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russellsppttemplates · 9 months ago

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Just say the word (Max Verstappen)

A secret relationship is hard enough to deal with when you don't have people constantly shipping your boyfriend with someone else

Note: english is not my first language. This is the first time I'm writing athlete!reader, so I thought about the sports I know better and swimming seemed fitting for what I wanted!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: secret relationship

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"You're alone today, Y/N?", one of the other girls, Ella, asked as you retrieved your waterproof workout plan sheet from the folder.

"I'm going away tomorrow and I won't be back until Monday morning, so I squeezed in my Saturday session now; Carol is coaching with the younger group today later", you explained the fact that you were at the pool without your coach.

At first, swimming was an after school activity since your parents worked long hours and they needed you to be occupied and somewhere with someone looking after you, but as you grew older, your passion for the activity became more serious. Combined with your natural skill and hard work - and, truth be told, a dust of luck from deep pocket sponsors - you were able to become a full time swimmer. Tokyo 2020 Olympics was the proudest moment of your career as you stepped on the podium next to two of the people you looked up to the most, wondering if you were ever going to stand in the top step and hear your national anthem play. Baby steps - Carol told you immediately - this is already a huge achievement, Y/N!

"Do you want to stretch together?", Ella wondered, throwing a foam roller for you to catch once you nodded and getting one for herself.

"Where are you off to this weekend?", she asked curiously. You were playing a risky game, you knew that much, going away only on weekends and travelling to countries where, coincidentally, the Formula One Grand Prix was being held.

Luckily for you, no one seemed to make the connection as the last two years you managed to keep your relationship a secret. You first met Max in a sponsor party at the beggining of your professional career when you needed to up your earnings as the costs of travelling to competitions was getting higher and heavier on your savings. It fell through, but other sponsors came your way and you and Max started hanging out after it. The Dutch driver was funny and charming and after winning your first Olympic medal, you felt unstoppable and confessed your feelings for him. When he admitted he felt the same for you, you went from there on. At first, the decision to keep it secret was both strategic, as Max didn't want you to miss out on any sponsorships or teams backing you because you were in a relationship with him, and personal as he didn't want the world's prying eyes on your relationship.

Two years later, you felt like there had never been a right time to do it so things stayed the way they were, and most of the time, you didn't mind it.

"Austria", you kept the city to yourself as you worked on your hips as they were still tight from yesterday.

"Didn't you go there last year?", she quirked an eyebrow.

"Last year, I had more of a city break weekend, this time around I'm going for a nature approach, you know? No phones, no Internet, digital detox and all of that", you offered, doubling up the excuse so she wouldn't expect to see and Instagram stories or posts from your weekend away.

"Sounds nice! It can really get in your head when you're too long on them - I have a timer on my phone because otherwise I won't even notice the amount of time I spend on social media", she smiled before silently asking if she could take the foam rollers back to their box.

Getting yourself on the water and used to the temperature, you started with your usual warm up routine before following the plan you stuck to the platform.

On some days, the session felt quick, before you knew, the other athletes were already stretching and getting prepped for their own session. Today, it seemed like it would never end, as you looked at the clock and only fifteen minutes had gone by since the last time you checked it. At least your times were improving, you thought, drinking some water before going back to practice your butterfly stroke as dictated by the workout sheet.

It was already evening time when you sat down on your bedroom floor, packing everything you had laid out to take on your trip with you when your phone rang.

"Hey, liefje", Max said as his face showed up on your screen, "how was your day?".

"Good. Had training in the morning, then a physio session because my hips kept hurting, and I found some time to buy a replacement for my moisturiser before I came home to have dinner and pack", you showed him the suitcase, "and you? The car seems good, a nice gap to the others as well", you mused.

"The same old Friday, really. Woke up, came to the track, a little debrief with Alice and then we headed to the track. Only tomorrow will tell, but I'm confident on the pole", he smiled, "can't wait to have you here with me and see your gorgeous face up close".

"You can see it now", you ridiculed as you rested your chin on your phone and looked into the camera so Max could have an interesting angle of your features, "beautiful, am I right?", you joked.

"The most beautiful", he complimented, "are you nearly done packing?", he wondered.

"Yes, just my charger and a few other last minute things left - I'll put them in my backpack tomorrow morning", you reasoned.

"You better get to sleep, your flight is early", your boyfriend encouraged, "I really need it - a proper shower first and then I'll go to bed", you assured, "I love you, Max, see you tomorrow", you blew him a kiss.

"I love you too, gorgeous! Text me updates from your flight, okay?", he smiled, smooching his lips for you to see before you ended the videocall.

The shower helped you unwind for the night, a little list on your kitchen counter to remember you of the last minute things as you turned off the lights and got back to your bedroom, your bed waiting for you so you could sleep a decent amount of hours.

Sitting on the waiting area of the airport, you placed your backpack on your legs and rested your elbows there, grabbing your phone to scroll through social media.

Ella was right, people did spend too much time on these. Everyone around you seemed to be on their phone or tablet devices.

A photo of your boyfriend showed up in your explore page, a fan page showing his walking back to the garage after FP1 and Alice was trailing right beside him.

Scrolling through the carrousel of pictures, you found a small video of them laughing together about something. The comments under it were the same as usual.

No one can convince me they're not together!😌 (to be read as I know I'm delulu)

If they're not, I'll volunteer to show them how good they would be for eachother! 🫣

Such a power couple 😮‍💨🥵

When they finally knock some sense into eachother's head and realise they're meant to be together, I'm claiming them as my parents! 🥹

No matter how many times you saw it, it never got easier. For all everyone knew, Max was single, so they weren't acting as a disregard of you. They didn't knew a regard of you to begin with. So they took interest in his love life and hoped he was in a relationship with some of the women he interacted with. Max usually didn't let many of them start to begin with, but Alice worked for the team, he could only get so far away and be distanced from her.

Max wouldn't cheat on you, you knew that. But the comments made you wonder. Would he be better off with someone else? Someone who could follow him anywhere?

The thoughts often plagued your mind, and they hadn't yet turned to the your other insecurities, so you had to be thankful for that.

Boarding on the plane, you played some music on your earbuds as you fished out your kindle to continue reading the book you started at the beggining of the week.

The buzz was installed on track as you found your spot in the stands just in time to see the marshalls tidying up whatever was left on the concrete so qualifying could start without a hitch.

This was usually how you did it. On Saturday, you would watch qualifying from the stands, waiting a little in the fan zone before Max whisked you into the hospitality with Gianpiero's help. On Sunday, you either stayed on the stands and repeated the same procedure or you arrived early to the track and stayed in his driver's room so to not lift any suspicions. You had been invited to watch a few races with the Paddock Club pass with some of the other Olympic athletes, but it hadn't happened in a while.

To anyone, you were a regular fan. You had your RedBull cap on and sunglasses, and you had never been recognised in one of the races, so you felt calm. The tricky bit of keeping your relationship hidden from the public eye was going to be later, for now, you could just wait and appreciate the fast laps.

"I'm sorry, you're Y/N Y/L/N, right?", a girl in a Ferrari cap called your name. Crap.

"Hi, I am", you smiled, "I'm sorry to ambush you like this - I am a big fan and you're a big inspiration to me. I also swim", she reasoned as she fumbled with her phone, "do you mind if my father takes a picture of us?", she politely asked.

"That's okay, yes", you smiled, taking off your sunglasses briefly as the older man snapped a picture before he shook your hand, "she won't shut up about your achievements! Did you tell Ms. Y/L/N that you're going to be in the qualifiers for Paris?".

"It's Y/N, please", you requested, "That's fantastic, congratulations! I hope it all works out for you and I'll see you around there!", you hugged her quickly before she thanked you and found their seats.

She seemed nice enough and it wasn't like you were a public figure, at least to the general public anyway really, so between all of the people who could've spotted you, she was fine.

"C'mon Max!", you yelled as he and Charles seemed to be separated by a few tenths of a second, cheering loudly when the times were set and your boyfriend got the pole position.

The timing was perfect as Max took a little longer than expected on his interviews, fans scattering to the fanzone and track experiences while you spotted Max's engineer, walking with him when no one seemed to be paying attention to it.

"I'll tell Max you're already here", he smiled before he closed the door of the driver's room.

It always felt a little odd. Like you were doing something forbidden and illegal by being there.

"Yes, we'll meet in a bit", Max told whoever was in the corridor after he opened the door, closing it back when you jumped on him, legs wrapping around his waist, "hey, pole sitter", you smirked, nuzzling your face on his neck and kissing the soft skin.

"Hello, liefje", he mumbled against your skin before you pulled away, "kiss?", you asked for his lips to settle on yours for a bit, filling up on eachother's presence.

"No one saw you come here?", he asked. You shook your head, "everybody was paying attention to other things, the only people I encountered already know so we're safe", you stated.

Max noticed the change of tone, but you wouldn't have time to properly discuss it so he let it slide for now, telling you instead about the session and how the car felt, as well as the dinner plans her had for you since the room service menu was "so varied we could make our own little buffet".

You stayed in the room while he had the debrief, leaving together when you made sure no one would see you two.

"Room service called back, they said they'll bring the food in ten minutes", Max said as you got out of the bathroom, dressed in pyjamas and fresh out of the shower, "That's good, I'm starving", you smiled as you sat down.

Max always received the food at the door to ensure no prying eyes would see something he didn't want, along with other precautions like packing up all your things in case someone from housekeeping enjoyed the gossip and took the rumours somewhere else.

"I know something is bothering you", Max began you had taken a piece of chicken to your much, "I noticed it when we were in my room, and even now there's something", he nudged your arm.

Chewing and swallowing afterwards, you moved the broccoli around your plate, gathering your thoughts before speaking up, "do you know people ship you and Alice?", you spoke up.

"Don't change the subject, darl - is that it?", Max tried to understand.

"People seem to think you'd make a great couple, like, they have your whole relationship panned out. Everyone thinks she's very pretty - and I agree with them -, and that you two have chemistry and that it would be nice for you to be with her - looks exchanged and all sorts of ideas", you mumbled.

"Liefje, I'd never do that to you, I don't interact with her that way", Max replied instantly.

"I know you don't, but it hurts to see", you admitted, "comments people make about my boyfriend and how he really should start dating someone - and they know who that person is, so really it's just a matter of putting two and two together!", you let a tear fall down your cheek.

"Y/N, I didn't know it was bothering you so much and bringing you such sadness", Max cupped your cheek, thumb wiping the tears that followed suit and looking into your eyes.

"I can ask the team to issue or statement - or we can go public. I don't care what we do as long as you feel better about it", he comforted.

"Do you want to go public?", you asked, afraid of the answer.

"Y/N, my love, being secret was just to protect you, for your good. If going public is the solution for this, I'm the first one to walk into the paddock tomorrow with you, holding hands and everything", he moved his hands to cradle your own.

"You mean that? It's just, I don't want people to assume you're single and throw themselves at you - or throw someone at you! I know Alice won't do it, but other people might and I'm tired of having to lie to people about where I'm going and saying no to dates they try to set up and why I gave a RedBull rain jacket on my car", you chuckled at the last one, remembering your coach's reaction when she saw it, "Since when do you follow F1?", Carol questioned.

"We'll do it tomorrow if you want, or whenever you feel ready, Y/N. I'll be by your side, always", he smiled kissing your lips lovingly.

"I don't have any paddock wag outfits with me", you giggled, "have to make a good impression".

"Please, you could go in these pyjamas and you'd still be the prettiest woman there", he pulled you to sit on his lap as you finished your dinner.

The next morning, people couldn't believe their eyes as Max walked hand in hand with a young woman, the pair of them talking about something between them as they giggled.

A few were unsure of it was really you while others asked their colleagues to please repeat your name, googling you quickly and finding out your achievements.

Soon enough, pictures flowed social media with the paddock's new power couple, gossip Instagram pages having a field day and it wasn't even lunch time.

"This is news", Daniel said as he spotted Max. He had been one of the few people outside of the team who knew about you two, you having made him swear that he would never tell anyone, and if by chance he did let something slip, you trusted him to make a joke out of it and for people to assume he was just teasing Max indeed.

"You won't have to keep it to yourself anymore, Danny", you said as you hugged his side quickly.

"That's good, actually, I think that's what has been keeping me from being focused in racing, it's a real relief, Y/N", he stated and for two seconds, you felt bad for putting such pressure on him, "I'm just kidding! C'mon, you know what I'm like", he gave you a big smile, "now, I have to go, will pop by to see you though!", Daniel said as he waved while he carried on to his team's garage.

Your interactions with Daniel and the team spurred curiosity as the media started thinking and hypothesizing that maybe your relationship was as new as they thought it was. As it turns out, once again, Max Verstappen knew how to keep private aspects away from the media.

For now, they would try to dig more and find out how the Olympic medalist swimmer stole the heart of the Formula One driver.

#max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fluff #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff

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onepiecestarry · 4 months ago

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Katsuki Bakugo Fluff Oneshot

I've had this bouncing around in my brain for a few days and just needed to get it down :) This is lowk based off of my life so I apologize since its a niche situation. But enjoy some Bk fluff and lmk if you want another part to this!

Katsuki x Reader

2.3k words

Most days you wake up, go to class, study, and train late into the night. You are a busy person, with many priorities, but this didn’t stop you from making many friends. You got particularly close to Mina and Sero, and along with that the rest of the bakusquad- besides Bakugo himself of course. You had tried many times to befriend him but to no avail. You decided to give up since you were already a part of his friend group.

You tried your best to make time for your friends but most weeks you wouldn’t join the nightly hangouts. On any days off you went home to help your mom, only Mina truly knew why you were never in the dorms.

“Alright class, today we are-” Aizawa started his long speech about your new upcoming project. You start to zone out, but quickly focus again to get the project details, jotting down any important notes you might need.

“I am going to randomly assign partners for this, please do not ask to change because there will be no exceptions this time.” Mr. Aizawa says in his regular monotone voice.

He starts to list off the groups and eventually says your name. “Y/n and Bakugo”

“Not that fucking nerd!!” Bakugo yells slamming his fist onto his desk.

“Shut it Bakugo,” Mr. Aizawa says activating his quirk on the rowdy student.

The rest of the day went by normally, you finished classes and began packing your stuff to study and train.

Around 1 am you get a text.

Bakugo

“Where are you dipshit”

Y/n

“Training, why?”

Bakugo

“Tf you training so late for, gts”

Y/n

“Dude leave me alone, what do you want”

Bakugo

“Friday at 11 am common room”

Y/n

“The project?”

He likes the message and the conversation ends. You look at the time and realize you should be going to bed soon, you do a few more reps before heading back to the dorm.

It's a cool night, as you walk a chill runs up your spine from the cold. You shake it off and continue to your dorms. As quietly as you can, you open the door and make your way to your room. You fall asleep to the crickets and cicadas chirping outside your window.

The week goes by quickly as the weekend approaches. You completely forgot about having Friday off, but Mina reminded you on Thursday to text your mom to remind her.

What everyone in the class doesn’t know is that your mom moved with you when you came abroad to study at UA. She and your little sister rent a small house not too far from campus. Your step-father refused to move with them, so on any days you have off you go home to watch your 2-year-old sister while your mom works. The only person who knows about this arrangement is your best friend Mina. She covers for you whenever you are there.

You wake up to the loud beeping of your alarm, as you look at it to shut it off it displays “4:30 am”. You groan and move to get up. Your mom starts work at 6 on the days you have off so you have to get to the house early so your sister isn’t home alone.

You grab your prepacked bag and school backpack and start your walk home. The sunrise is barely a sliver when you get there.

As you take care of your sister throughout the day, coloring, watching movies, and playing dress-up, it doesn’t matter what you do as long as she’s happy. Once you put her down for her nap, you throw yourself onto the couch half asleep. Then your phone starts going off over and over. You grumble something about a group chat and open your phone to see it’s Bakugo.

