi shift next to you and then a heavy duvet covered your frame. The duvet Levi used to cover himself. Your body felt electrocuted by the thought.

There was distant murmuring and rustling of objects. You didn’t have the energy to open your eyes and return to real world where Levi neglected your presence, so you stayed half dead/conscious. The door was knocked upon and you heard Levi dash to it. A murmur was exchanged and then, again, you felt his presence beside you.

Suddenly, an icy cloth was draped onto your temple, a shaky breath leaving your mouth as your body quivered upon the contact. His grip on the duvet tightened and he pulled it closer to your neck. A slight moment passed, and you got used to the towel’s freezing temperature.

Levi flipped the drenched towel on your forehead to the other side, it’s cold surface again striking your nerve cells.

Then you felt his fingers trace your cheek. The callousness glided against your cheekbone, drawing down to your chin and gently rubbing the corner of your lips. Your body tightened upon the contact. There was something so oddly satisfying about his touch, like you were made to be felt by him.

His thumb deliciously kissed your bottom lip and you almost cried out. This was a fever dream. It had to be, because there was no way in hell, your squad captain was touching you like he was starved for you. Levi’s thumb traced your lip line and then gently caressed the pouty gap. You were tempted to open your lips voluntarily, but quickly controlled yourself.

“God…” you heard him rasp as he ran his finger against your lips. “So soft.”

And then as if something snapped inside him, he quickly retreated, his hand pulled away from your mouth. You almost cried out in desperation. Why was he stubbornly avoiding you if he wanted to touch you so bad?

The towel was removed from your head and as he wetted it, he plopped it against your heated skin all over again.

Then, you felt his cold touch on your hand. He held your wrist as his thumb gently caressed your palm. You winced upon the contact, a slight burning effect produced. It dawned upon you that it was probably from a while ago when you stubbornly held onto his pendant.

“Why do you test me so much?” His voice was heavy, you’d have assumed he was drunk if you didn’t know better. Then you felt the softness of his lips pressed against your injured skin and instantly your abdomen clenched. The burning flew out of your mind, his lips the only remaining memory.

“You’re hurt because of me.” You felt another light kiss on your palm.

“It’s killing me. Pushing you away, it’s the cruelest thing I’ve done to myself,” his words were interrupted as a pained groan left his mouth.

Your heart felt full. Hearing him say those words, kiss your injured skin, you wished to god you weren’t dreaming.

“Y/N, I know you can hear me.” His words caught you off guard. You didn’t think he was aware of your consciousness which was why he was confessing so boldly.

“Open your eyes. Are you okay?” His concern filled tone made your throat tighten. There was so much pent up frustration from his ignorance which was dreading to unleash itself like an overfilled dam. The relief from hearing him confess added to the ache building in your chest. You wanted to cry, scream and throw a punch at his handsome face.

“Please y/n. Look at me.” The yearning in his voice weakened your front as you heard his begging.

You slowly peeled your eyes open and before you could even see him, your drenched orbs hindered your vision, pouring out onto your flushed cheeks.

“Fuck. Don’t cry,” his gruff voice pled.

As the tears fell, your vision cleared and you caught sight of him. He was kneeling against the bed, his silver eyes flooded with horror, eyebrows furrowed in discern, his tousled hair messier than before. His palm was against your damp cheek, and you almost missed the tremble in his touch.

“How do you feel?” He rasped, his hooded gaze full of anguish. You didn’t respond. There was heaviness weighting down your chest that had been released just a moment ago. You felt overwhelmed, like a barrier had been lifted.

“Talk to me,” he sounded pained. You watched him struggle, his body tense as he stared at you.

“You ignored me for a week.” And as soon as you spoke, your voice broke, eyes filling up with fresh tears, drenching your skin.

“I-I didn’t know it would hurt you so much-” he stuttered, his eyes widening as he finally realised you were absolutely torn over him.

“You don’t expect me to care?” You cried, your face growing hotter.

“Why? What did I do to make you think that?” You sat up, your head spinning at the suddenness of your actions as the wet cloth fell on the duvet. Levi quickly shot up from the ground, sitting beside you on the bed as he held down your shoulders.

“Lay down,” he attempted to lean you back. You didn’t oblige, feeling fury overpower your resolution.

“No, I- I just don’t get it. Why do you hate me so much all of a sudden?” You wailed, tears streaming down your face.

“I could never hate you,” he gritted, his tone bitter, eyes burning. “How could I ever?” His voice trembled.

You wanted to say so much more but your throat felt clogged and a sob wrenched out of your chest. It made him wince, his eyes wide as he watched your inner turmoil erupt like the volcanic lava, burning him.

“Stop. Please,” he yelped. He impatiently rubbed at your cheek, as if the tears were like bullets raining down his chest. He caressed your face, his palms tenderly wiping the flooding tears.

“- why do you want the pendant so bad- if you don’t want anything to do with me, why?” You stuttered. “You left me alone. Avoided me like a plague. Is it because I’m the weakest member of the team?”

“No. Stop-” he interjected.

“Is that why you want me gone? Will you drop me? Why don’t you tell me what’s wrong so I can change it-” Your insecure rambling continued, sobs wreaking your frame.

“Stop saying bullshit-” his words went unheard.

“I swear, I’m really trying though. I promise you I’ll get better. I’ve improved since the last time, I’ll-” your words were cut off when suddenly, his hold on your arms tightened and he yanked you into his body, crushing you into a bone chilling embrace. Your face was flush against his beating chest, growing warmer as your heartbeat escalated.

“You don’t need to change. Your skills are unrivalled in the team. I’m not dropping you. You’re perfect, as is.” You couldn’t believe your ears.

“No, I don’t hate you. But you make me want to do things I hate. I hate mornings but to see you do your morning jog, I’m up early, patrolling the fields. I hate eating breakfast but to watch you mess around with the cadets, I’m there at the dining hall. I hate Hange’s lame jokes but when you crack up hearing them, I enjoy them too. I hate sleeping late but to be with you, I don’t mind sleepless nights.”

Loud boisterous thudding of his heart echoed against your frame.

“I’m a fucking moron for assuming I could end things like that. Honestly, it scared me-I didn’t want it to be true. God, anything but love,” his voice trembled, choked mutters escaping his lips. “Love. It’s so unnecessary. I don’t need it to live. I don’t need it to fight titans. Then why am I so consumed by it?” His breathless voice quivered, you felt his arms, if it were even possible, tighten more around your frame as if he wanted to absorb you within himself.

His words were like a gush of rain on your burning heart. Your chest felt jittery. There was a part of you refusing to believe this night had ever occurred: Levi Ackerman, a man so perfect, doubting himself as he spilled his heart out.

You only believed it because you felt his warmth engulfing you, his hot breath cascading down your neck and his smell washing over you.

“Why are you scared?” You found yourself asking.

His hold on you released and he pulled back. Suddenly, the loss of his warmth made your body tingle as if in retaliation, wanting him against you.

“It’s because… you lose the ones you love,” he rasped. Your chest ached.

“Of course, you can’t lose someone who never meant anything to you, Levi.” Instead of ‘captain’, his name fell out of your mouth like honey and it had him looking up, apparent shock visible on his face.

“I- I never felt confident enough to confess to you because I was scared too. What if saying something made you hate me? What if I ruined our friendship along the way? I’d never forgive myself for it,” you began explaining, your eyes fixed on him.

“But then one day- my nightmares became true. You looked away, walked right past me. My whole world felt like it was crumbling,” you voiced out, reminiscing the worst week of your life.

His eyes brimmed with water, nose reddened and body flushed as he watched you empty your mind.

Your heart was instantly in your throat.

“No- I don’t want you to feel bad please-I’m just-”

“I wanted this like my life depended on it,” he suddenly spoke, his words hushed as if he was embarrassed to be sharing his feelings and he pulled out the pendant from his jacket’s pocket. He held the half moon in his palm, tracing it with his thumb. “I want it so bad because it’s the only thing I have of you,” he whispered, cheeks flushing redder as his lips trembled.

“This is yours and mine.”

Your eyes filled up with fresh tears, heart palpitating in your chest. His words started flushing away all your misery, as if you had never suffered pain in this lifetime.

“I love you,” he choked out, his gaze filled with emotions which he had never allowed you to see before, his voice desperate and needy like a weeping mewl. Before you could respond, he tugged you into his arms and his lips slammed into yours with a fierce impatience. A gasp emitting your mouth was silenced as he swallowed it, his mouth feasting yours like a starved predator. It was mind blowing how one second he was innocently confessing his heart out and the other, his lips were shamelessly obscene, tasting your lips to his desire. The ravaging desire poured out of him as if he had persisted it for years, his hands angling your jaw to his satisfaction as he pried your lips open, his warm tongue entering your mouth and preying at your tongue. He tasted you to his heart’s content, until you were unsure whether it was his saliva or yours dripping down your jaw.

