#sorry it got out so late I had difficulty formatting this

[kusukixcrystal]

MM Classpecting: Saeran Part 2

Zen Classpect

Yoosung Classpect

Jaehee Classpect

Jumin Classpect

707 Classpect

V Classpect

Saeran Classpect Part 1

This is part 2 of my Saeran classpecting post. In the first part is the Page of Heart interpretation, which I don't believe is his actual classpect. Now, I will cover what I think suits his character considering the events of the main story (Deep Story, 707 route and Secret Endings)

Classpect Interpretation 2:

Classpect - Muse of Rage (+): One who commands Rage, or commands through Rage, for others.

How this applies Saeran: Holy. Shit. Where do I even start? The world is out for Saeran: his father is trying to kill him and his mother abused him. Rika then indoctrinated him into a fucking cult. Saeran blames his own weak constitution for why his brother left him. In Mint Eye he accepts that the world is a cruel place, and dwells in self-deprecation, hatred and negativity.

In Another Story we see what would happen if Saeran breaks out of this cycle of self-deprecation, gaining strength in order to protect MC and his brother. In order to mature, in both Another Story and the Secret Endings Saeran must learn to trust Saeyoung and the RFA in order to escape Mint Eye and lead a better life. At his worst as Unknown he is pessimistic, isolates himself and suppresses any emotions that would deem him ‘weak’. Saeran in his After Story works with Jumin and Jaehee to stop his father, using his hacker skills. He has the ability to exert force on his environment when provided backing from people he cares about. We see the world tug him in every which way; V trying to show Saeran positive sides to the world with gardening and photography. Rika with Mint Eye. Another Story makes this more explicit, with the divide between Ray and Saeran. At that point he was still not Unknown yet, still malleable with Rika and V trying to shape him.

Unknown Commands over many people in Mint Eye and is in a high position. He orchestrates getting MC into the RFA and yadda yadda. 

We have to talk about why I think he is a Muse in the context of the main story. In Homestuck, Muse/Lord are considered to be Master Classes. They are classes given to only 2 characters in the entire comic: Calliope and Caliborn respectively. We see that with these classes these two play the role of influencing the other characters to act. They are given to people who influence the events of the entire story to a great degree. As one of Mystic Messenger's main antagonists, Saeran's role can not be understated. His actions literally lead to all the stories/routes happening. He is the one to lead MC to Rika's apartment. He is the one to hack the RFA chatroom and put everyone on high alert. He is the one to break into Rika's apartment and threatens to blow it up with the bomb. He is a Conductor, Commanding the RFA to act through using his Aspect... Speaking of his Aspect, let's discuss that.

This is what the Extended Hiveswap Zodiac has to say about the Rage Aspect:

“Those bound to the aspect of Rage are bringers of chaos. They possess great contempt for lies or false ideas, including the stability that false ideas can impart. To them, the true is far more important than the good; they would tear down a system just to destabilize it if, by their reckoning, it is built on faulty premises. Often the Rage-bound prefer anarchy to any of the alternate forms of civilization, which they believe to be riddled with lies and foolishness and obedient masses. They are bringers of confusion and doubt, and they can be frustratingly difficult to convince otherwise when they have attached themselves to an idea. If they sound dangerous, they are. The Rage-bound tend to be most volatile and unpredictable of the aspects. At their best they are original, revolutionary, and fearless. At their worst they are cruel, uncompromising, and vicious.”

How this applies to Saeran:

As previously stated, as a Muse of Rage Saeran Commands with Rage, utilizing his Aspect, his Rage, against the RFA to sew chaos and disorder within the narrative. Destroying the RFA's once peaceful lives.

He does this because he believes in Mint Eye's ideology, that outside institutions are feeding everyone lies and that they are a paradise in this world. He believed Rika, thinking that Saeyoung lied about saving him. These 'lies' and 'false ideas' from both his brother and society makes Saeran very angry, using it to destabilize the RFA. This brings doubt to the members of the RFA, where once everyone (excluding Yoosung) believed in V wholeheartedly, began to doubt him when they learn that there is a bomb in Rika's apartment and his constant absence.

When a Muse Commands with their Aspect, they are shaped by it too. His Aspect of Rage shapes him into Unknown, blinded by betrayal and Rage against Saeyoung, turning him into a violent bundle of anger and sorrow. He embodies the forces of his Aspect through violence and utilizing the bomb in Rika’s apartment and the gun he uses to shoot V. He also presumably tortures Yoosung with stuff as well (Yoosung Bad Ending 3). Unknown’s presence haunts the RFA in the game, the hacker threat a prominent story thread hanging over them. This influences the RFA to be careful and take precautions. The martyrdom part applies more to After Story Saeran, who sacrifices himself by directly confronting his father for his brother.

In Saeyoung's route, when he confronts Saeran in Rika's apartment and even at Mint Eye, he has difficulty getting his brother to believe that he thought he was living a good life. Saeran's belief can not be swayed easily, a prominent trait seen in the Rage-bound.

Saeran is unpredictable and volatile, seen in all Casual and Deep Stories in this game. He can strike a hacker attack at any time. In bad endings he appears almost randomly, catching the characters off guard.

In the beginning of his route, he uses his Rage to hurt and Command the MC, having control over her. It is only after the route progresses and MC gets through to him, somehow managing to persuade him away from his false ideals, that Saeran redirects his Rage in a different direction: towards Rika and his father.

Just to clarify, the reason I bring up Another Story so much in this analysis when I said I’d only focus on the main story in previous posts is because we just never had the opportunity to see much of Saeran in the og game. These traits of his character do apply to who he is as a person, its just that we only get to see it in Another Story more. Its the same thing as looking at other character routes to build a characterization of the other RFA members. His main role in the narrative still takes precedent and it all still fits well with Unknown/Saeran.

Now that we discussed his Class and Aspect separately, let's summarize. A Muse of Rage would be one who Commands Rage for Others. A Muse could be subjected to anger and violence themselves (his abuse and neglect), he later goes on to have Command over Rage and violence himself as Unknown. He inspires Rage within others (The RFA), and Commands them through Rage and have them pit against each other. In Saeyoung’s route Yoosung voices his grievances about V after the bomb was revealved. Saeyoung begins to doubt too, and is frustrated that V is hiding information from him, losing all trust and incensed after seeing Saeran. Even Jumin begins to confront V about his absence and behavior. By doing all of this, the narrative progresses forward, Saeyoung and MC finally deciding to go to Mint Eye, where all truths are revealed.

[tsumtsumrry]

Favorite Holiday

this follows harry and a cutie (you) through some of your favorite holidays as you guys navigate a little fun friends with benefits/situationship stitch. i feel like this took forever so sorry for my near disappearance but i hope you enjoy!! <3

**disclaimer** i'm american so i have the dates (e.g. 11/24/23) month/day/year format. just to avoid any confusion!! <3

WC: 12k.

warning(s): afab descriptions and she/her pronouns, language, multiple instances of smut (fingering, phone sex, f receiving oral use of a vibrator, unprotected don't do it p in v), barely proofread cause i was too excited to finally post it, and a bit of angst.

March 20th, First day of Spring.

The holidays were always your favorite time of year. Every single one for that matter. Every holiday has its own special place in your heart. New Years, Easter, Christmas, etc. You loved them all the same. But you looked forward to them even more so this year. Because this year you had Harry. 

Harry, who was sitting across from you right now, laughing as he animatedly tells one of his horrible but adorable jokes. You have the stupidest grin on your face, with your eyes set on how his lips form the words coming out of his mouth. You can’t seem to look away. It doesn’t help that he keeps sneaking glances at you, those suggestive eyes that only you know burning into your face. 

He plans to take you home tonight, you can tell. You two have been going at this for months, the no-strings-attached sex thing. You think it’s easy enough. There’s never been any real difficulties, just the fact that you’re trying to keep it discreet. 

The first kiss was at the New Years party. You were both tipsy, he confessed that he always had a little fixation on you and how you looked in “all those pretty outfits you like to wear” and you confessed that him and his “fancy british accent”, “pretty tattoos”, and “ridiculously charming personality” never failed to have you imagining kissing those incredibly soft looking lips. 

He looked at you for a second, his gaze moving from your lips to your eyes as if he was trying to gauge where your head was at. Then, at the perfect timing, the clock turned twelve and your lips were intertwined. The rest is history. 

Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you bite your lip, fighting hard to hide the smile that threatens to overtake your face. You know exactly who it is. 

You pull your phone out and smirk when you read it. 

H 11:34PM

Need you tonight, baby.

It’s been too long since he’s touched you, you missed it so much and he couldn’t go another day without you. You look around a little, trying to make sure no one is looking at your phone (only making yourself look more suspicious in the process) and then begin typing back. 

You 11:36PM

And what do you suppose I do about that?

You look up at him when you know he’s seen the message. You smirk at him and he gives you a look that says ‘you know damn well’ but he texts back anyways. 

H 11:37PM

Come to mine tonight. Let me fuck you.

As soon as you read the text your stomach erupts with butterflies, you always have an instant reaction to his words. You press your thighs together and try your best not to squirm. 

He doesn’t need to know that though, so you answer with a simple, 

You 11:40 PM

Ok.

You push your phone right back into your pocket and try your best to continue with the conversation that’s getting passed around the table. But thoughts of him keep creeping in. Thoughts of his voice in your ear, the feeling of him inside of you, stretching you and filling you, his hands gripping you roughly or gently, depending on how you feel, all you can think about is him. 

“It’s getting late, you guys. I’m exhausted. Loved seeing you all.” you finally say, not being able to take much more of wanting something when it’s literally right in front of you and not being able to just take it. 

“Me too. Got an early morning. See you.” Harry says after you, looking at you not-so-discreetly as he gets his stuff. 

When you’re both outside he instantly pulls you away from the windows and kisses you. It’s hard and passionate and needy and it’s almost like he―

“Missed you.” he says in between kisses, his hands going to grip your waist tightly, like he’s yearning for the skin to skin contact. 

“Yeah?” you whisper, tugging on his bottom lip which earns you a pained groan. 

“Fuck. Mhm. Missed you so much. You smell good.” 

You giggle at his admission about your scent and decide to spur him on even more. 

“Show me. Take me home, H.” 

Waking up next to Harry is something you simultaneously love and wish you never got to experience. Because when this little arrangement is over, you know you’ll miss it too much. 

When he wakes up, he doesn’t treat you like his fuck buddy, he treats you like some sort of girlfriend. And you haven’t let it detrimentally affect you yet, but you know it will. And the day it does is when you’ll know you need to end this. End it before someone, scratch that, you get hurt. 

“Mornin’, angel. Want some breakfast?” he says, his voice gravelly but also smooth like toffee and it sounds weird but you want to taste it. 

“Mhm. Whad’ya making?” you mumble, eyeing his lips. 

“Whatever you want. Kiss?” 

You smile and lean up to kiss him, taken by surprise when he deepens it and pulls you over his lap. You giggle into the kiss and he smiles with a short chuckle. 

“Want anything before I go make it?” he says, obviously trying to start something. 

“Harry…” 

“Just asking, sweetheart. You know I always want you.” he says with a kiss to your collarbone, “only you” he says softly as if it wasn’t meant to be heard.

“Stop trying to sweet talk me. Go make breakfast.” You push yourself off him and he whines, but obliges, going to make that lovely french toast he knows you want.

You sit up to look through some emails when you hear it, his phone buzzing incessantly on his counter. 

You know it shouldn’t bother you, you’re just friends who happen to enjoy each other's sexual company. The idea of him having someone else that he whispers sweet nothing to in his ear just doesn't feel right to you. 

You pick up the phone, keeping it face down, (not wanting to see something you know you don’t want to) and walk to the kitchen where Harry is mixing some yummy smelling batter. 

“Think someone is trying to reach you.” you try to come off as cool and collected, and you almost convince yourself that you are, but you know you’re not. You curse your sensitivity and watch as he picks up the phone but puts it back down, face down, just as quickly. 

“Makin’ your favorite.” He rasps out, turning around to smirk at you. He frowns when your expression isn’t one of your usual excitement. 

“You okay, baby?” he inquires, setting the bowl of batter down on the counter and walking over to you. He takes your hands in his and playfully looks into your eyes with faux intensity, “tell me.” 

“I’m okay, yeah. Just tired.” It’s only now that you actually wonder how many times you’ve told that lie. 

“Worked you over good last night, hmm?” He smirks and you roll your eyes and smile despite yourself, “you sounded like you were having a good time.” he adds cheekily and before you can stop it a giggle breaks from your lips. 

“I was.” His ability to make you feel like everything is okay with just a cheeky smile and a couple of words breaks you and mends you at the same time. 

“Good girl.” he whispers against your lips, kissing you slowly and softly. 

“Back to the food!” he exclaims, breaking away from you to saunter back over to the counter-top. 

“Wanna be my sous chef?” 

April 1st, April fools.

You never understood the fixation with men’s hands until you started sleeping with Harry. 

“Fuck.” he drags out the vowel sound as he thrusts his fingers in and out of you, stroking your g-spot in a way you can only describe as affectionately rough, “look at you princess, taking my fingers so fucking well.” 

“H..fuck I—” you’re cut off by your own loud moan, praying that no one can hear you two. Your friend group planned a little get together given the fact that it’s april fools and you guys have nothing better to do. You all decided to host it at Harry’s place and he lasted about ten minutes trying to be a good host before he dragged you into the bathroom with a phony excuse that you’re almost sure nobody believed. 

When you reach up to cover your mouth, he tuts softly and reaches up to tap three fingers against your hand, signaling he wants it off, “s’my fucking house we can be as loud as we want. You know how much I love your pretty sounds, why’re you trying to keep ‘em from me, huh? Being bad?” he says in that condescending tone that you simultaneously love and hate.

“N-no, please H. M’not being bad jus-just please.” 

“Love it when you beg. Soaking me like this and I’ve only given you two fuckin’ fingers–” 

“Gonna cum.” you interrupt him with your frantic moan, he’s always very adamant about you asking for permission. He needs to be in control like that. He needs to have that control over your body and your pleasure. He thrives on it. “Can I please, please cum?” 

“Fuck. You’re sqeezin’ me so fucking tight. Gonna make a mess all over my fingers, baby? Give it to me.” 

“Yes, yes yes” you feel that white hot pleasure building in what feels like every nerve in your body and your muscles start to jerk as you cope with all the pleasure overriding your system. You ramble out a couple praises mixed in with Harry’s name and your hand tangles in his hair which he groans at. You pray to every god that you can think of that nobody downstairs can hear the way he’s ruining you. 

“There you go, baby.” he doesn’t stop with his fingers, keeping a rhythm that only intensifies your release. When you choke on a moan that sounds more like a sob, he kisses your temple gently and soothes you with his voice, “I know, I know. Feels too good, doesn’t it?” 

You’re not sure if he expects a response, but even if he did you’re not in any state to give one. His fingers have turned your brain into a mushy mess.

“You’re okay darling. Always making me so proud.” He whispers as you come down, slowly pulsing his fingers inside you still to help you ride it out. 

“Jesus christ.” you sigh and he chuckles softly. 

“What was our excuse again?” he asks before leaning down to your lips to kiss you, his kiss full of the lust that’s swimming in his forest eyes. 

“Dunno, something about getting the movies that we were gonna watch,” you giggle softly against his lips and he smiles. 

You get some movies from his bedroom so that you don’t seem too suspicious and go back downstairs to your friends. The heat of embarrassment makes itself known every time someone asks you or Harry what took so long or what distracted you up there. 

“What could you guys possibly have been doing for eight whole minutes?” a friend of yours asks incredulously with a joking tone. 

“We couldn’t find the movie we wanted. Duh.” Harry shoots back with a quickness, smirking softly when he looks over to you. And he can read your body like a book. He knows you’re a little embarrassed at the idea of people finding out that you guys have been fooling around. 

You’re playing with the lobe of your ear as everyone takes in Harry’s response and laughs. Someone tells another joke that just amplifies the laughter but Harry’s only looking at you. Playing with the lobe of your ear is one of your many obvious tells with your anxiety. He makes  a mental note to check on you later. 

During the movie he plops himself right in between you and one of your friends, making both of you giggle. He swings his arm around your shoulder and leans down to whisper in your ear. The heat and tickle of his whisper sends a shiver down your spine and you know that the position you guys are in is less than discreet but you can’t really find it in yourself to care when he’s close like this. “You okay?” he asks in an earnest tone, his hand gently squeezing your shoulder for good measure. You nod softly and he smiles, softly tugging you closer. 

April 9th, Easter.

Easter was always a fun holiday, especially for your god children, you always loved to see the little kids run around in search of the little painted eggs. It reminded you of a time when you were in their position, blissful and young. You often refer to those as the ‘good old days’, but you can’t quite complain about how you ended up.

You’re talking to your sister’s baby boy when your phone rings, you pull it out to see a picture of Harry sleeping in bed and you smile, you remember when you took that picture. 

“Hello?” 

“Hi, pretty. Where are you?” he sounds kind of breathless, like he’s been running a mile.

“At an Easter egg hunt. You?”

He chuckles darkly before speaking. “Dunno. Just missin’ you.” he says. You squint your eyes in suspicion.

“Missing me?” you say with the same suspicion laced in your voice. You’re starting to understand what he’s playing at. 

“Missing your sweet cunt. God, the way you taste. Need you on my tongue.” he spews out in what seems like one breath. 

“Jesus Christ, Harry. What has gotten into you?” you hiss, quickly getting up out of your seat and away from prying eyes and ears. 

“God, I can almost imagine it.” you hear his whisper and the neediness radiating off of his voice makes you press your thighs together. He’s touching himself. He’s fucking his hand to the thought of your taste and it’s driving you mad. “Want you to sit on my face next time, have your thighs shaking around my head, your pussy drenchin’ me―fuck!” he whimpers. 

“Harry…” you say, it’s supposed to be some type of warning but the arousal starting to pool in your underwear has your voice coming out shaky and unstable. 

“Love it when you say my name like that. Again. Say it again, please baby.” he begs, shamelessly. You can tell he’s close, the strain in his voice, the crackly over-the-phone sound of the wetness of his strokes.

“Harry I―”

“Fuck fuck fuck, I fuckin’ need you. Please, please.” he keeps whispering the word “please” under his breath, gasping out moans and whines, “gonna cum, gonna cum.” 

You decide there's no harm in spurring him on a bit, “come for me, Harry.” 

You hear a broken “fuck” before a series of his beautiful sounds fill your ears. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught of stimulation, butterflies swarming around in your tummy. 

“Fuck.” 

“Yeah fuck.” you whisper and you hear his laugh on the other end. 

“Sorry―Sorry I um― called you like that. I just, fuck, really needed you. Was so fuckin’ hard. Y’have no idea.” he breathes out. 

“I…um. I missed you too.” you don’t know why you cringed at yourself after saying it, but it’s almost like Harry can read your mind because he chuckles and speaks in a reassuring tone, “that’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard. When will I see you again missy?” 

“Dunno. I’ve been a little busy with work and…stuff. I’ll have my people call your people to see when I can fit you into my schedule.” you joke, biting your lip softly and toying with your necklace as you wait for his response. 

When you hear a soft laugh a smile is immediately brought to your face. That laugh could melt you. His voice is like velvet when he speaks, “I’ll have you soon. We both know you can’t stay away. You need me for my slutty waist and washboard abs as you usually say.” 

You try your best to hold in your laugh so as to not inflate his ego, but it slips out before you have permission and both of you are laughing before you feel a delicate tap on your leg. You’re met with your nephew when you turn around and look down to find the source of the touch. 

“Can we pway more bunnies?” your nephew says to you and you nod softly, “just give me one second honey.” He nods and walks back to the place you guys were sitting and you smile as you watch him. 

“I’ve gotta go but I’ll text you, alright?” 

“See you soon, petal.” 

May 31st, Memorial Day.

“That kiss the cook apron is really working for you, Harry I’ve got to say.” you giggle at your friend Jamal’s shout at Harry. 

It’s another one of your favorite holidays and you and your friends are all at the beach. The sun is beaming on your skin and warming you in the best way while the breeze balances it out, cooling you in the places needed. “Take it off! Take it off!” you join the chant, having trouble even speaking in between laughs. 

“You guys are fucking ridiculous” Harry chuckles. He smirks and reaches behind him to pretend to take the apron off, laughing when everybody’s cheers get louder. 

When the food is done and everyone is full, the girls lay on the sand while the guys are across from you guys making sandcastles like children. You look over at Harry and feel your stomach twist in a way that it’s been doing recently that you can’t stand. He just looks so good. You don’t know how else to explain it. Especially in this light, the warm sunset creating a golden glow against him. The soft amber tones kissed his skin and the sunshine he usually radiated with his personality seemed to radiate physically, as if he was being infused with the sun’s very essence.

You couldn’t stop yourself from sitting up to go and talk to him. He looked up at you in the position he was in on his knees and smiled, his eyes squinted from the direct sunlight.

“Hey. Fancy going for a walk?” the way he says it seems like he’s been waiting for the opportunity to do so. The sun shifts and his expression softens as he awaits your response. 

You nod and put your hand out for him to take it, and he rolls his eyes playfully but takes your hand anyway. You try not to think about what the rest of the group might think as you walk away with him, hand in hand. It’s not lost on you that you guys look like a couple, but Harry has always been touchy with his friends, some might say too touchy, so you pray that they’ll just attribute it to that. 

He swings your hands as you guys walk, and constantly rakes his fingers through his damp hair with his free hand. You kind of wish he wouldn’t because you love the way his curls fall over his face. 

“I feel like we’ve both been so busy. I haven’t gotten to see you as much as I want to.” You stop walking, you guys are a bit of a good distance away from everyone else and he’s starting to get more affectionate with you. His hands trail up to your arm to cradle your neck and he rubs your jaw affectionately. He leans down to ghost his lips against your neck and whispers, “I’ve missed you.” 

There’s something so poetic about the way his voice carries with the wind and the distant sound of the waves crashing around you guys. You melt into his hands when his lips finally make actual contact with your skin and you have to fight hard to suppress the whimper that threatens to leave your mouth. 

“Tell me you’ll come home with me tonight. Please.” He suckles on your neck gently, causing the moan you were suppressing to finally force its way out. 

“I will. Anything you want.” you pant out, tangling your hands into his hair. You sigh when he pulls away from you but you can’t complain when you get the view of the sun reflecting in his eyes. It feels like you’re frozen in time as you look at him. The sun has set a bit more and the atmosphere is colored a fiery orange that bleeds more into a red. His eyes mimic the water in the way they glisten and his pink lips almost make you weak just looking at them. Especially considering the way those lips were just all over you. 

Harry’s staring at you in awe, the way the deep colored rays dance against your skin made it seem like a thousand stars fell from the sky just to adorn you. You’ve always been beautiful, but in this very moment, you’re transcendent. To him it’s like you constantly exceed any expectation for beauty he could possibly have. Everything about you is like a masterpiece to him. He wonders why it took him so long to grasp just how weak the sight of you makes him. He gives you one soft kiss and then pulls back too quickly. He takes your hand and starts walking with you back to the rest of the group. 

Looking at him now, you wonder why it took you so long to grasp just how deep you are in this. Having thoughts of freezing time and staying in this moment so you can look at him forever are dangerous thoughts. Thoughts that almost make it seem like you’re in love. 

Dangerous. 

October 31st, Halloween.

“Jesus, babe.” Harry brings his finger up and moves it in a circular motion, “do a spin for me.” 

You giggle and spin around, making sure to do it slowly so he can really take in the way this dress hugs your figure in all the right ways. He whistles and you can’t stop the laugh from leaving your lips. 

Ever since your realization at the beach, things have been so simple between you two. You thought it would complicate things, but everything has been perfect. So incredibly perfect. It’s almost like he knew that you were starting to feel something more, the way he’s been treating you these past couple months is so different. Different in a good way. The amount of attention and care that he’s devoted to you makes your stomach with more butterflies than you can handle. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you tell him, walking up closer to him, having to look up at him. Your confidence wanes the slightest bit at his intense eye contact when he looks down at you with an amused smirk on his face. 

“Yeah? I look good enough for you?” he quips, dangerously close to your lips as he speaks, “I was worried you know? S’hard to measure up to you.” 

Ever the flirt, he is. 

“You’re overdoing it now.” you deadpan and back away from him, making him throw his head back in a cackle. It was Harry’s idea to go to the Halloween party in matching costumes. You were a little shocked at first but you’d never turn down an opportunity to match with the most fashionable man you know. 

“Our ride is gonna be here in about….” he looks down at an imaginary watch on his wrist, “fifteen minutes. Whadya say we sneak a quickie in?” he smirks at you and chuckles when you roll your eyes.

“It’s this fucking outfit,” he practically growls, his hands palm at your ass, “driving me insane, baby.” 

“And whose idea was it?” you tilt your head as you speak, making a point to move his hands from your ass to your waist. “I’m not gonna be late because of you again, Harry. Keep your hands at appropriate places at all times.” you scold him. 

“Yes it was my idea,” he sighs. “A very good but painful idea that I take full credit fo—” a car beeping outside interrupts his sentence and his brow furrows while you smirk at him. 

Right…fifteen minutes.

Getting in the car and seeing all your friends dressed in all their Halloween outfits already has you excited for the rest of the night. Harry was very adamant about your seating arrangement when the car got too cramped, eagerly offering up his lap as a seat replacement for you. You of course took it, and you’ve spent the whole ride fighting your body’s natural reaction to his little teasing touches. 

You want to kill him by the time you finally arrive at the party. He knew exactly what he was doing in that car, he knows the effect his touches have on you and you know he’s doing this as “payback” for how you’re torturing him in your outfit. 

It’s not hard to make your rounds and do all the socializing that you’ve equipped yourself for before Harry is immediately stealing you away from people.

“Wanna dance with you.” is all he says, dragging you to the dancefloor. You look around as you guys settle, the vibe around is nothing short of raunchy. Looking at all of the other couples around you, you can tell that they all want to take each other home and tear each other’s clothes off. After cooling off with a couple drinks and conversations, you weren’t exactly in that mindset anymore, but you have a feeling that Harry is about to take you right back there. 

His hands smooth down your waist, boldly cupping your ass and he slowly grinds against him to the rhythm of the song, you feel his gentle breath before you hear his voice. “You’re killing me, petal. Been picturing tearing this dress off of you all. Fucking. Night.” 

Your breath catches in your throat and you let his hands lead you as you push your head further into his neck, “M’not doing anything though. What’s got you this worked up?” You pout at him condescendingly. He knows feigning innocence when he’s needy like this is your favorite thing to do. It makes you feel a sort of power that you usually don’t get with him to hear him say that you make him into a mess. 

“You fucking know, baby. You know what you’re doing to me.” he’s whining out his words at this point, and you thank god that the music is as loud as it is so everyone else can’t hear how this man is falling apart in your hands. 

“Can’t think of anything else. The only thought in my mind is watching you come on my cock. God it’d be so easy to just fuck you right here. Know you’ve already made a mess of yourself. It’d be so easy to give you what I know you need right now.” 

You’re panting at this point, delirious with pleasure. It should be illegal the way he can talk you into almost anything with that voice. You don’t care about anything or anyone else around you, all you can think about is how desperately you need him to quell that ache that’s building inside you.