Bakugo

“Where are you dipshit”

“If you aren’t here in the next 3 minutes I’m blowing your ass up in your dorm”

“Why aren’t you in your dorm”

“ANSWER ME”

Bakugo has requested your location.

“Oh boy” You mumble to yourself

Y/n

“Chill dude, I’m sorry I forgot we were supposed to work on the project today, can we do it Monday?”

Bakugo

“NO, dumbass it's fucking due Monday”

“Where are you, answer the fucking phone now”

Y/n

“I can’t answer the phone rn”

Bakugo

“Well then SEND ME UR FUCKING LOCATION”

Y/n

“Will u chill tf out if I do?”

Bakugo likes the message.

Y/n started sharing their location with Bakugo

You huff and turn your phone off falling asleep on the couch. Not long after you wake up to three aggressive knocks on your front door. Knowing Bakugo you jump up to stop him from knocking more and waking your sister.

“Chill tf out, I’m right here,” You say as you open the door. Bakugo pushes past you walking into your house and turning to look at you.

“You are so fucking useless, we were supposed to have this project done today! I fucking should’ve done it myself” He says with his fingers on the bridge of his nose.

“Look, I’m sorry but Aizawa would know if you pulled that shit AGAIN”

“YOU FUCKING RATTED-”

You slam your palm on his mouth as he begins to yell. Shock is written across his face when he suddenly pushes you off him.

“What the fuck” He spits at you.

“You have to be fucking quiet dipshit” You whisper.

“Why wou-” He gets interrupted by your sister crying and running to you.

You pick her up gently and start to soothe her from her startling wake call as you glare daggers at Bakugo. He stands there in complete shock, this time not hiding it at all. You nod your head in the direction of your dining table and say, “Go set up there, we can work on it now.”

He doesn’t say a word while he gets his stuff out and sets up. You put your sister down to start making some lunch for her.

“Did you eat?” You ask not looking at him.

“What?” He asks snapping back to reality.

“Did you eat lunch?”

“Oh um no”

“Ok,” You say, silently making another serving more.

As you continue to cook and Bakugo silently sits there trying to think of what to say, he blurts out.

“So, who’s the father?”

You turn around from the stove and stare at him blankly for a second processing what he asked, then you see how serious his face is. You burst out laughing- “BAHAHAHA, WAIT,” you say wiping a tear forming in your eye from laughter. Bakugo glares at you to stop laughing. After you take a second to compose yourself you answer, “Bakugo, meet my sister, y/s/n.” You say as y/s/n goes up to Bakugo and hugs him. He has a horrified look on his face realizing what he just asked you.

He tries to jump away and get her off unsuccessfully. He accepts his fate and allows her to hug his leg.

The next few hours went by awkwardly, you served lunch and while your sister was busy eating you spent your time working on the project, allowing Bakugo to have a break and eat too. But as soon as your sister was done you were up and taking care of her again.

Hours go by and you realize you have to figure out dinner.

“Fuck” You whisper so your sister can’t hear. “What do you want for dinner Bakugo?” You ask from your sister’s makeshift playroom in the living room.

“I don’t know, don’t care.”

You look at him exasperated as you sigh and ask your sister.

“PIZZA!!!” Your sister says excitedly. You pick her up and gently whisper how you can’t afford to order pizza right now, and how you can make her something at home. She begins to sulk and goes back to her toys. You get up walk to the table and look at Bakugo to ask again.

“Wha-” You begin.

“I already ordered it.” He says not looking up from his notes.

“What?” You ask baffled.

“The pizza, I already ordered it.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that, seriously.”

“It's fine. She said she wanted pizza.”

“Okay, how much was it so I can pay you back.” You ask getting your wallet out.

“No.” He says not sparing you a look.

“What?” You ask again.

“I said no. Don’t worry about it.”

“Oh, okay, well thank you.”

Once the pizza arrives you all sit down to eat, but once again you don’t eat so you can work on the project. As you sit at your laptop across from Bakugo eating his pizza, your laptop suddenly shuts.

“Wha- What the fuck man?!” You half-yell at Bakugo.

“You haven’t eaten all day, so eat the pizza and then I’ll watch your sister so you can work.”

“But-”

“No. I said what I said.” He stares at you, silently telling you that you won’t win any argument with him.

He kept true to his word, he took care of your sister while you worked efficiently on your project. Around 11:30 you come back to reality and close your laptop, realizing that you should have put your sister to bed long ago. You walk into the living room to see Bakugo and y/s/n on the couch watching her favorite movie, Totoro. Y/s/n being asleep on Bakugo you decide to sit on the other side of him and continue the movie.

“Everything is done, we just need to make the slides and practice.” You whisper.

“Alright cool, that should be easy.” He says continuing to watch the movie.

You look over and admire how calm he is. His arm wrapped around your sister, her head in his lap fast asleep. You had to admit, he was great with kids. While you were working he was playing dress up with her, you managed to snap a few photos of him with a tiara on before he noticed. He was so sweet and gentle with her all day, the opposite of his regular personality. He didn't call her a brat even once, not even one time?!?

He notices you staring and looks over, “What?” He says annoyed.

“Nothing,” You say silent for a few seconds, “Just- thank you for today.”

He lets out a scoff, showing you he was listening.

“Is this where you disappear every night?” He asks.

“What? Oh. no, I actually do train every night since I’m here on the weekends. I usually get up at 4:30 and either stay here or go back at 2 am.” You answer.

“You do this only on two and a half hours of sleep?” He asks with confusion and shock hinting in his voice.

“Yeah, I don’t have much of a choice. No one else can watch her.”

The conversation fades as you both focus back on the movie. Eventually leading to you falling asleep on him as well.

Bakugo sits there on your couch, with your sister asleep in his lap and you asleep on his shoulder. He quietly watches the movie until your mom returns from work. She opens the door and hears the T.V. on, so she goes to the living room to check and she sees all of you there. Bakugo’s head swings at the noise and sees her.

“Oh my, I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to startle you. I didn’t know y/n had her boyfriend over!” She says quietly moving to sit on the adjacent couch.

“Oh- um, I’m not-” He starts.

“Here let me move her to bed, they both sleep like rocks don’t worry.” She says with a wink, picking up your sister and taking her to her bed. She returns to see Bakugo hasn’t moved with you still asleep on him.

“How long have you been here? I’m so sorry for any trouble they’ve caused.” Your mom laughs.

“I got here around noon. Me and y/n were supposed to work on a school project but she forgot so I came over to work on it.” He starts

“Oh! I’m so sorry about that dear.”

“It's okay.”

“So how long have you two been together?” She asks excitedly.

“We aren’t dating,” Bakugo says quietly still trying to not wake you up.

“Really? Huh, I swear I’ve heard y/n talk about you before.” A light shade of pink finds its way to Bakugo’s cheeks.

“Well, thank you for helping take care of my girls, I really appreciate it. You should stay here tonight, it's too late for you to go back to school. Y/n’s room is there and there are blankets in the closet.” Your mom says getting up to go to bed. “And thank you again Katsuki Bakugo.” She finally says before disappearing into her room.

Bakugo tightens up at the sound of his full name, knowing well that means y/n has talked about him enough for her mom to know who he is.

He decides to stay on the couch, not wanting to disturb your peace. He pulls a blanket on the both of you and shuts his eyes. He thinks about all the times he couldn’t spot you at parties or hangouts. Or how you would vanish off the face of the earth on weekends. It all made sense now, you were working yourself to the bone to take care of your family.

Bakugo always had a soft spot for you, which is why everyone would always make you ask him to hang out with them, even if you weren’t going to be there. He never knew why he was murder-y with you but it scared him so he pushed you away even more. Hence you trying to be friends with him but ‘failing’.

But now he’s here, lying on your couch with you on top of him asleep, coming to the realization that maybe his soft spot for you isn’t all that bad.

126 notes · View notes

fluff-n-cookies · 7 months ago

Note

Randomly off the bat Dabi, Shigaraki and Spinner (separately) With a quirkless girlfriend Who has an Ex that wants to get back with her, BUT……. The ex turns that “HE BROKE UP WITH HER” because she “had no quirk” and that she was “useless to him”

(Those are the quotes she says to them while telling them the short version of the story) Dabi, Shigaraki, Spinner, deals with the situation themselves.

(I love those boys😍 and I thought it be a good idea story for you, so go crazy and have fun with it😅)

Okay, girlie, while I love the fact that you're sharing this stuff with me, I don't think you read this. the yellow paragraph. I hope you send this request to some other writers, @honeybubblebeeeeee is one of my personal favs. I do however like the idea of a reader having no quirk and being abandoned because of it, so I'll put a platonic spin on it.

AND I ALSO DON"T WRITE FOR SPINNER SORRY!!!

Reader was abandoned by their family after being born to a quirk marriage meant to provide children with strong quirks only for their first child to have no quirk. not wanting their reputation destroyed they abandoned our dear reader at 5 leaving her in an orphanage and a note to near come find them less they wanted a bounty on their head. (reader is now 16)

Dabi likes children, he likes how they have this innocent aura, he likes that they, hopefully, have not gone through the horrors he has. Hopefully. On the other hand, he hates quirk marriages, he hates hero's, in fact, I'd even say he hates fathers in general.

To tell Dabi that your relationship with your father or your mother is bad is to get them at the top of his hit list, VIP shit. Endeavor is just a couple seconds behind them.

but what hurts him more, what hurts him the most is if you actually believe them, if you push yourself through hand to hand combat, sniping, and other such practices not for the sake of improving yourself but to prove to them (not that they care) that you are not useless.

Oh how it pains him, to wake up in the dead of night to see your tear stricken face as you berate a poor punching bag to death on the roof. The wind is cool as you swing, and swing again. It's as if you dance for the stars of the night and the stars alone with not a thought for the trees or the mountains. Only ever the stars.

The sting hurts, the impact of thinly wrapped fists against a leathery wall, but that anger that drains with it is enough to make the pain worth it, is it not?

That anger you feel, is an anger that Touya knows all too well. The type of anger that makes one want to yell of the heavens, yell that they are not a sinner despite being imprisoned in hell. He’ll watch as you swing with fury, fury of not being enough, fury of being thrown away like trash.

one man's trash is another's treasure though, right?

In that case, you're Touya's most darling treasure. Oh the urge to hold you close and tell you everything's going to be okay, as he pets your head, whispering promises of vengeance on your behalf. To give you a reason to smile.

Oh, it's strong.

Oh, the blood he's shed for you.

he won't say anything, if you see him get you water after you nearly faint from mental and physical exhaustion, no you didn't. if you saw him undo the bandages on your arms from training and replace them with new fresh ones, you're delusional. If you saw him stalking your family's socials and calling someone to leak their crimes, shhh, don't tell.

----

"I mean, yeah, you kinda are."

Was his genuine first thought.

I mean, what do you want him to say? that your quirk doesn't determine your worth, like what?

and darling, when I say correct him, I mean correct him, please correct him. Please look dead into his eyes and say "I'm not useless!". for when I say it will escalate, trust me it will Escalate.

this boy has never had a true friend, and on top of that, he was teased as a child for, well being him. So the moment he gets a friend, his heart will swell, for once he feels cherished, and my poor boy, he doesn't show it correctly.

he's just so happy to finally have someone to talk to and joke around with, but doesn't realize just yet what is a joke and what is not. so he'll keep pushing it, it supposedly is an "inside joke" so he'll keep doing it.

So please correct him! tell him that it hurts, and tell him lightly to not risk breaking his heart.

Because he wants to make you happy, he can't stand the fact that you go quiet whenever he calls you quirkless, and that you're progressively distancing yourself more and more. And believe me when I say, it's painful for the both of you.

Please be his friend, and please let him make you happy correctly, you are just so perfect, we can't have such a perfect thing so sad now can we?

---

yeah, done admist some weird shit, and did I mention that I'm a horrible writer?

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ask-the-prose · 8 months ago

Text

Writing Mental Health With Compassion

I've gotten a few questions regarding depicting characters with mental health challenges and conditions and I wanted to expand a little more on how to depict these characters with compassion for the real communities represented by these characters.

A little about this guide: this is, as always, coming from a place of love and respect for the writing community and the groups affected by this topic at large. I'm also not coming at this from the outside, I have certain mental illnesses that affect my daily life. With that, I'll say that my perspective may be biased, and as with all writing advice, you should think critically about what is being told to you and how.

So let's get started!

Research

I'm sure we're all tired of hearing the phrase "do your research," but unfortunately it is incredibly important advice. I have a guide that touches on how to do research here, if you need a place to get started.

When researching a mental health condition that we do not experience, we need to do so critically, and most importantly, compassionately. While your characters are not people, they are assigned traits that real people do have, and so your depiction of these traits can have an impact on people who face these conditions themselves.

I've found that reddit is a decent resource for finding threads of people talking about their personal experiences with certain illnesses. For example, bipolar disorder has several subreddits that have very open and candid discussions about bipolar, how it impacts lives, and small things that people who don't have bipolar don't tend to think about.

It's important to note that these spaces are not for you. They are spaces for people to talk about their experiences in a place without judgment or fear or stigma. These are not places for people to give out writing advice. Do NOT flood subreddits for people seeking support with questions that may make others feel like an object to be studied. It's not cool or fair to them for writers to enter their space and start asking questions when they're focused on getting support. Be courteous of the people around you.

Diagnosis

I have the belief that for most stories, a diagnosis for your characters is unnecessary. I have a few reasons for thinking this way.

Firstly, mental health diagnoses are important for treatment, but they're also a giant sign written across your medical documents that says, “I'm crazy!” Doctors may try to remain unbiased when they see mental health diagnoses, but anybody with a diagnosis can say that doctors rarely succeed. This translates to a lot of people never getting diagnoses, never seeking treatment, or refusing to talk about their diagnosis if they do have one.

Secondly, I've seen posts discuss “therapy speak” in fiction, and this is one of those instances where a diagnosis and extensive research may make you vulnerable to it. People don't tend to discuss their diagnoses freely and they certainly don't tend to attribute their behaviors as symptoms.

Finally, this puts you, the writer, into a position where you treat your characters less like people and story devices and more like a list of symptoms and behavioral quirks. First and foremost, your characters serve your story. If they don't feel like people then your characters may fall flat. When it comes to mental illness in characters, the people aspect is the most important part. Mentally ill people are people, not symptoms.

Those are my top three reasons for believing that most characters will never need a specific diagnosis. You will likely never need to depict the difference between bipolar and borderline because the story itself does not need that distinction or to reveal a diagnosis at all. I feel that having a diagnosis in mind for a character has more pitfalls than advantages.

How does treatment work?

Treating mental health conditions may appear in your story. There are a number of ways treatments affect daily life and understanding the levels of care and what those levels treat will help you depict the appropriate settings for your characters.

The levels of care range from minimally restrictive and minimal care to intensive in-patient care in a secure hospital setting.

Regular or semi-regular therapy is considered outpatient care. This is generally the least restrictive. Your characters may or may not also take medications, in which case they may also see a psychiatrist to prescribe those medications. There is a difference between therapists, psychiatrists, and psychologists. Therapists do not prescribe medications, psychiatrists prescribe medications after an evaluation, and psychologists will (sometimes) do both. (I'm US, so this may work differently depending where you are. You should always research the specific setting of your story.) Generally, a person with a mental illness or mental health condition will see both an outpatient therapist and an outpatient psychiatrist for their general continuing care.

Therapists will see their patients anywhere from once in a while as-needed to twice weekly. Psychiatrists will see new patients every few weeks until they report stabilizing results, and then they will move to maintenance check-ins every 90-ish days.

