#tall soft boy and tiny angry man

[fayesia]

The Kings Seat

Aemond Targaryen x sister!reader

warnings: nsfw 18+, switch!aemond, jealous!aegon, incest (obviously it's house Targaryen), fingering, creampie, tit worship?, breeding kink, fem!oral, p in v

You moved gracefully around the circumference of the small councils table, wine in hand, dutifully filling the lords cup if need be. You paused by the Kings side, pouring his glass full, aware of his habits as his sister, you witnessed first hand your brothers fall into the clutches of the finest wines and jewels from the streets of silk.

You yourself were taken to the tucked away pleasure houses just a few months ago at the age of 8 and 10. Your brother keeping you close, for he knew well the wrath that would face him if your mother had known he was the cause of your ruined maidenhood.

~flashback~

Instead, he steered you around by your shoulders whispering into your ear about what you saw. Both women and men walked around bare as the day they were but babes, their body's slithered amongst one another like that of a performance, one you couldn't take your eyes off of. A man's hand came up caressing the well endowed woman's breasts, she keened against him arching her back while another feasted between her legs, her hands gripping onto their hair like a salvation she craved.

Your body seemed pleased by the glorious sights of pleasure, shifting your thighs against one another where you felt the stickiness of your need. Aegons whispers by your ear were followed by gentle kisses against your neck, exhaling softly as your breath got stuck by a moan fighting it's way from your throat. His hand wrapped around your hip while another around your neck, gently rolling your head to rest upon his shoulder as he continued to worship your soft unmarked skin that lay bare to him.

He provided you with a dark cloak on the way out to your secret endeavour but it was just your thin white nightgown that lay beneath. His fingers came up to your neck, clumsily he attempted to untie the knot, failing due to his drunken state after having indulged in three full cups of wine. You reached up and he felt your soft fingers against his rough ones, calloused from his training days with Ser Criston.

Your eyes locked and it was like the two of you were looking into a mirror, time stood still and the only thing heard was the shallow breaths between the two of you upon the realisation of your actions.

Gods, this was your sisters husband, your brother.

You could not let such rumours be heard by your mother, lest you were ready to feel her wrath against your face they way she had many times prior. Leaving behind red handprints and purple bruises that marred your white porcelain targarryan skin, her face scowling at you as your eyes brimmed with tears that you willed to never let fall in front of her, that witch who you call mother.

You were pulled roughly from your trance, shocked to find a rather ruffled Prince Aemond. He was always so proper with not even a starnd of his perfectly white hair out of place, and yet here he stood eye patch in hand with his clothing in disarray, must have been in a rush to put them back on you assumed. It was no secret to you that Aegon visited the pleasure houses often, however you were yet to know that Aemond did too.

Still it did not come as a surprise, a boy was to find his needs somehow, if his mother could not give him the proper love required, it seemed fair for him to search for it elsewhere.

Grabbed out of Aegons embrace you were pulled against the tall stature of Aemond, his face reflecting the rage of a very angry dragon, akin to that of Vaghar. Repositioning his eye patch, his eye glared viciously into Aegons. "Skoros gaomagon ao pendagon ao sagon doing, ao mittys!?" Aegons mouth open and shut at the unexpected outbursts. "Bringing īlva mandia naejot iā dīnagon hae bisa! Gods is there ever anything going on in that tiny little head of yours you insolent fuck. skoros gaomagon ao pendagon muña kessa gaomagon, skori ziry hears hen rumours." (what do you think you're doing you fool?! Bringing our sister to a place like this! What do you think mother will do, when she hears of the rumours)

The two of you walk silently back to the castle gates, your eyes briefly flickering over Aemonds face, trying to read what he's thinking, but he offers none of his thoughts in his expression. It remains stoic and unwavering, just like his grip on your forearm until you finally reach the doors to your apartments. Pushing the shocked guard aside, he opens the door shoving you in and leaving without another word.