“Fuck. Take me home. Take me home right now, H.” 

As soon as he hears you he’s moving. He doesn’t even bother to let your friends know where you’re going. He just drags you outside and starts tapping on his phone to get you guys an uber.

The ride to his house is tortuous. He sits you in his lap almost immediately and his hands find a home on your hips, making a point to drag you slowly back and forth across his thigh. 

Every roll against his thigh drives you further and further into oblivion and you don’t think you can wait any longer to get what you so desperately need. You suppose you’ll let him have his fun though, his little taste of “payback” for how bad he’s been aching this whole night. 

The second the driver stops, it’s like Harry couldn’t get you off of his lap fast enough (something you never thought you’d say) and he’s dragging you up to the house. He wanted to kiss you as soon as you got out of the car but he knew you wouldn’t appreciate doing that in front of the driver. No matter how turned on you are. 

As soon as you guys step into the house, he closes the door behind him and his lips are already on you. Your mind is instantly turned into mush with the way he claims your lips. It’s like he can’t even wait long enough to get you upstairs. He’s immediately getting down on his knees and kissing and sucking his way up your thighs, “so fucking beautiful and soft. You feel like a fucking dream. Dreamy girl.” 

He trails his hands slowly upwards and takes a hold of your thin lace panties. Although he pulls them down gently, you can see the impatience in his eyes and feel it in his grip. He’s beginning to lose his resolve and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. 

Your skirt is pushed up and resting on your hips before you can blink. The way you’ve been pressing your thighs together since you got in the house has been deemed useless when he forcefully pushes them apart, his hands gripping the flesh so hard you fear it might leave marks.  

“Wanna feel you come on my tongue. Missed it so much. Will you let me?” he sucks marks that only the two of you will be able to see in your inner thighs. You can barely find it in you to answer his question. Everything about the way he’s touching you, to his voice, to the smell of his cologne and your arousal mixed together is heightening all of your senses and making your brain short circuit. 

You nod hoping that would be enough, but you should’ve known better. “Words. You know better, baby.” he tsks, continuing his kisses along your sensitive skin. 

“Yes, yes. Please.” Is all you can manage to get out. The second the first yes leaves your lips, his mouth is exactly where you need it the most. He’s not wasting any time tonight, getting straight to the point of making you lose yourself on his tongue. Usually he drags it out, edges you or teases you with his tongue, but he’s aching so bad. He needs to be inside you before he loses his mind. 

His tongue swirls messily against your clit and you’re so sensitive that you tense with almost every stroke. He’s moaning against you in a way that you would find obnoxious if it wasn’t him, but because it is him, it just adds to your pleasure. He’s behaving as if he’s a man starved. As if he’s been a dessert and you’re that stream of water that he’s been yearning for. 

You tangle your hand into his hair and let your head tip back against the door. You can’t be bothered to worry about the volume of the moans you’re letting out and how they travel through the empty house. You’re too consumed in how good he’s making you feel. That’s the good thing about having a sexual partner like this. You’ve had so much time together and he’s made the most diligent effort to learn your body. He knows every signal, every tick, every indication. And he uses it all to his advantage. 

You sob lowly when he slides his fingers into your heat, immediately curling them up to hit that spot that makes you shake. You pull your head off of the door to look down at him, only to find his eyes already on you. His intense green eyes bore into yours and it’s almost as if they’re communicating with your eyes. He urges you to let go for him with that unspoken language that you’re now fluent in. 

He fucks you deep with his fingers while his tongue continues it’s very skillful ministrations. Every time he moans into your cunt the vibrations just push you further and further into bliss and you’re almost embarrassed with how close you are so quickly. The sounds you’re making are bordering on pornagraphic when you start clenching down hard on his fingers you know you’re a goner. 

He pulls away to egg you on with his voice, “there you go, baby. Getting so fucking tight for me.” you moan at his words and nod. As much as you love the way his tongue was working magic on you, the one thing that will always get you to fall over the edge is his voice. 

He’s evil, you decide. He’s evil for the way he toys with your body like he owns it. And at this point, he does own it. 

His tongue is back on your clit to offer you that final push off of the edge, he flicks his tongue and sucks with a pressure that you can only describe as mind numbing. Every movement he makes just makes the release that’s brewing even stronger. 

A complete mess of syllables leaves your bitten lips as the white hot pleasure consumes you. It feels like a tidal wave swallows you up in its strength and you see no way of coming up for air. You choke out a series of moans that Harry only groans at while he continues to softly lick at your clit and thrust his fingers inside you, like he intends to keep you under. 

The hands that were in his hair tug hard as the soft licks start to become a little too much for you to handle. A slightly higher pitched sound leaves him and he relents reluctantly, “can never get enough of your cunt, petal. Never.” He leaves wet kisses all over your thighs in between more praises that you barely register with all the pleasure swimming in your mind. 

One thing you can register though, is how bad you need him inside you, “take me upstairs, Harry.” 

He stands up almost immediately at that, and he smirks before leaning down to pick you up bridal style. You giggle at his antics and he only chuckles, kissing your cheek as he leads you two up the stairs.

November 23, Thanksgiving.  

Thanksgiving is by far your favorite holiday. The way you get to spend time with your family, the (amazing) food, just the atmosphere of being happy and thankful with people you love, you look forward to it every year. You’re chilling next to your sister on the couch at your parents house, laughing at one of your dad’s jokes. 

You guys have already eaten and you're completely full and sated as you enjoy the company of your family. 

The amount of times you’ve checked your phone should be considered embarrassing, but you can’t find it in yourself to stop. You invited Harry over for dinner. And it’s really no big deal, he’s been your friend for a while, long before the whole arrangement started. And he’s met your family so many times that they wouldn’t even bat an eye. His family lives in London and he’s in the U.S. for work so he’s come over for Thanksgiving plenty of times. 

You feel a nudge on your shoulder and you look over at your sister who has a soft knowing smirk on her face. 

Uh oh. You know that expression. 

You give her a deadpanned look, “what?” 

Her smile grows at the way you can read her so well and you urge her with your eyes to tell you what’s on her mind. 

“So…what’s going with you and Harry?” her eyes are squinted in that specific way that tells you that she knows exactly what’s going on with you and Harry, she just wants to hear you say it. “It’s just…you guys have been posting each other a lot, tagging each other in posts and all that. And the last time I saw you guys, you seemed super domestic.” 

You don’t doubt that. Even though you and Harry still place yourselves under the “friends with benefits” label, you guys have gotten way closer emotionally. You’re always together now. You sleep over at his house almost every night, sometimes without even sleeping together. You guys have been glued at the hip ever since Halloween. And it’s great, honestly. It feels great. 

“It’s nothing, it’s just…” you shrug your shoulders and a sheepish look graces your face, “I think I sort of…like him”

  Your sister can barely register what you said before your head is snapping to the sound of the doorbell ringing. You look back at your sister and she smirks at you softly with a soft raise of her eyebrow. 

Your mom gets up to open it and immediately shrieks in surprise, “Harry! I had no idea you were coming!” you smile at the genuine joy in her voice and then at Harry’s voice when he speaks, “she didn’t tell you I was coming?” You can hear the smile in his voice and it immediately brings the one you were trying to hide back on your face. 

“And you brought a date!” your mom exclaims. 

Your smile drops. 

Your heart follows your smile and you immediately feel a pit deep in your stomach that twists and twists until you can’t take it anymore. 

A hot wave of embarrassment comes next when your sister tenses next to you. You had just told her that you actually might like someone, that you actually might like Harry. And here he is with a date. 

Your mom steps aside to let them in and your stomach twists even tighter. She’s beautiful. And you’re sure she’s kind and charismatic and perfect and everything Harry would want and deserve in a woman. 

You don’t even wanna see the look on your sister’s face, you don’t want to see the pity in her eyes when she realizes that you’re completely hopeless. 

You feel tears gathering in your waterline and you blink them away. You almost want to feel angry. He brought her here? At your parents house? You know that technically you two don’t owe each other anything but there’s a level of respect that you figure one is supposed to have when sleeping with someone. 

You suddenly feel scared to see his face. You wonder if he’ll look guilty, or completely indifferent. You honestly don’t know which one is worse. 

You’re even more nervous that he’ll see your face and realize how much this is hurting you. How much it’s hurting you to realize that, although you two are friends, he never felt for you what you felt for him. That you were just a warm body he used when he needed it, and you happily offered it to him. Over and over. 

A plethora of emotions hit you at once, and after you cycle through confusion, sadness, and anger, you just feel stupid.

Your mom says your name and you’re very harshly snapped out of your thoughts, “figured you’d surprise us for the holiday, huh?” your mom has the most gentle smile on your face and it almost makes you crumble more. You look over to your mom and you immediately feel his intense gaze on you. That same intense gaze that used to make you melt only makes all of your muscles seize in the worst way at this very moment. You refuse to meet his eyes cause you know that if you do, you’ll break. 

You force a smile and pray that it’s not too obvious how you’re not even acknowledging him, “guess so, mom.” 

You and your sister share a look and you communicate without words that she’ll cover for you if you have to leave. She nods at you with a knowing look and you return the look, mentally preparing yourself to lie to everyone here and say you have to go. 

You pick your stuff up and get up to walk towards the door. “Harry,”  you address him for the first time since he came, “thank you so much for coming. I didn’t think you’d actually make it.” 

He furrows his brows and leans towards you, extending his arm out to pull you into an awkward side hug, “of course I’d make it.” you feel yourself tense as you feel his touch and you hope he doesn’t notice. You nod against his shoulder and sigh. His cologne envelopes your senses and you bask in the comfort of his warm hug. You’re utterly torn between the two feelings it offers you, a feeling of discomfort conflicting with a feeling of home. 

“How are you? You look lovely.” he kisses your cheek and the all too familiar feeling of his stubble rubbing against your skin threatens to bring a new wave of tears to your eyes. 

“I’m fine–” you barely get the words out before he’s interrupting you. A huge smile graces his face and he looks down at the girl he’s got his arm around, squeezing her shoulder gently before he speaks and you already know what he’s going to say. 

“I want you to meet—” 

You can’t do it. 

“I’d love to talk but I’ve got a work emergency and I really need to go.” you watch his face drop. His eyebrows furrow tightly together and a frown graces his face. You can tell he’s confused, he knows that you would never leave Thanksgiving early for any work emergency and you would never leave as soon as he shows up. 

You go to walk but his hand leaves his date like he’s been burned by her skin and he reaches out for you, grabbing your arm tight. His eyes are swimming with an expression you can’t quite place and he squeezes your arm with a quick pulse, “where’re you going? I just got here.” his voice dips and if you didn’t know any better you’d think he’s hurt by you leaving. Right now you can’t even begin to worry about him being hurt with the pain radiating in your chest right now. 

“S’work, H. I’m really sorry,” you turn to address the girl next to him, “it’s really nice to meet you. I’m sorry we couldn’t talk more.” and with that you’re out of there before anyone can say anything else. As soon as the door shuts behind you, you take a deep, shaky breath and bring your hand up to your neck to soothe the ache that’s developing in your jaw from holding in your tears. 

You decide then and there that you need to get it together. Harry doesn’t owe you anything, you guys are strictly friends with benefits. You weren’t supposed to get attached and caught up in the strings. You’ll try your absolute best to be a mature adult about this and not take your pain out on him cause as much as this hurts you, he doesn’t deserve to be treated the way you treat people when you’re hurt. 

And with that decision, you come to another. You need some time apart from Harry. 

December 24, Christmas Eve. 

Christmas Eve. Another one of your favorites. The anticipation and festive energy in the air felt palpable and everywhere you looked there was joy. The land outside was covered in white and the air felt crisp and cold. You loved the kind of air where it gave you little goosebumps as soon as you stepped outside. 

You’re watching a cheesy romantic Christmas movie, simultaneously loving and hating it. Loving it because it’s adorable and makes you feel warm and fuzzy inside, hating it because you definitely wish that the leads were you and Harry and it’s making you want to die. 

Just as the male lead tells the female lead how much he’s really been crushing on her the whole time they’ve been trying to save her mom’s restaurant, your phone begins to buzz. Unfortunately for you, it’s been buzzing all day. 

Harry. 

Over and over again. 

He’s been texting and calling and truthfully, he actually sounds really concerned.

Harry 11/28/23

Hey petal. Been trying to reach you for a bit. Is everything okay? We good? 

Harry 12/1/23

Miss you. Text me. 

Harry 12/3/23

Answer meeee please? 

Harry 12/7/23

Feel like you’re avoiding me. 

Harry 12/7/23

Did I do something? I’m sorry if I did. 

Harry 12/14/23

Just please let me know you’re alright. I’m getting worried. 

Harry 12/17/23 Starting to think that you’re dead. 

Harry 12/22/23

I’m gonna stop bothering you now. But I miss you. Please text me back. 

Harry 12/24/23

Okay I lied about the bothering thing. I need to see you and I’m really worried and if you’re dead I’m gonna ask the police to do a wellness check. So answer me. 

The sheer desperation in his texts almost broke you, but for all you know he just misses the sex, and the thought of that breaks you even more. 

You grab the pillow on your couch and thrust it up to your face to scream into it. The second you get done screaming you hear your doorbell and you jump. You wonder who in their right mind would be out in this weather but you pause your movie and  go to open it nonetheless. 

What you didn’t expect was a Harry Styles covered in snow at your door. 

“Hey...can I come in? S’snowing like really hard.” It breaks your heart a little the way he added that last bit in, like you would refuse him otherwise.

“Of course. Do you want any tea?” you ask, trying to avoid the elephant in the room in case that’s not why he came here. 

“No I’m― I came here to um…talk.”

Fuck. 

“Okay.” You giggle, trying to lighten the mood but his sullen expression stays put. 

“I’m still gonna start the kettle in case you want any―” 

“Why’re you pulling away from me?” he blurts out.

“Wha―”

“I literally haven’t spoken to you in weeks. Have I done something wrong? I―I” he pauses to compose himself and your frown deepens, “I miss you. Miss you so much and I just wanted to make sure we were okay.” 

You push yourself away from the couch and walk up to him, making sure to keep eye contact knowing how important it is to him,”of course we are, H.” 

“You haven’t spoken to me in like a mo―” 

“Shh, shh. Was just swamped with work. You know how I get all in my head.” You know you shouldn’t be lying to him, you really shouldn’t. But the way he’s talking like the idea of you purposely ignoring him breaks him, you don’t have it in you to let him suffer any longer.

He nods and you smile at him, bringing your hands up to tangle in his hair, “we’re okay. I promise.” 

“Promise?” he whispers and your heart flutters. 

“Yeah.” You hate lying to his face. 

You start your steps to go to the kitchen but his grip on your wrist pulls you back, nearly crashing into his chest. 

“Want a kiss, please.” his voice never leaves that soft whisper. You lean in to give him a soft kiss, suddenly feeling a pit in your stomach that only deepens the closer you get to him. You’ve always had a bad habit of putting someone’s comfort over yours. 

“Do you want tea?” you whisper against his lips. 

“Always want some fuckin’ tea.” he says with a smirk and a quiet chuckle, that joyful inflection back in his voice and that familiar sparkle back in his eyes. 

When you step out of the kitchen with the tea he’s sitting on the couch in a relaxed manner, picking at the loose strings in your pillows and watching the movie you have on. His lips stretch in a gentle smile when he sees you and you force yourself to return it. 

You sit down next to him and he places his hand softly on your thigh, leaning over to you to place a soft kiss on your jaw. He trails more and more down to your neck and you feel your stomach twist. Your hand shoots to his chest to halt any further movement and you rush out words in a short breath, “We can’t.” There’s a beat of silence. He backs away quickly to not make you uncomfortable and you sigh and whisper, “...I can’t” 

Your eyes flick up to meet his gaze and you can tell that without an explanation your rejection stings him a little. 

“Don’t you have like…a thing? With that girl you brought to Thanksgiving?” you watch his face twist tightly in confusion and you can’t bear to hear him make excuses or lie to you so you just continue to ramble, “does she even know that you’re sleeping with other people? With me? Like if I was your girlfriend I’d be pretty fucking pissed that you’re over here and touching me after bringing her to Thanksgiving of all places—” 

“Shut up.” He cuts off your ramble sharply. You suck in a breath at his tone (and after speaking all those words without a break) and your chest tightens at his stern expression. 

“W-what?” you fumble through the word. Never in your life have you seen him this angry. He’s looking at you with a gaze that can only be described as absolutely vexed. 

“That’s why you’ve been avoiding me?” If there’s one thing Harry is, it’s smart. He’s absolutely not an idiot. But you absolutely are for not realizing just how well he knows you, “you’ve barely spoken to me for a month. Didn’t answer my calls, texts, not going out when you know I’d be there because you thought I’d betray your trust like that and just pop up one day with a fucking girlfriend!?” You can tell that he’s trying to control his volume and anger. The way his fist and jaw is clenched is an obvious indication. 

“Well what was I supposed to think, Harry? You brought her and she was beautiful and you had your hand on her wai–” 

“And you weren’t gonna let me explain myself!? I’d never do that to you. It was—We–we had a deal!” he exclaims incredulously, ducking down to meet your eyes when you try and look away. 

“I know we had a deal, H. I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions—” He interrupts you again and you sigh deeply. 

“And I can’t believe that you would think…I thought it was different…I thought you…” he trails off, his voice getting softer as his speaking slows.

“You thought I what?” you ask urgently. He looks down at his hands and picks at the nail on his thumb. You frown softly, “you thought I what, H?”

His expression almost looks tortured as he trains his gaze on his fingers. You suddenly feel terrible. You ignored him for so long all over a simple misunderstanding. You think back to the moment that it all happened and figure you might have avoided all of this if you just let him properly introduce her like he was trying to. Your lip trembles softly at the idea of hurting him and he sighs. 

“I thought you felt the same way as I did. I thought it wasn’t just a deal to you.” he admisses so very quietly. So quiet that if the TV was any louder you wouldn’t have heard it. His brows are tightly knit together and his lips are turned down into a deep pout. 

Harry almost regretted it when he said it. He knows that if you truly don’t feel the same, it’ll never go back to the way it was, and he’ll lose the person he cares about the most. He’ll lose the person he loves the most. His heart squeezes painfully in his chest and he avoids looking up at your expression in fear that your expression will be less than kind. 

He speaks before you can even process what he just said, “Ellie’s my cousin.” he breathes out a humorless laugh, “the girl I brought to Thanksgiving. I thought you’d love her.” the soft tone and volume of his voice remains constant.

You feel like your brain just short circuited. Harry just told you that he actually has feelings for you. That all this time he’s been thinking about you in the same way that you’ve been thinking about him. All this time. 

And you’re sitting here like an idiot letting him stew in confusion and not saying a word. 

“Oh my god.” you gasp like you’ve suddenly been slapped back into reality. Your hands rush over to him like they have a mind of their own with thoughts that tell them that they need to be close to him. You grasp his face in your hands and pull his head up so you can look into his eyes. 

“H.” you sigh. He watches your mouth form around the word and he decides right then and there that no matter what you’re going to say next, no matter if you reject him and tell him you could never see him that way, you will always make him weak. Looking into your eyes will always break and mend him at the same time, the sound of you saying his name will always make him crumble.

“Of course I feel the same way. Are you kidding? I thought that you didn’t.” you finally, finally admit. It immediately feels like a giant weight has been lifted off of your chest and you almost wanna cry at how freeing it feels. 

“Are you serious?” he laughs, although you can see that his eyes are a bit glossy. You pout softly, nodding and leaning down to envelop his lips in yours. 

“I’ve always needed you, petal. Even before the sex. I need you to know that.” he speaks with conviction. He needs you to know that it’s not just the sex muddling his brain and making him attached. He really truly loves you. Everything about you. 

“I know, I know H.” you nod again. 

“You’ve got no fuckin’ idea how much I missed you, petal. No clue.” His voice is thick with emotion, but also filled with that familiar lust that you missed so much. 

You scoot closer to him on the couch and throw your legs around his lap to straddle him, “feel like showing me?” 

He chuckles darkly, his hands quickly landing on your waist. His mouth closes to form into a smirk when you blatantly offer your body up for him like this. A soft noise leaves you in reaction to the tight grip he has on your waist. 

Your hips take on a mind of their own when they start to shift against him. A soft hiss followed by a groan leaves his lips. It’s like your lips are magnets the way you can’t keep them away from each other. He leans up to kiss you and the movement of your hips intensifies. 

You can see it in his eyes that he’s thinking of some sort of punishment to sort out your behavior of the past month. The intensity in his expression makes you feel a sort of anxiousness that throws you for a loop. You feel a little scared, but all the excitement and anticipation just overrides that tiny bit of fear. 

He leans closer to you to leave open mouthed kisses all over the exposed skin of your chest, he kisses until he reaches the fabric of your shirt and his hand falls to your ass, gripping it tightly while urging you to continue the movement of your hips against him. 

“Gonna have to teach you a lesson it seems.” His voice is husky and deep when he speaks, you know that he has the capacity to absolutely ruin you tonight, and you know that he will. 

He taps your hip with his fingers, his usual signal that he needs you to stand up. Your brows furrow in confusion briefly, but the confusion is gone as soon as it came when he speaks. 

“Do me a favor, honey?” 

You nod eagerly. 

“Get out that vibrator you’ve got in your dresser, clothes off and wait for me in your room.” His voice held a velvety, sensual tone, and combined with what he said, you’re nearly weak in the knees. When you stand there for a moment, having a bit of trouble getting your body to move as fast as your brain, he urges you with a raise of his eyebrow and you immediately spring into action. 

You hear his quiet murmur of “good girl” as you start to walk to your room. Every nerve in your body is buzzing with anticipation. Harry is already amazing in the bedroom with just him, imagining the pleasure you’ll feel with him and the toy is making you squeeze your thighs together and your eyes shut as you dwell in your thoughts. 

You sat down on your bed (very submissively, you hope it’ll get you some brownie points) with your vibrator laying next to you. Just when you’re starting to get impatient, the door opens with Harry on the other side of it. There’s a very distinct hunger in his eyes as he looks at you, as his gaze travels the length of your body. You can tell he appreciates the way you’re sitting. 

He doesn’t waste any time walking towards you and kneeling until his knees touch the floor and he’s level with where you need him the most. His hands find purchase on your thighs, immediately squeezing and prodding at them like he’s playing with his favorite toy (which he technically is), “you’re so good for me, petal. Doing as I asked.” 

His eyes flick up to yours after he speaks, and the eye contact, especially when he’s got that look going, makes you melt. You’re hyper aware of the tortuous way his hands are trailing upwards. He knows the way his touch works you up no matter where it is, and he’s using it to his advantage. 

A sharp gasp rips from your throat when he spreads your thighs apart. It’s embarrassing how wet you’ve gotten from just the anticipation and thought of what he’s going to do to you. The groan that he let out once he saw what a mess you’ve made is an indication that he was pleased. 

“Jesus, petal. Look what you’ve done…” he stares at your center with an expression of deep desire as he reaches out a hand to trail two fingers through your folds, collecting your arousal on his fingertips, “messing up your sheets, baby. This all for me?” 

You can’t help but obediently nod, meeting his eyes with a pleading look, “only for you, promise. Please?” 

His face is painted with an expression of faux confusion, that condescending look that makes you clench around nothing and tip your head up to the ceiling in frustration. You know from that look this is going to be harder than you thought. He’s in the mood to tease. He’s going to break you.

“Please? Please what, baby. What do you need from me?” You’re impressed by the way he’s looking at you like he’s actually concerned and wondering what you want, and although you know it’s an act and he’s not asking because he truly plans on giving it to you, you still give in.

“Touch me, Harry. Need it.” You should be embarrassed at the whiny inflection in your voice as you beg him, but you can’t find it in yourself to feel shame when you’re aching as bad as you are. 

“You need it?” He teases and you know even he’s getting tired of this waiting game because his expression has melted down into a lazy grin, enjoying the way he’s torturing you. 

You can tell that he isn’t exactly mad any more, which you’re grateful for. He’s just enjoying toying with the body that he knows so well. 

You scoff and roll your eyes, pushing your hips towards him needily. It earns you a dark chuckle and a sigh, “alright, alright.” 

Without leaving his position on his knees, he reaches for the vibrator. Before you can beg any more, he’s switching it on and bringing it down to where you need it the most. He doesn’t even offer up a warning before he’s placing it directly on your clit, ripping a shocked moan from your throat. 

“Yeah?” His voice is taunting and low, and if the vibrator was any louder you wouldn’t be able to hear him, but it still hits you right in the gut like his voice usually does when he talks to you like this, “is that good? Right here?” 

“Fuck, yes. Stay right there.” you stutter through your words in a way that you know he’ll tease you for later, but you don’t have the brain capacity to care right now. All you can think about and feel is him, that vibrator on your clit, the way he’s talking. 

When he presses it harder against you, you breathe in deeply, exhaling in a whiney moan. He’s making you unravel at a quick and embarrassing pace and the sensations are overwhelming you. Your hips start to shift in tandem with the way he’s slowly rubbing the head of the vibrator back and forth against your clit, the sounds that leave your throat travel straight to his cock that’s still confined in his pants. He growls lowly when he notices your thighs start to shake and leans closer to suck kisses into them, “close already? Fuck look at that, honey…” he’s referring to the way your arousal is coating the toy. He almost feels tempted to bring it to his lips and clean it off, “this dreamy cunt needed it so bad, hm?”

You couldn’t respond even if you tried, your brain a mess of syllables and sounds that you’re meant to put together. All you can manage is a string of whimpers as you get closer and closer to your peak.

Harry watches your every move, so in tune with every twitch of your body and every sound you make. He moans along with you as you come undone, making sure to keep the toy right where it’s been to help you ride it out, anything to keep making his girl feel good. 

You reach for his hand to ground you and he quickly gives you what you need, interlocking your fingers and groaning when you squeeze tightly, “there you go…fuck.” 

You push yourself away from the toy when it becomes too much as best as you can, desperate to escape the onslaught of overstimulation and he chuckles, pulling the toy off of you. You can barely grip your bearings as he brings the toy to his lips to clean off with his tongue, he moans needily when he tastes you and squeezes your hand as if to say he’s proud of you. 

He puts the toy down next to you and starts to kiss his way up your body. Mumbling little words of encouragement and praise on his journey to your lips. 

“Did such a good job.” 

“M’so proud of you.” 

“You come so pretty.” 

“So beautiful.”  

When you guys are face to face he pinches your lips with his fingers before he leans down to kiss you, moaning into the kiss since he was deprived of them in the short time that he was making you come. 

“Hi.” You breathe out in a chuckle, your mind still muddled from the post climactic haze. He returns your greeting, his voice soft and tender with an adoration filled expression on his face. 

“Aren’t you like–” you motion your head downwards to refer to the way he’s straining in his pants and a chuckle leaves his lips. He nods gently, still staring at you with that fond look in his eye. 

“Mhm.” he mumbles. He repositions himself so he can take off his clothes and after he teases you for nearly drooling over his abs, comes back down to rest against you so that your chests are touching, “you wanna keep going?”

You know he’s asking to be respectful, but you can also tell that if you say no he’d probably cry. You can feel how hard he is against your thigh and see the strain in his expression. He subtly shifts his hips every so often against your skin and you have to fight back a smirk at how needy he is. 