Breathless, red-faced and teary-eyed, you pulled away slightly, your forehead resting against his as you both struggled to inhale some oxygen. It took him a single breath before he grabbed your face again. “H-hold on-I-can’t-breathe,” you choked out, your senses overstimulated as a tingle sparked inside your chest.

“Breathe later,” he impatiently groaned and attacked your mouth, devouring your taste as if making up for the time you both had spent fearful of the building connection, entwining in one another just like the reunion of his semicircle and yours.

i can do an epilogue since this seemed kind of rushed, but I’m not sure if people would wanna read more, which is why i played it safe and decided to conclude it. plus this is already so long. I’m sorry :’

anyways. the response I got to Part 1 had me cryinggg. thank you so much?? To everyone who read it and decided to read this too, i love you.

ppl who commented/wanted to be tagged:

@onlyangelsweetheart

@perksofbeingpayton

@voidinfernal

@peachmilkcloud

@inaara0506

@nirvana-jam-94

@laraackerman

@tirzamisu

@marialopezzz0922

@thelovehashira143

@cucumberfingers

@arminsgfloll

@youlook-likehell

sorry, if I missed anyone out!

thank u sm <3

[ziasecretlab]

my number 1

katsuki bakugou x reader

🪶 you lived most of you life clinging on to the sentiment that pro heroes make terrible partners. but one single angry blonde man was going to prove you wrong.

- warnings: not much warning just fluff

extra: i’ve been contemplating whether to post this. not super sure how good this one is but i found the idea kinda cute.

if there’s one thing your mother had warned you about is to never fall for a pro hero.

no matter how close you are with said pro hero, never ever catch feelings for them.

you’d frequently catch yourself asking your mother why and she’d reply, “they only ever care about their career than anyone else”.

although you knew that those words came from a place of hurt and spite, your mother’s words always lingered at the back of your head.

why were pro heroes such terrible lovers? your father was a hero once before retiring. yet your mother still loved him albeit giving him plenty of chances.

so why the hostility?

same question everytime you catch yourself staring at a particular soon to be pro hero.

katsuki bakugou.

all the questions but never a single answer.

“your thoughts are really loud,” your head abruptly turned to mina who was currently filling her nails. you huffed and leaned back into the sofa. closing your eyes, you took a breather to regain your thoughts.

“are you sure you’re okay? you’ve been off since the last hero training,” this time it was jirou who pipped in with a concerning look on her face.

“i’m fine. totally fine. absolutely awesome,�� you started mumbling towards the end. this was you convincing yourself that you are okay.

“y/n, sweetie. you’re sounding like midoriya,” momo plopped beside you with a plate of cut of fruits which you took one to calm the nerves.

munching on the apple, you did your best relax. being tense over a situation that hasn’t occurred won’t do good to anyone.

you turned to the girls again and with one long and deep breathe, you readied yourself.

“i’ve got boy troubles,” not a second after your confession, the girls started cheering out loud. the commotion managed to gather the attention of the boys who were currently frolicking in the backyard.

“tell us all the deets! who? when? is it someone from U.A? let me guess! kirishima!”

“no he’s not y/n’s type. maybe sero!”

“or shoto. calm, respectful. mama’s boy!”

you let them make their guesses. at least they were open to the idea of mysterious guy being from your class. the girls continued making guesses.

“it’s bakugou,”

crickets. pure silence. jaw agape on mina and jirou. tsu had her eyebrows raised. momo and ochako had their mouths covered and hagakure just looked… confused.

“it’s bad, isn’t it? oh gosh, why did i say anything?” you smushed your face into your pillow and screamed. the hot blush on your face spreading as you let your embarrassment out. you felt a soft hand on your back, prompting you to look up.

you knew for a fact that bakugou was a force not to be reckoned with. he’s hostile, rough. he wants to make it on his own alone. he was most probably the hero your mother told you not to mess with.

and you knew that his only main goal is to be pro hero number one. this meant he had no time for long lasting romance or stupid crushes.

“girl, you know how he is. we’ll support you all the way! whatever you need, we’re here!” mina comforted, making the slight weight on your chest disperse. you let out a long sigh before turning your head to the window.

there he was, trying to beat up kirishima and midoriya once again.

“do you guys think it’s a bad idea to keep holding on?” you thoughts has manifested its way as a question to your close friends.

“i can’t say for sure. but right now, graduating from U.A and becoming heroes is important,” this time it was jirou to talk some sense.

silence filled the air again as the girl’s continued what they were doing before you said anything.

you sat there, feeling mina’s hands run through your hair, tying it up in different possibilities.

you were left with your thoughts again. and before you knew it, you were alone on the couch, staring at the plain wall.

maybe now you did understand where your mother was coming from. it was a personal advice. she was projecting the one thing she couldn’t do on you.

your father was a workaholic. coming home at the dead of night, bruises scattered around his body. usually you’d here your mom scolding your dad during those days, telling him that one day his job would be the reason he won’t come home anymore.

“what are you doing up, nerd?” you heard a rough voice call from behind you. you shuffle and turn towards the source to see bakugou digging through the fridge.

he pulls out two cans of coke, most probably one for you.

“y’know. thinking and stuff,” you muttered a small thank you as he passed you a can. bakugou sits besides.

for a few seconds, the sizzle of the coke cans were the only thing filling the air.

“stuff? tell me,” your eyebrows raised and a small smile reached your face. bakugou wanted to hear what you were thinking. but it’s gonna be hard since your thoughts were centered around him.

“no just… just boys,”

“oh. so a boy, huh? who is the lucky nerd?” he seemed to be interested, a small smirk on his face. you huffed with a soft smile on your face.

“yeah… he’s in the hero course. quite unfortunate, actually,” the last part was a little mumbled, as you recall everything your mother has ever told you.

“ha? unfortunate?” it was bakugou’s way of asking ‘why is dating a guy from the hero course bad?’. and to which you didn’t want to answer.

“it’s just. my mom used to tell me that dating a hero would be terrible. since she’s married to one,” not many people knew that your father was a pro hero once. he was one of the underground heroes like your sensei so he wasn’t heard much.

but bakugou knew. for some reason he knew everything.

“heh why? isn’t it cool to date a hero?”

“she used to say that heroes care more about their jobs than their personal lives,”

bakugou seemed more interested than usual. in all honesty, you expected him to just wave off the conversation and call it a night.

but tonight, when all the lights in the common room are off and the only source of brightness is the moon, he stayed to listen to your lingering problems.

“my dad used to come home injured, like most heroes do. and they would fight about it,”

if there was one topic your parents were always on about, it’s the fact that my dad’s career choice was affecting you in the sense that you wanted to be a hero too.

they’d go on and on about it to the point where even thunderstorms would sound much more pleasing than anything else.

“i knew she cared for him. and that all she wanted was for her family to be as one,”

“then what?”

bakugou always knew when you were holding back. it can be terrifying at times if you really didn’t want to talk.

“a villian got to him. one that he couldn’t take. thankfully for him, some other hero stepped in and in the end he only got injuries,”

“but it was enough for him to retire for the whole hero thing. he finally understood where my mom was coming from,”

bakugou nodded in understanding.

“so what does this have to do with boys?”

you chuckled at the question realising you had rambled on and on but didn’t get to the point. something about nighttimes always get people to confess their deepest feelings.

“this guy wants to be a hero. and he’s passionate about it that sometimes, he puts it before others,”

you didn’t want to turn to look at the boy. you just couldn’t. if you faced bakugou, you might just spill your deepest secret. which was the fact that the guy was him.

“my dad was an exception. he only realised how much his family meant when he got beated. but i can’t say the same for other heroes,”

and that’s when your mother’s sentiment hit you. not all heroes were capable of changing their lives and placing more priority on something other than saving the world.

you had seen it with other heroes, much less your own father. there was proof that some heroes strive to be the greatest without even batting an eyelash to the people they love.

“how sure are you that he doesn’t place people over his goal?”

because you so desperately want to be pro hero n°1.

“because i know him. more than i want to,” you peeked at him to gauge his reaction. realising that he wasn’t even looking at you, you sighed and look away.

“whoever this guy is, if he doesn’t put you as his first priority, he’s missing out,”

the genuineness of his voice caught you off guard. you didn’t mean to garner that reaction out of him. bakugou actually being nice to any of his classmates is one of the rarest thing ever. if he was caught being nice, you best bet that something good was going to happen.

“when did you become such a softie?” you teased, punching his arm playfully. he rubbed it, acting as if it actually hurt him. you giggled and leaned back into the sofa. “we won’t speak of this again, brat,” you playfully pouted.