If the patient reports severe symptoms, or worsening symptoms, they will be moved up to more intensive care, also known as IOP (Intensive Outpatient Program). This is usually a group-therapy setting for between 3-7 hours per day between 3-5 days a week. The group-therapy is led by a Licensed Professional Counselor (LPC) or Licensed Professional Social Worker (LPSW). Groups are structured sessions with multiple patients teaching coping mechanisms and focusing on treatment adjustment. IOP’s tend to expect patients to see their own outpatient psychiatrist, but I've encountered programs that have their own in-house psychiatrists.

If the patient still worsens, or is otherwise needing more intensive care, they'll move up to PHP (Partial Hospitalization Program). This can look different per facility, but I've seen them to be more intensive in hours and content than IOP. They also usually have in-house psychiatrists doing diagnostic psychological evaluations. It's very possible for characters with “mild” symptoms to go long periods of time, even most of their lives, without having had a diagnosis. PHP’s tend to need a diagnosis so that they can address specific concerns and help educate the patient on their condition and how it may manifest.

Next step up is residential care. Residential care is a boarding hospital setting. Patients live in the hospital and focus entirely on treatment. Individual programs may differ in what's allowed in, how much contact the patients are allowed to have, and what the treatment focus is. Residential programs are often utilized for addiction recovery. Good residential programs will care about the basis for the addiction, such as underlying mental health issues that the patient may be self-medicating for. Your character may come away with a diagnosis, or they may not. Residential programs aren't exclusively for addictions though, and can be useful for severe behavioral concerns in teenagers or any number of other concerns a patient may have that manifest chronically but do not require intensive inpatient restriction.

Inpatient hospital stays are the highest level of care, and this tends to be what people are talking about when they tell jokes about “grippy socks.” These programs are inside the hospital and patients are highly restricted on what they can and cannot have, they cannot leave unless approved by the hospital staff (the hospital's psychiatrist tends to have the final say), and contact with the outside world is highly regulated. During the days, there are group therapy sessions and activities structured very carefully to maintain routine. Staff will regulate patient hygiene, food and sleep routines, and alone time.

Inpatient hospital programs are controversial among people with mental illness and mental health concerns. I find that they have use, but they are also not an easy or first step to take when dealing with a mental health condition. Patients are not allowed sharp objects, metal objects, shoelaces, cutlery, and pens or pencils. Visitors are not allowed to bring these items in, staff are not allowed these items either. This is for the safety of the patients. Typically, if someone is involuntarily admitted into the inpatient hospital program, it is due to an authority (the hospital staff) deeming the patient as a danger to themselves or others. Whether they came in of their own will (voluntary) or not does not matter in how the program operates. Everyone is treated the same. If someone is an active danger to themselves, then they may be on 24-hour suicide watch. They are not allowed to have any time alone. No, not even for the bathroom, or while sleeping, or during group sessions.

Inpatient Hospital Programs

This is a place of high curiosity for those who have never been admitted into inpatient care, so I'd like to explain a little more in detail how these programs work, why they're controversial, but how they can be useful in certain situations. I do have personal experience in this area, but as always, your mileage may vary.

When admitting, hospital staff are the final say. Not the police. The police hold some sway, but most often, if someone is brought in by the police, they are likely to be admitted. They are only involuntarily admitted when the situation demands: the staff have determined the person to be an imminent danger to themselves or others. This is obviously subjective, and can easily be abused. A good program with decent staff will do everything they can to convince the patient to admit voluntarily if they feel it is necessary, but ultimately if the patient declines and the staff don't feel they can make the clinical argument that admittance is necessary, the patient is free to leave. It should be noted that doctors and clinicians have to worry about possibly losing their licenses to practice. They don't want to fuck around with involuntary admittance if they don't have to, and they don't want potentially dangerous people to walk away.

Once admitted, the patient will have to remove their clothing and put on a set of hospital scrubs. These are mostly made of paper, and most often do not have pockets, but I have seen sets that do have pockets (very handy, tbh). They are not allowed to take anything into the hospital wing except disability-required devices such as glasses, hearing aids, mobility aids, etc. Most programs will require removing piercings, but not all of them, in my experience.

The nurses will also do a physical examination, where they will make note of any open wounds, major scars, tattoos, and other skin abrasions that may be relevant.

The patient will then be led to their bed, where they will receive any approved clothing items from outside, a copy of their patient rights, and a copy of the floor code of conduct and rules, a schedule, and any other administrative information necessary for the program to run efficiently and legally.

Group sessions include group-therapy, activities, coping skills, anger management, anxiety management, and for some reason, karaoke. There is a lot of coloring involved, but only with crayons. A good program will focus heavily on skills and therapeutic activities. Bad programs will phone it in and focus on karaoke and activities. Most hospitals will have a chaplain, and some will include a religious group session. I've never attended these, so I can't speak for them.

Unspoken rules are the hidden pieces of the inpatient programs that patients tend to find out during their first visit. There is no leaving the program until the doctor agrees to it. The doctor will only agree to it if they deem you ready to leave, and you are only ready to leave if you have been compliant to treatment and have seen positive results in the most dangerous symptoms (homicidal or suicidal ideations). Noncompliance can look like: refusing your prescribed medications (which you have the right to do at any time for any reason. That does not mean that there won't be consequences. This is a particularly controversial point.), refusing to attend groups (chapel is not included in this point, but that doesn't mean it's actually discounted. Another controversial point.), violent or disruptive outbursts such as yelling or throwing things, and refusing to sleep or eat at the approved and appointed times. All of this may sound like the hospital is restricting your rights beyond reason, but I've seen the use, and I've seen the abuse. Medications are sometimes necessary, and often patients seriously prefer having medication. Groups are important to a person's treatment, and refusing to go can be a sign of noncompliance or worsening symptoms. If someone is too depressed or anxious to go to group, then they're probably not ready to leave the hospital where the structure is gone and they must self-regulate their treatment. Violent or disruptive outbursts tend to be a sign of worsening symptoms in general, but even the best of us lose our tempers from time to time when put into a highly stressful situation like an inpatient hospital stay. The hospital is supposed to be a place of healing, for many it is. But for many more, it is a place of systematic abuse and restriction.

Discharge processes can be long and arduous and INCREDIBLY stressful for the patient. Oftentimes, they won't know their discharge date until the day of, or perhaps the day before. Though the date can change at any time. The discharge process requires the supervising psychiatrist to meet with the treatment team and then the patient to determine if the patient had progressed enough to be safely discharged. Discharge also requires a set outpatient plan in place, such as a therapy appointment within a week, a psychiatrist visit, or admittance into a lower level of care. This is where social workers are involved. Patients are not allowed access to cell phones or the internet. They cannot make their own appointments with their outpatient care providers without a phone number and phone access. Some floors will have phone access for this reason, others will insist the social worker arrange appointments and discharge plans. Social workers are often incredibly overworked, with several patients on their caseload.

The patient cannot be discharged until the social worker has coordinated the discharge plan to the doctor's approval. Most often, unfortunately, the patient rarely receives regular communication regarding the progress of their discharge. I've been discharged with as much as a day's notice to two hours notice.

Part 2 Coming Soon

This guide got longer than expected! Out of respect for my followers dashboard, I will be cutting it here and adding a Part 2 later on.

If you find that there are more specific questions you'd like answered, or topics you'd like covered, send an ask or reply to this post with what you'd like to see in Part 2.

– Indy

#writing advice #writing tips #writing resources #writeblr #amwriting #asktheprose #ask the prose #writing mental health #mental health #writing with compassion #writing mental illness #writing compassionately

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rubberduckyrye · 4 months ago

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You know I've seen quite a few people say they're wanting to make v3 rewrites lately--and as someone who is actively working on one by myself, I feel like I should give some advice. I know I'm nowhere NEAR done with Twins AU, but I've made a ridiculous amount of progress and I think these things have greatly helped me out personally

So here are my tips for making a V3 rewrite and actually making it stick/not to burn out before the first chapter!

This is important. Don't try to please everyone. You will never please everyone. Write this for yourself, and you will find an audience. People can and will hate your fic no matter what you do. Don't try to please them, they are not your target audience-- so Write this story for, first and foremost, yourself. It'll feel so much more rewarding if you do I promise.

V3's main theme is extremely muddied due to how the narrative was and how open ended the game was left, and from my own research, no one can agree on what V3 was trying to say about truth and lies, or Reality and Fiction. If you want to rewrite this story, you're going to need to narrow down what you want your rewrite to say about the themes presented.

PLAN THE EVIDENCE AND MURDERS AS THOROUGHLY AS YOU CAN. I think not knowing what I was going to do for the cases and trials really scared me for the longest time until I essentially sat myself down and fleshed out all of the cases for Twins AU. Make evidence lists, do research on how your murder cases might go, the works. It's a lot of work but I personally followed this post and also made an evidence list to help me out plot out the murders for Twins AU. This is also a great way to flesh out your protagonist as well, since you get to explore their note-taking style and what kind of language they'd use for taking notes and if they have opinions about certain things.

Write a summary of each character in the story. DR games have a big cast and V3 has an even BIGGER cast than usual, so it's good to write down summaries for all of the characters. I also suggest really studying each character too, even if you plan on changing a character to better suit your tastes (or to get rid of offensive material.... looking at you Angie) you still want to keep the core of their character intact for fans of that character.

Speaking of characters, make sure to try and remember to write each one as a human being, even if they aren't human (Kiibo for example). Develop them, give them quirks and flaws, motivations and wants and desires and dreams. Even if you hate a character, doing this much character study will help you keep them in character and keep their motivations reasonable and understandable.

If you don't have a good grasp on a character, study harder. Don't go looking for other people's interpretations or try to be a crowd pleaser. Make your own interpretation, and that interpretation becomes special to your rewrite.

If you plan on changing a character, for the love of GOD do your research first. Don't go accidentally making Angie into a worse racist caricature of Pacific Islanders Please and Thank You. Actually, just do a ton of research in subject you think might be relevant to a character or the plot--like Gonta and how ableism prevails in his story. Like how Shuichi has anxiety up the wazoo and how Maki has learned helplessness. Study and research hard.

Pace yourself--I don't think people realize how GIANT a V3 rewrite project is--remember that this game is extremely long and you cannot write this in a single month. Once all of your planning is done, write a reasonable amount for it each day. For me, I'm able to crank out 2k a day because I type absurdly fast, but most people would probably want to start at maybe 500 words a day.

If you're not having fun, step back. You might be burnt out and need a break, or maybe the scene you're writing is just not working. Take time to assess your own feelings and do what is appropriate to resolve them.

Don't feel too discouraged if you need to rewrite a whole scene--it happens to the best of us and sometimes things are just not working. It's not lost progress to retry--consider the scene you are replacing as a rough draft you need to remake. I've had to erase huge 1k chunks due to this.

Reward yourself for big accomplishments! When I finished the prologue, I threw myself and my editor ( @trans-shuichisaihara ) a pizza party, and I plan on doing something like that again, albeit probably cheaper. Reward yourself for huge milestones! Hell, I owe myself at least one treat for two chapters I've written, but tbh I've been having so much fun just writing that doing so is rewarding within itself. That doesn't mean external factors can't help, so if you finish a chapter and you're proud of it, buy yourself a treat for working so hard!

If you got a friend who likes editing/beta reading, invite them to beta read for you! They can help you find errors and typos that you might've missed. If you plan on editing your fic, I highly recommend reading your writing out loud to help you find weird sentence structures and awkward phrases. This should have the bonus of making it easier for people who use screen readers/just prefer audiobooks to enjoy your fic as well!

EDIT! Here are two more:

It's okay to be scared writing something new! Getting out of your comfort zone is going to happen with a giant story like this, and maybe you're going to flop at the best parts. That's perfectly fine!!! You can always edit it later--or even just call it "good enough" and move on! This is fanfic for fun, not a professional project you're making money off of. It's okay if things are less than ideal and incredible imperfect. An imperfect story is at least written. That's better than not writing it at all.

For the love of everything that is holy, remember that the characters should be people--and remember that their talents do not make up their entire personality. Their talents should not solely dictate what they wear, how they act, or the worst offender in this fandom--how their executions go. When writing a character Execution, think instead of what would be the worst way for that character to die--that is to say, what would bring them the most despair upon their death. DR1 and DRV3's executions all play with the despair of the blackened in each execution (with DR2 being noted to heavily miss the mark and to be the set of executions that are the most disappointing to Kodaka, from what I've been told.) So if you're stuck on writing a new Execution, try to think about what each execution from DR1 and DRV3 does to play with the despair of the blackened. What about their executions are giving them despair in their final moments? Do they at all relate to their talents, or are they completely separate from their talent? Study them, and you'll be able to use that information to write your own unique executions that are miles better than most of the fan made executions out there.

And I think that's my advice for now! Happy writing, everyone!

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cyb-by-lang · 5 months ago

Note

remembering that Kei cleans when stressed:

Bruce comes home one day to find Tim in the main hall with his head tilted back to stare at the high ceiling, munching on some chips as he does so. A few towels are placed on the floor, and Tim moves them with his feet every few moments to catch falling dust and chips of old paint.

Muttered curses come from above, drawing Bruce's attention.

Their most recent guest has apparently raided the cleaning supplies, judging from the bucket of spray bottles, brushes, and dusters placed on the sill of a window only reachable by the tallest of their ladders (and one determined, ladder-less Dick Grayson). Kei, with bright yellow gloves, a flowery apron Bruce knows to be Alfred's, a bandana keeping her bangs out of her face and another wrapped around her mouth and nose, has stuck herself to the ceiling (again) and wields a push broom with the same ferocity and finesse as she does a blade. Her face is pink with the blood pooling there from however long she's been upside down, and her mouth is pressed into a grimace as she tackles the years of dust and cobwebs Alfred could never quite reach.

Bruce looks to Tim, raising a single brow.

Tim shrugs with a grin. "She's a little stressed." He moves a towel just in time to catch a bundle of withered cobweb that floats down.

Bruce glances back up at Kei. "I see," he says, lips twitching. He raised his voice to her, asking, "Alfred hasn't left anything else for you to clean, has he?"

"How the hell does he do it?" Kei asks, scrubbing at a corner near a window, and Tim rushes to move a towel. "This fucking place is huge and he's one guy, but no, the rest of the manor is fucking spotless at all times. Sneaky son of a--"

"You could just ask," Tim suggests. "He wouldn't mind sharing some chores, right?"

Kei snaps her head to glare at him, and Bruce almost laughs at the idea of Alfred willingly allowing a guest to do housework. But, judging from how Kei battles the dust bunnies into submission as though bearing a personal grudge, maybe Alfred would make an exception.

Apparently satisfied with this section of the ceiling, Kei holds the broom out in a gesture before dropping it into Bruce's waiting hand.

"Does he have any wood polish?" she asks, studying the aged wooden vaults and accents. "This could do with some touching-up."

Tim exchanges a look with Bruce, his face split in a grin. "I think Alfred's gonna miss her the most."

This is one of the cutest things I've ever laid eyes upon in my inbox. Ahhh, I love it when people remember and take note of these kinds of fun character quirks, especially for comedy. And for fun character interactions.

And coincidentally, I was just talking to Beta the other day about how Wayne Manor is way too big to have only one staff member and that the Bats had better all have chore lists a mile long to help their grandpa with the house. In every continuity.

Mind if I link to this when I post the next chapter?

EDIT: Permission was granted. :)

#gon-and-killuas-mother #asks #submissions #batman the animated series #catch your breath fanfic #naruto #bruce wayne #time drake #keisuke gekko #alfred pennyworth #batman #robin #exorcising and exercising demons

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aclassitag · 7 months ago

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Announcing Krem Week!

#kremweek2024 — 22-28 July 2024

background art credit: @xfreischutz [link to original post]

*text prompt list under the readmore

This year will mark 10 years since the release of Dragon Age: Inquisition! In celebration of that anniversary and the game that gave us our first trans character, here is a prompt list - and dates - for any who would like to participate! All sorts of creative content is accepted so long as they are not A/I generated. (See examples below)

*If you want to portray Maevaris Tilani instead, that is also fine!