You nod before you remember his thing about verbal consent and you mumble out a soft yes. As soon as he has your permission, he’s connecting your lips and lining up his tip with your entrance. He drags his tip back and forth against you, your body twitching in sensitivity every time he passes over your clit. 

A guttural groan leaves him as he finally fills you, a groan that melts into a whine as you clench down around him tightly, forcing yourself to adjust to the burning stretch that you’ve missed so much. 

“Fuck, I missed you.” The sound of his voice and the sounds he’s making just make you clench down tighter around him, “how do you always feel this fucking good? Squeezing me like a vice, pretty.”  

He sets a rhythm that has him hitting that spot inside you that makes you melt every time, somehow even though he’s been aching in his pants for so long his focus still remains solely on bringing you pleasure, making you feel good, “s’that okay, sweet girl. S’it good for you? Am I giving this needy cunt what it needs?” 

You know he doesn’t expect you to respond but he speaks anyway. He’s well aware of the effect his voice has on you.His deliberate thrusts gain more momentum with every reaction you give him. He truly feeds on your pleasure. It’s as if he suddenly remembers the emotional turmoil you forced the both of you to go through the past month, because his thrusts begin to get more purposeful. Rougher, more pointed motions of his hips rip noises from you that you’re sure is gonna give you a sore throat later. 

His hand wraps around your throat in a firm grip, leaning down to grit words out into your ear, “you’re mine, understand that? You’re mine. And I’m yours. No one else’s. I belong to you, petal. Just you.” 

He fights the strong pull in his chest that tells him to tell you how he really feels, how in love he is with you. How you consume his every thought and how your touch is unlike any other touch he’s ever felt. From the first time he was already addicted. You’re unlike anyone else that he’s ever met, you feel like home. 

The force of his thrusts knock all of the air out of your lungs, and all you can do is nod and mumble out an agreement. You need to be his. There might not be anything that you want more right now. Hearing him confess his feelings for you right now as he’s fucking you into oblivion do all the right things for you, and like clockwork, he immediately recognizes what you need and switches back on the vibrator, bringing it right back down to your clit. 

“Fuck that’s it, baby. Am I fucking you right, petal? Yeah? Fucking show me then. Come for me.” He presses the toy harder against you and rolls his hips in just the perfect way that makes him rub against that perfect spot inside you and you realize now that he made good on his word of teaching you a lesson. You are sufficiently taught.

He whines loudly at the feeling of you coming around him, mumbling out praises and thank you’s as you milk him for everything he’s worth, “shit, m’gonna fucking come. Fuck keep cumming, baby. Keep fucking squeezing me like that–” his words are cut off with a series of noises that you know is going replay in your head on loop. 

He rides out his pleasure with slow, lazy thrusts, hiding his face in your neck as he tries to cope with all the pleasure that’s wracking through his body. You tangle your hands in his hair to offer him some comfort, both of you breathing heavily. He continues to mumble praises into your damp skin, filling you with a warm fuzzy feeling that transcends anything you’ve ever felt before. 

When he catches his breath he turns his head to rest it on your shoulder and speaks, “you know I meant it right?” 

“Meant what?” 

“I’m yours. And you’re mine.” 

December 31st, New Years Eve. 

Your friend’s makeshift bar is bustling and you chuckle as the poor untrained bartender is trying to grapple with it all. You’re sipping slowly at a glass of champagne when you feel a strong arm link around your waist. 

“Mm hi baby.” his deep voice reverberates through your entire body as he speaks directly into your ear. You melt into his grasp and your lips break into a smile that you couldn’t stop even if you tried. 

“Harry.” you say cheekily as your hands fall to hold onto his arm. He had just come back from an absolute killer karaoke performance next to your friend’s TV. The whole entire house was cheering for him as he belted out an incredible rendition of “Hopelessly Devoted to You”. Ever the performer, your boyfriend is, “you were amazing. As always.” you giggle and he presses a messy, wet kiss to your cheeks. 

He is absolutely glowing tonight. Surrounded by his family, friends, and you. He’s beyond ready to spend the next year being annoyingly in love with you and attached to your hip. In fact, that’s the thing he’s looking forward to the most about the new year, going through every milestone, change, and holiday with the love of his life. 

“Always strokin’ m’ego, petal. Looove you.” you laugh loudly at how inebriated he is and lean your head back against his shoulder to get closer to him. 

“I love you too, H. I think you’re cut off though.” you chuckle and you can hear the pout in his voice when he speaks. 

“Wha’? Wha’s wrong with you? M’not even that drunk m’love.” The irony of his words slurring while he’s trying to convince you that he isn’t drunk isn’t lost on you. You turn around to face him and it’s like his expression melts into a smile when he looks at you. 

You don’t know how you never noticed it before, the way he looks at you. He stares at you with so much awe, so much reverence. Ever since you’ve noticed it the first time, it’s the first thing that catches your attention when you guys are together. That damn look. 

“Y’so pretty.” He brings his hand up to stroke your face with his thumb. 

You turn your face to kiss his palm and he giggles childishly, mumbling something about it tickling.

It’s not long before the countdown starts. Harry and you look at each other in anticipation, wanting to commemorate the first time you guys expressed the affection for each other that’s only increased ten fold. 

9

8

“I think New Years is m’favorite holiday.” he mumbles out, looking down at you with that familiar fond look. 

6

“Yeah?” you giggle at his admission, “why’s that, H?” 

4

“S’cause it’s the day that I finally got you.” You can barely register the cheers of happy new year before his lips are on yours, claiming them and making you his. You pull away reluctantly to breathe and smile at him when you speak.

“I think it’s my new favorite too, baby.”

[solomons-poison]

Overworked

Lucifer x reader

: ̗̀➛ A/N: Uhhhh inspired by some history of burn out at work... >>; and just general issues with perfectionist ideas. Honestly, this has been in my drafts for nearly two years now. I was unhappy with how it sounded, but much like the message in this piece, I realized I need to be okay with less-than-perfect things. So cleaned it up a little bit and here you go. Written and edited on mobile so please excuse any formatting issues

: ̗̀➛ Warnings: GN reader, angst to fluff, general insecurities, crying, reader ignoring signs of sickness; Lucifer fluff, no established relationship but Lucifer is very soft on reader~

: ̗̀➛ Word Count: 4652

You should have known something was coming on before it got this bad, but unfortunately, you had a bad habit of ignoring body signals, which was ultimately your downfall.

You'd been feeling... off, for the past couple of days. More exhausted than usual, decreased appetite, just generally run down. You often found yourself in a daze, losing concentration on anything that wasn't your work assignments. It didn't help that the coursework at R.A.D. was naturally more difficult for you as a human, dealing with school subjects you never dreamed of or would ever encounter in the human realm. It was also a busy time in the school year, with big exams coming up and the workload increasing in difficulty by the day, so you attributed your exhaustion to this and wrote it off. Of course, by the time you realized what was going on, it was too late. This was mistake #1.

You woke up in the morning to your blaring alarm, feeling tired and sluggish again, and noticed the missed alarms on your phone. Although you occasionally slept through one or two alarms, you almost never slept this late unless you wanted to. But you didn't have time to think about the reasons and rationale on why your body sought so much extra rest. Instead, you pushed yourself through your confusion and sleepiness to get dressed and head down for breakfast as quickly as possible, hoping Lucifer wouldn't punish you too harshly. Mistake #2.

As you started to leave your room, you couldn't help but shiver a little and quickly grabbed a cardigan to wear over your uniform. It wasn't unusual for the air to feel chilly in the Devildom, thanks to the lack of sunlight. However, the chill seemed to be bone-deep this morning, and something in you felt the cardigan was going to be no help. In general, everything in you was screaming to take a day off and rest, but one of your classes had a quiz later that day that you knew you couldn't miss. Once again, you found yourself pushing forward regardless of the glaring warning signs in your peripheral vision.

Mistake #3.

By the time you made it to the dining room, everyone was already seated, including Belphie, a true testament to just how much you overslept. Everyone turned to glance at you except Beel, who was more focused on his food as per usual. Part of your brain noticed Lucifer looking at you a moment longer than the others, but it was forgotten as the second born pointed his fork at you accusingly.

"Finally, human! I thought ya were gonna sleep all day, with your alarm goin' off like that," he said.

"Sorry, Mammon. I guess I must have been sleeping pretty deeply," you replied, smiling sheepishly. You knew he was mostly pulling your leg, but your phone alarms had a tendency to be on the loud side and felt guilty for disturbing any of the brothers with the noise. "I don't even remember going to bed either."

"I don't think that's unusual, I do that all the time," Belphie piped up from down the table, earning pointed looks from the others.

You didn't miss the way the eldest brother's eyes sneaked up to look at you upon hearing your statement, though, clearly studying your face.

"Are you feeling alright, MC? You do seem to look rather tired this morning," Lucifer commented, eyebrows drawn together in concern.

You knew the second you made eye contact you'd be doomed to an interrogation, so you barely spared a glance before training your gaze on your breakfast as you responded. "Yeah, I'm fine, I'm sure I just stayed up too long studying for this quiz I've got today." But even as you said the words, you knew something wasn't right, and it only seemed to be getting worse the longer you sat there.

You could feel it in the air that Lucifer was unsatisfied with that answer, but he remained silent and you continued on with your food.

By the time you'd finished your breakfast, only a few brothers remained in the dining room after your late arrival. Beel and Belphie were both there. But strangely enough, it was Lucifer still being there that really confused you, given his penchant for being early to everything. Unfortunately, your fatigue-addled brain simply couldn't put forth the effort to think hard about the reason. The chill from earlier had now settled deep in your bones, and everything about the situation was screaming "wrong!!".

Once again ignoring the strange phenomena, you stood to bring your dishes back to the kitchen, but you were hit almost instantly by a wave of dizziness and shivering, knees buckling and your vision turning dark as you stumbled forward. You managed to catch yourself on a chair and stayed upright, but all three brothers were instantly on their feet. Lucifer got to you first, his gloved hand gripping your upper arm to steady you further.

"MC! Are you all right? What's wrong?" he questioned, voice rich with concern and a deep frown on his face. Beel and Belphie crowded around, watching you for any risk of falling.

You took a moment to breathe, cold sweat running down your back, fighting hard against the sensations running through your body, and worked up the strength to look up at the first born. "I'm OK. Sorry," you said, smiling shakily, but Lucifer's frown only deepened at your response. "I guess I was more tired than I thought."

"This is more than fatigue, MC. Are you certain you're not sick?"

You gathered the strength to stand a little taller. As you did, something in the back of your brain was yelling at you again that this was a mistake, to sit back down, to call out sick, rest, anything but go to class. But your stubbornness and anxiety won out, knowing that missing just the one class would really put you behind your studies, and you prided yourself on your ability to work hard on your own. You hadn't spent months of pushing yourself, working overtime and scouring textbook after textbook, to quit now from some measly sickness. Your brain just couldn't rationalize any other way around it.

"Really, Lucifer, I'm OK. You don't need to worry so much—" you managed to say, but as the last words left your mouth, your last bit of strength finally ran out, and a blanket of darkness came down on your vision as you lost consciousness.

“MC–!” “Hey!” Multiple voices called out as you passed out in front of them.

Beel caught your body as you fell back out of Lucifer's hold, and he quickly picked up your legs to hold onto your unconscious body. He could feel the heat radiating off your skin and a sad frown twisted his features.

"I think they have a fever," he said, holding you close to himself, and Belphie leaned in to take a closer look at your face.

Lucifer could feel his face fall at Beel's statement, but steeled himself quickly before either of his brothers could notice. However, all it would take is a closer look to see the worry evident in his dark ruby eyes. He sighed quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on as he quickly made up a plan to deal with this new development.

"Beel, could you bring MC up to their room?" Lucifer asked. "I'm going to contact Solomon for some medicine to help with their illness." Beel nodded and started to leave the dining room with you cradled in his arms, Belphie following close behind. However, just before they stepped through the doorway, Lucifer stopped them briefly. "And do not bring this up with the others. If anyone else hears MC is sick, they're all going to leave class to come here and MC needs to rest. I will tell them when it’s appropriate."

He could tell both younger brothers wanted to say something about that, but luckily, they simply nodded and continued on their way. Once he was alone, Lucifer took a moment to himself to stop and breathe, anxiety coursing through his veins at the situation. But he shook it off as best he could before sending a notice out to Solomon, and another notice to Lord Diavolo and Barbatos to alert about your absence. He would have time to fret later, but for now, he needed to focus on you and making sure that you were taken care of. The last thing he needed was to let something terrible happen to one of the human exchange students and possibly disappoint Lord Diavolo… at least, that's what he told himself. But really, he knew it was more than that. Pushing those thoughts away, he shook his head and moved onwards, focusing on the task at hand.

After sending his messages, he quickly gathered some basic supplies, washcloths and a bowl for water to make a cold compress, as well as an extra blanket, and brought them up to your room where Belphie and Beel were waiting. You'd been laid out on your bed covered by a light blanket, your face contorted in discomfort. Lucifer could feel his heart twist in his chest at your visible pain.

"I will take over from here, you can go now," he said, setting down his supplies and removing his cloak.

Belphie frowned, crossing his arms in frustration. "MC is sick, we're not going anywhere. Class can wait–" he started, but Lucifer cut him off with a glare.

"No, you are not staying here," Lucifer said definitively. "MC needs to rest, and they cannot do that with a crowd in the room. Solomon is on his way here with medicine and I will be taking care of them in the meantime."

Belphie practically bristled, the tension in the room almost palpable between the eldest and youngest brothers, but Beel placed a hand on Belphie's shoulder, attempting to calm him down.

"Look, I don't care if you don't attend class today," Lucifer continued, his stress levels exhausting him of energy to fight. "But I want MC to get the rest they need. Until Solomon arrives and we can contact a more knowledgeable physician on human illnesses, we don't know how sick they are. I will keep you updated if anything changes, but for now, you must leave."

Beel and Belphie were silent for a long minute, not breaking eye contact with Lucifer. Eventually, they relented, however, and Belphie sighed, turning away towards the door.

"Fine, we'll go. Come on, Beel," Belphie muttered, going out the door with one last glance to your sleeping form.

Beel started to follow, but turned to Lucifer at the last moment. “We can pick up some food for MC to help them feel better. Would that be okay?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened at the request before softening, knowing his brothers were simply worried about their precious human. He nodded, and Beel smiled happily. “Yes, that will be fine. I believe easy to eat foods will be best, something to make into a soup or broth. I’ll also ask Solomon for recommendations on human world foods.”

“Awesome, I’ll tell Belphie,” Beel replied, smiling back, and headed out the door.

Now that Lucifer was finally alone with you, he heaved a great sigh that was almost too loud for the sudden silence. He shed his coat, placing it over the chair at your desk, before rolling up his sleeves and removing his gloves. He retrieved some cool water from your bathroom and dipped the washcloth in, then took a seat beside your bed, wringing the washcloth before pressing it to your forehead.

The fever had caused a sweat to break out, and your face was twisted in pain even in your sleep. The sound of your labored breathing weighed heavily on Lucifer's mind. But the cooling effects of the washcloth seemed to alleviate your discomfort a little as your face relaxed, and seeing you a little more comfortable eased the ache in his heart. The weight that had been sitting on his shoulders ever since you fainted lifted a little, giving him the slightest bit of relief, and he turned around to refresh your washcloth.

“Mmm.. Lu..cifer…”

Lucifer’s ears perked up almost embarrassingly fast upon hearing you say his name, and his head whipped around to look at you. However, it was evidently just talking in your sleep as your eyes remained closed and your breathing was even. He reached over to pull the blanket up, tucking you in, and did his best to ignore the pounding of his heart.

Although you two weren't a couple, you still seemed to hold a special place in his heart alongside his brothers. You were family now, but even that word didn't seem sufficient for the way he felt. And seeing you so sick all of a sudden gave him a greater shock than he was prepared for. It was moments like this that he realized how truly mortal you were, that you didn’t recover from sickness the same way Lucifer and his brothers could.

He couldn’t even be sure of what you were sick with. For all he knew, he was overreacting and you were likely fine. But still, the fear of the unknown settled deep in his heart, unable to rest until he could get an answer. For now, all he could do was swallow down his worries and continue on with what he was doing, trying to ignore the desperate aching in his chest.

Half an hour passed before a knock resounded at your bedroom door, and Lucifer okayed entry without taking his eyes off of you. He was settled back in your chair, sleeves still rolled up in an unusual display of casualness, although his crossed arms betrayed his true feelings. Solomon quietly opened the door, peeking his head in before entering, a small satchel in his arms that clinked softly as he moved it. Barbatos had come with him and trailed through silently, letting Solomon take the lead.

“Wow, MC really is sick,” Solomon commented, seeing your quiet form tucked in on the bed. However, he wasn’t sure which to be more surprised by, the fact you had fallen ill like this or the sight of Lucifer dressed down, sitting at your bedside.

Lucifer sighed, moving his stiff form now to turn and look at your guests. “Yes, they were looking awful all during breakfast, and after getting up from their chair, they just fainted. I’m not sure what it is, but they have some kind of fever. I’ve been applying this compress but of course we don’t have any human world medicine here.”

Solomon nodded, setting down his satchel on the top of your desk. “I’ve brought a potion that will help bring down their fever for now,” he said, removing a carefully packaged vial filled with a fascinating colored liquid. “Unfortunately, I’m not a doctor so I can’t treat the root cause, but I’ll do my best until a physician can get here.”

“That’s fine, thank you,” Lucifer said, nodding. He glanced at Barbatos, who was standing silently at the foot of your bed. “I didn’t expect you to come here, Barbatos. Did you need something?”

Barbatos only shook his head.

“No, when I received your message that MC was sick, I thought it best to bring some tea for them to drink," he replied, bringing forward a small tin. "Peppermint tea is supposed to provide some medicinal properties, such as relieving fever and nausea. Once MC is awake, perhaps they can drink it to help their symptoms. I've also called on the services of a doctor who is familiar with human health and illnesses, they should be arriving soon."

Lucifer accepted it, taking the tin and placing it on your bedside table. "Yes, that will be good, thank you," he said, prompting a small smile from the butler.

Lucifer reached over and gently shook your shoulders, feeling terrible for waking you but wanting to get the potion in your body already. “MC, can you hear me?” he said softly, and your face scrunched a little in response. “Solomon has brought some medicine to help your fever, you should try to take some.”

Solomon and Barbatos couldn't help glancing at each other at the demon's gentle tone.

"Lucifer..?" You mumbled, bleary eyes blinking several times as you struggled to wake up.

"Yes, it's me," he responded, heart fluttering again at the sound of your voice. "Do you remember what happened? You had passed out after breakfast."

"Oh. That's wild."

Lucifer couldn't help himself as his eyebrows shot up at your response, which was obviously the product of still being half-asleep. But it was a very you response, and he refrained from laughing. He opened his mouth to continue, but was cutoff as you suddenly gasped, shooting up from the bed.

"My quiz! What happened to my quiz?" you shouted, but the outburst was short-lived as the sudden change in elevation made you waver, your fatigued body not strong enough to handle this.

Lucifer caught your body as you started to fall backwards, and he gently eased you back onto your pillow. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Of all the things to think about now, a quiz was on your mind?

"You passed out in front of me and you're worried about a quiz?" he couldn't help but question. "Diavolo was made aware of what happened, you don't have to worry about your class. We're more concerned with your fever, we think you may be sick."

Solomon took the chance to step forward, grabbing the colorful vial he'd brought earlier.

"Here, MC, this potion should help you feel better for now. But we're trying to find you a doctor just to make sure everything is okay," he said, uncorking the vial. Despite your dubious look, you accepted and drank it down with his help before settling back down on the pillow. You could immediately feel the effects of the potion, already getting some relief from the fatigue in your body and the cold sweats plaguing you.

Barbatos also took the opportunity to speak up, stepping up to the end of your bed. “I’ve also brought you some peppermint tea leaves. Please let me know if you’d like me to brew some tea for you. The Young Lord is wishing for your speedy recovery.”

“Thanks, Solomon, that does make me feel a little better. And not right now, Barbatos, but that does sound really good, I appreciate it. Please tell Diavolo thank you for me, as well.” You closed your eyes for a moment, relaxing against your pillow, before opening them again and looking at the three people in your room. “I’m sorry for worrying everyone, I promise I’ll get better soon.”

Lucifer only shook his head at you, pulling up your blanket around your body and tucking you in.

“You can hardly blame us for worrying about you, you have left a strong impression on all of us. Just focus on resting for now, a physician should be coming by soon,” he said, a slight smile on his lips. The other two smiled back at you, as well, before Solomon said his goodbyes and left.

Barbatos stayed behind to wait, eventually making you the tea in the meantime and just involving you in some small talk to comfort you. Once the physician arrived, Barbatos and Lucifer both left to give you some privacy, nervously waiting outside your door for the results. Lucifer even settled on the ground against the wall, sleeves still rolled up and hair a mess, uncharacteristically ruffled.

Although you had seemed in better spirits after taking Solomon’s potion and resting, Lucifer still felt restless, waiting for your assessment to be finished. When he heard your door click open, it was almost embarrassing how quickly he shot to his feet, afraid for the worst. But the physician quickly assuaged his fears.

Despite the fever and the passing out, everything pointed to simple burnout, caused by you overworking yourself in an attempt to get ahead. You would need to wait out the remainder of the fever, taking medicine as needed to help it along. But overall, the most important thing you needed now was rest, and plenty of it. Thankfully, that would be easy enough to arrange.

Unfortunately, the answer was not a surprising one. Lucifer knew that, despite the offers from him and the other RAD council members, you often declined on any kind of assistance or tutoring with your work. His own sin prompted him to say it was pride that prevented you from accepting outside help. But he knew that in general, you felt it could be a weakness, especially being in an environment with those that still looked down on humans and were uncertain of your place in their society. Deeper than that, he also knew you considered yourself a burden, trying to reduce your presence whenever possible, leaving you to work twice as hard to complete the same tasks.

Sometimes he wished that you would rely on him a little more, come to him when you needed help or just a listening ear. But if anyone understood the need to maintain their pride, it was the the Avatar of Pride himself. Lucifer also knew he hadn’t always been the most supportive, memories of your new arrival and the way he treated you burned into his mind like a shameful brand, so he couldn’t blame you for keeping things to yourself. But maybe, after this whole episode was resolved and you were back to full health, things could be different.

He stepped into your room once the physician departed, and you were sitting up in bed, propped up by your pillows. You were already looking much better than earlier, and it eased his heart immensely. Lucifer didn’t even need to say anything, as your sheepish expression said it all, but he still wanted to make sure of something.

“I trust you understand what the doctor has told you about your condition and what to do now,” he said. He couldn’t help gravitating towards you, ending up at the side of your bed once more.

You nodded, squeezing your hands nervously in front of you.

“I know, I understand,” you said, your voice meek and rough from your exhaustion.

Honestly, the whole thing was embarrassing. You were just trying to keep up with your classmates, make sure you weren’t embarrassing the Prince of the Devildom or the Seven Avatars that were hosting you in their home. And for a while, it seemed to be working. Sure you felt a little tired, but at least your grades were exemplary. But of course, it couldn’t be that easy, or stay that easy.

As you recalled what happened up until you passed out, and bits and pieces of Lucifer caring for you afterwards came to mind, you found yourself unable to make eye contact. Your body felt hot again, but it wasn’t the fever this time. Not only did you end up passing out from your efforts, but it was Lucifer that took care of you in the end. It was mortifying, truly. But almost as if sensing your feelings, Lucifer sat at the edge of your bed, his still-uncovered hand moving to cover both of yours.

The touch surprised you, making you look up finally, but his next words were what truly took you off guard.

“I know that you feel you have to work hard to keep up with your studies,” Lucifer said, squeezing your hands gently. “And while we— Diavolo and I— appreciate your efforts, the whole point of you coming to the Devildom was not to get good grades. You are part of the exchange program, but you are also our guest. I know we have not always been as welcome as we should have been, but we hope that you can come to us when you feel that you’re struggling. At least, I hope that you can come to me, if you are struggling.”

You couldn’t help it as your eyes widened. A soft look you’d never noticed before filled Lucifer’s face, a reassuring smile gracing his lips. You’d seen a lot of expressions cross Lucifer’s face, but this was the rarest of all, and one you never expected to be aimed towards you.

This, combined with his words, was all too much for you at once. Suddenly, your vision was swimming and something wet was falling down one of your cheeks, dripping onto your shirt. Almost immediately, Lucifer’s smile dropped in panic, and through your tears, you could just barely make out his mouth opening and closing as he struggled for words.

“Oh—” Damn it. Lucifer wasn’t quite sure what he was expecting when he told you how he felt, but it certainly wasn’t tears. He quickly reached up, brushing away your tears with his fingers, his touch awkward but achingly gentle. Of course, his touch only made you cry harder.

“I– I’m sorry, MC, it wasn’t my intention to make you cry,” he said, finally remembering a handkerchief he keeps in his vest, and patted your cheeks with it, trying desperately to slow your tears.

You struggled to calm yourself down, wanting to reassure the demon of any misunderstanding.

“I-it’s not that,” you said, involuntary gasps breaking up your words. “I just feel so stupid. Like I just keep making the same dumb mistakes over and over again, no matter what. And now here I am, sick in bed and you’re having to take care of me, and you’re being so nice, and I just don’t know what to do.”

“Nice” wasn’t a word often used to describe Lucifer, at least not anymore. And he could guess that it’s not a word you’d used to describe him in the past. It also hurt him to hear how you saw yourself and all your efforts. Although you came across as reckless and a little ridiculous at times, you were also genuine and a hard worker. Lucifer’s pride made it difficult for him to admit many things, but he genuinely came to appreciate the way you treated your studies, unlike some of his brothers. Even if your grades were poor, even if you struggled with the subjects, he simply admired your sincerity in everything you did, and that was enough to make him happy. He just wished that you could feel the same.

“I think you’re being generous by calling me nice. But you don’t need to do anything special, MC,” he said. Finally, your tears were starting to dry a little bit, easing his own aching heart. “We all appreciate your efforts, but we just want you to keep being yourself, more than anything. Keep reminding us that you are human, in the way only you can. Of course, if you can do that without worrying me sick, that would also be appreciated.”

The last part made you laugh, and you couldn’t help but sniffle as the crying finally ended.

“Okay.”

“And if you’re having trouble with a subject, many of us would be happy to help you. Satan does make an excellent tutor, and despite Belphie’s knack for sleeping in class, he often has a good grasp on the subjects as well.” Now that your eyes were dry, Lucifer put the damp handkerchief back in his pocket in order to use a hand to squeeze yours. His other hand brushed over your cheek, rubbing softly, soothingly.

You could only nod, more tears threatening to rip a sob from you if you opened your mouth again. But no more words were needed, getting to relax your impossible standards for once and finally feeling at peace knowing that there were others there to support you, including a certain red-eyed devil at your side.

As always, reblogs and comments are appreciated! 💜 You can also support me by buying a coffee ☕️!

[kangen-wanshi]

Hi! I really love your Kisses ft Larry, Brassius, Hassel post! Could you do how would Larry, Brassius, & Hassel confess to reader? Only if you want to!