“what about you? any girls you fancy? or guys, i don’t judge,” bakugou rolled his eyes and flipped you off.

“there is one. and she looks pretty under the moon,” you were taken aback by his statement. it was odd for him to say such a thing. so poetic.

“when did you start being so deep? you’ve been reading shoto’s poetry haven’t you?” again, another tease.

bakugou sarcastically laughed, tilting his head to rest on the sofa. “so who is it? is she from the hero course? our class?” you were guessing so you could supress the burning jealousy within you.

“what are you? sherlock? i’m not gonna tell you if you don’t tell me,” so a one for one deal? that was not something you could fully agree on, especially when this other girl look better in the moon than you did.

“not gonna happen, boom boy. plus, i don’t care! like whoever you wanna like,” bakugou was now giving you a questioning look. he’s coming onto you and you just know it.

there was just peaceful silence between the two of you now. nothing but the moon shining on the two of you and the finished coke cans…

moon. the moon is shining on the two of you. you looked down to your legs and realised that the moon was illuminating your skin. your eyes snapped open.

the girls he likes looks pretty under the moon. you’re under the moon. could be a far stretch but how many girls has bakugou seen under the moon?

probably a lot but it’s not like you were aware of it. right now both of you were under the moon. are you right to think this way?

“did you figure it out already or do i need to give me clues?” you jerked your head to the boy who was showing off his signature smirk.

you were quite sure that his reaction had just proved your assumption. you felt a slight heat reach your face. thank goodness for the lights being off.

“bakugou, i swear. don’t joke around!” bakugou let out a small chuckle at the nervous expression on your face.

it’s your third year! and for about a year and a half, you’ve had a crush on him. it doesn’t help that he’s on of the top three students in the school.

put aside his brash behaviour, he had fangirls too. maybe another reason why dating a pro hero might be a bad choice.

“y’know i’m a pretty straightforwardly guy. but watching you get nervous is… cute,”

cute? there was no way you actually heard it right. those 4 letters could never come out of bakugou’s mouth. it’s just physically impossible.

“i don’t think i could ever put someone i love after my career,” he begins, looking straight at you this time. his lingering gaze practically felt like your skin was itching.

“especially if that person is you, y/n. i mean, you’re special,” you could tell he didn’t want to say the last sentence out loud. bakugou never calls anyone special. it was just not in his nature.

“are you… confessing to me?”

he huffs, standing up right infront of you. you were met with his hand reached out to you. his face was looking the opposite direction, probably so that you couldn’t see his blush.

“stand up, brat,” he urges, pushing his hand further into your face. you took his hand and was promptly pulled up.

bakugou tugs you to the backyard, where the both of you were now fully under the moon.

“i do like you. about a year now actually. ‘s just you were practically surrounded by guys, i couldn’t compete,” he admitted, eyes on the moon. you felt his hand tighten around yours.

one thing is for sure, however. bakugou looks beautiful under the moon.

“i never knew you had something against dating pro heroes,” he started once again, filling the silence. “but i meant it when i said i would put you first,”

“being n°1 has been my dream. but being with you is a whole different story,” you giggled at his statement which quickly caught his attention. soon, the same grumpy expression took over his face causing you to giggle more.

“yeah laugh all you want, nerd. i’m trying to be romantic,” he grumbled, looking the other way. “didn’t peg you to be the romantic kind. it’s a fresh look,” you teased which cause him to frown more with a tint of red.

it was cute that he was embarrassed. you don’t get to see much of that from him.

“i’m glad you feel that way. because i like you too and stuff,” you pouted, looking away because a wash of nervousness came over you. you felt his hand squish yours tighter which causes you to yelp.

then it turned to both of you laughing with one another. to see his soft smile as both of you relaxed was refreshing.

“but i’d never step in your way of being number one,” you knew how important it was for bakugou. everyone knew it was. so for you to tell him he couldn’t just to be with you is beyond selfish.

“it’s my decision to put you at the top of my list, starlight,”

you were caught off guard by the nickname he gave you. your head turned too him and saw his eyes almost bulging out. from what you can gather, he didn’t mean to call you that.

you squeeze his hand as a signal that you were okay with it.

“you look pretty in the moonlight too,” you softly spoke, gaining his full attention once again.

“go out with me. on a date,”

and there is was. you waited a year and more for those words to hopefully fall out of his mouth. your eyes blinked a few times before a huge smile took over your face.

“y-yes! of course. duh! i mean-”

“you’re rambling. sounding a little like deku,”

one after the other, your arms wrapped around his neck and his arms were around your waist to hold you as support.

for once, bakugou actually gave in into a hug and tucked himself in. a few snaps could later we heard and flash. you turn to the door to the backyard to see the whole class staring at the both of you.

and to top off, aizawa-sensei, all might, present mic and midnight. how great. just your damn luck.

“this is too precious to let go! who wants soft bakugou pics?!” mina exclaimed and a whole chorus of ‘yes’ and ‘me’ replies her.

as for the adults. aizawa-sensei looks like he’s proud but also like he wants sleep. all might has a thumbs up directed to bakugou. present mic and midnight look like a proud uncle and aunt.

“oh piss off! you guys ruin the moment!” bakugou spoke up first, seeing that you were frozen in the moment.

“good job, bakubro! was about time!” that sentence coming out from a few of the guys in the class. the girls gave you a thumbs up in support.

“just get to bed. all of you,” aizawa-sensei sighed, moving out of the way, dragging the rest of the adults with him too.

this prompted everyone else to leave too, with gleaming smiles on their faces. you watched as everyone cleared out, leaving the two of you alone again.

“that was.. overwhelming,”

bakugou chuckled, pulling you in once again. you could smell his sweet after shower smell and nuzzled in more.

you definitely will get used to this.

“my mom’s going to freak when she finds out i’m dating a soon to be hero,” you whined, thinking about the way your mom would not approve of this new found relationship.

“then i’ll prove it to her that even with my career, i will always adore you the same way,”

you hummed in appreciation. to you, bakugou didn’t need to prove anything to anyone. he meant what he said and you trusted him to that extent.

“let’s head to bed. i’m tired,” you linked you arm together with his. with one last look, you felt like you could cherish this moment forever.

“yeah, let’s go,”

maybe your mom was wrong about dating a pro hero. but it might just be bakugou. and that you were thankful for.

—————————————————————————————

just wanted to say thank you to you guys for showing my other posts so much love. it absolutely made my week so much more better <3

tags:

[euphoria--writing]

Perfectly imperfect | Rue Bennett x Reader

Summary:  What if Jules never came back? 

Pairing: Rue Bennett x Reader

Word count: 0.7k

Warning: mention of mental health and addiction

Prompt: Rue falling in love again after Jules

Please keep sending requests!!

-

The love Rue felt for Jules was so strong and beautiful that Rue never thought of the reversed feelings she'd have to go through if their relationship ever ended. Needless to say, it was hell. She thought no one could ever put her heart together again after she watched Jules leave at the train station. She thought it was broken beyond repair.

Seven months later, she was surprised when she found herself falling in love again.

''I love you.''

''I love you more.''

''I love you more.''

''That's impossible.'' Rue kissed your face, making you giggle as it tickled.

You were a sucker for soft moments like this. Where it was just you and Rue, staying in and cuddling in bed. It might seem boring to most, but you and Rue were perfectly content doing that. Sometimes, you’d pull out Rue’s laptop and watch movies until one of you fell asleep - usually you.

''Do you want to stay the night? Today's Saturday, my parents won't mind.''

Rue looked down. ''I'm not allowed to sleep over at people's houses...'' she explained, skipping the part why she couldn't. ''But you can sleep over.''

You raised an eyebrow. ''Are you sure? Your mom doesn't like me much...''

Although it's not a necessity, it's always nice to be appreciated by your significant other's parents. Leslie Bennett did not like you. Rue had explained to you that it was nothing against you, but you couldn’t help but take it personal and ask yourself what you did to get on her bad side.

''She does now.''

''What made her change her mind?'' you asked, curious to know what Rue could have told her mom that made her change her mind about you.

''Because you put a smile on my face when everyone else failed to.''

.

The two of you were sitting cross-legged on Rue's bed when she pronounced the dreaded words.

''There's some things I need to tell you.'' 

Those words rarely lead to anything good. 

Since she and you were getting serious, she figured she should come clean about certain things. Be honest, because honesty is a good base for a relationship.

She looked anxious and was fidgeting with the sleeve of her hoodie, which made you nervous. 

Rue was a difficult person to love. Not in a 'she isn't a good person' type of way, but more in a 'she has a lot of baggage'.

When she told you about her addiction, generalized anxiety, OCD, ADD and bipolarity, Rue thought you'd run away, deeply believing that she was a lot to handle. Too much to handle. She was scared that you wouldn't want to pursue your relationship with her because of her baggage.