Please read the guidelines!

If you have any questions, reply to this post and I will do my best to answer :)

Prompt list:

1 — Anniversary 2 — Euphoria / Expression 3 — Casual / Formal 4 — Family / Love 5 — Respite / Fight 6 — Play / Satiate 7 — (Free space!)

Guidelines:

Use the tag: #kremweek2024 (@ this blog is fine too) — If you want to portray Maevaris Tilani instead of Krem, that is also welcome! Please @ me so I can rb :) For non-Tumblr folks that somehow got here: You may post submissions, please link your socials. You may choose one of two prompts in a day or do both. You may also combine as many prompts as you want from any or all of the days into a single work, just mention it somewhere.

Types of content allowed:

Illustration and writing are the most obvious forms of art allowed, but they're not the only ones! Literary arts fanfics, drabbles, poetry, plays, lengthy headcanon/meta posts (for headcanon and meta posts, minimum of 100 words+) Visual arts doodles, paintings, graphic design, photoshop memes, photography, animation, tiktok skits, abstract, fiber arts (embroidery, knitting, etc), ceramics Audio art fanmixes(curated playlists), original or cover songs Other crafts are also welcome! e.g. culinary, resin, woodworking, etc etc ..essentially, whatever type of art it is, I'll accept it so long as it falls within rules and is related to Krem or Maevaris :) For things that are more abstract, do include an explanation of your thought process on how it relates to Krem. E.g. you made Krem's Seheron Fish Wrap or Rice Pudding, take photos of your cooking, and post that (with the explanation that it is Krem's recipes) - that's an acceptable submission! You're allowed to explore different mediums everyday! You don't have to stick to one form of art for the whole week. I will be attempting to schedule reblogs in the 'prime time' for engagement, and in the interest of fairness, things like headcanon posts, fanmixes, and WIPs will not take priority in that time slot over fully rendered illustrations or complete fanfics. They will still be reblogged, but scheduled for other time slots.

Content Rules:

No A/I generated content. (Specifically GenAI content) As above, any and all forms of art is welcome. It must be human made, and by you. The whole point of working off a prompt is to explore a creative process, anyway - do yourself a favour and just enjoy making something! It doesn't have to be pretty! No reposting of other people's works. This must be your own creation. Obviously, no transphobic content. No harrassing others over their specific headcanons - be it in regards to any trait or quirks that come with being a person. People come in all sorts of wonderful variety, please respect that. In addition to above: No whitewashing, racism etc. Please note that Krem is not pale-skinned in canon, and I will not be reblogging content of him being portrayed as pale. 18+ works need to be labelled. On this blog, its tagged as "#adult art". Please add content warnings as appropriate. (E.g. portrayal of binding with bandages should have a warning label of "cw: unsafe binding", etc.) If your post/submission is lengthy, please insert a read more. This helps readability on the dashboard. Progress / WIPs are fine too!

General tips:

First and foremost, do what you are able to! Don't feel pressured to complete a full week if you need to take care of yourself first. Some people work on the prompts before the week even begins, and only post it day of. You are not required to do this, but if you really want to fill something for each day, this helps reduce stress day of.

Mod things:

The mod isn't from the Americas, so due to timezone differences, there may be a delay in reblogging people's works. Either way I will not reblog the moment that it's posted in order to screen properly. Posts will be queued between 30mins-1hr apart, if there are multiple entries being submitted at the same time. All submissions will also be requeued after a week for later perusal :)

#cremisius aclassi #kremweek2024 #dragon age #dragon age inquisition #bull's chargers #iron bull #also i am. running out of krem posts. help #krem aclassi

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verdemoth · 19 days ago

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The second of my FLondon PCs, Knoll! For a reintroduction: Knoll's Kind Of a vigilante but it's mostly incidental. They're not much of a fighter, their tools of choice are dyes and written word. And they're not selflessly motivated; their greatest drive is the furthering of their research into the Neathbow, and it is of little concern to them whether the impact of their actions is over-all positive or negative.

They are a very private and self-serving individual, but they're not entirely without care. The most important person in their life is their partner Josef van Eloheim (oc of a friend off-site) who they love very dearly. They're also allies/kind-of-maybe actually friends with Mel, having connected via acquaintanceship with Josef and forming an agreement to trade information to their mutual benefit.

Knoll's a bit more of a static character than Mel, because they're kind of just vibing? They've yet to encounter any serious setbacks that would push them towards a dramatic shift. But they Have grown; they're a little less paranoid about allowing select people to know them, a little more willing to show their care a little more openly and genuinely.

Readmore below has transcripts of the text in this image

Text Transcripts:

In the top right are some quick details. In the style of other Fallen London characters, Knoll's epithet is 'the Ink-Steeped Analyst' or alternatively 'the Saturated Correspondent'. Knoll's pronouns are they/them, they're around 23-25 years old, and they're 6 feet 1 inch tall. Their residence isn't listed, their profession is 'rogue scientist, poet & pamphleteer'. They don't have a 'closest to' faction as they hold few loyalties.

Below this are some notable player attributes. Of the main attributes, Knoll has high Watchful and Persuasive but low Dangerous. Of the quirks, they have high Ruthless, Daring, and Subtle, but low Melancholy, Austere, and Magnanimous.

Paired with the main illustrations are these notes: "Dresses to control perception. Violant to highlight certain features and leave an intended impression. Irrigo to be difficult to comprehend, and fade from the minds of onlookers. Different outfits target different situations. This one s their 'streetwear'."

"Intentionally disorienting use of irrigo embroidery. It's difficult to perceive their actions when you can hardly remember you're looking at someone."

In the top left are these notes about the colours they use: "The main subjects of Knoll's scientific fixation are the impossible colours known collectively as the Neathbow, and the effects these materials produce in humans through exposure. In particular, the following two are their greatest passion, their work which they have and would devote everything to:"

"Irrigo. The unremembered colour. The light of absence. Over time, it soaks into you. (That's a bad thing)"

"Violant. The invasive hue of necessary but troublesome connections. Indelibly lingers in memory. A Correspondent's tool of the trade, in the form of ink."

Paired with the examples of their masks are these notes: "Body language and tilt of mask convey expression (exaggerated in art for clarity). They have various masks styled after various species, each with different patterns of irrigo, violant, or both."

The last notes are by the illustrations of the sigils on their arms: "Knoll's arms are inscribed with six sigils of the esoteric, cosmic language known as the Correspondence. They have no recollection of how or when they acquired these. They figure they were perhaps the slightest bit 'blackout irradiated' at the time."

There are loose translations of possible meanings of the sigils next to each:

"to arrive at a much-awaited conclusion, but long bereft of its circumstance"

"the perfervid reverberances of that which once was quelled and will not be again"

"an awareness that ripples obscure indiscriminately"

"the revelation that uncertainty is itself an answer"

"a process for recasting forms anew from fragmentary glass"

"possibility unbound, at an unresolved cost"

#fallen london #fallen london oc #image #alt text #described #my art #my characters #char: knoll #curse of knoll is to always be tagged with:#eyestrain cw #but man are those neons fun to work with!!!#knoll my beloved :] they're truly just out here living their best life. unbothered and flourishing #having a silly fun time and skating right past any potential substantial consequence. as of yet

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rinnsverse · 3 months ago

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ROUND 2 : PG.07 — my nostalgia

ROUND 2: dazai osamu x gn!reader

SYNOPSIS: When you decided to attend Chuya's volleyball game, you didn't expect to see a familiar face. A face of someone you thought you would've never seen again; what's more annoying however, is seeing said face repeatedly.

round 2 master list || prev. || next

NOVEMBER 2 ; 18:12

IN ALL HONESTY, Dazai didn't think he'd make it to senior year. Never planned on it, never made plans for his future, never thought it'd be worth it to live so long in this world.

Maybe that's the actual reason he pushed everyone he once knew away, so it'd hurt less once he was gone. So they wouldn't mourn longer once his dead body made it onto the news, what would the news even say about him?

A bright young man with a future ahead of him, struggled with depression and resorted to self-harm as a way of coping, but ultimately succumbed to it and killed himself.

Yeah, sounds about right.

Anyone who actually knew him would say differently though. He wouldn't be described as a "gentle and kind peer" like most victims of suicide, it would sound more like.

"Always having a shit-eating grin on his face, would never accept any kind of help for his mental health. He was pretty smart though, I'll give him that."

"He was a weirdo, always carried around a 'Guide to Suicide 101' book or something. Guess he finally succeeded, he got what he wanted though at least."

The only people Dazai could think of who wouldn't say something like that was Chūya and you.

Come to think of it however, you both would most likely would most likely find a way to bring him back to kill him with your bare hands.

It was a funny thought because it would probably never happen, but you coming back into his life was something he thought would never happen again either.

And you managed to do it so effortlessly. With random tweets he sent out, you were there leaving a silly comment under it along with you being the first person to come to mind whenever something occurs.

Just like how it was years ago.

Thoughts were a continuous stream in Dazai's mind as he looked out upon the open waters of the dock as his back was leaning against the bench he was sitting on, whilst the wooden planks creaked under your footsteps.

'He looks like a freshly divorced depressed dad sitting like that.'

You had just stopped nearby to get a cup of hot chocolate as the weather began to get chillier when you saw the sight of a familiar head of brown sitting on the bench. Dazai's brown strands swaying with the wind as he gazed out at the sparkling water in the sun's light.

Stepping closer to him, he tilts his head up, as he's met with the sight of you.

"Dazai?" you ask, trying to confirm his conscience being present as he looked spaced out prior to your interruption.

He parts his lips to say something, but shuts them with a smile to say something else, "Call me Osamu."

"Huh?" you quirk up a brow, not expecting his words. You both were far from mending and recreating the bond you once shared, however you never expected for him to want you to drop the formalities so quickly.

Your lips quickly formed a smirk as your mind found a perfect way to tease him, "That was so cringe of you to say, Osamu."

He simply scoffed at your words, "You never like formalities, you're the cringe one."

"Nuh uh.”

"We're not doing this right now."

"Bruh." Tilting your head slightly caused a resounding 'pop' to illicit from your neck, "Anyways do you want some hot chocolate? I just got mine and I don't mind heading back in again.

Closing his eyes in pseudo-thought, the brunet smiled with a resounding, "Sure," escaping his lips.

STICKY NOTES

meant to post this yesterday but to caught up with other things 🫡

TAGLIST : @heeslovr @atlasnessie @cvidy @rattyrattyratty @chaos-inperson @almond-t0fu @rwura @fyodorisbbg @lalalaloveallmydays @milksh-ke @phoenix-eclipses @saeandscaralover @stuffeddeer @staymoarmyzen @hotwomanlythings @ashthemadwriter-uwu @strawberryuri [ if you want to be added, send me an ask or feel free to comment! ]

#round 2 🪞 - dazai osamu #dazai x gn!reader #dazai smau #dazai x gn reader #dazai osamu x you #dazai osamu x y/n #dazai x y/n #dazai x you #dazai osamu x reader #dazai x reader #bsd x gn reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x you #bsd smau #bsd x y/n #bsd x reader

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mauvecherie-writes · 1 year ago

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tell me what you want: j.koundé

pairing: jules koundé x black!fem reader.

warning: 18+ heavy touching and kissing, suggestive language, no distinctive descriptors for reader but they are BLACK.

summary: your birthday is quickly approaching and jules just wants you to tell him what you want.

w.c: 717.

notes: i saw this tiktok and i thought it was the cutest thing ever and i thought why not make it into a scenario with one of my fav footie boys. so this is something short and sweet to get those juices flowing! much love! This is not edited.

tags: @queenshikongo3 @hopefulromantic1 @dhlfastestlap @saintslewis @hersinsarescarlet @felicity-x0 @serpenttines-library [ask to be tagged for jules]

Driving through the streets of your hometown has never felt so good.

The sun high in the sky, a soft breeze in the air coming through your open windows as your boyfriend drove.

Nothing was better than this.

“Bébé.” The French twang in his raspy voice had your thighs clenching. From the moment you met, his voice was your weakness and that will forever be the same.

“Yes baby.” You say as you turn to look at him. His hair in its usual thick twists, moustache and goatee trimmed perfectly. The sun hitting his skin, making it look perfectly golden. Your boyfriend was beautiful and you appreciated that beauty with every glance.

“Tell me what you want for your birthday.” He asked with a slight smirk playing on his lips. Those perfect lips, soft and plump lightly moving as he chewed on his gum.

But the question had your eyes widening a bit. You’ve only been together for a few years and with each passing birthday, that question always seems to bewilder you. The type of person that you are was one to never ask for anything, most of the time Jules would have to ask your closest friends or sneak into your online shopping baskets to gift you something worth while.

This time, he wasn’t going to a take a simple “I don’t know” from you.

“What?”

“C’mon. Tell me what you want for your birthday.” The smirk was still on his face as he quickly turned his head to look at you.

You could feel your cheeks warming from the way that he was staring at you.

“What’s my budget?” You jokingly quirked.

“Unlimited. Now, tell me.”

“What if I said I wanted a house?”

“Then I’d get you a house.” His matter-of-factly tone caused to giggle.

“You’re actually serious about this?” You asked as the car came to a slow stop.

“Just rub on my thigh, like the magic genie, I’ll grant you anything mon cœur.” You giggled as you leaned across the console and with one hand on the inner of his thigh and the other to pull his face towards yours by his chin.

He licked his lips as he quickly glanced down at yours before meeting your eyes.

“Since you want to know so much let me tell you.”

“Mhm, tell me bébé.” He nodded with his head still in your palm. You leaned forwards and traced your lips with his.

“I want you.” You whispered before placing a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.

“Mhm.”

“With me.” Another kiss on the other side of his mouth.

“Just the two of us on a yacht.” You pick his bottom lip which causes him to groan. “With all my favourite things.”

“Which are?”

“I’ll send you the list.”

“And then what will we do on this yacht?”

“And then you fuck me until I can’t breathe and walk.” You breathed those last words into his mouth before he groaned once more and took a hold of the back of your neck and pulled you close.

“Genie grants your wish.” He murmured before you watched his eyes go dark. You let go of his chin the minute his other hand comes to the front of your neck.

You whimpered softly as he kissed you slowly and deep. He swallowed every sound that you made as he pressed his lips harder into yours. Shifting out of your seat, you had to restrain yourself as you could feel your body wanting to lunge into his lap. Losing yourself, your hands cupped his dick through his shorts and began to rub.

Jules slid his fingers through your braids and pulled at the roots. He pulled your head away causing you to gasp. He was always in command and you loved it that way. Jules trailed his lips down the valley of your neck until he reached the hemline of your dress.

“Let’s get this food so we can go back to your place and we can start practising what I’ll do to you on boat.” He whispered into your skin as his teeth softly grazed your skin.

You squealed as your thighs squeezed together. “Are you gonna give me anything that I want?”

“As long as you tell me what you want mon cœur.”

#mauvecherie writes #tell me what you want fic #jules kounde x black reader #jules kounde x reader #jules kounde smut #jules kounde fanfic #jules kounde fan fiction #jules kounde fanfiction #jules kounde x black!reader #jules kounde

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snakeautistic · 1 year ago

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I love finding characters I can relate (/project onto) within media. There’s something so comforting about seeing yourself on screen. I end up headcanoning most of them to be in-line with my identities (lesbian, wasian, autistic) because they are literally me in my head!!

Anyway here’s a long ass list of my favorite characters and why I head canon them as autistic for fun!! If you have any others you’d like to add I’d love to hear them. (And please note this is just my interpretation, and highly based on my experience with autism. I’m not saying they’re definitely autistic or that all the traits I listed are the dsm-5 criteria or something.)