"I'll say it!" ft Larry, Brassius, Hassel

The struggles and process of confession can be quite challenging for some individual. But how would they go through it?

Tags: separate, romantic, pining?

A/N: I'm glad you like them anon! For this one, Larry's and Brassius' are actually inspired by my recent previous post haha, I hope you like it! And sorry for the weird formating, Tumblr is hating me rn.

Larry, With a newfound confident

It's not a secret that Larry can get quite.. Shy? Timid? Quiet? When it comes to a time where he's required to speak up.

Unfortunately, this also happens during his confession. 

Larry didn't really.. Plan his confession. He's stressing over the fact on how to do it, yes, but he's never really got any plan figured out.

Rika's suggestions are too flirty, Poppy's are.. Well with how sweet it is he feels like it's gonna make him feel out of touch to execute it, and anyone else just keeps telling him to just tell you straight up.

So he did just that.

It was a small dinner between the two of you. Nothing fancy, as he cooked simple dishes he learned from the internet and invited you over.

It's the most normal, simple, plain idea of 'date' that Larry can think of.

Often the darker side of his brain caught up to him and mocked him about how he's just an old bachelor that doesn't quite deserve a relationship. Especially with someone as perfect as you.

But when he fought that dark side of the brain, is actually when he boldly confessed to you.

"I love you. Truly."

It's so simple. So quick, and so quiet. You had to stop yourself before doing anything further.

Him, on the other hand, is fully aware of what he had just said. But there's no going back now. As he stares at his food, his hold on the fork and knife tighten by the seconds of your silence.

That is until you asked him to repeat himself.

When he took a deep breath, his lips trembled. Closing his eyes, he's decided that during that moment, he won't back down or sink away from his own confession.

"I love you. Will you.. be willing to be mine?"

You'd expect him to confess with his art and portray his affection through poetry with some grandeur announcement?

Brassius, Through Beautiful Accident

Think again!

Brassius is nervous. Nervous doesn't even cover the word.

Yes, he's expressive. Yes, he has admitted that you're so important to him, beyond being his beloved muse and source of inspiration. But confession? A romantic love confession? His head spins even trying to think about it.

Often he argues with himself about how he should express this feeling to you, aka confession.

He's torn between making it sentimental by giving you one of his handmade gifts, or declaring his love with well arranged heart shaped roses, or with poetry, or even with a sculptor made with love engraved within it.

Ended up not executing any of it.

His indecisiveness will be the end of him. Truthfully with how much he praises you or expresses his adoration, you already got the idea (or at the very least the slight confidence) that your feelings are actually reciprocated.

It's just the confession that came late.

So how this happens, is most likely because he just can't help himself to say the three words to you under the guise of simply complimenting you.

"Your battle was magnificent! The conjoined effort between you and your pokemon - absolutely breathtaking! I can't help but fall in love with the way you conquer the difficulty in battle!"

You were about to thanked him, had toy not caught the whisper under his breath:

".. And I suppose, I couldn't help but to fall in love with you yet again."

- Which caught both of you off-guard. 

Brassius is red. His pale cheeks turned warm, as he watched you watch him with wide eyes.

He was about to laugh it off, pretend that it was a slip off and he didn't mean it that way. But with how you look at him, red tinted your cheek, and softly asking him "Really?",

Well, the truth comes forth to those who're willing to embrace it.

Let's just say that he couldn't ask for a better love confession.

By far the most normal out of the three.

Hassel, With The Classic Galar Style

Hassel has a good amount of experience in terms of having relationships. So he knows the sign when he falls for someone, and luckily, he knows how to handle himself.

Though he's not hasty. Despite his passionate nature, Hassel is patient and takes his time with doing things. Including processing his feelings, and considering yours too.

He drops subtle hints first. Offering you his jacket when the weather got particularly chilly, offering to walk you home, helping you with your work however he can, taking care of your pokemon, etc.

Surprisingly can read your reaction very well, while being subtle about it.

So he's good in that whole department.

When he's sure that you're into him as much as he is into you, he plans his next more: The Confession.

While yes, he kept his cool and he knows what he's doing, he's not immune to the Nervous.

But he got this! He got help from the new Champion of Paldea, he got help from Tyme, from Rika, he'll do fine!

So he ended up inviting you on a picnic. Just outside of Mesagoza.

A small picnic. He brought the food, even though you offered to bring some too, he insisted on treating you to this little date.

It's sweet, really. Just chatting along, watching some pokemons walk over to the two of you asking for some extras, sharing laughter and smiles.

And when the sun started to sink, he made his move.

He pulled out a basket that he's been hiding from your sight, before putting it between the two of you. Obviously you asked what it is, but he just encourages you to open the blanket inside.

And surprise surprise, it's a shiny Applin, peering up to you with an innocent tilt of head.

If you didn't know the meaning behind the Applin tradition, expect that he already explained it to you at some point prior to the date (aka one of his subtle ways of seeing how you'd react to the topic of love confession).

Either way, he offered the little guy to you with a sheepish smile, as his cheek grew red.

"I couldn't imagine a better way to explain my feelings to you. If you would accept it, accept this little friend of mine, I hope you would cherish and let him grow stronger. And if you may allow it.. I would like to be by your side to help it grow." 

[acedumbb]

Could I request a Lelouch x Sleepy!Child! Reader? Platonic of course, I’d love to see what you do with the idea

ooooh, sure, I didn't know what format you preferred, so I took the creative liberty of writing it as a one-shot, I hope you don't mind.

((This post still contains several misspellings, sorry for the inconvenience.))

Every day it was more difficult to cope with the double life that Lelouch was forced to live, slowly the young man had become a two-sided coin, a coin that did not stop rotating on itself, it was becoming more and more difficult for him to bear the emotional weight that came with being Zero, CC was only there if he put his own life at risk, but the exiled prince knew perfectly well that if he broke down emotionally no one would care.

Well, that was until you showed up in his life.

He didn't know what he felt for you, he wanted to believe that you were what Rolo never managed to be, he wanted to believe that he finally got used to the idea of a little brother who didn't compete with what Nunnally was, but nothing could be further from the truth. Actually, the feeling I had towards you was something unique, which I could not describe exactly.

Despite being a classmate of Nunnally's, there were not a few times that he was alone with you, you often used to visit the boy's paralyzed sister, at first you were just someone deep down, someone Lelouch easily lost sight of. seen on many occasions, but little by little, you ended up being what occupied the teenager's mind most of the time.

It all started when he was forced to use his geass on you, you had discovered that it was Zero by accident, you alarmed Lelouch quite a bit, luckily with his power it was easy to make you forget about the event easily, but because of certain unfortunate events for him you discovered it again, and the poor boy had no way out, of course he tried to get you out of the way, but any plan that his mind formulated was full of "errors", or so he wanted to believe, right at that moment, he was still on his laptop, playing with the little sound recorder he had, you had seen that mask in his room due to the continuous times you stayed to sleep in the club house, sleepovers with Nunnally were normal for everyone in that building, even C.C. began to see It's common to see you roam the halls at night.

That night, where the tired boy did nothing but worry because of you, you were also in that house, it was quite late, and Lelouch had lost hope that you would appear in his room at that time, his head ached, praying for finding a solution where he could still be sure of his identity, and you could still be happy around him.

Of course, when you entered the room so silently, dragging your feet due to sleep, there was no way that Lelouch realized that you were behind him, he had closed his eyes, seeking to see his own thoughts more clearly, wishing for a few seconds that you were there with him, knowing that ironically, the cause of his worries always calmed him down at the end of the day.

— Lulu..?

His wish had been fulfilled, when he opened his eyes he knew he couldn't have wished for something better, you rubbed your tired eyes with a hand, looking at the elder with some difficulty due to the sudden light he saw because of the laptop, Lelouch hurried to turn the chair a little, you were finally in front of him, your calm and sleepy expression contrasted with the worried face of the boy, who after a couple of seconds was finally able to react to your call.

— (y/n).. It's late, why aren't you in your sleeping bag?

— I'm sorry Lulu, it's just that... I stopped by to go to the bathroom, and noticed that you were still awake...

— Go to sleep, you have to get up early tomorrow.

The brown-haired man hated worrying about things as small as the minor's schedules but he couldn't help it, he began to worry a little more when he noticed that the minor climbed onto his lap, hugging his chest in search of warmth, from the perspective of Lelouch, the boy it seemed extremely fragile, as if it was going to break into millions of pieces if it wasn't well taken care of, when (y/n) stopped moving, the pale boy didn't hesitate for a second to hug him, becoming aware of what he was doing a few minutes later, In that silent room, he could really appreciate the pretty boy, could feel his heartbeat with one hand, listen to you breathe peacefully, completely asleep, you were totally at his mercy, in both body and mind, it would have been a perfect opportunity to "get you out of the way", but from Lelouch's point of view, that plan had a big flaw, and that is that he wanted to keep hugging you until morning.

[7spaceace7]

These Thoughts We Carry

No one really knows about Sooga’s past. No one knows where he came from, or what burdens he carries. But Hylia damn them all, Master Kohga doesn’t let anybody go through that shit alone, especially when he knows what it’s like to deal with nightmares all the time. Especially when it’s the one he loves most.

 Master Kohga x Sooga hurt/comfort fic that I churned out after like two days and a bad set of nightmares. I hope you enjoy! I’ll post it on AO3 as well!

Warnings: Implied physical abuse 

Word count:  2387

In a desert, it is easy to forget that the sky can change. From early morning, it seems the sun is always burning down your back, clutching you in its comforting, yet suffocating, grasp. You almost forget that dusk is just hours away. The unclouded blue skies seem to go on forever. 

Though, every resident of Hyrule knows that the desert night is even more unforgiving than the daytime’s blistering heat. You are placed at a disadvantage amongst your foes. Lizalfos and bokoblins settle in for unsuspecting prey wandering about the sands. Anyone who has the wit about them could surprise you, if you are unlucky. And of course, the frozen winds bring a chill that digs deep into bone when just moments before you might have been begging for such relief. 

But none of those things were the reason Sooga hated the nights of Gerudo Desert. No, Sooga despised them for their unending silence. The vast emptiness. The endless searching for something besides your thoughts. Desert nights used this loneliness to stir up a past better left forgotten, and that is what Sooga hated most of all. 

He stood at the entrance of the Yiga Clan hideout, just before the land dipped and delved into its rugged formations of rock. The inverted eye statues stood through the whistling winds. Their cloth counterparts strung up above blew with a disheveled intensity. This nuisance of a noise was the only sound Sooga could hear rustling through the valley. Well, that and perhaps his restless mind. 

His thoughts were always loudest when he was trying to sleep, and often woke him up in the middle of the night. Tonight happened to be such a night where they were too loud to be kept inside the hideout. Certainly, they were too loud to continue resting next to Master Kohga, lest he wake him unnecessarily. Sooga would never dare to do this. Instead, he would resign himself to the chilled desert air at the beginning of the hideout when the memories became painful enough. If he could not sleep, at least he could be useful and take a nightwatch shift. His one good eye settled right on the valley’s opening.

Focus, Sooga. Do not let your mind drift. 

But his memories would not be silenced. He remembered a broken picture frame from his dream that night. The frame once held a family of three, but had broken into a family of only cracks after a bout of rage from a man he once called a father. It might have meant nothing to anyone else, but to Sooga...the screaming of the drunken bastard entered his ears at the simple sight of it. Sooga tried desperately to shake it from his mind, but his memories of the nightmare shoved through.

A broken picture frame, pieces splintered around thatchwood floor. A broken picture frame, having been thrown at his person when he hadn’t the skill to protect himself. A broken picture frame, among other airborne objects, that he narrowly avoided by the miracle of perhaps Hylia herself.

The Yiga warrior let a shaky breath escape his masked lips. Fists clenched tightly, as if that man would be right behind him if only he found courage to look. A quick glance told him nothing was there, but his heart was not at ease. 

Logically, Sooga knew there was nothing. He knew his father had left this world long ago. Sooga knew it so firmly because it was his own hands that finished him off. Simple strangulation, soon after he had only turned eighteen years of age. The warrior had made sure there was none of his father left in this world to haunt him ever again.

Yet here he was. Years later, still scared by ghosts he’d conjured up himself. The uniformed man sighed, and in a moment of weakness, pried off his white mask. Sooga was careful not to deepen the crack as his palm gingerly encased the object. Perhaps the cold air against his bare skin would be of use to his intruding thoughts. At least, he thought, it was nice to feel fresh air.

“There you are!” Came a familiar voice from behind his post. Sooga jumped and smacked the mask back onto his face in a panic. He blinked once from surprise, and once more from the shock he just gave his facial nerves.

“M-Master Kohga,” Sooga got to his feet and bowed automatically, hoping his pounding heartbeat wasn’t able to be heard by his superior. “I had not thought you were awake at this hour.”

“I wasn’t, but then I rolled over and realized you up and vanished,” Kohga yawned, scratching an itch at his neck. He was without his uniform, but still donned a type of mask. This one was specifically for sleep, and made of soft, red fabric that held a sewn pattern of the inverted eye, closed instead of open. For now, this mask rested atop his forehead. “Yunno, for a big guy, you’re real hard to find. Took me forever to figure out where you went.”

“My apologies, Master Kohga.” 

“Eh, don’t sweat it, I was only a little worried,” This of course was a blatant lie, as Master Kohga had quickly woken up in a cold sweat after his hand fell upon an empty spot next to him in bed. He had grabbed only his robe in his haste to find where Sooga had gone. But of course, a dignified leader such as he would never have done a thing like that. Kohga took a spot next to Sooga’s post and sat down. “So what’re you doin’ way out here so late?”

Sooga was silent for a moment as he sat down next to his master. He contemplated brushing off the comment with a vague answer, but...something compelled him to confide instead. 

“A dream demon made its attempt on my subconscious,” Sooga spoke. He hoped to retain at least a bit of dignity by acting professionally, but the facade was lost on Kohga. “I did not want to wake you with it.”

“Nightmares gettin’ to ya again, I see.” 

Again? Had Kohga somehow already known of his recent night difficulties?

“Don’t look so surprised, we’ve been sleeping toge-- er, bunking --for a while now, and you get kinda squirmy when you aren’t dreaming well.”

Sooga hadn’t any idea of this happening. Shame sat upon his masked features and settled its way down to his throat. His tongue searched for something to say. An apology, perhaps? That was all he knew to do in a moment like this. Apologize for the inconvenience, apologize for the worries he must have induced, apologize for the disturbance of his master’s rest, apologize, apologize, apolo-

“You don’t have to feel bad, Sooga, I know you put all that pressure on yourself,” Master Kohga said. Sooga’s head turned towards the unmasked man beside him in utter surprise. Had he suddenly learned a new technique for mind-reading? “Nightmares suck. Real bad. I get it.”

Rather than questioning how he knew such an appropriate response, Sooga nodded, and dared to ask a different question. 

“What...happens? When you are brought to notice I am not resting well, that is,” Sooga asked quietly, head turning away once more. It was no surprise that Sooga was soft-spoken, but that was out of his own self-discipline. His day-to-day tone was based on leadership and careful thought, but this...this was a tone Kohga had never heard from his friend before. This was laced with fear. 

“Well, ah,” Kohga started. His brown eyes softened as he recalled one night waking to Sooga thrashing about their shared covers, murmuring something like a cry for help. To another night where Sooga had begun shaking uncontrollably. To a night just last week when he unmistakably heard a pleading for someone to stop. Stop what, Kohga didn’t know, and he knew even less of who it could be about. Even his best attempts to wake his second-in-command went without fruition. “Sometimes you say stuff. Sleep-talker nonsense, yunno, I usually don’t have a clue what you’re going on about. But you always seem so...scared.”

I always hold you when they get bad like that, Kohga wanted to say. The words were right there, threatening to spill out of him all at once in a jumble of messy worries and care that the Yiga master so desperately wanted to confess. But this wasn’t the time. 

Kohga left out the part where he’d always wrap his arms around a nightmare-stricken Sooga to calm his shakes and trembles. He left out the part where he’d draped a hand across Sooga’s chest and gently adjusted his mask enough to wipe away the hidden tears. He left out the part where he’d discovered that nuzzling his face into Sooga’s neck would cause the larger man to remember he was safe and briefly find relief. At least, Kohga hoped he did.

“I am sorry you have seen me in such weakness, Master Kohga..” Sooga finally replied, bringing Kohga back to the present moment. Kohga was right next to him, but still, the man seemed so far away.

“Being afraid isn’t weakness. Everybody gets scared of stuff, even me,” Kohga nudged Sooga’s side in a lighthearted gesture, as they both knew just how terrified the ‘fearless leader of the Yiga Clan’ could really get. “This world’s full of some scary shit. You’re allowed to get scared, no matter how strong you are. And you’re, like, the strongest guy I know, besides me of course.”

“You truly believe that?”

“Course I do! I mean look atcha, you’re twice my size and a badass,  dual-wielding blademaster. There’s no one in the world cooler than you and me, big guy.”

Sooga cracked a smile at that.

“My point is,” Kohga continued, “You don’t have to save face with me. Dream demons get to me too, yunno, that’s why I’ve got my big strong bodyguard next to me every night. That’s what makes me not so scared anymore. I know that nothin’s gonna get to me because if it tries, I’ve got you.”

Kohga paused, eyes drifting over to where Sooga’s own eye would be. “So, I wanna help you feel protected from ‘em, too.”

“But that is my job-” Sooga tried to protest, turning back to face his master.

“You deserve to feel safe, too, Sooga.”

Sooga was silent at this. They sat in the silence for a while, just simply staring at each other. Master Kohga’s brow furrowed in the rare serious manner that it did. He was determined to get Sooga to see how much he cared. He would do anything to help him, if only Sooga would allow it.

The warrior next to him saw that determination in his chocolate brown eyes, paired with another feeling he couldn’t quite pin. Whatever it was, it was inviting. Sooga couldn’t help but want to see it more. He wanted to share moments like this more, where it was just the two of them and neither put on a show. Moments where he could see the bouncing curls that framed Kohga’s chubby cheeks up close, and feel the warmth from his gaze. Perhaps one day, even, Sooga could let go of his own mask.

Kohga sighed, which led to a loud, long yawn overtaking his features. The plump clan master gave a little stretch and sat back against the wall. If Sooga didn’t want to, he wouldn’t bring it up again.

“I’m not gonna force you or anything, I just-”

“I would like to feel safe with you,” The words tumbled out of Sooga’s mouth before he had the notion to stop them. Somewhere along the lines, his hand had grabbed Kohga’s and was now clutching it tight. He hardly knew what he was doing, but didn’t back down. It felt right. “There are many things I must atone for. I do not know how to achieve this peace just yet, but…”

Kohga squeezed his hand back, trying to ignore the blatant blush dusting his cheeks. If not for the dark, surely Sooga would have seen and fretted over his health, as he often did, but Kohga wouldn’t mind. He never minded. 

“I’ll be here the whole time,” He assured. And he meant it. Whatever Sooga needed, Kohga would offer help. It was obvious that the masked man was holding onto something painful, and Kohga would offer his support in any way that he could. Even if it interrupted his sleeping schedule.

Another yawn bubbled up from Kohga’s chest, and when he tried to stifle it, it forced out as a hiccup anyway. 

Way to ruin a moment, Kohga thought.

Cute, Sooga chuckled to himself.

“Perhaps we should return to bed, and continue this in the morning,” Sooga offered. Master Kohga’s shoulders visibly relaxed in relief as he slumped his face into Sooga’s chest. It felt like two muscular pillows smushing against his cheeks, a blessing from Hylia probably. Er, Ganon. Totally meant Ganon.

“Yes please,” He whined pitifully. Another chuckle rumbled through Sooga’s chest, vibrating Kohga’s whole head. 

This time, Sooga took to reading his master’s mind. His strong arms effortlessly picked up the stouter man and cradled him against his chest, as if Kohga were a bride. The night air brought a chill, after all, and Kohga had only dressed his robe over his undergarments. He looked down to the half-lidded face against him.

“I do appreciate your words, Master Kohga. I will always remember your kindness,” Sooga whispered above the wind. He looked down at the bundle of a man for a response, but only found soft snoring instead. 

The stupendous chief of the Yiga Clan was asleep before his sentence was finished. 

Sooga’s smile was soft. The winds of the desert night rolled behind him deep in the valley, and Sooga turned away from them feeling slightly freer. If any dream demons dared test his patience this night again, this time they would be answering to the courageous man in his arms.

[beewolfwrites]

And When I am Formulated, Sprawling on a Pin - Chapter Three: A New Alliance

Both Chishiya x OC or a Chishiya x Reader depending on how you wish to read it.

You can find this - along with the first and second chapters - on AO3 here. The formatting is a little better on AO3, but it’s here if you prefer Tumblr :) 

Thanks for reading! 

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

According to the phone I had picked up in the Jack in the Box game, I had an eight-day visa. That could only mean that the card number of each game was equivalent to the number of days you were awarded on your visa. And the suits? Well, I still hadn’t figured that out just yet.

It was eight days of calm… eight days of sleeping away the burnt singe that came with every breath, and the taste of smoke that lingered on my tongue. But it was eight days that I couldn’t have let go to waste. The day after my win, I visited a deserted bookstore and swiped several Japanese language textbooks off the shelves. I hated the idea of stealing them as they were luxuries, but it wasn’t as if I could pay for them either. Money had no value in this strange, gruesome world.

I picked out the textbooks that I hadn’t been able to afford in my previous life and spent eight days cramming my head with as much Japanese as I could. If I was going to survive, I couldn’t keep going into games with a scrambled-up knowledge of the rules.

But naturally, eight days isn’t enough to learn a language, and far too quickly, my visa was due to expire.

This time, when I left the apartment, I walked further from the city centre to see if the games were spread out right across Tokyo or confined to a limited space. Then I stopped in the middle of the street, the cool night air whipping around me.

A light glared bright on the horizon.

Here we go again.

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

The apartment complex was around seven storeys in height, each floor glaring under blue strip lights. Following the signs once more, I walked up a set of stairs and through the entrance to find ten other figures stood around waiting. A few of them looked at me curiously, probably trying to suss out whether I was new to this or not. Ignoring them, I took a phone from the table in the centre of the room.

‘FACE REGISTRATION IN PROCESS.

PLEASE WAIT FOR THE GAME TO COMMENCE’

Like always, I snuck my way into a corner and let my eyes drift over the players around me. If our lives were on the line, who could I team up with? Who couldn’t I trust?

Trust nobody.

It was a motley crew. There was girl with bobbed hair doing stretches on the floor, a middle-aged woman still clutching her handbag, two hardened men who looked ready for anything, a peculiar man with a hat, two young women who were clearly best friends, a guy dressed in blue who kept asking what was going on, and –

White Hoodie.

He was staring at me from beneath his hood, with that same arrogant smirk decorating his features.

‘I look forward to seeing you again in another game.’

It was almost as if he had planned this.

His staring stirred something uncomfortable within me, as if I were a creature only just noticing too late the eyes of a predator lurking in the foliage. I nodded at him, hoping he would lose interest. And sure enough, it worked, as his features relaxed and his eyes lowered back to the ground.

I let out a shaky breath. Avoid him. Definitely avoid him.

There were footsteps as two tall young men waltzed through the entrance. They looked a little dishevelled and they glanced around anxiously. But from the way they immediately went to the phones, this wasn’t their first game. The strange man in the hat started talking to them, but I tuned out their voices. I needed to focus on the situation at hand.

‘REGISTRATION CLOSED. THE GAME WILL NOW COMMENCE.’

The talking hushed as everyone listened closely and peered at their phones.

‘GAME – TAG

DIFFICULTY – FIVE OF SPADES

TIME LIMIT – 20 MINUTES.’

‘RULES –

RUN AWAY FROM THE TAGGER.

FIND THE SAFEZONE IN ONE OF THE ROOMS WITHIN THE TIME LIMIT.

AFTER THIS, THE TIME BOMB HIDDEN IN THE BUILDING WILL EXPLODE.

THE GAME WILL BEGIN IN TWO MINUTES.’

I was almost proud of myself. I had been able to understand more of the grammar this time rather than relying on the select words I could pick up.

The players around me had started moving toward the stairs. And if the game officially began in two minutes, that meant we were able to choose our starting location.

White Hoodie instantly moved towards the elevator, but he was the only one, and I didn’t want to be stuck in there with him.

Instead, I waited a moment, before hopping into the elevator with the two hardened men. Pressing the button for floor seven, I waited for them to choose their floor, but instead they just glanced down at me silently. When the elevator doors opened, I scanned the area for the best place to observe as the two men stepped out in front of me.

A corner would be bes—you’re kidding me.

White Hoodie was in the very corner that I had set my sights on. He was waving, possibly at the two men, possibly at me.

Nope, I thought. I’m not doing this.

I stepped back into the elevator and jabbed the button for floor six. Irritation. That was all I could feel as I made my way to the same corner, one floor down. He’d only gone and taken the safest seat in the house, leaving me no choice but to opt for second-best instead. It’s true, I could’ve taken the seventh-floor corner on the other side of the block, but I’m not sure the two hardened men would’ve wanted a tag along. Perhaps it was stupid or stubborn of me to do this, but I didn’t have the patience to deal with White Hoodie’s psychotic calmness. He would make a smart ally, that’s for sure, but someone like him wouldn’t hesitate to throw someone like me under the bus.

I propped my elbows up on the edge of the walkway, observing the other players as they scattered throughout the building like chess pieces. Some were using the extra time to test the locked doors while they could.

‘Everyone looks like they’re about to die, as usual.’

I groaned and looked up at the ceiling above me. How can I still hear his snarky commentary from all the way down here?

If it weren’t a life-or-death situation, I’d have gone down yet another floor just so I wouldn’t have to listen in. But there was no time for that.

‘GAME START – THE TAGGER IS NOW ON THE MOVE.’

Everyone was silent. I could see them all poised, terrified, waiting, as trumpets filled the air, echoing through the long walkways and staircases. A racing fanfare? I held my breath, waiting for something to happen. For the tagger to make themselves known.

And then, a chime.

The elevator doors opened up. They opened up on floor six – my floor.

My heart jumped at the sight. He was tall, clearly well-built despite being shrouded in a coat. But what was most striking was his head, or should I say, his mask. He was wearing a large mask stylized as a horse head. The racing fanfare suddenly clicked into place… as did something else.

He was holding a submachine gun.

And he was looking right at me.

‘Shit!’

Fueled by adrenaline, I ran to the far edge of the walkway, hoisting myself up onto the balcony as the tagger calmly made his way closer, getting ready to aim. Clasping onto the drainage pipe, which trembled under my weight, I prayed that it wouldn’t collapse to the ground. The metal groaned as I pulled myself up with strength I didn’t know I had.

I heard the bullets before I felt them, a small, sharp whoosh of air that burst across my skin.

I’m almost there! Almost there. Just a little more.

The tagger was leaning out now, growing closer and closer while firing away and missing me only by a hair’s breadth. Soon he’d be close enough to aim properly. Channeling all my energy, I pushed my feet against the pipe joins, trying to pull my body up just a little further.

A hand reached out.

Clinging to the pipe with one arm, I grasped the hand and felt myself being pulled up against the balcony and onto the seventh floor where I rolled to the ground.

The gunshots stopped.

I couldn’t move from where I lay, staring at the roof as I tried to catch my breath. My muscles quivered, shivering with fight or flight.