''You can leave me if this is too much for you. I'm not gonna be upset or anything. I-I understand.''

There were tears in her eyes when you told her that none of these were an obstacle, just things you had to learn to work around and with. That meant giving her space when she needed it, listening to her manic rants, holding her hand when needed and being there for her when she needed a crutch to hold onto. She was the type of person who craved emotional support and needed constant validation that she wasn't reading the situation wrong. 

''There's this whole part of me, the addict part, you haven't seen yet and I'm afraid you're not going to like it and leave me because I'd leave me too,'' she said, her voice cracking. ''I say mean things and hurt people and-''

''Rue.'' You tilted her chin up, caressing her cheek sweetly while holding her gaze. ''None of this is gonna drive me away. I love you the way you are. Perfectly imperfect.''

She sniffled, wiping traces of tears on her cheek with the back of her sleeve. ''You still love me?'' 

A smile broke on your face. You nodded and kissed her cheek where tears used to be. 

[ko-riacchi]

Good Luck Charm

Pairing: Rappa Kendo x F!Reader Genre: Smut Length: 4.5k

Finally managed to finish this fic... I think I started it in December.

The prompt was “I’m going to fucking ruin you.”

NSFW under the cut

When you had told your friend that you wanted some excitement in your life, you hadn't meant this. You would have never expected her to pick you up after work one day with the words "I got us tickets for something exciting!" and take you to an underground fighting match. 

When you had arrived at the nondescript warehouse on the outskirts of the city, you looked at your friend nervously, your heart already pounding as if you were doing something illegal. Were you doing something illegal? You didn't know but you had no time to think about it any further when your friend began to pull you inside the building, handing the tickets to the bouncer with a bright smile.

How had she even gotten those in the first place? You assumed that you couldn't just buy these types of tickets online. 

She dragged you further inside and with a racing heart and sweaty hands, you followed. The only thing that would be worse than being here would be being here alone. 

Your friend seemed completely fine though, navigating the space as if she had done it many times before. You made sure to stick close to her, your eyes shifting around nervously as you looked at the other people who had come to see the match. 

They were mostly men; rough looking men with muscles and scars. You assumed that some of them were probably villains. You didn’t really care to find out if your assumptions were true though. 

So instead, you simply followed her and after navigating a few more halls, you were what had to be the… was it called an arena? In the middle, there was a boxing ring; the kind you would see on TV from time to time. Around it, with some distance to the ring, a fence had been set up. A few people had already gathered and they were talking amongst each other, drinks - probably beer - in hand. There were no bleachers however and you wondered how someone in the back would be able to see anything at all. 

Before you could follow your train of thought any further, your friend pulled you right to the front, squeezing in next to some men until you stood with your chest to the fence. It reached your breasts and you hoped that people wouldn’t start pushing like you knew they sometimes did during concerts, or this could quickly become uncomfortable. 

Your friend turned to look at you with a grin. “So… what do you think?” she asked, clearly proud of where she had brought you. 

“It is… definitely exciting,” you replied with a slightly wobbly smile, hoping she wouldn’t notice how uncomfortable you were. 

It didn’t seem like she did however when she began nodding eagerly in return before looking back at the ring. “It is, isn’t it?” she said excitedly. “I made sure we came early enough to get a good view!”

“I-I see, that’s very thoughtful of you,” you replied shakily. “D-do you usually go to events like this?” 

Your friend nodded. “Oh yeah, my boyfriend took me along once and ever since then, I’ve been hooked!” 

You smiled with a nod of your own and looked down at your watch. It was a quarter past seven. “So… when is the match gonna start?” you asked her. When you had looked around, it had still looked pretty empty. But then again, you didn’t know how many people usually gathered for these things. 

“Oh…”  - your friend looked down at her phone as well - “we still have around an hour,” she told you. “It’s supposed to start at eight thirty, but the fighters sometimes come out a bit early to hype up the crowd.”

You bit your lip, looking at the time again. “I think… I have to go to the bathroom,” you told her quietly. Right now, you were still fine but you had had your fair share of coffee at work and you knew it would surely make you have to pee badly in a bit. If possible, you didn’t want this to happen when most people had already gathered and it would be hard to navigate the crowds. 

“Oh, yeah, that’s fine,” your friend told you with a nod. “How about you go to the bathroom and I get us drinks in the meantime?”

Your eyes widened. “Can’t we… go together?” you asked nervously. “I… don’t really know the way.”

Your friend looked up at you. “Oh, it’s not that difficult! I’ll come with you part of the way and then we can meet back at the bar, how about that?” 

You really didn’t want to be separated from your friend but you also didn’t want to be annoying, so after a moment, you nodded hesitantly. “Okay… if you say it’s not that far.”

“Great!” your friend grinned. “Follow me then! I’ll show you the way!” She pulled you through the crowds by your hand, leading you away from the main hall and back into the hallways. Once you were inside, she pointed down a long hallway. 

“It’s this way,” she said. “Just follow it to the end and make a right turn, take the second door on the left and then it’s on the right side.” 

She then pointed in the other direction. “I’ll be right over there to get us some beer. Just come and join me once you’re done.” 

Before you had time to stop her and ask her for the directions one more time - because God, they hadn’t sounded easy! - your friend had already vanished behind some people and left you standing in the middle of the hallway, all on your own. 

Okay, you thought to yourself, you could do this. Just walk down the hallway… Your feet began moving and you slowly made your way down to where your friend had pointed. Then… she had said to the right? You looked around the corner and sure enough, the hallway continued on, doors on either side. 

Looking at the doors you continued walking until you had reached the second door to your left, laying a sweaty hand on the knob and turning it. When you opened it, another, smaller, hallway greeted you and you entered. 

You only hoped that you were going the right way. All of these hallways were confusing and it made you feel like you were actually trying to find your way through a maze. 

Luckily for you though, once you were inside this smaller hallway, the telltale bathroom sign on a door on the right side greeted you. With a relieved sigh you walked towards it, opening the door to find a small bathroom that had definitely seen better days. 

There was graffiti on the walls and bits and pieces of paper laid on the floor. With furrowed eyebrows you opened one of the stalls and thank God, at least these looked like they were clean to an acceptable degree. 

You quickly finished your business, and washed your hands. There was no soap and no towels, so, after rinsing them under the cold water for a while, you shook off the excess water and awkwardly rubbed them dry on your skirt. 

Had you known this morning that you would be at a dubious place like this later in the day, maybe you wouldn’t have worn your nice clothes. With a sigh, you looked at your reflection in the mirror for a few seconds before turning the door handle and stepping out into the hallway again. 

Ready to quickly make your way back to your friend so you wouldn’t be alone anymore, you looked to your right and then to your left. Which way had you come again? You couldn’t remember. 

You tried to recall the directions your friend had given you. If you followed them in the opposite way, that should lead you back to where she had split from you, right? 

She had said… to take the door on the left? Right? You let out a soft groan and ruffled your hair. Her words jumbled up in your mind and you continued to glance from the door on the left to the one on the right. Letting out a soft sigh, you eventually began walking to your door on the right. If you opened it and it didn’t lead into a hallway, you would know that this was not the correct direction. 

You pulled the door open a bit and peeked around it. It was a hallway. You let out a relieved breath and opened the door wider so you could step through it. Now it shouldn’t be far until you were back to where your friend was. 

That’s what you had thought at least, but five minutes later and you still hadn’t found your way back. You were getting really nervous now and tried to retrace your steps, right back to the bathroom. If only you weren’t so bad at directions! If only you had asked your friend to come with you! Not being annoying was not worth the amount of anxiety you felt in this moment, alone and in an unfamiliar place. 

You knew you couldn’t just wander around these halls forever. Before, you had gone through a door, so right now, you would have to go through another one but looking at all of these doors that you didn’t know where they would lead to made you tear up slightly. There wasn’t even anyone around to ask! Were you even still inside the warehouse?

Pressing a hand to your quickly beating heart, you finally decided on a door and pulled on it. It didn’t budge. You pressed on it instead. Still no luck. Okay, so that door was locked. 

WIth a shaky exhale, you moved to the next door. That one was locked as well. As was the next one and the one that came after. Panicking more and more, you moved to the next door. At this point, even just seeing someone, someone who could potentially lead you back to where you had come from, would be very much welcomed by you. 

You were close to tears when you tried another door and this one… it was actually unlocked! Quickly, you opened it all the way and looked inside. The lights were on and if you listened closely, you could even make out some noises. Maybe you had finally found someone! Someone who could bring you back to your friend! At this point, it didn’t even matter anymore if you embarrassed yourself, you just wanted to be with her again.

You stepped inside the room, the door falling shut behind you. “Hello?” you called out to the person you suspected was inside. 