~end of flashback~

The loud noise of the knights armour clashing together brings you back to your senses. The council rooms doors open and the lords make their way out of the room making way for the king before taking their leave. Placing down the empty jug of wine you let out a deep breath staring down at the table.

"Does something bother you sister"

Whipping your head quickly you meet the pointed gaze of Aemond as he stands next to the Kings seat, hands clasped behind his back as he faces you.

"No, actually, I was just about to leave"

"Ah, not so quickly. Come sit"

It's not your role to take a seat at the small councils table but Aemond stands waiting expectantly next to the dragged out chair. So you walk over and sit on the edge of the seat, clasping your hands together in an effort to hide your nervousness. Ever since that night you and Aegon snuck out of the castle Aemond did not pay much attention and cared little for making conversation. It was only he who knew he kept his distance in hopes to keep his desires at bay.

The desires that rose after seeing you in that sinful place, dressed so innocently with eyes full of desire and lust. A look he would never forget after many a nights spent alone with just his hands on himself and you in his mind. The shame after the first time stopped him from looking into your eyes but the next few times he could barely handle being around you, only the gods know what he might end up doing to you.

"You wish to sit here, do you not sister? Must be difficult being perceived as a simple cup bearer"

You stay silent.

He places his hands on your shoulder, leaning to whisper into your ear as though there are still people in the room, but it is just the two of you and the guards outside.

"You know you have all the knowledge to aid in this talk of war, yet you are forced to hold your tongue, like a kind innocent little girl"

Little girl. The way he says it reminds you of when he shoved you into your room after your late night trip.

"Go to sleep now, little girl"

"But you are not so innocent, sister"

His hands rub against your shoulders sliding up and down your arms, but as he speaks they slide lower, brief touches of his fingertips against the skin exposed by the low cut of your dress.

"For there is only three who know of that night and the lust you sought after, from your own brother"

You try to speak but the words are caught in your throat, only short breaths coming out. His hands lower down your back, delicately untying the laces to your gown in an almost polar opposite way to his brothers clumsy drunken fumbles.

Resting your head against the back of the chair you're left in the perfect position for Aemonds attack against your neck, his movements are fast but the kisses he lays are gentle. A soft nipping against your skin but he's careful to leave no marks for those to see and make rumours of. "Is this how it felt, to feel him against your skin, to feel your Kings lips on your neck?"

You shake your head in a daze, slowly side to side.

"No it feels better doesn't it."

Nodding your head, he unties the last knot of your dress and it slips down loosely, catching onto your forearms that grip the edge of the table. Your bare breasts are on display and his hands are quick to hold onto them. They comfortably fit into his palm, your nipples harden against the cold temperature of his hands. He grabs hold of you, lifting you up from the chair and placing you on top of the small councils table, crashing his mouth against yours faster than you can register his movements.

He tastes like the wine you had just been pouring, you felt like you were drunk off just his kisses alone. Chest to chest. Lips to lips. As your tongues battles for dominance, it was a losing battle on your part. Your hands grasps against aemonds arms but you scratch at his clothing, a sign for him to remove it which he gladly notices. Slipping out of the remaining gown on you, Aemond removes his clothing too until he is stood in front of you in nothing. Both of you bare as the day of your births.

All ideas of sensibility is gone, the thought of someone walking in is not even lingering in either of your minds.

Stepping forward Aemond guides you back onto the small council table except he now sits in the Kings seats with you in front of him, his prize. Leaning forward his hand is hard and pressing against your spine, his mouth wraps around the shape or your left breast while his other hand is busy massaging your right. He suckles at your nipple like a babe with its mother and you understand his needs, softly raking your nails through his straight hair, his moans lost in the flesh of your tit.

You grow more wet and impatient as he continues the treatment to your tits switching between the two.

"Are you feeling needy little girl, rather more like a little slut now"

Gently laying you back down on the table he lifts your thighs to rest in his arms. Whispering as he makes his way between your legs kissing against your inner thighs, the sweet taste of you on his tongue teasing him.