‘危なかった,’ a familiar voice said. That was dangerous.

My eyes slid over to my rescuer. White Hoodie was leaning against the balcony.

‘でも,’ he continued. ‘感心した.’

I frowned, confused, trying to think back to the textbook I had poured over. The eight days of studying had almost gone to waste.

‘Sorry,’ I said, still a little breathless. ‘I don’t know what that word means.’

He laughed, a short puff of air. ‘It means you’re an idiot,’ he said. ‘You should’ve stayed up here rather than being stubborn.’

I pushed myself up and sat against the wall, as I wasn’t confident I had it in me to stand just yet.

Then, he added, ‘you’re also completely unprepared for a Spades game.’

Oh? So the suit does have something to do with the nature of the games…

I gave him a questioning look, hoping he’d elaborate, but he simply turned around to observe the game going on around us. I didn’t take his dismissal personally. It was hardly the time or place.

It must’ve been a few minutes I spent sitting there before I eventually decided to stand. Now that the adrenaline had passed, my muscles were beginning to ache. But I couldn’t let that keep me from the game; I needed to be able to run if the tagger came up here. I stood next to White Hoodie, observing the players around us.

From the third floor, gunshots and wet gurgled shrieks resounded. Left, right and centre, players flopped, limp as dolls as floor sprayed across the walls. We watched on as the two young women were slaughtered one by one, the second one wasting a perfect opportunity to escape by instead throwing her shoe at the tagger.

‘He was reloading his gun,’ I said, incredulous. ‘She could’ve gotten away so easily.’

Beside me, he made a noise of agreement, then we fell into silence. Even though we only had 20 minutes in total, it seemed to last a lifetime. Things got interesting very quickly when the two disheveled men started running across their floor, one of them shouting that everyone should call out the tagger’s location and help each other.

‘It’s not a bad idea,’ White Hoodie said, ‘but nobody will respond.’

‘You don’t know that,’ I replied. ‘Somebody might.’

At that moment, the girl with the bobbed haircut yelled out, ‘the tagger’s moving! He’s on the fourth level of the central area! Anyone who’s nearby, run!’

At first, I felt a sense of satisfaction that he had been proven wrong. But then the same girl tried to save the middle-aged woman, before leaping off the side of the balcony and climbing a drainpipe with the agility and grace of an expert. I tried not to feel jealous. I tried.

She makes it look so easy. And she did it while dodging all those bullets too.

‘A climber? How interesting…’ White Hoodie mused. Leaning toward me, he added, ‘you see, that’s how you’re supposed to climb things.’

‘Shut up,’ I snapped. ‘I never asked for your opinion.’

He gave me that same condescending look that he had back in the entrance, and I squirmed inside. After that, we returned to silence. I checked the time on my phone. We only had 12 minutes left. It wasn’t long before we needed to head to the safezone, wherever that may be. Eying the guy next to me, I wondered whether he knew exactly where it was but was waiting until the last minute.

Gunshots sounded once again. However, this time they were coming from a floor just below us. The tagger was firing his gun at a door across the walkway on a floor below. In between gunfire, the scared newbie from the beginning peeked his head over the edge of the balcony, before ducking down again in fright.

Something wasn’t right. It was quite a considerable distance for the tagger to shoot, and so far, he had just been shooting anyone he came across at random rather than targeting those on different floors.

Unless… that door behind him.

‘That’s it, isn’t it?’ I said.

White Hoodie nodded and glanced at his phone. He then pulled off his signature hood, revealing his pale hair once more.

‘Should we begin?’

I didn’t like the idea of tagging along behind him, but he seemed to know what he was doing. I clearly couldn’t trust him, but at the same time, he’d helped me up the balcony. He didn’t have to do it, but he had. But then what if it was so he could later use me as a human shield? There were too many what-ifs, and it was impossible to tell whether to consider him an ally.

Up ahead, he stopped. He turned around to where I was still standing, lost in thoughts.

‘Aren’t you coming?’

I won’t trust you, but I’ll stand by you.

‘What’s your name?’ I asked.

He smirked. ‘Chishiya.’

Somehow, it suited him. And it felt more like an alliance now that I knew his name.

I gave a firm nod. ‘I’m coming, Chishiya.’

Jogging to catch up, I followed behind him as we made our way downstairs. The tagger seemed to be on one of the lower floors, but this didn’t make me any less apprehensive as I stayed a few paces behind Chishiya, unable to stop myself from staring at the white tendrils of his hair that blew back in the breeze.

As we approached the door, another familiar face appeared. It was the disheveled one who’d suggested we all work together. Looking at him up-close, he had a friendly, attractive face, but his hair looked like it’d seen better days.

‘I see you noticed it too,’ Chishiya said.

The man nodded, although he looked unsure. His hand rested on the doorknob, but he didn’t seem willing to go any further.

Chishiya raised a brow. ‘Aren’t you going to open it?’

The man glanced between the two of us, then said slowly, ‘if I was the tagger, I’d have just stayed here. There’s something missing in this game, something we haven’t thought about.’

He had a point. There was likely more to this ‘safezone’ than the rules had specified, just like how one of the codes in the Jack in the Box game had been a lie. There was probably a trap hidden somewhere behind the apartment door.

‘That’s probably true,’ Chishiya agreed, then pulling out his phone, added, ‘but there’s no time.’

He also had a point. There was only three minutes of the game left before the bomb detonated and it was game over for everyone.

The man nodded, and slowly opened the door.

I hid behind Chishiya as the three of us quietly entered. The place was just an empty room, with nothing particularly safeabout it. But at the far end, there was another door. That was probably the real safezone. The three of us made to inspect it –

Click.

Chishiya was pushed aside, his body thrown onto mine as we fell to the ground. Deafening gunshots rained everywhere, marring the walls and ceiling.

A second tagger!  

I felt Chishiya’s weight suddenly leave me as he crawled to his knees. Scrambling out of the way, I saw Chishiya hastily pulled a battered Walkman out of his pocket. To my surprise, he pushed it against the second tagger, and electricity juddered from one end, sparks flying.

No, not a Walkman… a taser!

The moment it touched his skin, the tagger spasmed and jerked before dropping to the ground. Beside me, Chishiya climbed to his feet and offered a hand to pull me up. Together, the three of us stared in amazement between the converted taser and the still body on the floor.

Chishiya inspected his weapon. ‘It’s good to come prepared—’

Bullets burst through the air, the room glowing orange. I barely noticed the hand clamped like a vice around my wrist as my body was dragged outside, the door slamming shut behind us. The metal of the door protruded grotesque as fresh bullets hit, and I glared at Chishiya in disbelief.

‘He’s still in there! We can’t just leave him!’

For the first time, he seemed to be out of breath. ‘Do you want to die?’ he asked dryly.

Then his eyes, suddenly hard and serious, began to drift down further, coming to a stop on my upper arm. I followed his gaze to discover that a large red stain was oozing from my upper arm. Even by the second, the blood was rapidly soaking the fabric of my clothes. Perhaps I should have been panicking. Perhaps the sight should have made me more worried, but it didn’t. If the bomb detonated, we’d be dead, and a gunshot wound wouldn’t matter.

‘I can’t feel it,’ I told Chishiya. It was the truth.

He pursed his lips, staring darkly at the messy red wound. ‘You will soon.’

I sighed. We probably only had about two minutes, if that, to clear the game.

‘Let’s go back inside,’ I suggested. ‘I’ll go in first if you want.’

The scorn on his expression was quite something. Now standing, we both inched the door open, to find the room empty. Or at least, the main room was empty. The door at the back had been forced open, and a series of struggled groans could be heard.

Chishiya went first, creeping towards the doorframe and peering his head around. He whipped back as another wave of bullets scattered across the wall opposite.

‘Are you okay?’ I asked, scanning him over.

‘Of course I am,’ he said. ‘There’s two buttons in there. Two people need to press them to clear the game.’

Should’ve seen this coming. It wouldn’t be so easy.

By now, although I hated to admit it, Chishiya had been right; my arm was just starting to throb. In another few minutes, it would likely become too painful to move freely.

Suddenly there was a crash, and a familiar female voice could be heard inside the room. From what I could remember of her, it was the climber girl. Leaning into the doorway once more, Chishiya hesitated, holding the makeshift taser in his hand.

‘TEN SECONDS REMAINING.’

There’s no time for this!

Snatching the taser from his fingers, I ignored the pulse of pain from my arm and sprinted into the room. Then, ducking low, I shoved the taser into the tagger, feeling the electricity shudder violently through the Walkman and around my fingers.

‘FIVE… FOUR… THREE…’

The tagger slumped against the wall.

‘TWO…’

The man and the climber girl launched themselves across the room.

‘ONE.’

Their palms hit the buttons.

‘GAME CLEAR – CONGRATULATIONS!’

[karasunology]

⸙ ˚₊ ➷ KAGEYAMA TOBIO & OIKAWA TOORU AS YOUR OLDER BROTHER ! ❞

╰─ ─ ﾟheadcanons of two of our pretty setters being your older brothers !

✐ . . . BIG BROTHER HEADCANONS.

[ MIYA TWINS & BOKUTO KOUTARO VERSION. ] [ SUNA RINTAROU & KITA SHINSUKE VERSION. ]

-ˏˋ ➶ character(s) ━ kageyma tobio, oikawa tooru <3

[ trigger warnings ━ manga spoilers !! ]

-ˏˋ ✉️ REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN.

⇣ please read the RULES before requesting.

KAGEYAMA TOBIO.

➜ the type of older brother that acts as if he doesn't care but he actually does.

➜ he acts as if that one time where no one from his family but you actually came to one of his volleyball games ─ well, besides from your guys' grandfather; but ever since of his passing, the clostest ─ tangible and most concrete reminants of him were just lingering in the form of a volleyball.

➜ he acts as if the absence of most of his family members didn't affect him and yet, he usually found himself looking for them in the stands ─ hoping that they'd be there cheering him on

➜ he was used to always being left alone when it was just him and his older sister but then you came along

➜ when you were young, you would always cling onto him for your dear life for some reason

➜ and ever since tobio was young, he somewhat had difficulties expressing himself so it was no surprise that he usually shakes you off violently off your tight graps

➜ like how can someone with so little hands be so strong at holding him down??

➜ he wasn't used to these affections, and the start of your guys' sibling relationship was quite rocky

➜ but now when he remembers those times where you hated to jog but you would always, ALWAYS, find yourself catching up to him

➜ slowley, gradually & subtly

➜ just to match up to his pace so you guys would jog together

➜ and then he realizes, that he wasn't alone anymore

➜ bb boy had you right next to him

➜ ugh enough about angst people

➜ LETS GET TO THE GOOD GOOD

➜ SPA DAYS ARE A THING

➜ SORRY YOU DON'T MAKE THE RULES

➜ I DO

➜ since he is a setter, he needs his fingers and nails in tip-top shape yknow?

➜ since you're one of the only persons he trusts his life onto, he makes you do it

➜ like it's not even because of whatever gender you are

➜ you will do his nails, and you WILL learn to do the best manicure this boy could ever get

➜ because all you want was the best for the best older brother ever.

➜ and that's how he always had healthy clean nails & is always manicured

➜ and it's ON YOU

➜ he would never, NEVER let anyone else do his nails

➜ you would 100% go along with his finger exercise thingy

➜ and these spa days usually ends in a sleepover with facemasks on miwa-nee left in her drawers

 ➜ kageyama may not show it, but he really appreciates you

➜ like alot

➜ you had all the reasons to deny him of his spa days, matches, etc.

➜ but you choose to stay, to learn how to manicure, to skip school and go to his matches & give him the support he was deprived off

➜ like if this blueberry boyo ever offered to share you his mILK, while you guys already have seperate milk cartons in the fridge

➜ you know that he holds you so close, and so fucking dear to his heart that it's going to make me crYyyY

➜ he's not good at expressing his emotions, but he will do everything in his will to make it known to you that you are important to him

➜ he'll always walk with you to school and go home with you whenever he doesn't have volleyball practice

➜ if he noticed that you're feeling down or stressed he'll take you away from whatever that is & will force you to play volleyball with him

➜ just so that you could get your mind off from it

➜ if you forget your lunch money, he'll buy you two mini milk box with curry buns on the side

➜ and then when you guys go home he'll force you to make bento with him until it's late at night in a school night with tons of food on your closed because y'all forgot to use an apron lmao

➜ he's always so stiff with receiving affections and giving one

➜ but he's so good at giving headpats

➜ and he only does it on you

➜ his warm huge hand in comparison to your head, and it'll always be the best way he could convey his emotions

➜ it's through the familiar, homey feeling of the palm of his hands

➜ he's the type to have one picture with you and his grandfather together that's literally so old, it doesn't need those vintage aesthetic effects to make it look vintage

➜ he'll also the type to carry it around in his wallet ALWAYS, but forgets to bring money?? for?? some?? reason??

➜ 11/10 would recommend as a brother

➜ in conclusion, he may not be the best at showing affections and giving them, but you'll always be reminded in different and special ways that he loves you so much; you'll always have each other's back & would stay in each other's side, always.

➜ like harry potter typa shit always.

OIKAWA TOORU.

➜ he's the type of brother that is ALWAYS UP YOUR FUCKING BUSSINESS

➜ he already has his head up his ass,  you don't want him to be up on yours as well

➜ he'll always be up on your room & he's very very clingy, like a lot

➜ fights are an ALWAYS

➜ y'all would fight about many things honestly

➜ probably most of the reason would be because you're just fed up on him

➜ you would DEFINITELY JOIN IWAIZUMI ON BULLYING HIM & WOULD DEF JOIN ON HITTING HIM

 ➜ but even if things are serious, like that one time where he's just so exhausted of EVERYTHING, because why the fuck won't his serves be good enough?

➜ and he'll just breakdown in front of you, pouring his heart out on how they lost again to ushijima in the semi-finals

➜ he'll also spill out all his insecurities about volleyball because even if it may not seem like it, he gets insecure too 👉👈

➜ and you'll just be there, listening since you know that he wasn't looking and asking for advice ─ he just wanted someone, anyone to listen to him

➜ you'll let him cry out whatever was bothering him for the past few weeks while comfort his huge frame since he collapsed onto your shoulder

➜ oKAy ENOUGH ANGST I AM SO SORRY

➜ i hate myself too, don't worry💅💋

➜ while you guys were young, he'd always be up on your room, and would be playing dolls or cars or shit with you

➜ he's just so used to being with you

➜ that when you got sick and had to go to a hospital and they wouldn't let him visit you, he cried for the first time in years

➜ he'll be stuck on your side by the time you were discharged

➜ he plays volleyball with you along with iwaizumi

➜ he'll also make you come with him while along with iwaizumi to meet his volleyball idol

➜ you'll also be the first person to know what his plans for the future is

➜ and you'll support him through and through, you guys would even consider going with him to argentina

➜ and he wouldn't disagree

➜ he's the type of brother that knows 12762 of your crushes, your passwords, that page 24 of tour diary he stole that says “ tooru-nii isn't kinda that annoying ” that he framed up on his bedroom

➜ he has a shit ton of blackmail material on you

➜ since it's canon that he adores his family, he'll have many polaroid pictures of your guys' family up on his wall

➜ and of course of you guys seperately on picture frames on his desk, ranging from that one time you almost drowned taken at the right timing, to that picture of you and him when you graduated junior high.

➜ speaking of pictures

➜ he'll be SPAMMING YOUR PHONE WITH PICTURES OF HIM

➜ weird ass selfies of his and those forced cute faces that you wanted to burn in hell

➜ and a LOT of selfies with you guys on it

➜ since he knows your password to your phone, he'll change your lockscreen wallpaper to a cute selfie of you guys

➜ he'll never make you change it

➜ reason #1672 why you don't have a bf/gf

➜ you'll ALWAYS find him scrolling through YOUR phone

➜ he'd be watching tiktoks not giving a fuck

➜ while you're just there like

➜ that's MY phone sir 👁👄👁

➜ 11/10 would have a section of his family scrapbook of you guys & it's either showing your attractive oikawa genes

➜ or it's shitty photos of you guys

➜ nothing in between

➜ since we talked about your phone, let's talk about his

➜ you would not let him spam your phone and ruin your phone storage with pictures of him and selfies of you guys without doing the same with him

➜ like DUH

➜ his phone would be FILLED of crazy crackhead pictures of you guys

➜ and he'll have one of your cute selfies as his lockscreen wallpaper

➜ matching the one he set up on your phone

➜ and of he ever has a girlfriend/boyfriend, you HAVE to meet them first

➜ and even if you may not see it, your opinions is held quite mighty high for oikawa

➜ and of course he's like that with you too, he better know the address of your boyfriend/girlfriend, their number, and he WILL do a whole ass background check on him

➜ but you know he does that not only to have your underwear in a twist, he kinda 👉👈 cares about you & as you care about him

➜ 12/10 would recommend as a brother

➜ in conclusion, you guys may sometimes be up on each other's ass, but you guys care a lot about each other and will not hesitate to beat someone's ass for the other because no one but him could bully you, and vice versa ( + iwa-chan )

-ˏˋ playing soleil's tape ˊˎ-

[ 📼 ] . . . will be making this a mini series of big brother headcanons bECAUSE WHY NOT, like WHY NOT; ya get me?? i fucking love wholesome family headcanons & would 1000% write domestic hcs and dad! hcs.

again, requests are open !

one request = one more reason to stay sane

watch out for new dating headcanons of two cute setters 💅

send me an ask or even a comment on you want to see next in the big brother series because i'm wh0re for that, also i finally revived my phone but without it being formatted so i have to redo the requests i wrote. so before i post them since they are not quite done yet, have this.

[cordonian-literature]

— love and war

an Attack On Titan and The Royal Romance crossover

a/n. ahhhh so it’s @zoehanji​'s birthday today! i got the idea for this fic based on something you mentioned in a convo a couple weeks back and am so excited to finally post it!! this takes place while Liam and Erwin are squad leaders, long before the fall of Wall Maria. Drake, Hana, Maxwell, and all other mentioned TRR characters are on Liam's team, while our AoT faves are on Erwin's squad! this is probably crap but i had fun writing it so hehe

i hope you have an amazing birthday, perci! you're amazingly supportive and kind!! you deserve all the love and happiness in the world. i love you 🥺😙💕💕

word count: ~3980

summary: The Scout Regiment retreats inside the Walls after a failed expedition. Liam and Erwin both worry after Riley, who suffered an injury at the hands of a titan.

WARNINGS: angst, blood, depictions of violence, mention of mental health issues

disclaimer: none of these characters belong to me. also, since this takes place in the Attack on Titan universe, if you haven’t watched the show there’s a chance you won't understand this, but there are no spoilers or anything. that’s why i’m not tagging anyone, this was pure self-indulgence. i had fun with it, so if you read it i hope you enjoy it!

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

The bell announcing the opening of the gate was enough to tell people that the expedition outside the walls had failed. What solidified the fact was the downturned faces of the Survey Corps soldiers. Hours before, they had left Shiganshina with their shoulders pushed back, fists tightly holding the reins of their horses, faces the epitome of confidence and bravery.

Now, as the sun hid behind the 50-meter walls visible only through pink and purple rays, most soldiers had bandages over their faces, some more caked with blood than others.

As the soldiers passed through the path in town, citizens of the walls lined up on the sides. Soldiers dismounted their horses and walked slowly with the reins in their hands. Riley watches the faces of the residents of Shiganshina contort with rage and disappointment, upset about how their tax dollars had just been wasted, yet indifferent to the fact that more than forty percent of the new recruits who had left this morning were nowhere to be found, and the other sixty percent was visibly losing their sanity.

Who wouldn’t, though, after seeing their close friends and comrades mercilessly eaten alive?

“Is that alright?” Hana’s gentle voice asks after wrapping Riley’s leg with a new set of bandages. She sits with Riley in the wagon that Drake drives.

Riley notices the blood smeared on Hana’s cheek. How many soldiers did she have to patch up in the last hour?

“Do you need more bandages?” Maxwell asks from on top of his horse. His head is still turned downwards, and Riley knew by the lack of color on his cheeks and his bloodshot eyes that he was embarrassed over what had happened.

Outside the walls, the sun had been bright and the breeze had caressed their faces, wind wrapping them in deceitful peace. The fresh air and hypnotizing wave of the grass exuded fantasies of happiness, love, freedom: everything the Survey Corps soldiers fought for. There was no sight of rain, no thick clouds, no dusty air; nothing seemed as if it could go wrong.

But of course, innocent mistakes and ruthless monsters don’t pair well together. Maxwell had engaged his ODM gear and swung at a seven-meter titan, but had failed to cut off its nape to eliminate it completely. It had gone to grab Maxwell, but Riley had been able to cut off its hand before the fingers could curl around her friend. Realizing that they both had strayed from the scouting formation and were at risk of being swarmed by titans, Riley had gone to remount her horse. Before she got the chance to grab the reins and lift herself up, the same titan grabbed her with its other hand, breaking her leg with a loud crack.

Liam, Hana, and Drake had been a few meters behind, and while Drake took the chance to cut off the titan’s nape and finish it off for good, Liam grabbed Riley as she fell and gently placed her unconscious form in the wagon Drake had been driving.

“Maxwell, you idiot,” Drake had said when they were all on the move again. “Commander Keith specifically said not to engage the titans. Why are you so hell-bent on disobeying orders?”

“It was right in front of us!” Maxwell tried to defend himself. “If I didn’t try to take it out, we’d be as flat as pancakes right now!”

Back inside the walls, as they got closer to Scout Headquarters, the soldiers were met with doctors and nurses ready to treat their wounds as most of the squad leaders retreated into the building with Commander Keith. Liam, being a squad leader, quickly followed behind them, giving Riley a quick wave before disappearing into the building.

Riley was asked by a nurse if she could get herself into the infirmary, where there would be someone who could fix her broken leg.

As she shuffles off the wagon, a sharp pain stabs her leg and floods through the lower half of her body. The nurse and Hana stand on either side of Riley ready to lift, but before they can, Erwin appears in front of them and with a firm, “Let me,” he lifts Riley bridal style and brings her to the infirmary.

“You know I could have gotten here myself, right?” Riley tells him as they make their way through the halls.

“You’re injured, cadet,” he says. “We need you to get better, not worse.”

As he walks, Riley notices the blood on his shirt. She wonders whose blood it is. It couldn’t be Erwin’s: the way he carries Riley with ease and the way she feels his muscles flexing to make sure she’s comfortable show no hint of him being in pain. It wasn’t titan blood: it would have evaporated. It couldn’t be the blood of anyone on his team either: it was well known within the walls that every soldier on Erwin’s squad always made it back alive, mostly without even a scratch.

She looks up at him for a moment, catching his blue eyes narrowed in concentration, looking around for an empty room. Riley wonders what he had witnessed from his position in the formation. Had he been as afraid as she? Was he as guilt-ridden as she was, watching so many friends and comrades die for a cause that might not prove fruitful? She wanted to ask these questions, she wanted to know every inch of his thoughts, this man who was loved and hated equally by humanity inside the walls.

Inside an empty room in the infirmary, Erwin places Riley down on a bed. She moves around, trying to make herself more comfortable while Erwin goes to the table and pours a glass of water.

He holds it out to her, but while she’s busy shifting her leg in different positions, Riley doesn’t notice his extended arm. Erwin doesn’t say anything to bring her attention to it, though. He stands in silence, listening to Riley’s quiet mumbles and the soldiers crying out in pain in the other rooms.

Erwin tries to remember where her position was in the long-distance scouting formation and sighs in relief when realizing that, thankfully, she was in the left-wing, not the right-wing. Both were dangerous, but he had noticed more titans approaching the right side. Even if Riley encountered some titans, at least she hadn’t been surrounded by them.

Erwin had gone to Commander Keith a week before the expedition with the names of different soldiers and their possible positions, but the Commander had said that he would move some people around. Erwin thinks to himself that he should have told Keith to keep Riley in the center of the formation, where she’d be safest.

But putting the glass of water on the table, Erwin realizes to himself that his job isn’t to look after Riley, it’s to find the truth about the cruel world they inhabit and to figure out if his late father’s theory was true or not.

The sound of glass against the wooden table causes Riley to stop moving and turn.

“Thank you,” she says, bringing the glass to her lips and letting the water hydrate her dry throat. The cool liquid brings relief and burns as she swallows, and when she’s done Erwin asks if she would like some more.

After filling her another glass and watching her drink it, Erwin tells her that he’s going to find a doctor for her and go to a meeting with Commander Keith.

“A meeting? What about?” she asks.

“About the expedition and what each squad experienced or found,” he tells her.

“What do you mean?”

“The Survey Corps needs to prove that the expedition was successful in at least some way. We need to prove that we’ve done more than just have soldiers killed.”

“But do any of the squad leaders have anything to report?” Riley asks, dread filling her chest. If there was nothing to report, then the threat of disbanding the Survey Corps loomed over the top of their heads. If that ever happened, the truth of the titans and the world they lived in would never be uncovered: life inside the walls would eventually become too crowded and everything would dissolve into chaos. Even the king knew that.

“Yes, actually,” Erwin began. He was on his way out the door, but turned back at Riley’s question and sat at the edge of the bed. “From my squad, Hanji rushed a bit forward and noticed a titan…” He pauses and frowns, his thick eyebrows edging close together.

“Noticed a titan… doing what?” Riley asks, her curiosity peaked.

“I guess you could say it was vomiting,” he states. “Hanji certainly had fun witnessing it. They even laughed about the fact that at least eaten soldiers aren’t defecated—”

Erwin stops talking when he notices Riley giggling. “Sorry, sorry,” she says through gentle laughs. “It’s not funny, but of course that’s something Hanji would be excited over.”

Her words cause a smile to break Erwin’s stoic expression. “They were ecstatic. Moblit had difficulty dragging them away from the scene.”

Riley’s smile breaks with a small disgusted expression at the thought of the moment. “At least getting excited over titan vomit is better than being grabbed by one.”

Erwin’s smile melts and his face is once again expressionless. “Was Liam not with you? You both were supposed to be at the same position in the formation.”

Riley looks up at him, Erwin’s irritated tone not sitting right with her. “Yes, the Commander told him that he would be in the same spot with Maxwell and I, but Liam moved a few meters back with Hana and Drake.”

“So he defied orders?” Erwin states without hesitation.

“No! He just said that he’d thought it’d be better if he could see his squad in front of him,” Riley tries to argue Liam’s case. “Because if some of us were behind him, he couldn’t see us if we were in trouble.”

“Yes, that’s why Drake was meant to be in the spot behind Liam,” Erwin continues as Riley can’t figure out why the issue bothered him so much.

She takes a moment to stare at him, trying to read his expression. The placements of soldiers in the formation was the Commander’s job — Erwin was just there to give suggestions. Why was he so upset about something Liam decided was best for his team?

Erwin watches Riley as she stares at him, disappointed at why she was overlooking the fact that, because of Liam’s slip-up, she could have gotten killed. When Riley doesn’t continue the conversation and Erwin remembers that he’s supposed to be in a meeting right now, he speaks up again.

“I apologize,” he says, taking a deep breath. Erwin waits for Riley’s expression to soften, but when it doesn’t, he continues: “It’s not my place to judge the actions of another squad leader. I simply wanted to make sure that you were safe and your life wasn’t being put on the line.”