There was no reply, so you took another step inside. “Hello? Is there anyone here?” 

You walked into the room a bit further, looking around to see if you could spot anyone. There was a bench on one corner and an open bag on it with what looked to be clothes. 

There just had to be someone in here! Taking another step, your eyes landed on a door to the left with milky glass in the middle. It looked like the light in the other room had been turned on as well. Hopefully, you made your way over there, passing another wooden door on your right. You turned the knob and opened the door to peek inside. 

You were greeted with what looked to be communal showers. They were empty, thank God. If you had actually found someone using these… You blushed and shook your head. Maybe you should just leave this room and try another door. It didn’t look like there was anyone here anyways. 

You took a step back, intending to turn around, but your back collided with something… soft but hard. This definitely hadn’t been there before and with a shriek you took a step forward and whirled around. 

The first thing you saw was a chest - a very naked chest. Your eyes widened and slowly, you let your gaze wander up until you could see the face of a man. The first thing you noticed was his long, wild hair and his broad chin. Before you could stare any further, the man opened his mouth. 

“What’s a cute thing like you doing in my room?” he asked, leaning down so he was face-to-face with you. 

Your face exploded into a blush and you took another small step back. “I-I’m sorry-, I-,” you stammered, the words not wanting to leave your lips. 

“Ohh… don’t tell me…” the man said, his eyes raking over her figure. 

Had he figured it out? You were sure you looked totally lost, like you didn’t belong here at all. Maybe he had picked up on it. 

“You’re one of my fans?” His lips pulled apart in a wide grin and he took a step closer to you, extending one of his hands to lay it on your waist. “Came to wish me luck before my match, didn’t you?” 

Your eyes widened further if this was even possible. “Wha-?!”

“You don’t have to be shy,” the man told you with a laugh, his face moving closer to your own. “Although it’s quite cute..."

Now, if you had been a strong-willed person, you probably would have stopped him, told him that this was all a big misunderstanding and that you were simply lost. 

This wasn't your personality however. So all you did when he came even closer and pulled you into a bruising kiss was to let out a shocked sound, your hands flying up to press against his chest. 

Kendo did not waste a single second, molding his lips against yours as his hands began to explore. “Damn, you got a nice ass on you,” he whispered against your lips, squeezing the flesh with his hands before he let his hands trail under your skirt. 

Your mind was reeling. Your mind had not been able to keep up with the turn of events. Your hands pushed against his chest but it was so weak, Kendo didn’t even notice. 

With a groan, Kendo pulled you up closer against him, his hands squeezing and massaging your ass cheeks. 

“Fuck, my fight is in a bit, we don’t have a lot of time,” you heard him grumble and one second later, he had flipped you around and quickly pressed you up against the wall. 

You let out a soft grunt as the air left your lungs. Your hands came up to lay against the wall and you turned your head to look at him behind you. You mouth opened and you were about to explain that he had gotten this completely wrong but when he pushed forward and grinded his bulge against you ass all that left you was a surprised gasp. 

You couldn’t see but he felt huge! Your eyes widened and once more, you tried to speak up. Kendo however didn’t give you the chance to. He had pushed your skirt up and over your ass, leaning forward so his mouth was hovering next to your ear. 

“You’re so hot, babe,” he groaned, his hips rutting up against your ass. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you!” 

His hot breath fanned over your cheek and your hands scrambled for purchase against the wall. Everything was going so fast, you had no time to react, no time to think about what to do. And the way his cock was grinding up against your ass made it hard to gather even a single coherent thought. 

One of Kendo’s hands moved to your top, pushing it up so he could paw at your tit, while the other moved to his shorts to try and push them down and over his boner. 

For a second, he stopped his grinding, just long enough for him to push them down and his cock to slip free. It bounced free and you couldn’t see it but the sound with which it slapped against his tummy made your cunt clench. 

A second later, Kendo was back on you again, grinding his cock against your ass. 

“Fuck, I can feel how wet you are through you panties,” he panted into your ear. His hand squeezed your tit through your bra. You blushed at his words. You usually weren’t the type for casual sex and up until now, you had always been in a relationship with the men you had slept with. You never would have guessed that a situation like this would arouse you this much. 

Kendo moved his hand down to your ass, squeezing it shortly before grabbing your panties so he could pull them down and over your ass.

If you wanted to pull out, this was your last chance, you thought to yourself but for some reason, you couldn’t find the words. A soft sound escaped your lips as you felt him peel your underwear from your drenched core, the fabric pooling around your ankles after he let them drop. 

His hand came to lay on your back, the other one grabbing your thigh to pull you away from the wall a bit. He bent you over and a groan left his lips when he saw your sopping core. “Fuck, I wish I had the time to eat you out,” he groaned, a finger sliding through your slick to capture some of it. He popped the digit into his mouth and groaned at the taste. “You taste amazing, sweetheart,” he groaned and you could feel his cock twitch against your ass. 

Once more you turned your head, trying to catch a glimpse of the tall man behind you. He looked sinful. His eyes watched you bent over in front of him with a heated gaze, his tongue lapping at his finger as he savored your taste. You let your eyes trail down his chest, the muscles in his arms and his core flexing with every move. Finally, your eyes landed on his cock and your eyes widened at the size of it. 

“You like what you see?” Kendo asked with a grin when he noticed your expression. How was he going to fit, you thought in a slight panic. He really was huge. Bigger than anything you had ever seen. You thought about pulling away. If he put this monster inside you, you would probably die!

Once again however, you hesitated for a moment too long, your mind too slow to react in the moment. 

Kendo had grabbed his cock while you stared at his, rubbing it against your core to lube it up. The tip pushed against your clit and a soft moan tore from your throat. Kendo chuckled and rubbed his tip against your clit once more, making you moan again. 

There wasn’t a lot of time left before his match however, and Kendo knew this. As much as he wanted to take his time with you, making you fall apart again and again before finally taking you, he couldn’t. 

He pulled back slightly, pressing his tip against your entrance. “Relax, sweetheart,” he whispered. He knew that he was big, and that most women struggled to take him at first. 

Your hands curled into fists against the wall, and you opened your mouth. You didn’t know what you were going to say but you had to stop him. You couldn’t do this after all. He was simply too big. 

All that left you however was a loud whine when he pushed his tip inside, a groan leaving his lips. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, beginning to fuck himself deeper into you with small thrusts. 

Your mouth was wide open and with each thrust, moans and gasps left your lips. The stretch hurt, but it hurt so good! Your body felt like it was breaking, each time he pushed into you further, your cunt squeezed around him. 

Kendo reached for you, wrapping his arm around your front so he could pull you up against his chest. “If you’re squeezing me like that, I won’t last, sweetheart,” he groaned against your ear, another thrust making another inch disappear inside you. 

Even if you wanted to reply, your mouth was not able to form words, and all that left you was another whine as you felt his tip hit against your cervix. He filled you up so good, he stretched you to the max and the vein on the underside of his cock rubbed against your g-spot deliciously. 

Kendo turned your head towards him, his lips connecting to yours in a sloppy kiss. He pulled his hips back a bit before he thrust into you again, making you cry out into his mouth. “So pretty,” Kendo groaned, beginning to pump into you slowly at first so you could get used to his size. 

Your body felt like jelly and you were sure if Kendo wasn’t holding you up, you already would have crumpled to the floor, your legs too weak to keep you upright. Every single one of his thrusts made you feel like you were about to lose your mind. 

In the position you were in right now, Kendo wasn’t able to push into you all the way, so after another few thrust, he let go of your shoulder, his hands grabbing onto your hips instead. You quickly raised your arms to try and hold onto the wall as best as you could. 

Kendo stayed still for a second as he adjusted his grip. The next second, he pulled his hips back and harshly thrusted into you, your walls stretching to the max as he bullied the entirety of his cock inside your wet cavern. You cried out; you had never before been filled like that and it felt like his dick was pushing up all the way into your uterus, even though you knew that this was anatomically impossible. 

He set a quick pace, grunting as he hammered into you. His thrusts were so strong that they knocked the wind out of you every time he pushed into you, focing moans and grunts out of your mouth. You had no choice but to take everything he had to give you, your cunt clenching around him everytime he rubbed against your g-spot. 

“Fuck, your pussy is the best,” Kendo groaned, moving one of his hands down towards your core so he could rub against your clit. “I wanna feel it come around my cock!” His words made your cunt squeeze tightly around him and he could feel it. “Shit, think you can do that for me, sweetheart?” 

His finger had found your clit in the meantime and began rubbing and all you could reply with was a loud whine as you tried to nod your head. 

You had never felt like this before. He reached so deep and every circle of his finger on your clit made your legs twitch. You don’t think you’d ever before been so aroused in your life, trails of slick running down your legs, a white circle of cream around the base of his cock. 