Princess Bubblgeum from adventure time:

This girl is peak evil scientist autistic. Her intense need for control, the way she carefully observes the citizens she created, an outsider to them, not quite like them… god it’s so perfect. I read her as being somewhat low empathy as well, it’s hard for her to change her perspective to that of others. Plus the fact her brother neddy is a pretty obvious metaphor for higher supports needs autism. I think they of represent how autism runs in the family and appears in all sorts of different ways in different people. They’re sort of two different representations of the spectrum.

Marcy wu from amphibia

I mean this one is just obvious. The biggest nerd of all time. So obsessed with her RPG special interest that she literally sucks her and her friends into a fantasy world. She’s clumsy (just like me fr), very smart but super socially awkward, a little oblivious and naive. She’s terrified of change, especially if it means abandoning the few social bonds she’s been able to make. I honestly find it hard to believe this wasn’t intentional.

Entrapta from she-ra

Another pretty overt example. I do have some issues with how she was portrayed in the show- (keeping her on a leash was weird.) but overall I really love her. She understands her tech, not people, and it can cause her to come into conflict with other characters. Their treatment of her makes me sad at times, but it’s realistic. I also love some of her other quirks, her love of tiny food, her exitable demeanor, ect.

Pearl from Steven Universe

Peridot is the more obvious example of an autistic character in SU, and while I agree she’s coded that way, I personally resonate more with Pearl. She is not very socially aware, and bothered by disruptions to her routine/ broader life changes. She doesn’t like to break rules (despite being a literal rebel lol.) I find it interesting how she seems to have the poorest understanding of life on earth out of the gems, despite having lived here for thousands of years. She is graceful, but has an almost sort of awkward gangly-ness to her that I relate to. Her neuroticism is also very similar to how my anxiety disorder presents.

Pearl has a tendency to infodump, without realizing those around her are uninterested. Even her relationship with Rose struck a chord with me. The hopeless devotion to her, the way she followed along at her side. It’s how many of my friendships have been. Obvious it’s not exactly the same considering Pearl having originally been her servant, but while not being an explicitly autistic trait, that sort of clingy, starstruck relationship is something autistic people are prone to developing. She does little hand stims at times too that I love to see.

Poison Ivy (specifically the version in the Harley Quinn animated show)

I’m surprised I haven’t seen more people mention poison Ivy. Fiercely intelligent and deeply introverted, she isolates herself from all people, and only connects with and understands her plants. (Which her deep affinity for can definitely be read as a special interest.) She very overtly has trouble forming relationships with others.

She’s blunt, socially awkward and a loner, has something of a flat effect and a monotone voice. Those around her initially read her as cold and impersonable.Her struggle with social anxiety as well as intense fear of failure/ low self esteem is also very relatable to me. She also often struggles to express/understand her feelings and emotions. Her radical political ideas and the fact that she’s literally an ecoterrorist paints her as having a very strong sense of justice and a somewhat black and white worldview. (Me)

Finally, her relationship with Harley just SCREAMS neurodivergent solidarity. Harley Quinn is (I think canonically) adhd, and they’re both outsiders in the world that found each other and just… get each other. She’s Ivy’s closest and only friend and amazing girlfriend and god it’s all so perfect.

They remind me a lot of the relationship I have with my best friend with adhd except theirs is gayer.

#autistic headcanon #autism headcanon #headcanon #headcanons #actuallyautistic #actually autistic #neurodivergent #neurodiversity #neurodivergent headcanon #adventure time #princess bubblegum #amphibia #marcy wu #she ra #entrapta #steven universe #pearl su #poison ivy #harley quinn animated series

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pinecipitation · 5 months ago

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STARDEW VALLEY SAM X GN!READER HCS

word count: 800+

authors note: I’m not rereading this if there’s a mistake or something doesn’t make sense, IGNORE it 😭😭

warnings: none I think!! mentions of drinking, but only for Sam

- uses so much hairspray that you like to pretend that it got you, dramatically clutching your heart and falling to your knees whenever he accidentally sprays it over his shoulder onto you. lucky for you he plays along and drops it, immediately falling to your side and yelling for paramedics

- cannot survive a single day without your touch, whenever both of you are home he immediately comes to rest his chin on your shoulder or place his hands around your torso for a back hug. most days he will just pick you up without a word, your complaints and giggles on deaf ears as he silently carries you to the couch or bedroom

- that being said, LOVES to lay on top of you even when you complain and kick him off. he’ll go limp

- overheats so easily, call him “my man” or “pretty boy” or anything relating to that and he’ll turn red

- when he kisses you, a small quirk he does is audibly go ‘mwAH’

- wherever you work or whenever he’s over to pick up some produce at your place, will NEVER let the same joke go. He’d lean over any table or counter and try to brush his hair back with the same stupid “Do I get a discount if I flirt with the cute farmer/cashier?” and unfortunately you fall for it every time

- the first few times you jokingly said no or didn’t answer, he’d pout and begrudgingly take out a tiny note pad and make a small pretend tally on it, the whole time sadly and longingly looking over at you and pretend to write in a sad diary entry

- he’s a big fan of reoccurring bits

- we all know I’m a huge fan of multiple piercings, grown out brown roots, crop top at gigs version Sam

- but I also love summer Sam, where he’s running around in the water and splashing his friends and little brother at the beach

- I love messy hair Sam where it gets wet and it’s down, and how he looks completely different from his usual hairstyle but he’s still the same man

- I love out-of-breath Sam when he’s sneaking up behind you on your beach chair, jumping on you and immediately picking you up while you’re screaming about his salty wet body on your dry clothes, him giggling as he threatens to walk you two closer to the shoreline

- I love affectionate Sam who will come sit on the sand next to you if you’re more of a under-the-umbrella person, collecting little shells and rocks and balancing them on your left leg as you read or lay back and watch him. He just wants to be near you

- Y’all know that trend where it’s a guy with the caption “Waiting for my wife to finish putting on my sunscreen so I can go play” and when she’s done, the man sprints towards the beach/pool? That’s him, that’s him your honor

- I love somewhat athletic Sam who would eat up everyone in a game of volleyball or a swim competition at a swimming pool, feeling the need to express to everyone that even though he sucks at video games or pool, he does overshadow it by being better at ball games

- I love sunburn prone Sam where he almost always accidentally tires himself out and falls asleep on a beach towel, waking up a few hours later with a very visible red tint to him, or he falls asleep under an umbrella but one of his arms or legs were out and now he’s part red

- I love sunburnt Sam where he’s shakingly laid out on his stomach on his bed, hissing every time your cold hand spreads aloe vera on his unfortunate back. But once you’re done he gets up, coming over to envelop you in a hug and thanking you for taking care of him

- I love restaurant dinners on the beach Sam, who didn’t realize he was on his fourth or fifth glass and is slightly drunk

- I love clingy drunk Sam, who Sebastian and Abigail left under your care as he leans and drapes over you on your walk back home, talking to seemingly no one as he lists out things about you that he adores

- I love Sam, the way every time he gets drunk or tipsy he looks at you like he’s amazed you’re near him, not fully clocking that you two are together and he’s acting like he’s shy on a crush

- he likes you to be in the room when he gets ready for shows or dresses up, him always making a point to huff and get frustrated at his eyeliner just so you notice and offer to help. you miss his sly smile before he turns around and agrees, calling you his hero and drenching you in thanks until the next time he pretends to need help

- despite the soundproof garage, you always seem to hear a muffled agitated groan whenever he can’t get a riff or a certain note to sound right, always going over to check and he’s laid on his back on the floor like a bear rug in frustration. he does bounce back up when he sees you, complaining about the instrument briefly before asking you to stay with him. “good luck charm,” he calls you

- it’s without mention that you go to every show and gig, Sam always subtly looking for you in the crowd when he’s up there. you do think it’s funny to switch where you are from show to show, just so you notice him immediately look to the right and scan for you until he lights up and sees you on the left

- Sam with kids, he’d treat them like a baby sibling instead of a child

- literally any pinterest redraw meme where it’s a grown adult and a child, that’s them

- once the child is a little bigger and starts playing video games, he gets a little offended that the kid keeps coming to you for help instead of him

#thoughts by pine #stardew x reader #stardew fanfic #stardew farmer #stardew sam #stardew valley #stardew valley sam #stardew valley sebastian #stardew valley abigail #stardew valley x reader #pride month

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red-riot-unbreakable-heart · 7 months ago

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Endeavor x Hawks | Steamy in the Shower | Part One 💋

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Endeavor x Hawks! 🔥🦅

Note: Smut alert!!! Strictly A18+ ONLY!

Genre: Smut

CW: MDNI!, spicy scenes, sexual tension, semi-public sex, domination, degradation kink, hand job, oral sex (giving + receiving), fingering

🔥Link to My Master List 🔥

It’s been another long day on patrol.

The past 12 hours have been spent relentlessly chasing down villains and various wrong-doers across the city. Enji is absolutely exhausted. In one day alone he has used 14 flash fire fists. He’s getting older, and it’s not as easy to pull out repetitive Ultimate Moves as it used to be. His whole body is aching – particularly his wrists and fists which have taken the brunt of battle.

He cracks his neck as he walks through his buzzing agency. He’s bone tired, and in desperate need of a massage. He wishes desperately for home – for the big California king bed in his bedroom at the Todoroki estate. Unfortunately, it’s late and he has a slew of meetings scheduled for the following morning. His crash pad at the agency will have to suffice tonight.

He stalks down the hallway towards his office, brooding. Moe Kamiji falls into step next to him, holding a clipboard. Her expression is steely – she knows her boss is in a bad mood, but she’s still going to make him talk.

“What is it, Burnin’?” Enji sighs, sparing her a glance. Kamiji has proven herself time and time again to be one of the most valuable sidekicks at the Endeavor agency. Of the 30 flaming side-kickers on staff, quirk isn’t definitely isn’t the most powerful. However, she is tenacious and crafty. Her strategic mind and ability to think on her feet in tough situations has made her indispensible to the team. Enji has personally invested time into her development as a young Pro Hero this past year, nurturuing her bright spark. It’s for these reasons that Enji doesn’t immediately wave her away. He knows that the young woman would only approach him with important matters.

“Mr. Endeavor, sir. I have a report from section 23 – there was a bank robbery by a villain with a spider quirk - ”

“Spider quirk? Meaning he has 8 legs, or meaning he controls spiders? Lead with the important details, Burnin’.” Even when exhausted, Enji can’t help but coach his young protégé. He sees a flicker of annoyance in her eyes at the quick correction, her fiery green hair flaring a bit in aggravation.

“Right, sir. The villain had 8 legs and could produce a strong, web-like material from his fingertips. He had incapacitated the entire bank staff and 12 civilians before he was stopped. He was caught while trying to rob the bank’s safe and was turned over to the authorities.”

Enji nods, sounds like a relatively clean wrap up. What he doesn’t understand is why Kamiji is informing him of this incident – if it was so easily handled by his team, surely he can just read through the paperwork in the morning?

“Who handled the fight and subsequent arrest?” Enji turns to peer over her clipboard in hopes of gleaning some intel.

“Well that’s just the problem, sir. Hawks flew in and handled it as we arrived on the scene. So I needed you to sign-off on this paperwork to identify the incident as a team-up between the Hawks and Endeavor agencies.” Kamiji looks up at him searchingly, curious to see how he’ll react. For a brief moment, all fatigue is wiped from Enji’s brain as he processes this information.

“But I didn’t authorize a team-up with Hawks.” Enji says slowly – the last time that he saw the winged hero was when Hawks had showed up unannounced to pass along some cryptic intel about the League of Villains more than a month ago. In fact, Enji hasn’t seen nor heard from the 22 year old since. Enji has been meaning to reach out and track down the damn bird for at least a week.

“We know, sir. He claims he just wanted to drop by to say a quick hello to the Number One hero.” Kamiji’s tone is flat, she clearly doesn’t know what to make of this surprise appearance either.

“Is he here now?” They’ve reached Enji’s office – he scans his badge and the lock unclicks. He pushes open the heavy fireproof doors, half-expecting to see Hawks lounging behind his desk with a cheeky grin plastered across his youthful face. Enji is almost disappointed when he sees the office is completely empty.

“Yes.” Kamiji enters the office a few paces behind him, she remains standing as her boss removes his plated armor wrist braces and takes a seat behind a massive (fire-proofed) oak desk. “He didn’t have any accommodations so we put him up in one of the guest rooms in the Sidekick dormitories.”

Enji practically rolls his eyes at this news. Classic Hawks – making himself comfortable at someone else’s expense.

“Send a message to his room – I’ll see him first thing tomorrow. Have my assistant set a meeting on my calendar. I’ll need to remind him that it’s not polite to show up in another hero’s territory unannounced.” Enji sits for a moment, thoughtful. The old Endeavor would have blown up at this situation – a situation that once-upon-a-time he would have interpreted to be a clear sign of disrespect by a peer. He takes a deep breath, centering himself. Enji reminds himself that he’s different now, and focuses on embodying the kind of man he is trying to be. “Please also have my assistant order him dinner on my credit card. I’m sure the kid was moving so fast that he forgot to eat again. He likes fried chicken.”

If Burnin’ finds his request out of the norm, her expression doesn’t show it. “Of course, sir. Before I go – can you sign these forms to retroactively authorize the team-up?”

“Of course. Thank you for your hard work today.” Enji accepts the clipboard he passes her, adding his initials to three spots across the page.

“Thank you, sir. Have a good night.” Kamiji bows deeply before exiting the office. Endeavor sighs deeply and looks across the room to an elegant clock on the wall.

“Hawks…what have you gotten yourself into this time?” He wonders aloud.

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

It’s already well past eleven by the time Enji enters his agency’s locker room for a much needed shower. It’s a Wednesday night in between shifts, so most of the staff is either on patrol or asleep. Finally, he is blissfully alone.

He takes in the large, luxurious locker room. When he started building his agency, he ensured that the facilities would be a luxurious retreat for his employees. Rows of neat navy blue lockers flank the entryway. The cleaning staff must have recently done a sweep of the space, because the white floor tiles glisten as he switches on the light.

Enji takes his time walking to his assigned locker, pausing for a moment to smile softly at the engraved nameplate one of his sidekicks has had welded to the blue metal. Beneath his name, the words “Flame Boss” have been engraved in a stylized font. It had initially been a practical joke – when the spa-like bathroom facilities were being built, a daring sidekick had dared his friend to sneak in and alter Endeavor’s locker nameplate. When Endeavor had seen the engraving, his initial action had been one of rage – how dare his sidekicks deface his property in a blatant show of disrespect! But once he had cooled down, he quickly realized that the engraving had come from a sense of commradery. Now the “Flame Boss” engraving brought a spark of warmth to Enji’s heart whenever he saw it.

Enji slowly removes his costume. He’s sore, so it takes a long time to discard the heavy metal plates and skin-tight fabric that make up his hero uniform. He hangs the pieces up in his broad locker, then strips himself naked. He gazes in his locker’s small mirror, taking in the faint bags beneath his tired eyes. There’s a cut beneath his chin that needs cleaning, and a light bruise is blooming across his right pectoral. His body is the same as ever – thick, defined muscles wrapped around his large, pale frame. He frowns for a moment, thinking he might see a few strands of grey cropping up in his bright red hair.

Ready for a shower, Enji moves into the bathing area of the sprawling facility. Past the lockers, a short hallway leads off into the shower room and the steam room. There’s a shelf midway down the hall piled high with fluffy white towels and long bathrobes. Enji pads his way down the hall to grab a fresh towel. He’s naked save for his soft slippers. The rest of the company is either working or sleeping, so he doesn’t feel the need to wrap a towel around his waist.

The shower room is fairly large - a massive tiled room with 10 showerheads protruding from the right wall. Since the area is dedicated solely to men, there are no curtains or barriers between the showers. Each showerhead has a dedicated shampoo and body wash dispenser mounted to the wall beneath it.