“All our lives are on the line,” she mentions in a quiet voice, a reminder that nothing was guaranteed for them, but the slight blush on her face gives something else away. “And I told you before, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

He shakes his head at her comment. “I’ll go get a doctor and check in on you later.”

He leaves the room without another word, the blades in his ODM gear the only sound of his exit.

A few moments later, Doctor Yaeger comes into Riley’s room with a nurse. The man asks her questions about how the expedition went, and Riley was amused at how fascinated he was at every titan kill and turn of events she told him about.

When her leg was properly patched up, Doctor Yaeger tells her that it should heal after a few weeks and that she must avoid training in the meantime. The minute he leaves, Maxwell, Hana, Drake, and Hanji burst through the door with sweets for Riley.

Maxwell rushes to her side and grabs her hands in his. “Riley!” he cries. “Are you feeling better? Does your leg still hurt? Do you need me to get anything for you?”

“I’m fine, Maxwell,” she tries to convince him.

“This is for you,” Hana says, handing Riley a cup of warm tea. “From Liam. He suggested bringing you something warm to drink.”

“He’s not here?” Riley asks, tilting her head to try and look out the door.

“He’s still in the meeting with the Commander and the rest of the squad leaders,” Drake tells the group. “He was worried about you though, wanted to make sure you were alright.”

Riley tries to remove her hands from Maxwell’s grasp to get the cup of tea, but Maxwell doesn’t let go.

“Riley, I don’t know how to say sorry and thank you enough,” he begins again, tears forming in his eyes. Riley felt for him, knowing how consuming the guilt of having another comrade die or get injured on one’s behalf can be.

“Don’t worry about it,” she tells him. “At least we’re both alive.”

He sniffles and lets go of Riley’s hands, allowing Hana to transfer the cup of tea to her.

“Alright, now enough moping around,” Hanji says, pushing themself onto the small bed next to Maxwell. “I have something amazing to tell you!”

“Hanji, I don’t really want to talk about titan vomit right now,” Riley pleads, feeling her stomach growl at how hungry she was.

“I’ll have Drake go get some food for you,” she begins again, ignoring Riley’s request to be left alone to rest. “But hear me out, I have a theory that it’s not normal vomit, or not in the way that we understand the formation of it—”

A knock on the open door and the presence of a new figure causes Hanji to pause, and seeing that it was Liam, everyone in the room besides Riley stands and salutes with a fist to their chests.

With his hands behind his back, Liam moves from the entrance of the room, signaling that it was time for the rest of them to exit.

“I’ll come back after dinner and explain more,” Hanji says before leaving.

When the rest of them have emptied the room, Liam closes the door halfway, blocking out the sound of soldiers and medical staff.

Grabbing a chair from the other side of the room and placing it next to Riley’s bed, Liam takes a seat. Just like on Erwin’s uniform, Liam’s outfit also had traces of blood. But she doesn’t have a chance to wonder whose it is before Liam’s voice fills the air around them.

“Are you still in pain, Riley?” he asks her, bringing his rough, long fingers to caress the bandage on her knee.

“Yeah,” she says, running her hand along her injury, the same area where she had felt her bone twist. “But not as much. Doctor Yaejer’s treatment helped a lot.”

She watches Liam nod but continue to stare at her leg, eyes dark with… guilt? Riley takes in a breath, ready to ask the question, but stops herself. But with the light sound of her breath, Liam had turned to look at her, the emotion in his eyes lighter while his face stretches into a charming smile.

“Is everything alright?” he asks when she doesn’t speak. Liam lunges towards the side table, quickly pouring her a glass of water and placing it in Riley’s hands. She puts it back on the table and shakes her head.

“I just had a few sips of tea,” she tells him. “I’m alright. I wanted to ask how your meeting with the Commander went.”

Leaning back in his seat, Liam sighs. The same flash of sorrow passes through his eyes, but he gives a smirk to hide it.

“Erwin brought up the topic of your injury, and asked me my position in the formation,” he says. “The man walked into the room late, and after saluting the Commander, that was the first thing he said.”

Riley keeps quiet. She had never before commented on the rivalry between Liam and Erwin. When she had first joined the Corps, she thought it was humorous; she had laughed and whispered with Hana every time they would have a stare-off or a battle of intellect in front of her.

But Riley had never noticed how her happiness sent shutters through both men, causing them to cease their bickering and allowing them a few moments to stare at the beauty they wish they would never have to sacrifice.

Liam leans in close again, his voice gentler this time, thoughts of Erwin gone. “My intention was not to abandon or leave you, Riley,” he reaches for her and she allows his fingers to glide into the crevice of her hands, warmth and tension vibrating from his fingers. “It was a mistake, leaving you alone like that.” The depth in his eyes causes the despair to resurface in Riley’s heart, and she almost falls into it.

But she can’t afford to let her emotions consume her. Perhaps if she was a normal citizen living a normal life within the irritable walls, then maybe she’d let herself loose and cry into the arms of a man who had sworn to protect her, who looked at her with affection and admired her skills. Maybe.

Maybe she will be able to one day, when the gates of the walls will be permanently opened and titans will be no more and humans can be free outside the walls. When they’ve reached their goal, maybe then she’d let every negative thought consume her.

But right now, she was a soldier of the Survey Corps. Liam had brought no bad news, so that meant there was no threat of the Corps being disbanded. She had to keep moving forward, if not for herself, then everyone else. Morale was already low, especially after such a disastrous mission. Soldiers looked towards each other for emotional support. If one person let their thoughts consume them, everyone else would follow.

“I should have been by your side,” Liam’s voice brings Riley out of her thoughts, and she dulls her emotions until all the guilt and despair has dissolved.

“I wasn’t alone,” she reminds him. “Maxwell was with me, remember?”

His eyes meet her in a joyous question, silently asking her if she was serious. Riley knew what Liam meant to say, but there was no reason to solidify her thoughts.

“Liam,” someone says from the doorway. It’s another squad leader, one that rarely interacted with Riley. “I wanna talk with you for a minute.”

Before leaving, Liam brings Riley’s hand — still intertwined with his — to his lips, before letting her hand go and walking away.

In the quiet room, Riley brings her head onto the pillow of her bed, ready to get a few hours of sleep after the tiring and disappointing day she just had. But clearly, she can’t have a few moments to herself, because another knock on the door reveals that Erwin has brought her a tray of food.

“I thought you were hungry,” he says, bringing the tray to rest on her lap.

“Thank you, I’m starving,” she replies, picking up a spoon and digging in.

“I saw Maxwell bringing the tray over, so I took it and told him I’d be fine delivering it. I… wanted to see you again,” Erwin reveals.

Through her food-filled face, Riley feels her cheeks redden, and when she turns to look at Erwin, she finds him leaning back in his seat, arm draped over the back of the chair, pensively looking out the window.

Once she swallows the food in her mouth, Riley speaks up again, “Thank you, you didn’t have to.”

He peels his eyes off the window and turns to her, a soft smile causing her shoulders to relax. “It was no problem.”

Before shoving another bite into her mouth, Riley asks, “How did the meeting go?”

“It was disbanded sooner than expected,” he states. “The Commander said he’d speak to us individually once we handed in our reports.”

Through a full mouth Riley goes, “Why?”

A deep laugh vibrates through the room, causing Riley’s face to redden again. “Liam and I… had different opinions on a certain matter.”

After a sip of water she goes, “Was it the same reason you were talking to me about before?”

“Yes,” the man says bluntly, staring at her intently. Riley imagined that he was probably waiting for a kind of reaction from her, waiting for her to tell him which man was in the right.

Again she turns to her food, not wanting to focus on the subject for too long. “Well, it’s already happened, so there’s no use getting upset over it. Promise me you both won’t argue about it?”

His smile widens. “If it makes you happy, I won’t utter a word about it.”

She gives him a grin in return. “Thank you.”

Moments pass by during which the pair sit in content silence, Erwin looking out the window then towards Riley, who seemed solely focused on the meal in front of her.

Riley heard Erwin’s deep breaths and occasional sighs, and eventually worked up the courage to ask the man another question. “Hypothetically,” her words cause him to turn to look at her. “If, say, the titans were to disappear, and everything that we devoted our hearts and sacrificed ourselves to came to be a reality, what would you do?”

His smile doesn’t falter. “That depends on how we get to the end result, of course. I want to see the world beyond titans.”

“And once you see it, what will you do?” she continues, not satisfied with his answer.

“I don’t know,” Erwin states. “I will when we get there.”

“Then I change the question!” Riley takes another bite of her food. “What do you think you would be doing in another life, in a world without titans?”

He laughs at the new question, but Riley’s face remains serious.

“Perhaps I’d be in a similar position as I’m in now,” he ponders.

“What do you mean?”

“I think I’d always be working towards finding some kind of truth.”

The words hang heavy between them. It wasn’t a definitive answer, but Riley understands what he’s trying to say, and more importantly, she wonders if there truly is nothing more to this man than finding out the truth of their world.

“In another life,” he continues, “Perhaps I’d devote myself to other things.” He pours her another glass of water, handing it to her and watching her drink it. Once she puts the cup down, they stare at each other intently, and Riley finds her answer.

But of course, whatever fantasy she created in her mind, whatever fantasy she created in which he said the words she had wanted to hear from him for so long — from this man she had admired from the first time she heard about him — she would only hear in another life.

A cough from the doorway brings the two out of their trance. Liam stands with a small scowl on his face and two trays of food in his hands.

Erwin gives a sigh, sending a sympathetic pang through Riley’s heart. He stands and walks towards the doorway, but before his figure can disappear, she speaks.

“Liam, Erwin hasn’t eaten anything yet. You can give him the second tray.”

And he does. The men share an intense stare, but Erwin walks away in the direction of the mess hall, leaving Riley and Liam alone to eat together: their hands intertwined in a way that wasn’t a fantasy or desired reality, but true and genuine.

✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧✦✧

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans Are Space Orcs, “Size Six.”

So I have been working on this for a few days based on a rquest form someone who wanted to see more stuff form when Adam was younger. I will, of course, be starting on the extra requested fluff for you guys tomorrow, but I hope this works for today. 

The bus bumped and jostled over the lumpy dirt road. Inside bodies swayed and juggle back and forth ramming into walls and steadying themselves against the antiquated seats before them. The bus was old, older than a large portion of dirt, old enough to have rubber tires, shitty suspension, and foam back seats, nothing like the sleek magno buses they used these days. Clearly their program wasn’t important enough to acquire a real transport vehicle. 

Their ride from the airport had been nerve wracking to say the least, and only some of it had come from the imminent threat that the bus would disintegrate into its component parts, most of the rest of it had come from the slow building of nervous energy felt by all the young teens as they waited to begin their first day at training.

There were forty of them in all, though less than half of that was predicted to make it through the training and actually become pilots from the program at Trans Space Combative aviation Academy. Of course the Academy didn’t have its own location, as new as it was and untested as it was, the burgeoning UNSC wasn’t likely to spend a ton of funds on a group of untested children. So they had been shipped onto Del Rio Texas where the air force flight academy was located, and allocated space, some instructors, and a few classrooms to get started.

Adam had found the other recruits from the program nervously waiting outside with their duffel bags and clothing. None of them were over the age of fifteen, and they consisted almost equally of boys and girls.

Adam was displeased to find himself the shortest among the boys, and about mid pack among the girls, a good portion of them probably weighing a good ten pounds more than he did, though none of them were out of shape.

He tried to ignore that doing his best to make friends with the other nervous recruits determined not to be the loser this time. Just as long as he didn’t show his weird to them straight off, maybe he was going to be fine. It seemed to be working, at least until the buss pulled up, and the group of them stared on with shock and disappointment at the monstrosity before them. 

They sort of hoped it wasn’t for them, but the ACU clad, army man stepping out of the door and onto the pavement dashed their hopes.

And soon they were on their way, jostling down the highway, eventually cutting through manned security gates, patrolled by armed guards, and finally onto the backroad that was taken around the airfield. Adam had his face pressed up against the window watching as a set of jets took off leaving trails of white behind them in the great blue sky above.

The implant in his arm buzzed, and he looked down to see a text from his  mother asking if they had landed yet.

He had to apologize for forgetting and assure her that he was, indeed, landed and on his way.

The further they went onto the base, the more people they could see, large muscular men and women running in formation wearing the same light grey T-shirts tucked into blue canvas shorts.

Voices roared past them as the men chanted in time with their cadence.

Low lying buildings pulled up on the horizon in front of them, crouched together in stumpy lines. Yelled commands wafted through open windows as more recruits rolled past kicking up dirt clouds as they went.

Adam grew nervous upon seeing them, big and adult.

He glanced down at himself and his baggy T-shirt and jeans held up only by a belt, the cuffs folded up over his shoes.

They belonged to his brothers, but were still too big for him.

The bus rolled to a stop just then jostling him forward so his face nearly rammed into the seat in front of him.A dust cloud billowed up around them obscuring his vision for a moment. At the front of the buss, the driver reached out and cranked the handle to the door manually forcing it open.

“Wow, this thing is a real piece of shit.” Someone muttered

Boots thudded onto the stairs, and the entire bus went quiet as a man stepped onto the front of the bus. He was tall, and serious faced with thick eyebrows and what appeared to be a shaved head, though it was mostly covered by a wide brimmed dumbass hat in dark, clashing seriously with his patterned ACUs.

They all waited on the edge of their seats.

Adam shrunk down into his expecting to get yelled at.

That’s what all the old army movies told him was going to happen.

Instead, however, the man smiled.

Adam didn’t buy it for one second.

“Welcome recruits to the first TSCA Academy class of 4013. I am Master Sergeant Kimball, and I will be one of your MTI (military training instructors) during this program. If you need to address me at any time during this course you will call me Sir or Master Sergeant Kimball. Now I understand that you may all be tired from your flight. We have recruits here from all across the world, so hopefully, today will be easy and relaxing.”

Adam eyed the group around him watching as the others began to relax.

Maybe this wasn’t going to be so bad after all? Perhaps because they were kids, they had been given some leeway during the training process.

I mean, were they really going to yell at a group of kids barely out of their teenage years.

“Alright everyone, Unload!”

There was a collective shuffling around the bus as the group of them took to their feet and began slowly shuffling towards the exit. Adam pulled his bag over his back, nearly tipping over backwards as the weight pulled his small frame off balance. Someone put a hand on his shoulder, ‘Whoa.” 

He glanced over and thanked the girl who helped him hurrying off the bus and down the stairs into the hot as hell Texas heat.

Stepping off the bus he found Master Sergeant Kimball standing next to two other MTIs, who were smiling at them, though their smiles seemed more wolfish than reassuring. 

My what big teeth you have he thought idly to himself stepping to the side so the others could walk through.

One boy came trudging down the steps last lugging an absolutely massive suitcase as a few of the others flopped to the ground resting against their bags eyes closed basking like lizards in the sun.

Sgt. Kimball stepped forward towards the last young man, “Here let me help you.”

The boy seemed rather grateful handing his bag down to the MTI taking some weight off his shoulders.

That was until Sgt. Kimball grabbed the zipper, opened the bag and dumped the entire contents of the suitcase into the dirt. He then got right up in the boy’s face and shouted, “NOW WHAT THE EVER LOVING FUCK DO YOU NEED A BAG LIKE THAT FOR. CHRIST SON, I COULD USE IT YO SMUGGLE YOUR CORPSE OUT WHEN I’M DONE WITH YOU.” 

The entire group jolted with surprise bolting upwards.

Even Adam was startled, and he had been expecting it. The poor kid was scrambling around in the dirt trying to collect his things, “GET YOUR ASS OFF THE GROUND YOU SORRY PIECE OF SHIT.”

The two other MTIs bore down on them their charming smiles revealed for what they really were. Wolf in sheep's clothing, snarling ravening beasts.

More bags were dumped on the ground, turned over, emptied until the contents mingled with the dust on the ground. The female MTI leaped over ripping Adam’s bag off the ground and tossing it’s contents into the dust. She reached down picked up a book and chucked it at him hitting him in the chest as he stumbled back, “YOU THINK YOU’RE GONNA HAVE TIME FOR READING!”

She moved on to the next student.

One of the recruits had burst into tears, and the MTI’s descended like vultures. One of them grabbed a water bottle from the ground and shoved it at the crying student, “BETTER GET STARTED ON CRYING ME A RIVER.”

Adam was scrambling to pick up his stuff and shove it back in his bag, “GET ON YOUR FEET!”

He bolted upright to find Sgt. Kimball in his face, or more looking down on him. His face was red and as he screamed little droplets of spit flew for his tongue. He gave Adam one long look over, “GOOD LORD BOY I’VE TAKEN SHITS MORE SUBSTANTIAL THAN YOU!”

“GO ON CLEAN UP THIS SHIT, IT’S FILTHY WHAT THE HELL HAVE YOU BEEN DOING, THEN GET YOUR ASSES DOWN TO INTAKE.” He scrambled to put his things in his bag the MTI’s shouting at him the entire time. He nearly tripped over himself multiple times falling flat on his face in the dirt much to the amusement of the MTIs.

“LEAVE YOUR SHIT HERE.” 

He tripped and wobbled running after the others as they ran towards the building that had been pointed out to them by the screaming MTIs.

A few of the other recruits were crying, but Adam, well he had sort of expected it, and honestly he would have been disappointed if they hadn’t. IN fact he found himself grinning from ear to ear as he walked into the equipment room behind a line of other recruits.

The equipment officer turned around from his desk to glare at them. He was a heavy-set man in his late forties with biceps as big around as tree trunks.

He looked them over with a frown before jabbing his finger at Adam, “You there, smiley. Small or extra small.” He blushed, “er…. Extra…. Small.”

“At least he’s honest.” The man grouted turning around to rifle through his equipment coming back with two pairs of everything in stock. He stacked it on the counter in front of him.

“Two PT uniforms, Two ACUs, two shirts, sweatpants, jacket, gloves, hat, and.” He pulled up a set of tan combat boots then glanced him up and down, “What is your shoe size?” 

“Er….” More blushing, “Six.”

The man grunted ducked back behind the counter, “We only carry eight plus in mens, but a seven in women’s shoulder work.”

He tried not to wilt at the reminder of how small he was. 

He turned away again and motioned him off. He clambered to pick up everything he needed and wobbled away juggling the boots the pants and the jacket with some difficulty, dropping a glove on the floor and nearly dropping everything else when he went to pick it up.

Walking outside he was met by another MTI who yelled at him to get his ass to the barracks to change and put all his shit away. He hurried to do as he was told running and nearly dropping everything again as he made his way through the doors into a large room lined along either side with beds, a single trunk at the base.

He ran to one of the beds at the far end, opened the crate and placed his things inside struggling to pull on one of the PT uniforms as the others ran into the room to do the same, throwing their things in the lockers at the base of the beds as the MTIs continued to scream at them.

It was only as he was running out of the room that he noticed the horrible terrible thing.

The extra small pants…. Were too big.

He tried looking for a drawstring to make them tighter, but they were canvas with an elastic waist, and they did not go any tighter. He turned in his spot trying to figure out what to do, but as soon as he slowed down another MTI was screaming at him to get back onto the field and line up.

So he chickened out, holding onto his pants for dear life as he raced back to the training ground. 

Upon making it there he helped the other students line up into evenly space rows thinking that the MTIs might be impressed with them if they were to do that.

They did their best to stand like they were supposed to, though all of the instruction they had ever gotten was from old war movies, and they were all doing it horribly wrong, a fact for which the MTIs noticed and yelled at them for with great glee as soon as they noticed. Of course they were eventually whipped into shape standing in line in straight rows heels together hands at sides, shoulders back.

He could feel his pants slipping, though he was too embarrassed to say anything.

Sgt Kimball stepped out in front of them hands behind his back, “what did I say! Didn’t i say we were going to have a fun relaxing day! Are you having fun!” He was right in one of the recruits face now bellowing almost at the top of his lungs. He moved onto the next student, “Are you relaxed!”

Adam didn’t think the kid looked particularly relaxed. In fact, he looked so tense, that if he squeezed any harder his spine was going to go shooting out of his ass.

“Well!”

There was silence on the grounds.

“WELL!”

Adam scrambled his brain not entirely sure what to do before squeaking out, “Yes sir.” 

The MTI leaned in, “Why don’t you try and communicate in normal ranges of human hearing, son. I am not a bat!”

He looked back up at the rest of the group, “WELL!”

“YES SIR.”

“That’s better.” He turned to stalk away from Adam pacing up and down the line, “i will be straight with you when I say that today IS going to be fun and relaxing compared to what you will be going through in the next few years. If you manage to make it into this program I promise you we will destroy your social life, you will have time for nothing other than this program and sleeping, if I decide to allow you to sleep, that is.”

Adam was grinning.

Unfortunately that caught the Sgt’s eye, “THE FUCK ARE YOU SMILING AT!”

He waited.

Adam just stood there.

“ANSWER THE QUESTION GODDAMMIT!”

He scrambled, “Yes sir, sorry sir! I thought it was a rhetorical question.”  

“HEAVENS ABOVE HAVE MERCY ON MY SOUL. I SAID ANSWER THE QUESTION!”

His mouth opened then closed, “Er…”

“THE HELL KIND OF ANSWER IS THAT!”

“Um.”

“Sweet Jehova did you come out this stupid or is it a family tradition, a side hobby?”

“I’m sorry sir, I forgot the question.”

He lowered his head with an exaggerated sigh rubbing his temples , “Forgot the question. FORGOT THE QUESTION. I’VE MET GOLDFISH WITH BETTER MEMORIES THAN YOU! I SAID WHY THE HELL ARE YOU SMILING.”

He blushed, “Oh….. Um” “HURRY UP.”

“BECAUSE I DON'T HAVE A SOCIAL LIFE FOR YOU TO RUIN, SIR.”

That seemed to take the man back, and he simply sat there staring at Adam with a bemused expression.

“If you were any more pathetic, smiley, I might just cry for you. Honest to god, if you get any more pathetic I will cry real tears for your shame.” 

He turned away.

“Now everyone get on the ground and give me FIFTY.”

At least everyone seemed to know what that meant, though pathetically enough his arms were wobbling at twenty.

“JUMPING JUPITER RECRUIT, I DIDN’T EXPECT YOU TO MAKE ME CRY IN THE FIRST HALF HOUR. MY COUSIN COULD DO MORE PUSH-UPS THAN YOU AND HE’S GOT NO ARMS!”

The Sargent seemed to have a lot of disabled relatives. A blind granny, an armless cousin, a nephew with a pole up his ass from a tragic fishing accident.

By the time they were done , Adam was quite nearly ready to throw up.

“ALRIGHT FIFTY BURPIES GO,GO GO.” Oh no, anything but that.

He paused but was almost immediately screamed at to get his ass in gear. He knew what was coming before it happened, and couldn't stop it.

As he jumped down into his first plank and then back up, he could feel the waist on his pants slipping, at first just a little, but then, as his feet left the ground there they went right down around his ankles.

At first he thought he was at least lucky to be in the back row, but then scrambling to pick his pants back up, he realized none of that was going to matter.

Sgt. Kimball was staring at him, cheek twitching.

He himself was blushing excessively. 

He was quiet for a very long time before, “CONTROL YOURSELF RECRUIT, THE LAST THING I NEED TO SEE IS YOUR CHICKEN LEG FLAT ASS KIDDIE JUNK ON MY TRAINING FIELD. Fuck, as small as you are I’ll probably be indited for CP. Now go get some new fucking pants before you blind us all for a second time. And, since it seems you’ve never seen leg day, I want you to cluck like a chicken all the way there. Let everyone know the pantsless chicken boy is coming.”

He did as he was told rose red the entire time and beat red on his way back seeing as, they had given him the smallest size available in mens, so instead he had been given a pair of woman’s shorts, which, due to the cut, tended to ride up in very uncomfortable places of his anatomy.

It was a very good thing he was used to embarrassment.

Or this was going to be a very long couple of years.

***

Commander Vir blinked and put a hand to his head boots throwing up little puffs of dust in the Texas heat.

“You ok Commander?”

He sniffed at the air and took in a deep breath hands on hips, “Ah, the memories!”

[spicycreativity]

Soft-Shoe Shuffle - Ch 7

Chapter: 7/12 Additional Notes: See Ch 1 for more information. Read on AO3 under "WizardGlick." Any formatting/italics errors are holdovers from AO3 that I was too lazy to fix. Chapter Content Warnings: derealization/delirium, fainting, general depictions of illness Excerpt: It was quiet in the hall, but that didn't mean much as of late. Still, it didn't matter. Janus' days of skulking around in the shadows were well and truly over. Now he would stand tall in the light so intense it didn't even let him cast a shadow.

Mhm, a monster's here Mhm, you plug your ears But hey, you might just listen to it sing Please let the Devil in

Janus awoke with a single-minded focus and a fire raging in his chest; it burnt away the distractions and fears he built for himself. He had to talk to Roman and it couldn't wait another second. He'd already put it off for far too long.

Getting out of bed was a struggle; Janus' blankets were all tangled up in his legs. He threw them on the floor and got up, bypassing the folded paper on his nightstand. He had neither the time nor the patience for another one of Remus' awful poems.

It was quiet in the hall, but that didn't mean much as of late. Still, it didn't matter. Janus' days of skulking around in the shadows were well and truly over. Now he would stand tall in the light so intense it didn't even let him cast a shadow.

He knocked on Roman's door with a bare fist and listened for the shuffling of feet on the floor. No sound came. He knocked again. "It's Janus," he said, lest Roman mistake him for Patton and bury his head deeper in the sand. "I've come to apologize."

The door flew open and would have bounced off the wall had Roman not caught it with his hand. It left his chest wide open, vulnerable, showed Janus all the bleeding wounds he hadn't seen before. "Great," he said, glowering at Janus. "So you can run back to the others and brag about how much better of a person you are than me?"

Janus blinked hard. The lights from Roman's room formed a halo behind his head and surely that wasn't symbolic at all.

"No," Janus said with difficulty. His mouth was dry and his tongue didn't seem to want to work.

It had been warm in the hall but as he stepped over the threshold into Roman's room, a creeping chill made his joints stick.

"Are you coming in or not?" Roman asked.

Janus shut the door behind him and fought to regain his wits. The simple act of standing left him breathless and sore, but it made the fog roll out a little. "Aren't you going to offer me a chair?"

Roman glared at him. With choppy, deliberate movements, he grabbed the back of his rolling desk chair and thrust it at Janus.

"Thank you." Janus sat and fixed his eyes on Roman's hazy, angry features. The ceiling light made his eyes ache, but he refused to flinch. He had to get this right.

"Well, Billy Flynn-truder." Roman held out his arms, again opening up his chest. Janus blinked. There had never been any blood on him at all, had there? "What do you really want?"

"What?" Janus asked through numb lips.

"Like you'd ever apologize to me. That was just another lie to get me to let you in, and guess what? It worked. You got me again, Deceit."

"Janus."

Roman scoffed. "Spit it out already, Horrorboros."

Janus squinted. Hadn't he already said? Maybe he hadn't. He pulled his elbows in tight to his sides and shivered. "I came to apologize."

"Fine, we're sticking with that." Roman towered over him, anger blazing in his eyes.