“G-gonna-!” you tried to warn him, your words getting cut off as another moan tore from your throat. “Yeah, I can feel it,” he groaned as he increased the pressure on your clit. “Fuck, come for me!”

It only took a few more thrusts until the tension in your core snapped and you came around his cock with a loud wail, a few tears escaping your eyes because everything was just so intense. 

“F-fuck, good girl,” Kendo moaned as he fucked you trough your orgasm, his finger only lifting from your clit when he could feel you shy away in overstimulation. He was close too. Your cunt was clamping on him like a fucking boa contrictor and he grabbed your hips tightly as he rutted against you, desperate to come as well. 

He was like a man possessed as he chased his own high and when it came, he leaned forward and over you, pressing his chest against your back. His thrusts stilled as his cock twitched and filled you with his thick cum. He groaned against your ear, his eyes closed as your cunt milked him. 

It was silent for a while and Kendo stayed pressed against you as he came down from his high. 

Eventually, he stood up straight again and pulled out of you. It made you hiss, your insides felt swollen and raw. Thick globs of cum immediately began to drop out of your cunt, forming a small puddle on the ground. 

Kendo looked down at your cunt with a grin, taking a finger to slide through your lips and push his cum back into you. Your body twitched and you turned your head to look back at him, still panting. 

He let out a soft chuckle and leaned forward to press a soft kiss to your cheek. “Thank you for that, sweetheart.” You only nodded weakly and finally managed to find the strength to stand up straight again. You were wobbly on your legs and it took a second before you felt balanced enough to take your hands off the wall in front of you. 

Kendo meanwhile had crouched down so he could reach for your panties which were still hanging around your ankles. Instead of pulling them up your legs however, he patted your legs to tell you to step out of them. Without even thinking about it, you did as he wanted and he grabbed the panties and lifted them to his face, taking a deep whiff before turning to you with a grin. 

“My good luck charm,” he told you with a grin, before stuffing them into the pockets of his shorts. “No way I won’t win with those.

---

You were dazed when you made your way back to where you were supposed to meet your friend. Kendo had given you directions and this time, you made sure to remember them. You hoped your friend was still there, otherwise it would be hard to find her. The place had gotten way more crowded during the time you were away. 

Luckily, as soon as you walked towards the bar, she came running up to you, two beers in her hand. “Where were you?!” she asked you worriedly. You explained that you had gotten lost, although you left out the part where you got railed by one of the fighters. Damn, you didn’t even catch his name. 

Your friend let out a soft sigh, handing you one of the beers and guided you back to the ring. The fight was about to start and you squeezed through the crowds to make your way back to the front. 

When Kendo, you had learned his name after it had been announced, entered the ring, your cunt, which was still stuffed full of his cum and currently ran down your thighs, squeezed and during the entirety of the fight, your eyes never left him. Sometimes, your eyes wandered to the pockets of his shorts and you thought you could see your panties peeking out from time to time as he landed another punch on his opponent. 

He won just as he had said and once it was over, your friend led you outside, excitedly talking about how awesome that fight had been. 

You turned to her with a small smile and opened your mouth to ask, “When’s the next one?” 

[alcinadimitrescuwu]

The Portrait (An Alcina x Maiden Fanfic)

You walk into the Atelier and find yourself once again gazing at the portrait of the Lady of the Castle, Lady Dimitrescu. She must have commissioned the portrait when she was younger because she looked like she was in her mid-20’s. She stands in an ivory-colored dress with a full skirt, holding a glass of wine. Her face is clear of her laugh lines, under-eye circles, and wrinkles but she is still as elegant and beautiful as ever. You move closer to get a better look and suddenly wonder who might have painted this portrait. Were they close to Lady Dimitrescu?

“Do you like it?”

You whirl around swiftly and find yourself face to face with Alcina Dimitrescu. The corner of her mouth quirks up in an amused grin, making her laugh lines indent into her cheekbones. Her golden eyes are glittering with mischief.

“Well?” she prompts.

You come back to yourself. “I-It’s lovely, my Lady,” you stammer. “Did you commission someone to make it for you?”

Alcina lets out a laugh like tinkling bells. “Why, yes. In fact you could say that the two of us were rather close.” She steps closer to you and the portrait, a knowing smirk on her face. “It was actually me that painted that portrait.”

“You?” you blurt out suddenly. Then you realize how rude you must sound. "Forgive me, my Lady,” you say, ducking your head in apology. “I meant no disrespect. I just didn’t know you were the artistic type.”

“Oh, I’ve dabbled in a lot of different art forms in my life, pet,” she says, and you see her eyes mist over as she reminisces. “I was classically trained in opera, I’ve painted landscapes and portraits, written poetry...I even was a jazz singer for a time. I made that portrait when I was 25. I was a very different woman than the one you see now.” She smiles self-deprecatingly. “Well, aside from the obvious, anyway.”

“It’s exquisite,” you breathe as you lean your head to get a better look at the portrait. You think of something and turn to her. “Do you still paint, my Lady?”

“Lately I’ve taken to sketching. And now that you know my secret,” she says, giving you a conspiratorial wink. “Perhaps I might come in here and do my sketching while you clean.”

You suddenly remember the actual purpose of why you came to this room in the first place. “Right! I need to polish the bells! I’ll just get started on that, then!”

You hear her chuckle low in her throat as you scramble up the ladder, taking out your polish. You look over back at her and she has sat down on the sofa, slipping a pair of pearl chain half-moon spectacles over her nose. She takes out her pens and charcoal, flips to a new page in her sketchbook and bends her dark head down to work.

Soon you and Alcina have a little arrangement going where every time you enter the Atelier to work on your tasks, you know you will soon see Alcina ducking her head under the lintel to work on her sketching. While you are on the ladder, you sneak glances at her every so often. Her lashes kiss the tips of her cheekbones and her brow is furrowed in concentration. Sometimes you will look from her to the portrait and you conclude that if possible, her aging has made her even more beautiful.

You feel a hand on your back and jump making the ladder wobble slightly. The hand braces you against the ladder so you don’t fall and you hear a soft chuckle behind you. “I’m sorry, dear. I suppose I should have announced my presence beforehand. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s not a problem,” you say and you feel color flood your cheeks as you see you are truly face to face with Alcina Dimitrescu. Her face is merely inches from yours. Her golden eyes catch the light from the chandelier and up close you see they are not just golden but with hints of silver around the iris.

“There’s this spot around the gears that doesn’t get enough attention that I’d like to show you,” Alcina hands hover around your waist. “May I?”

You nod your consent and she gently moves you on the ladder until you’re on the other side. She bends down and whispers in your ear. “Just between the cog and the gear. Do you see it?” The smell of her perfume is intoxicating. You nod that you understand and she smiles. “Good! I know you always do a thorough job and I wanted to bring that to your attention.” With that she settles back down and resumes her sketching.

This goes on for a while, you working while Alcina is sketching. Occasionally she will take a break and stand nearby observing you as you work. You find it difficult to concentrate when she is around but she eventually smiles to herself saying, “Yes. Very good,” before returning to her seat. A couple times you are not certain but you think you might have seen a flush creep up her cheekbones before she resumes her sketching.

A couple of weeks of this go by and you notice Alcina is not satisfied with the progress of her drawing. You see that she is erasing more often and often starts from a completely new page in her sketchbook. “No, no, this isn’t right!” you hear her say aloud one day. You chance a look at her as you are on the ladder polishing the candlesticks. She is furiously scribbling on the sketchpad and when a loose lock of her ebony hair falls into her eyes, she pushes it impatiently away. You try to lean down further to get a better look. You’ve seen how talented she is, surely the sketch couldn’t be that bad…

Suddenly you feel the ladder twist from under you as you lose your balance. Your arms pinwheel helplessly in the air as you try to regain your footing but to no avail. You shut your eyes tight as you fall, hoping at the most you’ll just sprain an ankle.

Instead of the hard floor, you fall into something soft. You open your eyes and jolt back as you see Alcina’s aureate eyes staring back into yours. She chuckles. “It appears I cannot do much but startle you these days it seems.” She looks at you with a concerned expression. “Are you all right, dear?”

“Yes, my Lady, I’m fine,” you mumble. You blush scarlet as you are very aware that her gloved hand is on your upper thigh, your skirt riding up in her haste to catch you. She becomes aware of this too and smoothes your skirt down, murmuring an apology, but not before you catch the blush in her cheeks.

She turns her head quickly away to hide it, her hat covering her profile. “Would you like to take a moment and rest, dear? You’ve been working so hard, you deserve a break.”

You nod soundlessly and she takes you over to the sofa where she has been doing her sketching. She closes her sketchbook with a snap before you can get a good look at it.