Enji selects his favored shower – the showerhead and faucet furthest away from the door. He sighs deeply, content, as he turns the knob to its hottest setting. Thick steam fills the room. Enji steps beneath the heavy stream of water and sighs contentedly as the torrent of heat rolls across his skin. He closes his eyes and focuses on the gentle way the water beads and runs across his substantial frame.

“Oh, hey there Number One!”

Ugh, it’s Hawks.

The twenty-something hero has been a thorn in his side for a few months now – constantly popping up unannounced with cryptic warnings and infuriating sarcasm. What’s got Enji shaken up even more is the way that Hawks has started openly flirting with him. The Number 2 Hero is constantly in Enji’s personal space – touching him, joking around at him, making eyes at him. It’s enough to drive any self respecting hero insane.

Currently, the winged hero is giving Endeavor a sort of appraising look. He’s got that stupid vacant smile on his face as he takes in the scene.

“What are you doing here?” Enji moves to grab his towel off its hook to quickly cover his waist. When Hawks shows up, things are never good.

Hawks himself is bare-chested, standing in nothing but tight black boxers. The underwear hugs his chiseled frame almost sinfully, leaving little to imagination. He shifts on his feat, his package lightly bouncing with the movement. Enji quickly tears his eyes away from his comrade’s crotch, his eyes landing instead on the small zippered bag perched in Hawks’ hand. It looks to be a waterproof travel toiletry kit. A small silver “H” is embroidered on the side.

“Relax, Endeavor! I was just in the area fighting a villain and thought I’d pop by to say hi. Your assistant told me I could use the facilities to rinse off – I hope you don’t mind.” He raises his eyebrows at the last part, smiling as he glances down at Enji’s covered waist.

Hawks saunters over to the other side of the shower area, pointedly choosing the showerhead furthest away from Enji. He sets down his small kit on one of the available shelves and unzips it, pulling out a few different travel sized bottles.

Probably some stupid trendy hair products, that damn bird is always preening himself. Enji rolls his eyes, deciding to ignore the winged hero the best he can. The sooner he washes up, the sooner he can get to bed and recover from the long toils of the day.

Enji refocuses. Now that Hawks is a comfortable distance away, he removes his towel and hangs it back on its designated hook. Steam fills the room as he turns the shower to its hottest setting. He reaches for the generic shampoo that the agency provides and begins lathering his hair. The hot water hits his back and instantly he feels his muscles relaxing. He lets his mind go blank as he savors the feel of the water in his hair, on his skin. What a day it’s been.

Enji settles into his typical routine – lather, rinse, repeat. An unexpected noise drifts along the shower room: a soft moan is rebounding around the acoustics of the facility, warbling beneath the sound of the pitter-patter of the shower water. He’s jerked from his relaxing state and looks over at Hawks, annoyed. His eyes widen in surprise at the image before him:

Hawks stands, expectedly naked under a stream of hot water. What’s unexpected: he’s slowly working at his semi-hard cock with one hand as he flips the top off of a small bottle from his travel kit with the other. Enji’s jaw drops at the scene.

After a few moments, Hawks feels Enji’s eyes on him and looks over lazily, head cocked to the side. He doesn’t wait for the Flame Hero to speak, but plows right into an explanation. “Kind of a post-battle ritual of mine. It’s the only way to kind of “reset” my nervous system after the stress of combat.” He pauses, gauging Enji’s reaction before adding as an afterthought: “Hope you don’t mind, Endeavor.”

“Of course not.” The words fly out of Enji’s mouth before he can stop them. The red-haired hero shifts awkwardly and looks away. Of course he has a fucking problem with what’s happening here! Hawks is pornographically pleasuring himself in an employee facility! On one hand, Enji is absolutely appalled at the gross disrespect Hawks has for Endeavor and his agency. On the other, he completely understands Hawks’ so called “ritual.” Everyone has different ways of unwinding after battle. It’s a hard job that they do, after all.

Several feet over, Hawks squeezes the contents of the tiny bottle into his hand. A thick, clear substance flows easily into his palm. “It’s lube. I bring it with me when I’m out of town – it’s a very specific formula that allows me to get justttt the right stroke in.” He reaches down to apply some of the lube to his already-hard dick. His eyes flutter shut as he begins to coat his hard dick with the lubricant.

“Jeez….yeah, that’s the stuff.”

Enji tries to ignore him, blowing steam out his nose. What an annoying bird! He glances back over and sees that Hawks is now looking directly at him, stroking that stiff cock of his.

“You wanna try some?” Hawks asks, indicating the small bottle of supposedly special lube.

“What?” Enji asks in absolute disbelief.

“You heard me.” Hawks’ face has broken into a sly smile. He drops his dick and starts to slowly saunter towards Enji’s shower area. Within a few strides he’s next to Enji, holding the lube bottle out like a peace offering.

“Why the hell would I want that?” Enji huffs, uncomfortable of the general nakedness in the room.

“To help you let loose! You’re wayyyy too high-strung Number One. You need to clear out the ‘ole pipes!” Hawks’ grin is nauseatingly shit-eating as he says this. Enji wants to smack the bottle out of his hand and then give the 22 year-old a smack across the face for good measure.

“Hawks.” Enji fumes, “Go back to your shower and I’ll forget this conversation ever happened. I’ll even let you pleasuring yourself publically slide since you did my agency a favor today. Now get out of my face and leave me alone.” Enji resumes lathering his hair, hoping the blonde will take the hint and go the hell away. After a moment, he looks up to check – only to see that the Winged Hero is glued to the spot, hand still outstretched with his X-rated offering of lube. The shorter hero’s eyes are a bit glassy, a storm of emotion rolling across his retinas. When he speaks, his tone has completely changed – it’s softer, almost gravely.

“I mean it, Number One. You’ll be able to unwind so much more easily if you just rub one out. In fact…” Hawks pauses to lick his lips, his pink tongue darting across his even cupid’s bow. “…I could do it for you, if you want.”

Silence. Enji stops shampooing his hair.

It’s as if all of the air has been sucked out of the room as Hawks’ words reverberate against the shower’ room’s flawless acoustics. Did he just offer to…?

“…what?” Enji chokes out, flabbergasted.

Hawks drops his arm and lets the bottle hang at his side. His cock is erect and shiny, still covered with a thick coat of lubricant. In his disbelief, Enji can’t take his eyes off of it.

“How about it, Endeavor?” Hawks’ gravely voice is honeyed and sweet. “All you have to do is sit back, relax, and enjoy the ride. I promise – I’m really good at it. I can make you cum in a few minutes if you’d like.”

“Hawks!” Enji blusters, reaching blindly for his towel as Hawks takes a step towards him.

“I know you want me.” Hawks’ eyes are a deep, liquid golden and filled with curiosity as he takes an obvious look at Enji’s package. “I’ve seen the way you look at me sometimes. Sidelong glances at team up briefings, checking out my ass before we go in for joint interviews with the newscasters. And look – you’re half-hard just at the prospect of me getting you off.” And it’s true – Enji looks down and sees that his own dick is growing increasingly harder as the conversation continues. He moves to cover himself with a single large hand. The damn towel is just out of reach.

Hawks flaps his wet wings, splattering Enji with tiny raindrops of hot water. He lifts off the ground a bit, coming towards the Flame Hero. Enji steps backward quickly to avoid a collision. Within moments, his back is against the warm tiled shower wall as Hawks hovers in front of him, contemplatively.

“You want me.” Hawks doesn’t say it as a question, but rather states it as a hard, biting fact. The Winged Hero’s mouth curves into a teasing smile when Enji doesn’t argue.

Of course Enji wants Hawks.

For months he’s been taking more and more notice of just how…attractive he finds the younger hero. Typically civilians, reporters and peers are too intimidated by Enji to flirt with him. And yet Hawks does. Hawks has been a massive flirt since their first encounter – he pushes and prods and smirks in that unique, infuriating way of his. He has never been afraid of Enji – and to a hero who has never known tenderness from others…that is so incredibly sexy.

“Shut up, Hawks.” If looks could kill, Endeavor’s glare would have Hawks buried 6 feet down in a grave. This makes Hawks’ smile grow impossibly larger. He’s hovering at eyelevel with Enji, his wings flapping powerfully behind him to keep him alight. Hawks moves impossibly closer until the two are a breath apart.

“You’re such a noble man, Number One. You saved – what – 40 people today? Let yourself relax. Take what you want.” Hawks whispers smoothly, his breath damp and hot against Enji’s face.

Enji closes his eyes and breathes out slowly, trying to regulate himself to keep his face from bursting into flames from the sheer intensity of this exchange. Hawks notices the shift and moves to give the larger hero airspace. He drops to the ground, letting his wings fall into their typical resting place behind his back.

Enji takes a few deep, calming breaths before he opens his eyes and looks down at the now-grounded Hawks.

“We can’t.” He says stiffly, shifting on his feet. He feels his now fully-erect length bounce against his toned stomach.

Hawks looks up into Enji’s piercing eyes and shrugs.

“Fine, we won’t hook up. But you’re hard as a rock right now, Number One. You’re going to need to jerk yourself off to get rid of that before you walk through the halls of your agency. One look at that hard-on and your employees are slapping you with a sexual harassment case.” Hawks points down at Enji’s dick without looking. The Flame Hero groans in embarrassment and exasperation. He can feel his cheeks flush at the comment – if it wasn’t apparent that he was into Hawks before, it’s undeniably clear now. His hard cock is a blatant acknowledgement of his attraction to the Wing Hero.

Hawks, as usual, continues to do all the talking.

“Okay, let’s compromise.” He says, looking Enji straight in the eye. The blonde pops open the bottle of the tube in his hands and makes a show of pouring a glob of thick gel into his left palm. “I’ll start you off, and then you finish the job.”

“What!? Wait, Hawks - ” But Enji finds he can’t finish his sentance as he’s overcome with the feeling of Hawks’ lubed up hand sliding down to the base of his cock. His eyes widen in horror as he watches the blonde spread lube across his impossibly hard erection and begin to slowly jerk him off. He then glides his hand up the length of Enji’s cock, pumping just beneath the sensitive head a few times before sliding back towards his balls.

“Tell me to stop, and I will.” Hawks’ voice is syrupy, but there’s a serious undertone to it. Enji can tell that for once, the blonde is being sincere.

Enji says nothing.

Hawks takes this as permission to continue. He works at Eni’s cock for a handful of moments in a way that makes the larger hero see stars. After a few minutes, Hawks drops to his knees for a better vantage point – allowing for easier access to Enji’s cock and balls with his capable hands. Enji is absolutely melting into the tile wall behind him. He can’t remember the last time he’s been touched like this. Hawks is so confident in his delivery – he seems to know exactly where to touch to maximize Enji’s gratification.

As usual, Hawks has a wide smile plastered on his face. He’s clearly enjoying the view as he looks up at the imposing planes of Enji’s muscled body from his place on the ground.

“Alright, Endeavor. Let’s see how you like the Fierce Wings Tremor. It’s a special move I’ve been working on.” A small feather detaches itself from Hawks’ wings and flutters down beneath Enji’s balls; it flattens itself against his testicles and begins to lightly vibrate. Hawks continues to pump Enji’s cock, and the red-haired hero can’t help but let out a soft moan at the incredible combination of sensations.

“That’s so hot Number One. Keep making that noise.” Hawks practically moans himself as he feels Enji’s member twitch between his fingers. He stares, eyes wide, as he admires just how thick and hot the Flame Hero’s massive cock is. He’s enjoying the way he’s making Endeavor into a large, sex-starved mess. Enji lets out a long, low moan as the blonde rolls a lubed-up finger across the head of his cock. Hawks licks his lips, pausing before he asks an unthinkable question. “Endeavor…mind if I suck your dick?”

Enji goes silent. Hawks notices the way the older hero’s body is suddenly tense again. Endeavor’s wall is back up.

“Hey – it’s fine. We can just keep doing this.” Hawks soothes, continuing to tug at his colleague’s length.

“Hawks…we should stop.” Enji’s voice is almost an octave lower than usual. His eyes are a bit glazed over - a mixture of exhaustion and desire making them hazy.

“But Number One, I’m just getting started!” Hawks says airily. “Let me at least make you cum. I can do it so much faster if you let me use my mouth a little.”

Enji sighs deeply, steeling himself. “Hawks. You know my wife has been hospitalized for quite some time. This isn’t something I’m used to – it’s been so long since I’ve been intimate with someone, my lust clearly is impairing my judgment here. So well I’m flattered that you want to do this, I think this is a good stopping point.”

Hawks lets his feather drop away from Enji’s balls. It flies up and returns to it’s allotted spot on the underside of his left wing.

“Oh…you mean you haven’t…since you and your wife?” Hawks’ eyes widen a bit in understanding. “You mean no one’s gone down on you in like…what – 10 years?!”

Enji shifts uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze.

“Hold on Number One – have you ever gotten your dick sucked!? It seems like you were fine with all of this until I mentioned giving you a BJ.” Hawks says incredulously. Enji can understand his disbelief. Hawks is young – he’s 22 and horny. He’s likely only been having sex for a few years now so it’s all still new and fuzzy and electric. Enji remembers being young like that – making out with a classmate his last year at UA in order to get closer to her Pro Hero father, losing his virginity in the back office of his work study to a much older Pro Hero to get put on better cases and patrols. These few sexual experiences had been relatively quick and emotionless for Enji.

The truth is – he and Rei had gotten married so young and for the sole purpose of producing strong, unbeatable Todoroki heirs. Nights with Rei had been purely transactional. The couple had done what was necessary to create a child, and no more. Sex for Enji had never been focused on pleasure – it had become a tool to get what he wanted.

And yet…he remembers how he had felt in his twenties: being so horny he could barely stand it. There were nights he couldn’t wait to get home from work to fuck his wife just for the feel of her tight around his cock. He looks back at those memories now, ashamed at the way he had always put his needs above her own. His wife had deserved an attentive lover, not someone who was always taking. He was always just showing up to her bed to get off and plant his seed.

“Hey, Number One – you tired? You’re zoning out on me.” Hawks snaps Enji’s thoughts back to the present with his sarcastic, lazy drawl.

“To answer your question truthfully…no, I’ve never had oral sex.”

Hawks throws his head back and laughs. It’s not mocking though – he seems more tickled with the situation than anything.

“Well lucky me – first one to suck off Endeavor.”

Enji’s eyes widen in disbelief.

“You can’t seriously mean you’re going to - ” But he’s cut off by the achingly wonderful sensation of Hawks’ mouth on his dick. The winged hero has slipped his lips around the mushroom head of Enji’s thick cock, and is sucking softly. He looks up at Endeavor, his eyes mischievous.

“Hawks, we can’t do this.” Enji says firmly. His dick is saying otherwise – pleasure the likes of which Enji has never known is coursing through his length as Hawks uses his tongue to swirl circles around Enji’s tip.

Hawks extricates himself from Enji’s cock with a wickedly wet “pop” of his lips. He tilts his head to the side and looks up questioningly at the Number One hero.

“Why not?” He says simply. Enji meets his gaze and doesn’t miss the way that the winged hero’s pupils are blown wide with lust.

“Well for one, this facility is open to all of the male heroes in my employ. This is not a private setting whatsoever.”

Hawks shrugs. “I don’t mind getting caught. Besides, if any of your sidekicks tattle on us, no one will believe them. The top two heroes going at it? Ha! Even I can’t believe it – and I’ve got your dick in my hand right now.”

Enji cocks an eyebrow. “Your indifference to this is insane.”

“I’m very chill. Sue me.” Hawks takes a moment to roll his shoulders and shake out his wings. “But if it would make you uncomfortable, I can post some feathers outside the door so we get plenty of warning if someone decides to come this way.” Instantly, two tiny feathers shoot out from Hawks’ wings – zinging through the hallway, past the lockers and out of sight.