"But that's what you want to be now, my little slut, my own personal whore."

Letting out a sharp gasp followed by a moan your hands reach down to grasps Aemonds head, but as his tongue languidly traces every crevice of your cunt his large hand wraps around both your wrist tightly and pins them above your head. He's almost ferel losing control in a way you had never seen before. He moans into you and let's out growls that compete with that of a dragon. His lips wrap around your pearl and his tongue traces around your tight hole, trying to squeeze its way through the barrier of your maidenhood already broken from your days of dragonriding. Your moans grow louder as you almost reach your peak.

"That's right let the whole castle hear you, so they know you belong to me, Iksā ñuhon" (You are mine). Your back arches off the stone table, a sign that you are close. Yet Aemond stops leading you to whine out at the loss of pleasure.

"No I want to feel you cum with me inside this sweet cunt"

His lips meet yours once again taking the chance to slip his tongue inside when you let out a moan. His finger slips inside of you. "What a truly tight cunt you have sister" You can barely respond feeling yourself completely lost in the desires to pull Aemond as close to you as possible, to merge your bodies into one. A second finger prods against you to meet the first one, he slowly stretches you to fit his cock, the same one that has grown double in size since he first began worshipping you.

"Please Aemond-please I'm so close. Jus' let me cum please~" your words are lost amongst the moans that Aemond draws from you. He fears he will not last long with your responses heading straight to his cock, the tip a bright pink coated in his precum, that runs down the sides in a little stream.

Flipping you around, your front is not squashed onto the table adding further sensations to your already stimulated nipples, Aemonds hands hold tightly onto your hips. Spreading the soft flesh of your bottom he runs his cock against your dripping folds, his fluids mixing with yours making an even bigger mess of your cunt.

"Are you ready? Going to have you take my seed, carry my babe, let everyone know who you belong to, and strengthen the family line." His words come out breathy and needy and you expect to hear a whine by the end of it. But it is you who let's out the sweet noises as Aemonds cock enters your tight hole. He sheaths himself into you wating for you to adjust around him before pulling halfway out. Your mouth opens in a silent scream and your nails scratch marks into the stone beneath you that you know will be seen during the next small councils meeting.

"So good, feels so good my sweet thing, so tight, gods I will not last long, fill you with my babe soon"

Still inside of you Aemond carries you and sits back in the Kings seat, you're facing him and stare into his eye as he bottoms into you completely. Your eyes closing shut but he calls for you to keep them open. "I want you to see my face when I fill you with my seed, as I breed you to take my babe." Nodding your head you're too drunken on lust and pleasure to understand anything.

Wrapping your arms around his neck Aemonds mouth comes to suck and kiss at your breasts once again, a habit he hopes to keep when you began feeding your future babe, to taste the sweet liquid of life you will feed them and him. His thoughts and your tight walls squeezing around him draw him over the edge. As he climaxes he growls against your chest as you kiss his head, the two of you holding each other like each other lifelines. His cum pumps into you and he feels some of it leak down his cock and onto his balls as he pulls out of you.

Pushing two fingers into you he is sure that none of it will go to waste, curling and rubbing against your walls his thumbs rushes against your pearl. Whining out at the gods you cum onto Aemonds hand, the clear liquid mixed with his white cum dripping down from his wrist down to the veins on his arm. "Shhh sh my sweet so good for me." You let out small whimpers feeling his fingers leave you. Holding you close he places a gentle kiss to the side of your head but gets up to get dressed leaving you in the Kings seat, his cum dripping from your cunt.

"Come sister we must be quick before they come searching for us" holding out your dress he helps your stumbing body into it and ties the laces as your maids did this morning. He leaves the room first to not cause suspicion but he's sure to leave the guards with a handful of coins each and threats against their lives in return for their secrecy. You follow a while after, making the walk back to your apartments with your guards and the cum of Prince Aemond dripping down your thighs.