A maid arrives with Alcina’s afternoon tea. “Set out an extra cup for Y/N, if you please,” she commands the parlor maid. The maid nods and pours you both cups of steaming apple cinnamon tea, perfect for a cold winter’s day.

When the maid bows and leaves, you turn to Lady Dimitrescu. You clear your throat. “Um, my Lady?”

She smiles at you over her teacup. “Yes, pet?”

You can’t help it. You’re positively burning with curiosity at this point. “What have you been drawing?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

Alcina’s cheekbones flood with color. “Oh, it’s nothing special really,” she says hurriedly. “Just some scribbles.”

You can hardly believe it. Was Lady Dimitrescu, usually so full of pride and grace, embarrassed? You see a scrap of paper on the ground near the sofa and pick it up. Alcina tries to stop you but you’ve already turned it over in your hands. You let out a little gasp of surprise as you see what Alcina has been drawing all this time.

There on the paper is a charcoal drawing of you polishing the bells. In the corner of the page is a closeup of you, your face shining in the chandelier light.

You look back at her, your mouth open in shock. When you finally gain the ability to form words, you ask, “Is this what you’ve been working on all this time, my Lady?” you ask quietly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Alcina nods and opens her sketchbook to show even more pages of you. You staring at her portrait, you reaching up on your toes on the ladder to dust off a high shelf, you pouring her tea. There are pages upon pages of your likeness.

Alcina turns her head to face you. “I must confess that I had been in need of a new muse for my art,” she says. “When I saw you gazing at my portrait, something stirred within me. There is something about you that draws me to you.” She takes your chin gently in her gloved hand.

“Your hair,” she says, and she takes off your cap and settles your unbound hair about your shoulders. “Even pinned under your cap, it cannot conceal its beauty.” She takes your hand in hers. “Your skin,” she murmurs, pressing her lips to the back of your hand, making you feel a pleasant shiver go down your arm. “How it shines under the lamplight. Your eyes.” She is moving ever closer. “The way I could get lost in those fathomless depths. And your lips…”

Her face is so close to yours now, her lips parted. “What about my lips?” you whisper, scarcely daring to breathe.

You are not quite sure who closes the distance between you first, but you are suddenly in Alcina’s arms and you are kissing her fiercely, your hands weaving their way through her ebony locks. Her hands settle themselves around your waist as her tongue gently parts your lips. You lay back on the sofa and bring her head gently down with you. She braces one hand on the side of the couch while the other gently holds the back of your head.

The sound of the clock chiming startles you, making you break apart suddenly. Alcina lets out a girlish giggle. “We simply have to do something about those nerves of yours, draga mea,” she purrs. You smile and lift your head up to receive her kiss again.

[haztory]

hi mcdonald’s can i get uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh nanami + “nice tits”

“Nice tits.” from my writing event that ends today! 

 warnings: adult language and sexual themes, but that’s about it!

a/n: 3k words all for sanju that probably strays from the prompts but its fine bc i love you biiiiitch. thanks to everyone that requested a prompt! they will be out momentarily!!

nanami kento x gn!reader

There’s a universal understanding amongst the adults in the general realm of well-formed maturity and a sense of responsibility that there is no situation to ever exist in which listening to Gojo Satoru’s advice is a viable option. 

Much less any advice about love.

“You know,” His voice sings to your left, interrupting the tranquil silence of your office by his surprise warping, “If you needed help in satisfying your urges, you only had to ask. Looking at porn during school hours is a bit of a cry for help, (Y/N).”

“Go away, Gojo.” You reply, hardly perturbed at his unannounced visit and continuing the matter at hand. Your index finger continues its motions, pushing the wheel of the mouse downwards and studying the plethora of Google Search images the float past your eyes on your computer monitor.

Gojo leans his elbow on your desk, perching himself on the left side of your body, “Hey, I don’t judge! I’ve done it once or twice myself. I just always pictured you as more of an ass-person.”

Landing on an appropriate image for your task you click it, enlarging it on your screen. Gojo whistles.

“Now that’s just obscene, isn’t it?”

A finger enters your line of sight, pointing itself obnoxiously at the screen, specifically at the rather large pectoral belonging to that of a male model. An image that is necessary for your study of a new cursed technique that you witnessed on your last excursion with Nobara, and not at all the focus of sexual release as Gojo might insist. Even if they are rather admirable in their size. 

You would rather die before ever telling him that, though.

“They should really put a warning on those honkers—”

“Is there a reason you’re bothering me?” You ask bluntly, printing the image and retrieving it from the printer tray beside you.

“I just wanted to see what my second favorite teacher was doing, but never did I think I would catch you in the act of making a shrine to tits, so—”

You roll your head to the left, meeting Gojo’s shit-eating grin with a deadpan stare. With a sigh, you shake your head, “I’m studying.”

Even beneath the blindfold, you can see the waggle in his brows as he props his head on the bent elbow. “Oh suuure.”

Huffing impatiently, you swivel your desk chair to face him, placing a singular finger on his chest to push him back from your immediate space. He only continues to grin in his usual unabashed manner, as though he’s caught you red-handed. It makes you roll your eyes once more.

 You didn’t need to explain yourself; it wasn’t like you were doing anything immoral. Sure, staring at a number of pectoral muscles might seem inappropriate to the passing eye, but it was easily explainable. 

But as it always is with Gojo, he manages to rub that small part of you that just has to fight back. Fuckin’ prick. “We came across a cursed technique two days ago that targeted the chest. It caused—”

Gojo waves his hand in your face, “Seismic tremors in the pectoral muscles that affected a cursed energy point, yeah, yeah. Nobara told me all about it.”

“If you knew what I was doing why are you making me sound like such a creep?!” You exclaim, kicking his chest with the heel of your shoe. He catches your foot with a laugh, dropping it and holding his index finger upward.

“Because it’s fun to tease you.”

Huffing, you turn back to your monitor and point at the door, “Leave.”

“Oh, come onnn,” He warps in front of your computer, leaning himself over the top of the screen, “I’ve brought you a little gift of knowledge to help your studying.”

Even as he desperately tries to insert his gangly arms into your line of vision, you continue typing into the search bar. Some variations of “pectoral”, “muscles”, and “large men”. For research purposes, of course.

“Oh yeah?” You ask noncommittally, knowing full well the manner in which Gojo dangles his plots of mischief disguised as help, “And what would that be?”

Smiling largely once more, he lets out a giggle, “The larger the muscle, the more potent the attack on the cursed energy.”

Sparing him a quick glance, you mumble, “Doesn’t take a genius to figure that out.”

“No, but it does take a genius to figure out how to reverse the effects.”

He stops the statement there; grin audible in his words. After having spent years in the presence of the obnoxious Gojo Satoru, you already know there’s an ulterior motive to his words, something that is going to bite you in the ass rather aggressively.

And as much as you want to avoid being in the line of fire, especially the one directed by him, you’re simultaneously dying to know where this is going.

You hesitate to ask, but it comes out. Dripping in all of its cautiousness. “And?”

“And it also takes a willing participant to study.” His smile, in all impossibility, became even wider.

“I’m still not getting the picture.”

“A participant with rather large pectoral muscles.”

Oh.

Oh no.

“Someone who would willingly participate for the sake of education.”

Of all the people to have figured out about your (not so) little crush on a fellow sorcerer, it had to be the world’s largest idiot and nuisance. You had to end this, now. Before he does something so irrevocably stupid— 

“Shall we go ask Nanami?”

And that’s how you find yourself flushed with absolute mortification, gripping your clipboard with tight knuckles against your chest, wondering how you ever managed to forget the utmost important rule when it comes to Gojo Satoru.

Never listen to him, especially on the matter of love. 

Maybe that’s indicative of the state of your crush as a whole, something you should probably pay more attention to, seeing as the minute Nanami Kento was mentioned, you’ve forgotten the extent of logic and reason and followed the whims of Gojo without hesitation. 

It’s problematic, horrifying, and ultimately a monumental issue at the moment considering your mouth is as dry as a desert and your brain absolute mush, rendering you completely unable to formulate any words.

“Wow, Nanami,” Gojo shamelessly says, one hand shoved in his pocket as he stands beside your frozen figure, “Nice tits.”

Nanami hums unenthusiastically, unbuttoning the last button on his blue shirt and elegantly removing it from his large, muscular frame. Folding it neatly on the expanse of the couch beside him, he turns his stoic gaze back to you, hardly even concerned about his half-nakedness. 

Whereas you felt yourself almost drooling at the revealed expanse of firm muscles peppered with sparse hair. The fact that it was that easy to get to see this, to almost be able to touch it— 

Maybe listening to Gojo isn’t a bad idea after all.

“Shall we begin?” Nanami asks, pulling his glasses off of his face with his (large) hands and folding them on top of his shirt. A strand of blond falls onto the front of his face and his gaze trails from the impassive stare at Gojo, to you. 