Hawks looks up at Endeavor with shining eyes of gold, his expression hard to read. “Better?”

Endeavor huffs. “Not quite. Hawks - we’re colleagues. This is inappropriate. Think of what people would say if they found out.”

Hawks snorts. “Endeavor…do you know how many Pro Hero’s I’ve fucked in the past year alone?”

Enji had always known there was a big hookup culture among Pros, especially the younger ones. How could there not be? The Pro Hero community is filled to the brim with attractive, talented individuals who share a common goal. It’s no surprise that Hawks has been sleeping around with their colleagues.

“Fair point.” Enji concedes. Hawks gives the Flame Hero’s cock a light stroke in response, grinning. Enji tries to ignore the wave of pleasure that washes over him at each flick of Hawks’ strong hand.

Enji deliberately holds Hawks’ gaze, and avoids looking at the way the blonde’s hand is wrapped around his hard member. “But then there’s this – Hawks, I’m old enough to be your father.”

Apparently this was the wrong thing to say. Enji instantly regrets the words leaving his mouth when he sees a maniacal gleam light up in Hawks’ eyes.

“Oh, I’ve definitely thought about that already...” Hawks leans in and licks a hot stripe up the underside of Enji’s cock, causing it to twitch. He looks up at Endeavor with his big beautiful golden eyes and says the next word in a soft whisper.

“…Daddy.”

At the word, something inside Endeavor snaps. He’s all lust, completely overcome with the need to shove Hawks to the ground, to teach him a damn lesson with his thick, fiery cock. He wants to bend the winged hero over and fuck him until he cries out for mercy. Hawks is strong, sure. But Endeavor can say with almost complete confidence that he is stronger. It would be easy to turn the tables here, to ensure that Hawks is the one breathing heavily, begging to cum.

But no, Endeavor doesn’t do any of these things. Instead he stays stock still and utters a single, harsh word in response to the blonde hero’s ministrations:

“Fuck.”

That’s all the invitation Hawks needs. He smiles broadly as he leans in and cups Enji’s balls with a rough hand. Within seconds he’s licking up and down the Flame Hero’s length with abandon, swirling his tongue in delicate patterns across the hard flesh.

“You’re too serious, Number One.” Hawks barks out a laugh when Enji’s fingers dig their way into his thick hair. “Let me help you lighten up a little.”

Enji’s face is burning hot with a mixture of embarrassment and hunger. Against his better judgment, he lets Hawks take control. The winged hero moves a hand gently massage the soft inner flesh of Enji’s left thigh for a few moments. He seems almost entranced by Enji’s thick member. Enji wonders smugly if it’s bigger than what Hawks is used to, if he’ll know how to handle such an intimidating co-

All thoughts in Enji’s mind evaporate as Hawks wraps his hot, chatty mouth around the flame hero’s cock. In one fluid motion, he slides down the shaft to take in a few generous inches. He repositions his hands so that one is still fondling Enji’s balls, while the other is slowly pumping the cock’s base.

Within seconds, Hawks is bobbing up and down on the thick dick of Japan’s Number One Hero. He hollows out his cheeks and focuses on pleasuring the head for a few moments before moving down to take a few more inches. Enji feels his dick hit the back of Hawks’ hot throat. He sees the way the hero breathes in through his nose and relaxes his muscles, swallowing Enji’s length down easily. He seems to have experience at this.

Enji can’t take his eyes off the sight – it’s so hot, so ridiculously sexy. He feels oddly…powerful? Standing above the cheeky twenty-something, being pleasured by the prince of the hero charts.

He decides to push his luck a little.

“Ah. That’s right, bow down to the Number One Hero.” He teases, winding Hawks’ golden curls loosely around his fingers and giving a soft tug. “Glad you know your place, Hawks. You belong on your knees, pretty bird. I bet I can have my assistant draw up a contract to onboard you as my own personal slut.”

Enji’s not quite sure where that last sentence came from, but it feels like the right mood. Hawks eyes widen in response. For a brief moment he seems to loose focus and chokes a bit on Enji’s dick. He moves as if he’s going to pull away for a breath, but quickly composes himself and doubles down on his efforts. He continues to sloppily deep throat Enji’s cock in the most delicious way. Enji is impressed.

“Weren’t expecting that were you?” Enji tugs on Hawks’ hair again, eliciting a moan from the back of the Number 2 Hero’s throat. The vibration of the groan ricochets up Enji’s dick and through his body like a bolt of electricity. “Oh, you liked that?” Enji gives another soft pull at Hawks’ beautiful damp curls before moving his hands down to grip the hero’s jaw. Enji makes eye contact with the blonde to ensure that he’s not being too rough. He then shifts his weight a bit and thrusts lightly into Hawks’ mouth. Hawks accommodates him easily, continuing to breathe through his nose as Enji gains some speed, fucking his face.

They continue in this way for a bit – Enji giving and Hawks silently taking. After a few minutes, Hawks taps Enji’s leg lightly to indicate that he needs a break. He pulls his mouth off of the Flame Hero’s dick with a wet smack, drool dripping down his chin. His eyes are unfocused and fucked-out. Any cheeky façade has all but vanished.

“Endeavor…” Hawks whispers hoarsely, dropping his forehead to rest against Enji’s muscular thigh for a moment as he catches his breath.

“You…You can call me Enji.” The Flame Hero says softly. “While we’re doing this.”

“Enji.” Hawks says, rolling the name around his tongue. “Enji. It suits you.”

Hearing the name come off of Hawks’ lips feels almost…intimate. Enji’s not sure if he likes it.

“What should I call you?” Enji says softly, moving his hand to card through Hawks’ thick hair.”

A pause.

“Just Hawks. I don’t have any other name.” Hawks says in a small voice. He sounds broken, vulnerable. Enji feels shaky at the tone. He never expected to speak to the winged hero with this much openness, and he’s not sure how to proceed. They rest in silence for a few moments, Hawks breathing heavily with his sweaty face on Enji’s leg and Enji awkwardly petting his head. It doesn’t feel appropriate to ask any more questions about Hawks’ true name.

After what feels like an eternity, Hawks pulls back and looks back up at Enji. He’s still on his knees, wings folded behind him haphazardly. From this angle Enji can see the blonde’s full erection, his dick full and dripping with arousal. Enji’s mouth almost waters at the image.

“Well, Enji.” The blonde smirks and narrows his eyes up at the Flame Hero. Hawks has seemed to gain back a bit of his old swagger, but his voice still holds breathiness to it. “You ready to have your mind blown by the Number Two hero?”

“I’m ready and waiting.” Enji says, as teasingly as he can. He mentally kicks himself for being so damn awkward at this.

“Well sit back and relax, because I’m about to lay down my ultimate move.” He winks, and reaches out to begin stroking Enji with renewed vigor. Enji moans at the contact and lets his head fall back against the warm tiled wall. Hawks’ movements are different now. He’s taking his time, working at Enji’s dick slowly in an effort to draw out as much pleasure as possible. When his lips wrap back around Enji’s cock, they move slowly and teasingly up and down the hard length.

Enji feels he’s fit to burst at any moment. Then he feels Hawks’ fingers beginning to wander.

“Absolutely not.” He says sharply as Hawks’ hand caresses his right ass cheek.

“Just relax and let me drive. I promise you’ll like this.”

And, against his better judgment, Enji settles back against the wall and lets Hawks work.

The winged hero continues to bob his head up and down Enji’s cock, while the fingers of his right hand slowly move between Enji’s ass cheeks. Finally, he finds what he’s looking for. He gently moves his index finger to circle Enji’s hole.

“Hawks!” Enji practically spits at the intrusion. No one has ever touched him there and it’s a jarring feeling.

Hawks chuckles but continues to circle the tight knot, noting the embarrassment in Enji’s face as he does so. He pops his mouth off of Endeavor’s dick and says soothingly “just relax into it – once you get over the shock, it feels amazing. I promise.”

Enji takes a deep breath and does as Hawks says, trying to stay loose and engage with the feeling. He screws his eyes shut with the effort.

“That’s it, Number One.” Hawks coos, continuing to move his fingers around the rim of Enji’s hole. The blonde hero moves to take Enji’s dick in his mouth again as he continues to work at his colleague’s ass. Within seconds, Enji lets out a loud, sensual moan.

“What did I say Enji? I’m a bird of my word.” Hawks mutters before he speeds up his pace.

Enji can feel himself coming undone at Hawks’ touch. The birdbrained hero was absolutely right – the finger gently circling his ass is making him see stars. That, combined with Hawks’ sensual dick sucking is driving him over the edge.

“Hawks.” He whispers. “Hawks! I’m going to…”

Hawks draws the orgasm out of him quickly, and the pleasure crashes over Enji like a wave, threatening to drown him. For a moment, he forgets to breathe as he watches Hawks quickly pull his mouth off of Enji’s cock before getting splattered with cum, the thick liquid dripping down his smooth chest.

Hawks throws back his head and laughs gleefully as he pumps Enji’s dick, helping him ride out his orgasm. Enji groans as he finishes, fireworks sparking off behind his eyes as he comes down from his high.

It takes a few minutes for Enji to come back into himself. Even after he’s finished, he’s still gasping for breath. He feels shaky and exhausted, but the happy hormones flowing through his body make him feel the most relaxed he’s been in weeks.

“Wow.” He states simply, running a finger through his bright, sweaty hair. He’s never had a sexual experience quite like that. The situation had felt so charged, so intense. The feeling is strangely addicting. He’s still exhausted, but he wants more. Is this how sex is supposed to feel!? He looks over at Hawks, who is now up on his feet and rinsing himself off under Enji’s abandoned shower.

“What a waste of water, Number One.” He says, glancing over his shoulder at Enji as he scrubs a bar of soap across his sticky chest. “If the Green Party finds out about this, they’ll come for your agency for sure.”

All Enji can do for a moment is stare. He’s never quite let himself enjoy Hawks’ beauty before. He’s always found Hawks to be an attractive man – but he had always forced himself to remain professional in his presence. That meant any glances at Hawks’ physique were stolen. Any dirty thoughts carefully tucked away without a second thought. But now, alone in the Endeavor Hero Agency shower facility…Enji allows himself to look all he wants. He wants to get his fill of Hawks before things go back to the way they usually are – the top 2 heroes. Colleagues who mostly get on each other’s nerves.

The florescent light bounces off of Hawks’ slick, wet body. His wavy blonde hair glows almost golden in the lowlight. Enji’s orgasm clouded mind thinks vaguely that the younger hero is sculpted like a piece of art – he’s all perfect proportions and thick cords of muscle. And oh, his dick…there, bouncing prominently between the Winged Hero’s muscular thighs is a formidable member that’s clearly still half-hard under the running water. Enji allows himself admire the golden happy trail that softly tapers down Hawks’ toned stomach. He enjoys the way that Hawks’ package bounces and rolls each time he shifts his weight to gain better access to the stream of hot water raining down on him from above.

Hawks continues to lather himself up, closing his eyes as he rinses the last of Enji’s cum off of his body. He has his bright red angel wings puffed out to avoid the hot water, the pose makes him look like some sort of mythological creature. A beautiful demigod chimera -half man, half beast.

Once he’s done, he steps out from under the gentle stream of water and begins to run through some light stretches. He massages slowly behind his calf, working to get the blood flowing. Enji realizes with some guilt that surely the hero’s legs have cramped up after kneeling for so long. When Enji inquires if this is the case, Hawks waves him off with an errant hand.

“I’ve been trained to withstand all sorts of crazy torture scenarios. Being stuck in a single position like that and muscle strain don’t really bother me at this point. However…” Hawks begins massaging the muscles surrounding his mouth. “I do have one helluva cramp in my jaw after sucking for so long. That happens sometimes.” He looks at Endeavor pointedly.

“Well you need to learn to take things in moderation then.” Enji huffs; half-joking, half-admonishing.

Hawks grins at him. “Try telling me to ‘Take it in moderation’ next time I’m between your thighs sucking on your-”

But Hawks’ pert response is cut short, as Enji reaches out and hauls the blonde hero across the slick tiles before he can finish his sentence. The Number Two Hero’s mouth seems to be stuck in a small “o” of surprise as he feels himself turned around so that his round, muscular ass is flush against Enji’s spent cock.

“Hey, Number One – what are you…?” Hawks begins to ask, but Enji cuts him off again with a brisk request.

“Send away your feathers for a moment, Hawks. I’ve seen you do it before. Lose the wings.” Enji uses his most authoritative “Number One Hero” voice, and is surprised when Hawks obliges without complaints.

There’s a quick swirl of red as the soft feathers fly in all directions, leaving Hawks’ muscular back almost completely naked. All that remains are two small, feathery stumps. Enji runs a fingertip lightly around the base of one of the downy nubbins and is rewarded with a sharp intake of breath form the winged hero.

“You’re so vulnerable like this.” Enji almost whispers, caressing the tiny wing again. “I bet you never get touched like this.” Enji puts more pressure on the area and Hawks whines aloud. The Flame Hero smirks at the reaction. Now that Hawks’ full wings are gone, Enji is able to wrap his arms more securely around the shorter man’s toned frame.

“You thought you were going to get away that easily, huh? Just get me off and disappear without retribution?” Enji says coolly, hands moving to grip Hawks’ defined hips. For a nanosecond he sees something like fear dart across Hawks’ eyes, before the carefree mask retakes his features. “You’re not getting away that easily, little hero.”

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

End of Part 1 of 2

Part 2 Linked Here!

🔥Link to My Master List 🔥

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awyeahitssam · 1 year ago

Text

A cold male voice rang across the courtroom.

“You’re late.”

Harry considered his response as he stepped farther into the room, head tipping up to take in the fifty some-odd witches and wizards that made up the Wizengamot. They were all watching him keenly, some with open derision and others with curiosity. His head pulsed faintly at the weight of the attention on him, their emotions eagerly battering his Occlumency shields. Harry worked to think through the sensation even as he reinforced his mental defences. He could already tell by the sweat beading on his back that this would be a trying experience. The fact that this section of the Ministry was deep enough to obstruct the weight of all other presences did not make up for the fact that he was in front of fifty people rather than the expected four to six. He hasn't practised for this, has had no means to.

Fudge sat in the middle of the first row, and the smugness he and the witch to his right were emanating made it rather easy to pinpoint who had been responsible for the sudden change in the time of his trial.

"Am I?" Harry asked, and the jolt of astonishment, annoyance and fury that swept through various members of the court almost had him gritting his teeth. Harry imagined that Fudge's anger and embarrassment would have been obvious to him even without his abilities. The man had turned faintly red at the question, face pinching.

"You were sent notice of the change in time this morning," the Minister barked out. "It is not the Wizengamot's fault you are late. Now sit down."

Harry allowed his eyebrow to quirk, slow and incredulous. This version of Cornelius Fudge was far different from the one he had met two years ago.

“While I would hardly blame the Wizengamot as a whole, it sounds as if whoever is charged with correspondence is at fault. Per a standing law written in 1839, all changes in time and venue must be completed in excess of twenty four hours prior to a trial's start time. Said correspondence must have been confirmed as seen by the person or persons on trial and their representatives at least sixteen hours before the scheduled start time.”

“That is for an official trial,” the Minister returned, voice sharp despite the fluster and anxiety Harry could sense beneath it.

“Apologies for my presumption, then,” Harry said dryly. “I assumed that any trial which our entire governance presided over would be considered official.”

“Besides which, there is no such specificity to that law,” A broad, square-jawed witch to the left of Fudge said, giving the Minister a quelling look.

The Minister did not respond to the implied reprimand, instead puffing himself up a bit and saying, “Now that we’re all here, let’s begin. Are you ready?”