It is two days later when your mother request you to be a cup bearer at yet another one of the small councils meetings. You do so dutifully but as you stand by King Aegons side filling his goblet with wine you see the scratches on the stone tables surface. The very same ones you made when Aemonds cock was ramming deep inside of you and his thighs slapping against the back of your own while his hand rubbed against your pearl. The memory surfacing a deep blush upon your cheeks and neck as you make eye contact with Aemond, his lips curling into a small smirk. You turn and walk back to the wine table hiding your face from the council with acts of being busy refilling the jug but Aegon does not miss the shared look between his siblings. His eyes scanning the marks marred on the table as his shocked expression meets the smug one on Aemonds face.

a/n: wow. ok it has been so long since I've , I've just been very busy and stressed. Hopefully I can get back to writing regularly by October. I'm sure we all know what to look forward to during that month lol. I'm so excited though because it is the first Kinktober I will be participating in! Anyways as always thanks to everyone who appreciates my work and my request are open :D

[sliebman10]

Performer AU

"You're on in five, Sirius," the stage manager said as Sirius waited in the wings of the tiny, black box theater. It was a Monday, which meant no produced show but the open mic for actors wanting to see and be seen was in full swing. 

"Remember, someone from Minerva McGonagall's office is supposed to be here," Marlene, his manager, murmured in his ear. He nodded. There was no way he was going to forget that a rep from one of the biggest talent agencies might see him tonight. 

"Up next, Sirius Black!" the emcee announced and he strode onto the bare stage, tossing his long hair back. He looked around at the audience, which he knew were mostly friends and family of the different performers. His voice teacher had always told him to pick one person in the audience and sing to them but James couldn't make it tonight. He settled on a bored looking man with golden brown curls who was sitting alone and scrolling through his phone.

When the music started, the man looked up and their eyes met as he started singing Origin of Love from Hedwig and the Angry Inch, one of his favorite songs. 

"When the earth was still flat and clouds made of fire and mountains stretched up to the sky…"

***

Remus had not wanted to go to another one of these open mics, scouting talent. But Minerva made it clear that if he didn't want to, she'd find someone who did.  He was not sure if he could take another ballad sung by a boy in chinos with more hair gel than hair by the middle of the show.

When they announced the next performer, he glanced up to see a tall man in a black t-shirt with a white star on the front, artfully distressed jeans and combat boots take the stage. That was enough to make Remus take notice, that this man was different from the others. 

And then he started singing.

Remus had seen Hedwig on Broadway a few years back, and loved it. Hardly anyone on the open mic circuit did anything from it usually. Once in a while, he’d hear something but it was nothing like this. This man’s voice went from soft to strong and back again with ease. He couldn’t tear his eyes away.

When the open mic was over, the performers came out and mingled but Sirius kept to himself leaning casually against the stage. Remus went over to him.

“I really enjoyed your song,” he said.

Sirius grinned at him. “Thanks. It’s one of my favorites.”

“Mine too,’ Remus said. He pulled a business card out of his jeans pocket. “Give me a call?

Sirius’s eyes widened as he read the card. “I will, Remus Lupin. But would it be for a job or a date?”

Remus felt his face heat at the implication but tried to play it cool. “You decide.”

Word Count: 489

@wolfstarmicrofic

[bedoballoons]

Omggggggg

ok but I have another one! And yes I am obsessed with demon slayer. so Tokito muichiro inspired x (angry bois also albedo and the dadd- like zhongli and Al-haithim.

so muichiro has Memory loss due to young tramaaaa, anemo vision fits best, has very baggy cloths to help with is battle technique, in his 7 form can literally turn into air, to quite but he is super fast. And ya. Ohh Also when we remember our past(tokitos brother was murdered plus his parents) I just want confurttt.