And by all that is sweet and holy you swear that you’ve ascended to an ethereal plane and before you sits an angel waiting to take you to the pearly gates. No longer stares a man unamused at the teasing of the white-headed idiot beside you, but instead a celestial being with a body made of pure stone and dare you say, looking at you with a tenderness in his gaze that was absent only a moment before.

An elbow digs into your side, pulling you rather dramatically out of your stupor and towards the smug grin of the man beside you. 

“Well?” Gojo asks, “If you’re not going to touch him, I will.”

“Thank you, Gojo, but I can take it from here,” You all but hiss, pushing him once more away from your body, accompanying the action with a pointed glare. Beginning a backward trek towards the door, he holds his hands up in surrender.

“Alright, alright. I can see when I’m not wanted. I’ll be back in half an hour.”

Opening the door and stepping out of it, he halts, turning his head to look over his shoulder and says, voice coated in that familiar tone of teasing, “Remember to use condoms, lovebirds!”

He shuts the door quickly, hardly giving you a chance to spear your ire at his retreating figure, but you have half a mind to chase him down the hall when you hear his echoing laughter ring out. 

An awkward silence settles between you and the man of your horrid fascination that not even an uncomfortable laugh can ease. Clearing your throat and trying to remember your sense of professionalism, you straighten your shoulders and take a deep breath, facing the handsome man with a confidence that was growing incredibly difficult to face. 

“I’m going to touch you. For research. Your chest, specifically.”

In a move you’ve never quite seen before, Nanami sheds that formidable air of quiet stoicism and lets a small smile grace the features of his face. It gently pushes against the corners of his mouth and his bare shoulders move the slightest bit with the exhalation of his amused breath. 

“For the tremors in the pectoralis.” He says, leaning his body to rest against the backing of the couch, straightening his legs wearing their usual tan slacks to rest naturally in the position and hands folding in his lap. 

You gulp. “Y-yes.”

“I read your report.”

“You did?”

“I always do,” With his eyes still trained upon yours you can see them widen a bit at the realization of what he’s said as if that were an intimate detail he hadn’t meant to make you aware of. He quickly brings his fist up to his mouth, clearing his throat, “You are one of the few sorcerers here that fill them out correctly. I learn a great deal from your detailing. It’s… very helpful. You’re very thorough.”

Blinking repeatedly, you only nod at the compliment. Despite wanting to combust internally at the growing flames that burn inside of you, you take a step forward. Then another until, in an unforeseen reversal of circumstances, you’re towering over the man of great strength and respect. The man you’ve admired for the longest time.

The man that continues to stare at you with a softness you’ve never seen him reveal before. 

You can see the spattering of freckles that have intricately placed themselves over his broad shoulders resembling that of an artistic constellation and the delicious protruding of his biceps, great in mass yet telling of his of strength as your try to conservatively trail your eyes over his torso.

He’s beautiful, incredibly so. Baring himself to you in this way only affirms that.

 “Thank you,” you breathe out, and it’s more intimate than you intended it to be, but truthfully, it’s as fitting a phrase as it can be considering the proximity and the intensity behind his stare.

It’s all you can give him without crumbling at his feet. Placing your fingertips against his shoulder, you gently push him back, silently instructing him to lay on the couch. He follows suit like the dutiful sorcerer he is.

“I’ll just be examining the way in which your cursed energy extends from your chest. It shouldn’t hurt, but if you feel uncomfortable, just let me know.”

He hums once more from his supine position on the couch. Despite being much larger than the couch allows, he hardly looks uncomfortable. Only watches the way in which you press your fingers into his chest, pushing into his muscle and slowly massaging your finger in a circle. You circle around the left side, trailing around the outer edge of the muscle and above the rib cage, stopping and pressing rather firmly when you feel a surge in an energy presence beneath the skin. Almost on the center of his chest.

You snort a quiet laugh when you realize where it is.

“Should I be worried?” His deep timbre vibrates your indented fingers drawing your focus to his interested stare. He looks relaxed, the usual crease between his brow hardly recognizable. A stark refute to the question he posed.

You quickly shake your head, smiling growing wryer, “No, not at all. I just… think it’s funny that your energy presence is strongest where your heart is.”

Nanami quirks an eyebrow, “Isn’t that the same for everyone?”

“Would it be much of a surprise if I told you Gojo’s comes from his mouth?”

Nanami rolls his head, a breathless laugh exhaling as he stares at the ceiling. “No, I guess it wouldn’t.”

“Everyone has a different point from which their energy roots itself. Each one gives a different feeling of sorts. It doesn’t really mean much in terms of power and technique, but it is noticeable. You have an overwhelming presence as is, I just…” Your shoulders drop with a sigh, one stemming desperately from loving admiration and instead try to disguise as just an exhalation, “…never realized it came from there. Kind of fitting if you ask me.”

His brows furrow in contemplation, unsure if whether he could accept the statement. Unsure of whether it was a fitting examination or compliment for him. He must deem it something insignificant of his ponderance because he quickly moves on.

“And yours?” He asks, alight with curiosity, “Where does yours come from?”

You hum, grateful to finally shed the last remnants of awkwardness and engage in the usual friendly conversation you tend to have with him. The brief discussions that always prod a little too close for friendly discovery, but never breach the line of professional respect. That self-imposed limitation that you desperately wish he’ll cross, that this conversation is once again coming toward.

“Take a guess.” Allowing that lilting tease to infiltrate your words, you watch as Nanami adjusts himself on the couch. Bracing his arms against the cushion, he pushes himself into a sitting position and crosses his arms. Trailing his eyes over your seated body next to him, he leaves a burning trail in his wake.

He fixates on your face for a second and your breath hitches, before he travels downward over the column of your neck, then your chest, to your legs. Drinking you in as per your consent and request. Then, he extends his hand. Palm facing upwards in a silent request. You understand.

Placing your own hand in his, he turns your hand upward, allowing full access to the center of your hand and tracing his finger over the lines.

“Your hands. That’s your center.” He says with finality, monotonous but confident. With a small smirk, he looks up at you, “You are a healer after all.”

You give a small nod, “I’m not sure if it comes from my fingertips or my palm, but yeah. My hands.”

Looking back down at your hand in his, he traces the finger in a circle, “Palm. That’s where I feel it the most.”

“What does it feel like?” You ask with a laugh, expecting something asinine and noncommittal considering Yuuji once said your presence felt like a cool wind on a summer’s day and Nobara insists that it feels like a warm shower.

Two entirely opposite feelings, yet somehow categorized in the schema of comfort. You hardly expect Nanami to give something so introspective, nor anything that reveals too much considering the extent to which he tends to maintain the boundary of respect in the conversations of explorations. The kind in which two people teeter on the thin ice of interest, yet never voice it.

And yet, his eyes connect with yours again, and it's entirely too overwhelming for you to process. Too interested, too warm. His face betrays no nervousness nor any hesitation as he stares, entirely convinced that this is what was meant to happen. As though he knew from the moment Gojo asked that it was going to unfold this way.

Like he prepared for it. Like he decided today was the day that he crossed that line.

“Home. Warm and comforting.”

Slow heat the creeps its way up your spine that makes your brain halt thought altogether and sputter intelligently, “Gojo’s kind of feels like… tar. Thick tar. Super gross.”

His hand, large and warm, encompasses your hand once more, lays it flat against his chest to feel both his exuding energy and the steady beat of his formidable heart.

“And mine?” He asks, low and gravelly. Like sweet honey that has you captured entirely, unable to escape. Not like you want to. No, you’d rather drown in this overwhelming redolence than ever live without it.

You don’t even realize your breathing heavily, nor that his face has gotten closer to yours. When did he move there? Did you move there?

Either way, his face is in front of yours, noses almost touching and the compulsion to answer him on the tip of your tongue.

“Addicting,” you whisper.

And then his lips are on yours, molding sweetly into you, and it's everything you have ever imagined it to be. Slow, yet firm. Warm and craving, and you can only fight for more, more, more.

His hand moves to the back of your neck, pulling you in impossibly closer and you place your hands on his bare chest, the great reason as to your current predicament entirely, to steady yourself and your erratic heartbeat. Time seems to slow in the passion of his kiss, and yet when he parts for air, you feel as though you only had him for a second.

All the months of pining could barely make up for that singular moment.

“I’ve been meaning to do that for a while,” He says, leaning his forehead against yours, breath fanning over your aching lips. You scoff in laughter, meeting his smile with one of your own.

So, maybe, just maybe, listening to Gojo wasn’t a bad idea. And maybe, sometimes, he’s right about some things.

“Hey Kento?”

“Yes?”

“You really do have nice tits.”

“Likewise.”