“Yes, sir,” Harry was surprised to see Percy Weasley, horn-rimmed glasses perched on his nose as he stared down at a piece of parchment, quill poised to write. Unlike most everyone else in the room, his attention did not seem to find sole focus on Harry. Harry didn’t expend any effort to attempt to see how Percy felt about the entire situation, his focus drawn to an approaching presence. It was a whirlwind of concern, faint annoyance, and a dash of enjoyment.

“Disciplinary hearing of the twelfth of August,” said Fudge in a ringing voice, emphasising the word hearing, and Percy began taking notes at once, “into offences committed under the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery and the International Statute of Secrecy by Harry James Potter, resident at number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.”

Fudge continued on, listing interrogators, and Harry’s attention was distracted from Fudge’s words, the approaching presence, and his Occlumency shields by a jolt of glee and greed. His gaze flickered up to meet the icy grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy. The realisation dawns quickly that the Dursleys address was now a matter of public record. Harry had already decided he wouldn't go back, and this only provided more incentive.

He hesitates around the thought of whether the Dursleys will be targeted. Whether he should warn somebody that they need to be moved. Whether he cares enough to, after so many years of their oppressive hatred.

Behind him, the door presses open.

“—Witness for the defence, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.” Dumbledore’s voice isn’t projected like Fudge’s, but there is no doubt that he is heard. The press of the Wizengamot’s emotions is momentarily overwhelming: annoyance, bemusement, fear, anger, respect, deference, joy… Harry’s own anger is hardly a blip amongst the cacophony.

When he strides into Harry’s view Dumbledore's expression is serene, but Harry can feel his spiteful enjoyment at the reception his disruption has created. He looked up at Fudge through the half-moon spectacles that rested halfway down his crooked nose.

A few of the Wizengamot members muttered to one another, but most were quiet, eyes locked on Dumbledore.

While Harry’s presence had invoked interest and curiosity, the reactions to Dumbledore were far more substantive. Perhaps it was that the Headmaster had interacted with all of these people personally, socially, and they knew him by more than reputation. They had personal feelings and opinions fully developed about Dumbledore, while Harry was still, largely, an unknown.

“Ah,” said Fudge, thoroughly disconcerted and flustered by Dumbledore’s presence. “Dumbledore. Yes. You—er—got our—er—message that the time and—er—place of the hearing had been changed, then?”

“I must have missed it,” said Dumbledore cheerfully. “However, due to a lucky mistake I arrived at the Ministry three hours early, so no harm done.”

It was a lie, Harry recognized, and one the Headmaster took a good deal of amusement in stating. Some of Dumbledore’s lingering frustration seemed to melt the longer he watched Fudge, the genial cast to his face a farce. He took joy in Fudge being wrong-footed, and the longer he fumbled, the more Dumbledore’s contentment with the situation grew.

“Yes—well—I suppose we’ll need another chair—I—Weasley, could you—?”

“Not to worry, not to worry,” said Dumbledore pleasantly; he took out his wand, gave it a little flick, and a squashy chintz armchair appeared out of nowhere next to Harry. Dumbledore sat down, put the tips of his long fingers together, and looked at Fudge over them with an expression of polite interest.

Harry had never thought of Dumbledore as anything approaching petty before, and perhaps he typically was not, but there was no denying that he was fond of making Fudge feel foolish. Well, his name had been dragged through the Prophet by the Minister's word; Harry couldn’t be surprised by a grudge. Seemingly omniscient or not, Dumbledore was only human.

The Wizengamot was still muttering and fidgeting restlessly; only when Fudge spoke again did they settle down.

“Yes,” said Fudge again, shuffling his notes. “Well, then. So. The charges. Yes.” He extricated a piece of parchment from the pile before him, took a deep breath, and read, “The charges against the accused are as follows: That he did knowingly, deliberately, and in full awareness of the illegality of his actions, having received a previous written warning from the Ministry of Magic on a similar charge, produce a Patronus Charm in a Muggle-inhabited area, in the presence of a Muggle, on August the second at twenty-three minutes past nine, which constitutes an offence under paragraph C of the Decree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery, 1875, and also under section thirteen of the International Confederation of Wizards’ Statute of Secrecy.”

“You are Harry James Potter, of number four, Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey?” Fudge said, glaring at Harry over the top of his parchment.

“Yes,” Harry agreed, not looking at Malfoy this time.

“You received an official warning from the Ministry for using illegal magic three years ago, did you not?”

“Yes, but—”

“And yet you conjured a Patronus on the night of the second of August?” interrupted Fudge. Harry felt his vindictive pleasure at cutting him off—even with Dumbledore here, he was finding his footing—but as Harry failed to answer this question, his irritation rose to overtake it.

“You are expected to answer,” the witch to the left of Fudge said, raising a brow at him. She had been the same woman to defend the law he had parrotted.

Harry lets his silence linger for a moment, feeling the anticipation of the Wizengamot build, before returning, “Will I be allowed to do so in full?”

His voice is perfectly respectful, but Fudge’s outrage still blooms. Dumbledore, a glance away, feels of surprise-concern-suspicion, and it makes the hairs on Harry’s nape stand at attention.

“Yes,” the woman gave the Minister yet another quelling look, “of course you will.”

“Thank you. To your last question, Minister, I did receive an official warning three years ago. The warning was,” it took a moment for Harry to recall the right term, said by three other representatives in three other trials, but the momentary pause has the interesting effect of focusing attention on him all the more, “improperly dispersed. The magic that triggered it came from a visiting House Elf. Being the only known magical in Little Whinging and without the supervision of an adult witch or wizard, the charms used to enforce the Statute of Secrecy were triggered. If anybody would like to see a memory of the event in question, I would be more than happy to provide it, assuming there is a pensive available.”

“There is no pensive,” a man with dark hair and an austere demeanour said, then emphasised again, “This is no trial.”

“Isn’t it?” Harry asked, eyebrows raising as he glanced tellingly down at the chair in which he sat, wrapped in chains. “Very well.”

“Either way, it is rather late to be blaming your troubled past on elf magic,” Fudge dismissed, and let out a short laugh, as if he expected others to join him in it. At his side, the woman still cloaked in shadows let out a titter. “A unique and unprecedented excuse, as, I suppose, we should have expected from a young man trying to squirm out of trouble.”

It is Fudge’s tone, a mix of condescension and chiding, even as his emotions are anything but, that does it. Behind his Occlumency and building headache, Harry realises that he's angry. He is disgruntled, disgusted and dissatisfied. He had accessed the public records available, he had pulled transcripts from previous underage trials, and this—this is a farce.

This is Fudge, afraid to believe that Lord Voldemort is alive and smearing Harry’s name because he can. Because Harry has nobody looking out for him, and he’s been fair game since nobody stepped in the first time Rita did it. Beside him, Dumbledore is perfectly silent.

Harry is a symbol, but he's also fifteen, and it's an odd thought that reeks of his Godfather.

“You're fifteen, pup,” Sirius had insisted mere days ago, like it meant something, like it mattered. “You deserve the chance to be a boy without all of this added pressure.”

The glimmer in his eyes had been just as telling as the mingled pain-grief-exhaustion-despair. He was speaking from experience, Harry had thought, throat tight. It made Harry want to fight for his Godfather, for the boy that he once was. Where, then, was that impulse to fight for himself?

“You matter, Harry. What you want matters.”

Harry does not want to play their games, though he has already begun to. He does not want to use the information he's researched, as he sits in a chair with chains, and struggles through polite phrasings. He won't let his research go to waste, though. He knows something for once, and he'll use that knowledge.

The look he levels to Fudge, then, is faux-concerned. “I understand you've had no reason to research this, Minister,” he says, voice kind in a way that is mockery and can not be called such, “but I take the threat of having my wand snapped very seriously. According to public records, the Statute of Secrecy charms have been proven defective in the exact scenario I've discussed once before, in the case of Richard Pike, who’s classmate had an elf deliver things on multiple occasions until he was brought between a five-panel jury to plead his case.”

“Mind you, the Ministry hadn't been running a campaign to discredit Richard Pike,” Harry added casually. The reaction from a simple remark didn't disappoint; Fudge spluttered, the woman beside him leaned out of the shadows, revealing an overwhelmingly pink ensemble, and someone burst out, “Now see here, young man—!” before being abruptly silenced. “He was fifteen, too, but he actually had adults willing to advocate on his behalf.”

Dumbledore’s concern is growing beside him, but Harry doesn't turn to meet the man's eyes, and Dumbledore does not speak out, despite Harry’s accusation.

Harry’s rage is bubbling at the back of his throat, and he wants to shout, but he had learned about the ineffectiveness of screaming his ire long ago. That lesson had only been reinforced after his outburst at Ron and Hermione, and he is more than willing to try something else now.

He takes a moment to consider his approach, and then goes with something that feels natural, a release that will keep his shouts in check; Harry laughs.

“Something funny, Mr. Potter?” A cold voice comes.

“Not really, Something is ridiculous, though, and I’m sure you’d all rather I laugh than deal with a moody teenager's temper tantrum.” He lets his smile go a little sharper, and feels the good his reminder does. There is a particularly keen sense of culpability from a woman he faintly recognizes from his research; Head of the Panel for Underaged Sourcery, Irena Covey. Is the guilt for allowing this to spiral so out of hand, into a room meant for criminal proceedings, or something else?

“I have before me the entire government of magical Britain, wasting their time at a hearing for underaged magic which is typically handled by an empaneled jury of four. We are in the bowels of the Ministry, in a room that has not been used for anything but trials of the most dangerous criminals, and yet this is not a trial, but a hearing to decide disciplinary methods, as if there is no doubt of my guilt and I must be punished.”

“My ‘crime,’” he uses the air quotes readily, “is using the Patronus Charm to protect myself and my cousin from a dementor. My cousin, who knows about magic and does not count as a breach in the Statute. If you'd like to see the memory of the encounter, I give full permission to have it pulled from my head. If you'd like to give me veritaserum—well, I have no parent to consent to the use of a regulated substance, but that's never stopped anybody before. I’ll submit myself willingly to that as well. And if,” he smiles sharply, “you'd like to handle this especially quickly, and get back to your doubtlessly busy lives, I will swear upon my magic that I'm telling the truth. How's that?”

It’s nothing that can be compelled or asked for, not ever, but the offer is a powerful thing. Vows on your magic can be taken as irrefutable testimony, and are rarely given, as they rely on objective rather than subjective fact, a twist that always leaves one with the slightest chance of turning squib.

He feels the shift in the air, the reconsideration of biases, the sharpening curiosity.

“I find your tone disrespectful, boy,” says a man with the longest straw-coloured hair Harry has ever seen. It lies in neat curls, soft and touchable, but the man’s face is cold and his tone hard, and Harry can’t pinpoint his intention with so many other people in the room.

“Perfectly understandable, sir. I find this entire theatrical display disrespectful. You are all very important and busy people, so I can understand that you are frustrated with having your time wasted. However I hope you'll forgive if my frustration outweighs your own, as I am being treated like a war criminal rather than an underaged child due to a bewildering grudge that our Minister seems to be harbouring.”

“You want to snap my wand?” Harry asked the Minister if Magic, eyes blazing but posture relaxed, “Then you can be certain I will put up a fight.”

He let his eyes trail over the rest of his jury, the heady, odd feel of their captivated attention allowing his shoulders to relax into something looser and more confident.

“Magic is the only thing I have of my mother and father. So forgive this fifteen year old orphan for his sentimentality,” Harry bared his teeth, “but I plan on keeping it. Especially considering that I have broken no laws, and there are clear caveats in place that allow an underaged witch or wizard to use magic when in fear for their life.”

He let his gaze slide over the Wizengamot and paused to meet every set of eyes that were not looking away. His point has been well and truly made. Dumbledore is surprised by his outburst, or perhaps by its effectiveness, and faintly suspicious for some reason.

“Strong words prove nothing,” a man larger than Harry’s uncle says when Harry’s gaze lands on him, and he doesn't believe Harry, but he is used to that.

Harry thinks back to the books on magical vows he had studied during the tournament, and the book in the Black Library that he had read two days ago. He thinks of the vow that he had carefully drafted, under Sirius’ supervision. His godfather has emphasised the importance of his wording, so that there could be no mistake.

“Harry, wait.” Dumbledore’s order comes curt and harsh, but Harry pays it no attention. He knows what has caught the Headmaster’s attention; the golden glow that had encapsulated Harry the moment he chose his words. It hazes around his form, and Harry looks down at his hand with interest and curiosity.

There is a sudden murmuring from his audience as they catch on.

“I, Harry James Potter, vow on my magic that on the night of August 2 I used a patronus charm to ward off dementors in Little Whinging, Surrey, in fear of losing my soul.”

The golden glow retreats. Several people gasp at the act, but it is no mere dramatics; the shock he feels pulsing through the room is genuine. He allowed the pause to linger for a moment before saying, “I would cast a spell to prove my claim, but this is a disciplinary hearing for underaged magic.”

Dumbledore cleared his throat, but before he could speak a worn voice sounded from the top tier of the gallery. “I vote an exception be made. Raise your wands if you are in agreement.”

It was nearly unanimous, and Fudge’s expression was taut. His emotions were hard to pinpoint, though multiple people were radiating fear, stomach-churning and vile. Madame Bones glanced around the gallery, expectant. “Mr. Potter, if you would?”

Obediently, Harry drew his wand and murmured a spell under his breath. It was a rather cheeky choice, but Harry was a Gryffindor for a reason. His patronus burst into existence and lifted its head regally, sightless eyes fixed on the Wizengamot. After a moment it turned to Harry and met his gaze before bowing its head. Harry bowed his head back in respect, tension lessening as he felt the warmth and serenity his patronus gave to him, deeply soothing. It took a step forward and pressed its head to his chest, and Harry smiled.

“Fantastic,” Madam Bones murmured. “Very impressive.”

She said it, but Harry could feel it radiating from all around the room; respect, wariness, keen interest. A couple of people even seemed amused by his gall, which, he supposed, was better than offended. Fear was regulated to an undertone in the room, pervasive but not overpowering.

Harry’s patronus raises its head, a huff ruffling his hair. He raised a hand to brush over its snout, feeling the warm, welcoming peace it emanated more than its fur. It stares into his eyes for a long moment, grounding Harry, before lowering its head one last time and glimmering out of existence, purpose served.

“Well then,” the shift in the room was abrupt. With two words the attention of the Wizengnot had been captured by a dark-haired woman, whose brown eyes were cataloguing Harry. The abrupt pull and shift of emotions might have been startling had his patronus not left him so balanced. “I might have agreed that all of our time was wasted on this day, Mr. Potter, if not for this exquisite demonstration of a mastered patronus. That it is tactile as well as spiritually corporeal is a rare and impressive feat, especially given your age.”

Beneath her intrigue and open interest, the turn of her emotions had an odd chill to them. Her fascination is detached and clinical. Her regard had the effect of sharpening the interest towards Harry all the more. Dumbledore’s emotions pulsed behind him, an odd mix of wary, vexed and rueful.

“Perhaps, Lady Laurier, it would be most appropriate to turn our attention to how a dementor managed to make its way to Little Whinging in the first place.” Dumbledore said pleasantly.

Bones clears her throat. “That is certainly a matter that needs attention. First, however, Mr. Potter’s verdict.”

“I believe that Mr. Potter’s vow constitutes irrefutable proof, and this tria—hearing should be closed.” Covey spoke up, her slip made all the more apparent by its correction.

“So it shall be,” agreed Bones. “As Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, I accept into the record Harry Potter's magical vow. In combination with his subsequent proof of magic, this vow is considered irrefutable evidence. As such, all charges against the accused are dismissed with the Ministry's sincere apologies. I put forward my professional recommendation that future cases of underaged sorcery are dealt with by the bench traditionally empaneled.” She added pointedly.

#my writing #Empath Harry #I'm desperate to start writing this story again #but as in love as I am with the premise I've set up and other scenes that've been written #writing this is like pulling teeth #Harrymort #unless I'm incapable of continuing

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