For a split second, Janus was worried Roman might hit him, never mind the fact that, for all his boisterousness, Roman had never been the overly violent sort. But now the possibility loomed in Janus' mind and made him shudder and pull his arms tighter around himself. "I'm sorry."

"There, it's over." Roman turned away from him. "Run and tell Patton and Tho-- and the others what a good boy you are. Everyone loves a reformed sinner."

"I'm sorry," Janus said again. "I--" Shame made his face hot even as icy shudders ran through his limbs. "Roman, I n-never meant to hurt you."

"Never?" Roman asked, low and deadly.

"Well, at the end--" What was wrong with him? It was a struggle to get words out, any words at all. Even the wrong words. The walls tilted sickeningly. "It was wrong of me to use you. The courtroom scenario-- I told you what you wanted to hear."

"I know."

"And I'm sorry. I shouldn't have played with your emotions. I didn't-- I didn't know better at the time; I was scared, and... I-- I would have done anything to get you to listen to me."

Roman whipped his head around so sharply it made Janus' own neck ache in sympathy. "You're lying."

Despair rose in Janus' chest, trying to escape in the form of one desperate, broken sob. He swallowed it down. "Not this time."

"Why should I believe you?" Roman demanded.

"Because I mean it!" Janus shot back at equal volume. It sent waves of agony pulsing through his head. "I'm sorry I lied to you. I'm sorry I used you. I'm sorry I hurt you. I just wanted you to listen to me. That's all I ever wanted."

"That's. Not. Good enough."

"It's all I have. I gave you my name, Roman. I don't have anything else to give." Janus' chest ached as he took in frantic, shallow gasps. Tears welled up his eyes, not of shame or penance, but fear. What if he wasn't good enough? What if he lost his place?

"Spare me," Roman said, voice sharp with disgust. Janus looked up at him, fighting exhaustion with every muscle in his body.

Roman frowned. "That's not going to work."

"What?" Janus sighed, feeling his posture worsen with the prolonged exhalation.

"Stand up," Roman demanded. "Stop looking at me like that."

It was the least he could do. Janus stood even though his legs shook underneath him.

"Where are your gloves?" Roman asked. He sounded very far away. "Where's your hat?"

"I don't know," Janus said numbly. He could feel himself shivering even though he could no longer feel the cold. He tried to stop and couldn't, and that fact bothered him less than he thought it should.

"Janus, seriously. I'm not buying it. Drop the act."

Janus just shook his head. Roman didn't have to keep rubbing it in, although he probably was revelling in Janus' failure.

He would crawl back to Remus, then, except… He couldn't seem to move.

"Fine!" Roman shouted. "You're scaring me. I'll-- I'll hear you out, just stop--"

His words faded under the sharp hiss and roar of static in Janus' ears. He fell to his knees, gasping for breath. White and red crowded his vision; his face connected hard with Roman's sash.

Then, just like the end of the movie, everything faded to black.

Aside

Roman's voice sounded in Logan's dreams and ripped him back to reality. His body moved before he registered what was happening, a fight-or-flight response he didn't usually exhibit.

He ripped the door open and came face to face with Roman, who…

Logan's stomach dropped.

In his arms, Roman cradled Janus' unconscious form. His chest rose and fell with shallow breaths and his face was frighteningly pale where it wasn't stained an angry, feverish red.

"I swear I didn't do anything to him!" Roman said frantically. "He was in my room and we-- He-- I don't know what happened!"

"Roman," Logan said. "I need you to breathe." He paused and made a split-second decision. "Follow me."

He stepped around Roman, careful not to bump into Janus, and strode down the hall toward Janus' door.

"When did that happen?" Roman asked, seeming to forget his panic in his surprise.

"After…" Logan said. "Well." He didn't usually shy away from difficult topics of conversation, but he thought it best not to upset or overwhelm Roman at the moment. He took the handle and opened the door for Roman. "Put him on the bed, please."

"Right." Roman entered and hesitated, letting out a shaky breath through his nose as he looked around.

"Roman," Logan prompted.

"Sorry." Roman swallowed hard and gently set Janus on the bed. "I just-- I don't know what happened."

"He's sick," Logan said, taking care to keep his voice even. It wouldn't do to further upset Roman.

"I can see that!" Roman snapped.

"Roman. Breathe. You didn't do anything wrong." Logan needed a scan thermometer, and one manifested in his hand. The readout forced him to swallow down a wave of concern. "I need ice," he said. Ice packs appeared under Janus' arms and legs where they connected with his torso.

Janus yelped and thrashed, tears forming in his eyes. Logan held him by the shoulders until his struggling died down into the occasional flinch and shudder.

"You're hurting him!" Roman shouted. He took a deep breath. "Sorry-- Sorry, I know--"

"It's okay," Logan said. "Sit down." He held eye contact while Roman sank down into one of Janus' leather armchairs. "He's going to be okay, Roman."

Roman braced his elbow on one armrest and cupped his forehead in his hand. "I keep messing up," he said in a strained, thin voice.

Calling Patton for backup would only add more emotions to the situation and make it harder to look after both Janus and Roman. Logan had to handle this himself. "Roman, Janus has been sick since last night. Whatever happened wasn't your fault."

"I can't believe his door moved!"

Logan sat down on the edge of the bed, apprehension increasing his heart rate. He had done all he could do for Janus. Now it was time to put his underdeveloped interpersonal skills to the test, as adding anyone else to the equation would only make things messier and less efficient.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?"

"He apologized to me!" Roman looked angry. Logan couldn't fathom why. He had felt a nearly overwhelming sense of relief when Janus had apologized to him. Relief and responsibility to correct his own mistakes. Why was Roman angry?

"You didn't want that?" Logan guessed.

"I don't know! I'm confused." Roman sighed heavily. "I'm sorry, Logan, I know emotions aren't your thing."

"I…" Logan adjusted his tie. "I'm working on it. Please be patient with me."

"Jeeze, what all did I miss?" Roman asked, touching his forehead.

"Quite a bit," Logan said, before realizing that the question was probably rhetorical. "Roman, to be completely honest, I don't know what you need right now."

"I know." Roman sighed and shifted positions so he could rest his elbows on his knees. "I'll-- I'll figure it out. I'll go back to my room and get out of your way…"

"I want to help you," Logan said. His own emotions were distant, abstract, confusing things, so he used broad terminology to better make his point. "I feel… worried." Roman took a breath to interrupt, but Logan held up a hand. "I'm not done."

"Sorry," Roman mumbled

"I'm worried about you," Logan said. "And it was Janus who helped me reach the point where I can tell you this now: I care about you, Roman. I don't want you to go back to your room."

"But I'm… I don't--" Roman swallowed hard and tears welled up in his eyes. "I don't deserve--"

"Roman," Logan interrupted. Guilt reared up at his having done so, but he couldn't allow Roman to further agitate himself. "It's not about what you think you deserve. It's about trying to be better than you were before. Hiding away in your room accomplishes nothing. I know that's not who you are. You're brave and headstrong and I've never known you to run away from a challenge."

Roman sniffled and wiped his eyes on the back of his hand. "Wow, Teacher Feature. That was really…" He sighed and seemed to lose interest in what he was about to say. "Thank you, Logan. I'm just… Embarrassed. I acted like…"

Logan physically bit down on his tongue to avoid suggesting a few vocabulary words.

"Like Captain Hammer," Roman said.

Logan frowned. "You beat up Janus in an attempt to win Patton's and/or Thomas' affections?"

" No, Specs," Roman chuckled mirthlessly. "Well. Not literally. But I did make fun of him in front of everyone. And not in the fun way, like when I tease you guys." He flashed Logan a smile. "And then he apologized to me! Or tried to." Roman ran his hands through his hair. "But that makes me the villain of the story!"

"Ah," said Logan, thrown for somewhat of a (metaphorical) loop. "Well. Are you planning on building a giant freeze ray?"

"No."

"Do you seek world domination?"

"No…?"

"Do you believe that you are entitled to hurt others or that their desires are somehow expendable in service of your own?"

"No?"

"Then you're not a villain, Roman, super or otherwise. You're just human. Well, as human as any of us can possibly be. You made mistakes. So did Patton. So did Janus. So did I. The best thing you can do, in my opinion, is to work to make things better. I believe that's what Janus was attempting to do when he visited you "

"Ugh!" Roman ran his hands down his face. "I can't believe he beat me to the punch!"

Logan squinted. "So you did hit him?"

"Just an expression, Spocktor Who."

"I see."

Well… If Janus did it first, I'm going to do it better ," Roman said.

[aro-aizawa]

1 and 42?

yesssssssss i love these kinds of questions. thank you anon for enabling me. (disclaimer: i am a fanfic writer so these’ll be answered in fanfic writing in mind.)

[the questions]

1. Tell us about your WIP!

okay i have like ten million different wips but the one i’m primarily working on is a mha fic of mine. called because i have to it’s a quirkless vigilante izuku fic, where he’s biologically all might’s son and inko and all might are qpps. when izuku asks his mom if he can still be a hero without a quirk as a kid, instead of just saying sorry, she tells him no that it’s not safe.

this fic came about when i got tired of seeing the overwhelming villain au fics. like. they’re not bad but an izuku that is in no way someone who fight villains is just...wrong to me. because to me, izuku has such an overwhelming drive and to him it’s almost a need that he helps people and becomes a hero. it’s just as essential to him as breathing. so if he were ever prohibited from being an official hero.....well this boy will not take something as silly as the law consideration. he’ll get his ass out on that street and he WILL fight those villains and save people.

so the whole fic is izuku trying to fight and prove to the world that he can be a quirkless hero. he pretends to his parents that he’s given up on that dream, but hey he knows that gen ed students can transfer in the hero course if they prove themselves........

(too bad izuku doesn’t know that his dad is on the teaching staff of ua. oh did i not mention? izuku has no idea his dad is all might.)

i’m not usually a super big fan of biological all might, but without the thread of one for all being a connector between them, i needed some sort of connection (bc honestly this was also a call out of all might’s views on quirkless ppl too). and i’m usually sort of averse for shipping toshinko if it’s solely for parental dadmight reasons, so bio dad. if i had to start over again, i’d probably adjust this to be that when izuku was little, all might officially became qpps with inko after her husband ran out on her. buuut it’s a little too late to go back and change it now, especially since originally i had it written for the toshinko to be romantic in nature, but decided i liked it better as qpps.

so that’s the wip i’m working on!!! i have a plan for it to wrap up just a little bit after the kamino arc but like.*squints at my lastest chapter which is only just starting to wrap up the first arc in the series* um,,,, that might,,, take a while lmao.

42. How many drafts do you usually write before you feel satisfied? 

okay, so here’s the thing. when i was younger and just getting into writing, i’d write like. three or four drafts for each chapter. because i’d do the bare minimum on the first one, just get the action and rough dialogue in. then the second one would be refinement, this one starting to look like an actual chapter to be posted (even though i rarely ever posted anything at that time). during which, i’d always leave them for like. a few months, maybe six. when i came back, i’d see all the errors and my writing style would have changed dramatically. so time for draft number three!!! and then repeat.

but i only ever made so many drafts because i was procrastinating on actually writing the next chapter. i think the highest i ever got up to was chapter 9. when i hit a road block, i’d decide to go back and redo it all again, eventually running out of steam before i even finished what i’d already done. repeat continously until i have six drafts of the same fic but refined down to about 20k words and 4 chapters.

so! i try not to do that anymore. it just. it doesn’t work. it really really doesn’t. because that way i never get it to a state where i’m comfortable enough to post it, and then i’ll end up posting like 10 fics where i only have one chapter posted and the rest’ll be abandoned because i just cannot get the next chapter right and need to keep making more and more drafts.

when a chapter isn’t fighting me though, i tend to have two drafts technically. i’ll write out the chapter, if it’s for my fic biht, i’ll send it off to my betas and merge all their corrections into one final form, which is the final draft and that’s the one i just copy-paste into the chapter section and then reread it to make sure all my formatting sticks then post.

if it’s a non-beta’d fic, what i’ll do is i’ll have the final product, the chapter or the one shot i want to post. and what i’ll do is i’ll put the draft on one side of my screen and the ao3 upload thing on the other side. and i’ll retype everything. this way i’m going back over it and adjusting wonky sentence structures as i go, because it helps me spot more mistakes if i have to retype them rather than just rereading them. my brain has to think more abt the stuff i’m typing rather than the stuff i’m reading y’know?? plus the different fonts help! my google docs have a different font to the upload section of the ao3 page, so that is another thing that helps my brain spot issues. if you have difficulty finding mistakes, change the font. as much shit as it gets, comic sans is also a great font for this. when i’m done retyping everything out, the second and final draft is done and i’ll usually post it right then and there, bc i’m impatient and i love posting shit.

i mean. you wouldn’t expect that considering i haven’t updated in well over a year and a half but still.

tysm for asking!!!! sorry it was such a long response lmao

[autoirishlitdiscourses]

Discourse of Monday, 26 April 2021

See Wikipedia's article on poitín for more sections like these two texts and look at. What does this similarity matter? I disagree with the latest selection from The Butcher Boy, you'd just need to score less than thrilled at this point is more likely to be more specific thesis statement expresses, and I won't calculate participation until the end of that grade and that missing more than merely plausible, which were strong last time you were perhaps a little below the mechanics of getting people to go. You've done a lot of really productive ways or it might be thought to be a difficult text, and especially of An Spalpin Fanach. You picked a difficult line to walk, especially if the way that the professor an email no later than Friday afternoon.

There are many many others. Of course!

Drop if you wanted to remind people. There were some amazing performances on it, your delivery was sensitive to the audience so that we have a proclivity for rather dark humor and deal thematically as a writer. Scoring at least some background on Irish money if you want the experience to be absolutely sure that I would say the smartest way to push your own argument even more would have helped to have dug into these topics.

It's just that, in part because its boundaries are rather difficult, and don't have a positive thing, I realize. Again, I can't go over, and it will help you punch through to an X and/or may not, but because considering how best to get a passing grade; I feel like is currently better developed and more focused. So thinking about which I'm ready to go back through the writing process is a policeman.

Let me know if you have any questions, and structure may be productive. All in all, you must recite a selection that you told your aunt in Ohio, who harangues Bloom and/or recall problems. I think the fairest grade to your presentation notes would be to say that, I promise to keep it up or down by much. One implication of this offer to you. Please send me your plans by 10 a. I'll see you in section. You're welcome! It would have paid off quite a bit. However, I do tomorrow, but certainly not going to be posted to the connections between the excellent interpretation that you've tried to point people when looking at the end of the University, and I'll get you feedback on your sheet so I can't tell for sure. It's a very strong work here, I will call life which is fantastic and well tied to the poem, specifically, you are trying to get people to pursue the topic. Stoddard, O'Casey, Act IV: Chorus sung: John McCormack singing It's a two-minute warning by holding up the last minute.

To have one extensive monologue from someone who is a really good ideas in an A-for the quarter, and quite engaging. 415 B-range paper grades discussed in more detail, I am not asking you to perform suboptimally on the most directly productive here would have paid off to have had Cyclops suggested to them effectively, demonstrated a strong preference and I'll stay late. It's all yours! All in all ways, and the historical situation. Similar things could be set against each other personally. Let me say some general things, you should focus on the assignment, and exploring additional related issues, focus your analysis what is short-sighted or otherwise need to expose your own writing, get an incomplete would also require the professor's miss three sections, get an A-territory with 1 point out, it's insightful—but being flexible may be that your choice of a number of particular interpretive problems for Ulysses none of these are true. So, you would like to see Dexter as a first draft and allow for real discussion with the assumption that the more egregious errors in the biggest payoff possible sometimes you have any further questions, and my guess is that the Irish as postcolonial subjects; probably others. Another potential difficulty is that you did a good night, due to midterm-related questions?

I can attest from personal experience it can feel to a natural move is to find that this is a very strong essay in a comparative manner over time, and I quite liked a lot of ways. This is already an impressive move, and modeling this for everyone, Having just checked my stack of midterms against my other section is engaged and engaging despite my sometimes rather nitpicky comments, but more general discussion of The Butcher Boy; Stephen Dedalus's rather morbid and misogynist fixation on the Mad Hatter's hat in Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland. I suggest that Dexter is X, whereas Y is like A, for free: Chris Walker and the ideas and your boost from your section self-addressed, stamped envelope with enough stamps to make sure that I'll be in my box South Hall 1415. You picked a very small number of ways here: you had an accommodation through the writing process is itself the immediate, direct, personal interest in the first seven that the song. Often, a profitable manner, and it shouldn't be too hard to avoid thinking that an A, in case they ask you questions for discussion.

I do not overlap with yours, but I also think that it's actually not that you were reciting and discussing the selection you picked to the course's discourse about Shakespeare every day, because unless you are, I think. Reminder: if people aren't getting quite full credit on author, title, date, you really have done. One would have helped you to ten pages long; this counts everything including participation and attendance that is excerpted in Plough. Let me know what you're going, and you managed to articulate as fully integrated parts of your quarter! If you have done quite a challenge, and want to make sure that you just need to be aware that you just need to make huge conceptual leaps immediately. If you happen to have a good student and I will take this into account. Still Life-Le Jour. Have a good performance even though this is potentially profitable idea, but may not be able to give you a grade somewhere in the front of me wanted to demonstrate that you score at the top of the first three and four the other students were engaged, and the Stars: Nora Clitheroe, The Stare's Nest again so that I can. You had said to other people talking. A-for the quarter winds up being more successful in any way that helps to further your analysis and perhaps point him toward your larger-scale details and of putting them next to each other. Similarly, looking at the Recitation Assignment Guidelines handout. You're got a perfectly acceptable to cite poems by Eavan Boland, and would have needed to happen for this particular passage. If you don't have a hard line to walk, and it's completely up to this page:. Can you confirm she was having. Make sure that your formatting is impeccable. I felt the same degree that you gave quite a nice touch, too. Let me know if you want to know how GOLD looks for undergrads, I'm dying for it and so this hurts your ability to appreciate the argument in a productive exercise I myself tend to think about how you achieve full and open honesty about where you need to be this week. I'm sympathetic here. Not mine. Yes, that's fine provided that the one that the professor is a mid-century American painter Willem de Kooning's Woman series is full. My current plan is to think about what audiovisual and historical issues at stake. Looks like you. Picking a selection from each paragraph, you have any questions, OK? The assignment required and gave what was overall an excellent sense of the several topics that each of you effectively boosted the other's grade while you write, and have moved forward even more specifically on the section guidelines handout. I say thank you for being a good job here. The first of these guidelines with you. Soon to be fully successful. Yes/no pass, knowing where you are nervous about possibly having accidentally leaked confidential information, but rather to help you to think about how recruiting works and the marketplace, and is able to avoid. And your writing is quite enjoyable. Have a good move here, I can find a recording of your group, and your health allows. What this relationship between these texts in an otherwise dull day. Again, please read September 1913. Com that you are attentive to what other students in great detail, I absolutely understand that this is unfortunate because they tend to do that metaphorically. If he lets you expand or drop material if that doesn't work, might be surprised if they cover ground which you are planning on getting out of your recording early. Needing to study for a more impassioned which may differ in some form, even if only because they're also doing Wandering Aengus—6 p. I'll be on campus today, actually.

The Butcher Boy song 5 p. 57. It's absolutely OK to depart/intentionally/from the syllabus pretty well, you should come to each other. But analysis requires moving outside of your outline will be. Thanks for your section this week. I'm glad that it never really rises far above the compare/contrast paper which is to make it support that negative value judgment: that you could be squeezed in most places is basically structured in a moment. Good luck on the edge of something genuinely wonderful job of moving between the texts are primarily theoretical, critical, or it becomes apparent that more supports your specific point, just as Shakespeare doesn't necessarily have to make this transition which you dealt. I'm terribly sorry and embarrassed. On James Joyce's Ulysses: discussion of a topic of your skull with the same names to denote the same time, and your visual texts, how does this statement relate to the class's actual level of knowledge and their outline doesn't bear a lot of the recording of your own notes for week 3. Plan for Week 8: General Thoughts and Notes 23 October in section; we talked after section, and perform the resulting articles and see what other people to dig into in conversation. Kilmainham p. Other administrative issues? It sounds like a fair number of good news. Nothing immediately proposes itself to me, but I completely forgot. Recitation/discussion 5 p. It turns out, it's a beautiful little gem that is particularly relevant here; but make sure neither of those finals. Is that Walter definition of race were like, or historical in nature. Hi! Tonight's paper-grading rubric above. Your paper is that the paper is due or a bit more so that I have never been a pleasure to read and thought about the course syllabus that reciting twelve lines of text may only be minimal changes later tonight, a productive way to avoid a assuming that everyone in class. Alternately, if you'd like to know tonight instead of discussion. So I hope you won't have time to meet me. Still Life with Four Apples; probably others. They are presented in the class and the group develop its own; I will still be elusive at this point is that you will receive at least 70% for a student whose final grade at your main ideas. One thing that will help you to give a paper to pay off in terms of the top eight or so of all but the group may help you here. Be sure to give quite a good selection, and apply it with a selection from Ulysses this Wednesday.

Again, thank you for a job well done. Some suggestions: Georges Braque painted food-related topics not only contributes to a natural end or otherwise set up to you after I qualified it by then. I looked at them, but perhaps it would be helpful, I think that you wanted the discussion as a section you have questions about Cyclops or it becomes apparent that more information about just to pick up a fair grade for the historical and literary readings are passionate and engaged and engaging, and some broader course concerns and did a good choice on topic.

You should aim to do so by 10 p. Just send me email since then, is perhaps not easy deal for you, I will still be elusive at this point, if you want to examine, because I think? TA Christopher Walker and the Stars: Nora Clitheroe, The Butcher Boy can best be read in ways other than that, taken together, then looking at his wife, Annie, in part because it's an appropriate analysis that supports your larger-scale payoff … but as a section you have any questions, which is fantastic and free! Let me know. You're very welcome to sit down on Wednesday can you make the switch function in GOLD you should email me and holding eye contact in that relationship can make your own readings within the realm of possibility for you. There were some pauses for recall and retraction/corrections, but want to prepare a set of ideas in here, though this is really successful paper at an IV coffee shop on lower State, but the power company left me reading by candlelight for several reasons, including class, but not past your level of familiarity with the group to list their impressions of how your questions touches on. Hi! So, for instance. It took the midterm and the text, and the 1916 Easter Rising, the F on the final, too, that there will only be recited during our first section; got the lowest score was 46%. Make sure to do you mean by talking about. In particular, for instance, you will leave me with a worn pick, OK? However, if you want to make it productive to look at the performance, and I think that there are a lot of material. You need to focus on whatever revs your engine, intellectually speaking, but you handled yourself and your readings are often primarily just due to my office door SH 2432E, or unclear. You're welcome to leave your paper. Let me know what works best for you if I try very hard to avoid explicating yourself as the audio or visual component of your mind until you recite more than 100% in section. Similarly, the nude painting Fluther & Peter are tittering over in O'Casey, both of which revolve around a male visions of beautiful women, his understanding of the test, but some students may not have started reading Godot yet if they're cuing off of the Wandering Aengus Performed 16 October 2013 Thus, love of a letter grade; made an excellent job!

This doesn't change the way of thinking about it not perhaps rather the case and I appreciate your quick response! Like It, Orlando, in our backgrounds. Overall, you could engage in related to the reader/viewer, and you met them at their level of familiarity with a lifetime's regret; d it's YOUR JOB to make his slide show available to, you're about in lecture tomorrow! Of course.

[danyka-fendyr]

Closer

Okay so I’m still working on a good idea for the Spencer Reid sick!fic but in the meantime, I thought I’d get this out. It’s...pretty much exactly what the title makes it sound like. Reader and Spencer find all the ways they can possibly casually touch each other without actually admitting they feel anything. Why? Because I think it’s cute. 

Warnings: Mentions of death and drug use. If you hate kids either don’t read on or pretend you like kids I’m taking some creative liberty with the concept of a reader insert because I don’t actually like this format and I’m only writing this way bc I’ve never seen a oneshot with an oc before lol 

Wordcount: 2348

The worst part of a case would always be the briefings. You hated the briefings because it meant that inevitably, there would be dead people. Dead people you hadn’t saved, dead people you hadn’t even known about. Who had died wishing someone would come to save them, wishing you would come to save them, and you hadn’t delivered.

This case was particularly hard because it involved kids. You had a major soft spot for kids, and any case involving them was hard on you, but this one... Gosh, it was so messed up. Penelope was having difficulty presenting without crying, it was that bad. Eventually, Derek took pity on her and took over.

You yourself were having some difficulty not crying. You had seen some pretty messed up things, but you didn’t think you were ever going to be able to talk about this case again after you finished it. You rubbed at your eyes, trying to keep it together, and felt a hand on your shoulder. You looked up to see it was a solemn Reid, offering you a soft, comforting smile. 

At this point, you hadn’t been at the BAU that long. You had joined around the same time as Emily and you two had bonded over the fact that you were fresh blood. The other person you had bonded with fairly quickly was Dr. Reid, not that he was hard to be friends with. Really all you had to do was listen, and that was easy for you. You found the doctor fascinating, riveted by all of his knowledge. You were convinced he knew everything, and you were surprised that he was now trying to comfort you.

You smiled back at him. Part of you wanted to reach up, place your hand over his, but you wondered if that would be too forward. You had noticed that often he didn’t even shake hands. You were pretty sure he didn’t want you touching him like...ever. Much though you liked Reid, he struck you as the sort of person who was more likely to bathe in hand sanitizer then willingly get too close to you, so this was...a pleasant surprise.

You returned his smile, grateful for the moment. Maybe you were imagining it, but it seemed like this would just be the start of you getting closer with Dr. Spencer Reid.

You remembered vividly what it had been like when you and the team had found Reid after Tobias Hankel kidnapped him. It wasn’t hard, since it had only been a few weeks ago. It had only been a few weeks since Reid had hugged you so tight that you might have told him you couldn’t breathe if you hadn’t been so focused on holding him just as tightly. You had apologized over and over, and he had, of course, told you it wasn’t your fault.

The weeks after that had been harder though. You had seen the haunted look in your eyes, and you knew that no matter how hard you tried it was sometimes reflected in your eyes. You never told him, but you had nightmares about it. About watching him die. Only in your dreams, he didn’t come back.

Eventually though, after a night out with the team where you were declared designated driver, you were forced to confront it. You were dropping him off at his place when he invited you in, and you couldn’t bring yourself to say no. You just wanted to prolong this...peacefulness, before the night terrors came for you.

“It’s not much,” he apologized, ushering you into a home that seemed to mostly be filled with books.

“I think you have 8 different sets of encyclopedias just in this room alone,” you laughed.

“12, actually,” he corrected.

You turned to him, smiling. “’Not much.’ Seems like plenty to me. I’d kill to live surrounded by this many books.”

He laughed nervously, and you two ended up sitting on the couch a good healthy 6 inches apart. You hated it. Hated that you were just close enough to imagine that you could feel his body heat, but that you couldn’t, not really, and that distracting urge to just lean over and rest your head on his shoulder. It was infuriating. So, when you got up to use the bathroom, you might have sat back down just slightly closer than your original starting point. 

After a few more moments of staring numbly at the screen and noticing that Reid also wasn’t paying attention, you spoke.

“You’re not really watching this, are you?”

He jolted. “What? No, of course I am. The social hierarchies of the Chacma baboon are actually quite fascinating-”

“Reid,” you interrupted. “They stopped talking about the Chacma baboon 20 minutes ago. We’re onto the Cape Sugarbird now.”

“Oh. Right.”

You two trailed off into an awkward silence before you spoke again.

“Spencer...you know you can talk to me, right?”

“I-I’m fine.”

“If you were fine, I would be more worried about you than I am right now, Spence. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but something is making those dark circles under your eyes darker than usual.”

“Like you’re one to talk.” His tone strained to sound light. “You’ve been looking more and more sleep-deprived lately. The rest of the team hasn’t noticed I don’t think, but if anyone is worrying, it’s me. What’s on your mind?”

“You’re deflecting,” you deflected.

“So are you.”

Damn profilers.

“Okay. I tell you what keeps me up and night and you tell me if you’re comfortable with that?”

It’s quiet for a minute while he thinks about it. 

“Yeah, okay.”

“I’ve been having nightmares. You know how everyone has a nightmare that’s like, the nightmare? Mine used to be finding the body of this teenage girl. Now it’s just you. Watching you die over and over again, except in this version-” Your voice breaks, and you take a deep breath to steady yourself. “In this version, I’m right there next to you, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

There is silence for a long moment.

“I’m an addict. Tobias drugged me with Dilaudid and I keep craving it. I’m trying...I’m trying not to use, but it’s hard. It’s so, so hard.”

“Spence.” It’s a soft sound, breathless. “You could have told me.”

You didn’t ask why he didn’t.

“I could have. But it’s embarrassing. I should be able to beat this. I have an IQ higher than Einstein’s and I can’t beat basic drug addiction?”

“Well, if you have an IQ higher than Einstein’s than you should be smart enough to know. You can’t beat drug addiction by yourself.” Not able to stop yourself anymore, you rested your head on his shoulder. “And now you don’t have to.”

He doesn’t say thank you. Doesn’t acknowledge the offer at all, except to say one thing.

“Do you want to sleep here tonight? It might help with your nightmares, and even if it doesn’t, seeing me alive when you wake up might make you feel better.”

“Yeah. I think that could be nice.”

You tugged a strand of Spencer’s long brown hair. 

“You’re really growing this out, huh?” you said, setting a coffee down on his desk over his shoulder.

“It’s not that long.” He frowned, and you giggled.

“Yeah, it kind of is, Spence. This is the longest I’ve ever seen it.”

“Well, I haven’t exactly been hobbling into the barbers on my crutches. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you said, sitting on his desk. “I like it. Makes you look like a cool professor.”

He frowned again.

“That was a compliment.”

“You two are weird!” Garcia lovingly gave her input as she passed by.

“Love you too Penny!” you shout.

“You didn’t buy yourself coffee today,” he noticed.

“Nope. Wasn’t in the mood.”

“But you bought me one. From your favorite cafe. Is there something going on today?”

“Nope. I’m just nice like that.” 

You pretend not to notice when, in reaching for the coffee, Spencer’s knuckles graze your thigh. You’re sure it’s just a coincidence that he’s getting closer.

“Oh my gosh!” Your scream gets the entire team looking your way.

“Did you join a boyband?” Hotch asks.

Reid, with newly shorn hair, looks confused. “No?”

He sits down, ready for briefing, but you are not done yet.

“Your hair! Your beautiful hair!” Your mourning is short-lived though, once you notice the new hair, and you gasp. “Oh my goodness, it looks so fluffy and soft. Can I touch it? I’m going to touch it.”

You cross the room to run your fingers through his hair. It’s not the first time you’ve thought about doing it, but your surprise at his new style emboldens you. It’s exactly as soft and silky as it looks. You could run your fingers through it all day. You are so entranced by his hair that you don’t even notice Spencer closing his eyes, gently leaning back into your touch.

“We do have work to do, you know,” Rossi reminds.

“Okay, okay, I’m going and sitting down.” You beam at Spencer as you take your place. “Love the hair.”

You think it might be the first time you’ve ever seen the pretty boy speechless.

When Spencer walks in with even shorter hair, you can’t help your gasp. You also can’t deny it anymore. You’ve tried to fight it for the last 4 years, but sometimes the truth slaps you in the face like a large fish (don’t ask). You were attracted to Spencer Reid. Which wouldn’t so much be a problem, except for the fact that you were also in love with him. That part? That was definitely a problem.

“You good?” 

Emily raises an eyebrow at you, and you just nod dumbly. You can’t take your eyes off of him. He looks...hot.

“You don’t seem good.” Out of all the team, Emily was the one most likely to suspect your...predicament.

“I’m fine. Fine. Totally fine.”

“Uh huh. So you gonna tell me what you were thinking when Spencer walked through that door, or am I just going to have to profile you?”

“You wouldn’t dare.” This gets your attention, and you glare at her from your seat next to her.

“Oh, I would.”

You aren’t stupid enough to doubt her.

“Wow. I was thinking, ‘wow’.”

“Well, maybe you should tell him that.” She smirks.

“Or maybe I won’t.” You laugh nervously, glaring at her, and you think that’s the end of it.

That’s not the end of it.

Somehow, and you would never figure out how, Emily had gotten you and Spencer locked in a broom closet. You couldn’t prove it was her, but you were sure. Just as sure as you were that she had not foreseen the fact that, nervous at your close proximity, Spencer would start spouting facts about small spaces, claustrophobia, and anything at all related.

“Spencer,” you tried interrupting since he was making you nervous. “Spencer. Spence!”

You reached out, grabbing him by the lapels of his jacket forcefully. Unfortunately, you had forgotten the fact that you were in a broom closet, and now it was safe to say that if you two had been close before, that was nothing compared to how close you were now. Your mouths were just inches away from each other, and you cursed yourself for all the thoughts you were having.

Spencer didn’t seem to have the same inhibitions though. Slowly, he trailed a finger down your shoulder and down your side, making you catch your breath. Eventually, his hand stopped right around your waist where, eyes focused on that point, his hand settled, wrapped around the bend in your waist to pull you even closer. You swore you couldn’t breathe.

“I was umm...I was wondering what you thought of the new haircut,” Spencer said.

“I like it.” You weren’t sure why you were whispering.

“Yeah? Emily said...she said you really liked it, but I wasn’t sure.”

You were never telling Emily anything again.

“Yeah, I do. I really, really like it. It’s super hot and-” 

Shoot. He had made you nervous, which made you ramble, and now you were going to have to change your name to Bathilda and move to Southern France because you had not meant to say that.

“You think it’s hot?” Wide, startled chocolate brown eyes stare into yours.

“Umm...” Was there even any use denying it? “Yeah. Yeah, I do. Actually, I think you’re hot. You are very, very attractive to me. And also I’m in love with you but that’s probably just an oxytocin thing because ever since you almost died I’ve been sleeping over at your place a lot and you know you’re a sleep cuddler and so somehow we always end up cuddling and so there’s the oxytocin and-”

He was kissing you. Spencer Reid was kissing you. And he was really, really good at it. Like, stupid good at it for a guy who was not known for his romantic conquests. You briefly wanted to know who taught him how to kiss like this so you could find them and punch their lights out, but then you were too busy kissing him to worry about that.

Both of his hands were on you now, one on your waist, the other cupping your face as he kissed you. Your right hand gripped the lapel of his jacket even harder as your left came up to get play with the much shorter hair at the nape of his neck. You were just about to pass out from lack of air a very, very happy girl when conveniently someone opened the closet door.

“Oh my gosh. Wait till I tell Derek! He owes me $50 now, and Rossi owes me $200 that smug jerk!” Penelope did not waste time going to collect her money.

“So...” you said, blushing.

“So...” He was rocking back and forth nervously on his feet. “You wanna go out on a date?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

[simplybakugou]

Happier

↝ After seeing you in a happier relationship with another man, Bakugou can’t help but reminisce and think about what he lost.

SONG: Happier by Ed Sheeran

⋆ PAIRING: prohero!bakugou x female!reader ⋆ WARNINGS/TAGS: swearing; angst ⋆ WORD COUNT: 1201

A/N: I’m currently in my feelings and Happier came on shuffle was I was in the midst of writing something so I decided to make a little “song scenario” based off of it. Also, I made Bakugou seem like a dick in this, oops. Also the formatting of this maybe confusing but I hope it didn’t come across as that and you were all able to understand it.

I actually wouldn’t mind doing these types of scenarios based off songs, so if there are any songs that you want to be turned into scenarios, please do send them into my inbox :)

✐posted 03.08.2019✐

❝Walking down 29th and park, I saw you in another's arm. Only a month we've been apart, you look happier. Saw you walk inside a bar, he said something to make you laugh. I saw that both your smiles were twice as wide as ours, Yeah, you look happier, you do.❞

The pain was unbearable. Your smile was wide, small giggles escaping your lips at something he said. He whispered something in your ear and you continued to laugh uncontrollably. Bakugou stared through the glass of the bar that the two of you were in, in a drunken state of his own.

You were sitting on his lap, your arms wrapped around his neck as you leaned into him. Only a few weeks ago Bakugou was in his position. And here he was, watching as another man made you happy in a way that Bakugou never will.

❝Ain't nobody hurt you like I hurt you, But ain't nobody love you like I do. Promise that I will not take it personal, baby, If you're moving on with someone new.❞

Just a few weeks ago, it was still vivid and fresh in Bakugou’s mind as the scene of you two arguing replayed over and over. Your personalities were too bold to get along with one another.

“I haven’t seen you for three weeks, Katsuki!” You exclaimed, your eyes watching as Bakugou moved into the kitchen to get away from all of your yelling.

“Look, Y/N, you knew exactly what you were getting into when you starting going out with me. I’m a pro hero now, I can’t just fucking be at home every single day,” Bakugou huffed in annoyance.

You crossed your arms. “I'm not asking you to give up your job for me! Even when you come back from work, you ignore me and go straight to your room. How’re we even in a relationship like this?”

“I’m fucking tired after work and you expect me to go straight to you after?”

“Yes! I’m just asking you to actually put some effort into our relationship! Is that too much to ask?” Your statement earned you an eye roll from Bakugou. “You know what, if I’m being so damn annoying, maybe I'll just leave.”

“Then fucking go!”

Regret washed over Bakugou for the thousandth time as the scene kept replaying over and over and over. He could have tried more, put more effort into loving you.

Because he did love you, so much. He just had difficulty expressing it at times.

But when he did, there’s no man on earth who could make you feel as loved as Bakugou made you feel at times.

“Katsuki, that doesn’t seem right,” you muttered, backing away in caution as Bakugou attempted to fix your electric stand mixer. His definition of “fix” is jamming the wire whips into the respective sockets.

“I got it, don’t worry.” Bakugou, despite being a very bright young man, decided to be not so bright that day as he left the mixer connected to the outlet as well as leave the contents of your cake batter mix in the bowl.

Bakugou’s arm, deciding to rest for a second, did the horrible choice to rest on the power switch. “Wait, Katsuki--”

But it was too late. The mixer turned on and the wire whips that were jammed in by your lovely boyfriend whirred around, splashing the cake batter all over the two of you. 

You looked up at him, trying to hold back your laughter as you saw the cake batter on Bakugou’s face and spiky hair. You only had a few clumps stuck to your nose that you were able to remove easily.

Bakugou looked down at you as you stifled your laughter. “Is something funny to you?”

He took a step forward, placing his hands on the counter behind you and trapping you in his hold. You placed your own hands on his chest, giggling softly. “Nothing, I’m laughing at nothing.”

“Really?”

“Mhm, I swear.” You cupped Bakugou’s face in your hands. “I’d never laugh at you, Katsuki.”

“Can't believe you’d fucking lie right in my face.” What you hadn’t noticed was his hand slyly grabbed the cake batter covered spatula as he brought it up to, swiping it across your face as if he was painting on a canvas.

“Katsuki!”

“Not so funny now, huh?”

You gave him a slight shove, rubbing the batter off with your hands. “You’re awful.” Despite your words, you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation. “You’re lucky I love you.”

❝'Cause baby you look happier, you do. My friends told me one day I'll feel it too. And until then I'll smile to hide the truth, But I know I was happier with you.❞

“Drinking away your problems won’t help, you know?” Kirishima sighed as he watched his best friend down what seemed to be his tenth shot of the night.

“I’ll do what I fucking want and no one’s gonna stop me,” Bakugou muttered, calling over the bartender for another round.

“She came by your place last week, huh?” Kirishima sipped on his glass, watching Bakugou closely. He knew that only in his drunken state will Bakugou ever reveal how he’s really feeling.

Bakugou traced the rim of his empty glass. “She left a few clothes and shoes at my place before she moved out. She just came to get them back.”

“Was it hard? To see her?”

“It was the hardest thing I’ve fucking done in a long time.” Bakugou rested his head on the wooden table. “I had to force a smile on my face, act like I’m okay when I actually felt like utter shit. God, I miss her so much.”

Kirishima patted his friend’s back in order to comfort him. “Look, man, you’ll find the one someday. She’s moved on. You should, too.”

Bakugou raised his head up once more, rubbing his head vigorously. “I thought she was the one. And now, I just feel empty.”

❝‘Cause baby you look happier, you do I knew one day you’d fall for someone new But if he breaks your heart like lovers do...❞

“Katsuki?”

Bakugou’s head whipped around at the sound of your voice, one that he hadn’t heard in so long. A pain struck his chest as he laid his eyes on your soft, gentle face as you smiled at him.

“Y/N, what’re you doing here?” He was trying his best to be calm and collected and not reveal his true feelings.

“I just wanted to help with the fundraiser, but it honestly feels like I’m at a club than a charity event.”

“Tell me about it, this fucking sucks.”

You smiled at him again. “How have you been? It’s been almost three years.”

Bakugou shoved his hands in his pockets, averting his eyes from yours. “Great. I’ve just been working as usual. How’re you? How’s that boyfriend of yours.” He wanted to smack himself for asking you that, for showing that he cared about your love life.

You chuckled humorlessly. “I broke up with him a few months ago. Turns out he was cheating on me for the past few years that we were together.”

Bakugou’s hands balled up into fists. “Fucking bastard.”

You laughed, not at all surprised with his colorful vocabulary. “Look, Katsuki, I know we broke up on a bad note and I’m sorry for always hassling you about your job.”

“It’s not your fault, Y/N. I should’ve tried for us, I shouldn’t have fucking put more attention to work than you.” You put your hands behind your back, a habit that Bakugou recognized as something you did when you were going to say something bold. “Can we... start over?”

“What?” Bakugou did not anticipate this at all.

“I mean, can we give it another shot?”

“Are you asking me out on a date, Y/N?”

“Look, you aggressively pestered me into dating you the first time, so this is the least you could do,” you joked, earning a smirk from Bakugou.

“Yeah, let’s give this another shot.”

...Just know that I’ll be waiting here for you.❞

[masterofmagnetism]

Promises

Who: Erik and Charles @burdenedxtelepath

Mentioned: Raven @mysteriousmutant, Jean @jeanelcinegrey, Scott @firstxman, Lorna @mistressxfmagnetism

Where: Charles' office at the Institute

When: 3 weeks after the Raft.

What: Erik finds himself in Charles' office, as he has several times in the last few weeks, attempting to quiet his mind with a bit of silent companionship from his oldest friend. Instead, he ends up accidentally revealing far more than he means to, leading Charles to question his mental state.

TWs: child death referenced, PTSD, hella survivor's guilt

AN: This was a very informal, spontaneous thing in our DMs that was supposed to be fluffy and got surprise angsty, so forgive any formatting errors, etc.  Not the most polished thing, but gives some important context about where the boys are at headspace-wise, these days.

CHARLES: He's well aware that Erik is probably up to something. Either that, or this was yet another bout of him acting strange, which seemed to be a thing as of late. However, without access to his thoughts, Charles couldn't draw any definitive conclusions other than maybe Erik was acting on his supposed feelings. It seemed like a stretch but who knows? Even so, Charles scoots over a bit, making room on the sofa. Crossword puzzles were a means to keep the mind sharp and with those he struggled with initially, Erik was more than helpful. "Since when do you like crossword puzzles?" he finds himself asking. And it doesn't go without notice that a certain someone is affectionately leaning on him. At one time, it would have been nothing for him to turn his head slightly and press lips to the top of his head but you know, old habits. Not like he could anyway.

ERIK: Being around Charles was calming, and Erik found himself gravitating back to the Institute more and more often, these days--if only to sit in the man's office and chat with him about nothing, or even just sit in silence while the man worked. Tonight, Charles caved quickly to the request, letting Erik up on the sofa next to him, and within a few minutes, Erik had found himself leaning on the man's shoulder without even recognizing that he'd started, quietly helping with the crossword puzzle. 

Charles' question was answered with a soft hum. "I used to do them to help me learn English. Haven't needed to do them for a long time, nor have I had the time, but I enjoyed them," he explains, closing his eyes but continuing to work on the puzzle from memory in his head. "Seventeen down is 'abnegation.'"

CHARLES: He had never minded Erik's presence. Aside from Raven, he was another who often provided the best company, even if he was silent. But sometimes there was little need for words. The aura of simply having another nearby was often good enough to temper one's mood. As was the case with Erik... some of the time.

He quietly scribbles down another word ( a six letter word meaning cold --- chilly ) then moves on. "That's quite the brilliant way to polish one's English and one's vocabulary in general. Crosswords have never been the easiest." He stares down at the final word, frowning. Eventually he fills in the clue with Erik's answer thus completing the puzzle. "Ah, you were right. Two heads are better than one sometimes."

ERIK: Erik cracked open his eyes to peer with satisfaction at the completed puzzle, before letting them drift closed again. "We make a good team," he said quietly. They'd had disagreements often, but usually arguing their case with the other had made both of them stronger rather than weaker. And they'd been able to coordinate on the most important things.... At least before Cuba.

"I liked Sudoku puzzles, too. You know I've always been a numbers person." Though he was damn good with language, too--multiple languages were in his mental toolkit, from years of traveling. Even before he'd gone to Vinnitsa, he'd known German, Polish, Yiddish, and Hebrew. His language skills had only grown in years since.

CHARLES: "We're capable." He leaves it at that as he sets the newspaper aside. The Bugle, per usual, was full of nonsense save for Kara's pieces but at the least the crosswords were still decent. "I haven't done one of those in a long time, but I imagine you'd be a hair better at those than myself. When time permits, I've mostly been doing word searches. Hard to find time to do anything a bit more challenging. Still, they help me relax. I've been needing it lately. Something's...off about me. Can't quite place it either."

ERIK: Erik very nearly snorted. If that wasn't relatable, he didn't know what was--except he, unfortunately, knew exactly what was 'off.' "You seem stressed," he agrees, "But that's to be expected, after the Park." Weren't they all stressed in the aftermath of that? "Don't worry about the safety of the Institute, Charles. The students who leave may need certain things, but anyone here is safe, I promise you that." His new field around the school helped, but it was common knowledge at this point that the school was under the protection of almost all of the known Omega level mutants, and Erik had done his best to make clear it wasn't worth the fight when they couldn't even manage one or two Omegas on their own.

"I haven't had time to do puzzles in... months. And I think I've gotten perhaps sixty hours of sleep in the last three weeks," he admitted.

CHARLES: Perhaps it was only the stress giving Charles these anxious feelings. It was as if he was in a constant state of black cloud, fearing something awful was going to happen. And Erik was right. Charles had no idea what kind of force field surrounded the school now, but he knew deep down nothing could happen to him while within these walls. He just couldn't shake the feeling that something was going to happen. "You're right. Perhaps it is the stress that has me feeling anxious. After the Park, it's hard not to be overly, obsessively cautious. I think we all are."

60 hours of sleep in three weeks. . . That wasn't enough at all, but Charles knew he couldn't say much on the matter. He slept okay when he took his meds, but resting was another story entirely. He hasn't felt rejuvenated after a night's sleep in quite a while but he hid it well enough. An early morning swim here or there. LOTS of coffee and tea. He managed. They both did. They had no choice when so many people looked to them for guidance. "I don't think it gets any easier from here. I think... it's always going to be like this --- hard."

ERIK: The telepath's words sent a pang through Erik's chest, and a response was slipping off his tongue before he could think better of it, one hand reaching for Charles' and stopping somewhere between them, instead. "No. No, it won't. We deserve peace, Charles. We will have it. One way or another." Charles' way, which looked more impossible than ever, or the way that was slowly taking shape on the walls of Erik's apartment, the war would end.

It had to end.

His next words, in contrast to the earnest and confident ones of just moments before, seem almost desperate. "I'm so tired, Charles," he breathed out against the man's shoulder.

CHARLES: This. This was the kind of scene no one was allowed to see. Because if they saw Charles doubting himself... If they saw Erik as someone other than hardened symbol driven by hate, the facade would end. The glamour --- the enamoration with them both --- would cease to exist. And Charles could not let that happen. Eyes close briefly and with some difficulty, he manages to use his telekinesis to get the bolt turned, locking them inside. While he didn't need people walking in seeing them on the couch, doing crossword puzzles was harmless. This? Not so much.

"Just because we deserve something, doesn't mean we will actually get it. I've hoped for peace my entire life but with each passing day... I just... don't know anymore. I cannot abandon my principles, but I am not a fool either, Erik. I see the same things you see sometimes. My dream... seems much farther away now than it's ever been."

There's a moment's hesitation before he shifts on the couch, arm folding around Erik, pulling him close. Another piece of the puzzle falls in place, giving Charles a better idea of Erik's head state. "I know," he answered quietly. "We all are. This... being you... I'm certain it has to be overwhelming at times. The entire mutant world looks to you to be their strength and their guide. That's a large rock upon your shoulders, but you mustn't let it wear you down."

ERIK: Erik let himself be pulled closer, finally let a hand come up and rest at Charles' other shoulder, fingers toying with the collar of his shirt absently as he tried to rein back in the surge of emotion.

"It's not just... not that." And it's not the Phoenix, either. This exhaustion has been settling in his bones for decades, heavier with each passing year, and now its source is stronger than ever. "All I wanted was safety, Charles. I wanted the kids to be safe from those who would see them lying dead in a park for existing. I wanted my children to dread university applications, not the same things I feared. That was all. And they keep taking them from me," his voice cracked, "And call me radical for not stepping aside and letting it happen."

His hand tightened on Charles' shirt, and his next words sound fervent. "Never again. They will not take another one of the kids, Charles, they won't. They won't take any of you again. I'll make sure of it. I can't--."

CHARLES: Charles knew something was up with Erik the moment he landed in the school yard weeks back. He had fed him some line about wanting to see him, but Charles knew better. There was more to it than that and while he expected Erik to eventually give him bits and pieces, he never imagined the other male had so much bottled inside --- at least in such a manner that it would unfold in his lap like this. Charles bit his lip, fighting to keep his own feelings together. Both of them couldn't be near sobbing over the sorry state of this universe. Otherwise, where was the comfort in that?

So no, he would hold it together, never minding the fingers toying at his collar. Erik's words had so many layers to them, but what stung the most was the bit about the uni applications. 'His' children were not just Jean and Lorna and anyone else he'd taken up under his wing. It was the child that was taken away too. She never got a chance to grow up like the others and Charles knew from his own experiences within Erik's head, that Anya would always be in there somewhere. "I know," he whispered. "A man doesn't do the things that you do if their heart wasn't in it for the right reasons. We both do what we do for these children, and the sake of them having a better future. It's just... We're still ONLY human Erik. Mutants we may be but our bodies eventually wear and tear like any other human's. We can't..." His own voice cracks but he swallows it and pushes forward. "We can't be expected to save them all. God only knows we want to, and it tears us apart when we lose someone but... we're tearing ourselves apart in the process. What good are --- what good are YOU --- if you don't... you need time to yourself, Erik. And you don't... you don't need to place so much of our future on your shoulders. It's not your fault... it's not... you can only do so much so please... don't..." He touches his cheek. "We're fine. We'll be alright."

ERIK: Erik is still leaning against his chest, but the metallokinetic seems miles away, now, even with the light brush of Charles' hand against his cheek, which just a few weeks ago would have had the man's undivided attention. "No. No, I should have been there, at the Park, I could've been there. I could've helped the Underground before Lorna had to bring down a building, before she had to wade into a war she didn't want. We're better, I'm better. I should be able to save them. I can, what good am I if I can't--"

Eventually, the steady brush of Charles' thumb against his cheek, the increasing heartbeat he can feel is what draws him slowly back. He's making Charles upset. He doesn't want to do that. He let out a slow breath against the man's chest, let the vice grip on the man's shirt loosen, smoothed his collar back down. "...Apologies. It's... I'm fine."

It's as much of a lie as Charles' own assurance, but he can do little else, coupled with a rare apology that's likewise inadequate.

CHARLES: "No," Charles says firmly, despite his own wavering voice at times. "None of us could have predicted that the park would turn into such a fiasco. Had any of us known, we'd have counted our loses or sent more people. But that one is not on us, as much as we'd like to blame ourselves. Even Jean will tell you... Something about that night was off. We've always been so careful, but I know the truth will come out in time. Someone betrayed us Erik. Or set us up. And when we find out who it was, god help them."

His fingers lightly trace along Erik's chin and the parks of his cheek he can feel but eventually Erik loosens his grip, breathing slowly. Charles wasn't convinced he was okay, but he also doesn't want to sound pushy either. So he doesn't question it. Instead, he keeps gently touching, content to let the silence wash over them for the time being.

It's not your fault... he thinks to himself, but he knows it may be a while before Erik sees it that way. Such is the burden of a leader.

ERIK: Erik hummed his acknowledgement of the words about the Park, but it was clear he didn't buy it. No matter the cause, no matter what had happened, he should have been there.

But instead of arguing the point, he simply remained silent, letting Charles' touch and warmth start shepherding the uncharacteristic outburst of emotion back into the back of his mind. And he was tired, in so many ways, so eventually he started to doze off, body and mind pushed to exhaustion.

CHARLES: This was beginning to get worrisome, and not at all because he was tired of having moments with Erik. That couldn't be farther from his mind if he willed it. No, this was about how Erik was making a habit of retreating to the telepath's office --- as if to hide from the world or shield himself from it. It troubled Charles to no end, especially since Erik had never been the type to hide out. Nothing thrilled him more than being out in the open, taunting their opponents with his antics. But lately he seemed aloof, even when gazing at him with those doe eyes of his. He seemed more guarded, but at the same time a switch would flip and his feelings would fall all over the place. It practically gave the telepath whiplash. And then... to cap matters, he would fall asleep; doze off just mere moments after a conversation. It only confirmed Erik's confession that he wasn't sleeping well, but Charles wasn't buying that it was only the Park incident keeping him awake at night. Something else was up, but he guessed he should leave it be. After all, at least Erik knew that despite all that's happened, he could still come home and find refuge from all the day's bothersome drama.

Charles eased himself off the couch, his legs letting him know he hadn't much time left to walk. But he was quick, placing a blanket over Erik and tucking him in while he slept. Charles promptly made his way to his chair, deciding he'd better get in it before he has an accident. He watches Erik for several minutes, his heart feeling rather heavy. Only when his phone beeps would he snap out of it. It was time to finish his lesson plans and then later, to bed himself...