I only have one he because when I was around 1-3 l don’t remember I was diagnosed with eye cancer I things. We caught it early and we could either do chemo(which could’ve killed me) or remove the eye intirely so we did that. There’s more to the story but I’m so tired right now .

Oh my gosh! I'm so glad you're okay! It sounds like it was a scary situation but you pulled through and now you have a pretty unique quirk about you! I hope you know that's really awesome <3

YAY okay I'm so excited for this request! Sorry it's been awhile since I've answered! I do have a question though! Do you think because he turns into air and Venti is the anemo archon, he could control him in that form?!?!?

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ✿─

{༻~Tokito Muichiro like reader~༺}

CW: Reader has past trauma and memory loss, slight angst but mostly comfort and fluff! Some of these are extremely long and I apologize, I just got really into writing them...

(Includes: Zhongli, Albedo, Alhaitham, and Wanderer!)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

𑁍༄Zhongli:

You sighed quietly, your head aching as memories swirled around your mind like a messy swamp...nothing making sense and yet...you were still trying to put the puzzle together. You just wanted to know...even if it would hurt, you had to know what happened in your past...

"You know, there are better ways to go about recovering your memories, as someone with a long history who remembers many things from very different time periods, I might be able to shed some light on the subject." You looked up to see Zhongli walking towards you, his voice as calm and collected as always...comforting in some ways.

You bit your lip, it seemed embarrassing to ask for help from someone else, but you'd run out of options...so it only seemed reasonable, "Please... help me." The tall man smiled at you, his eyes filled with kindness as he sat down beside you, looking up at the sky. "First of all you should take time to clear your thoughts, take a deep breath and then exhale...relieve yourself of all the unimportant thoughts clouding the memories you want to recover."

You did as he said, taking in a deep breath...and then slowly letting it out, even if it seemed a bit strange to you...it actually did help you feel slightly better. "Very good, now I want you to think about the snippets you do remember, concentrate on the little things, tiny details one wouldn't usually focus on..but don't frustrate yourself, getting overwhelmed won't do you any favours."

You nodded, closing your eyes and recalling your few memories as best as you could...the scent of the air...the sounds...even down to the smallest shred of movement...and just like that, it came back to you. The images of your brother...your parents, all of it playing over and over while you tried to stop it, but it was like you were trapped in your own memories, screaming for help.

And then, nothing...you were back in Liyue...Zhongli holding you in his arms while you stared blankly at him..."Are you alright?" He asked, but you didn't even have it in you to answer...the suddenness of what just happened leaving you silent with shock. He seemed to notice this, kissing your head softly and rubbing your back, perhaps it would be better to not remember all at once...

𑁍༄Albedo:

Albedo gently touched your vision, the soft teal glow of it very familiar to him...beautiful and inviting, but earned from such sorrow and loss. A loss he wished could have been reversed...while you on the other hand, weren't focused on the vision or its meaning, you were far more concerned with perfecting your fighting style. "Albedo?" You looked at him curiously...he seemed so interested in your vision, but he'd seen many of the course of his lifetime...why was yours so captivating?

"Oh apologies love, I was just thinking about something. Back to the topic at hand, I've given your clothes a bit more of a baggy design, making sure to leave lots of room for movement and airflow. Please let me know if anything is uncomfortable, I'll make adjustments to improve their quality." He handed you a stack of clothing, the material soft and comfy looking, but also durable...perfect.

You rushed into the empty room nearby and changed clothes, leaving your old ones behind before hurrying to the dummy you'd set up by the entrance. You practiced your fighting techniques, already impressed by Albedos work and also very aware that he was watching you closely...maybe...he was worried about you?

𑁍༄Alhaitham:

Alhaitham closed his book, looking up from his desk to check on you...and noticing the bags under your eyes, you'd been tossing and turning in your sleep all night...mumbling things about death. You had him very worried, and that was saying something because he truthfully didn't concern himself with other people's issues unless they were incredibly serious, but your sleepless nights and difficult past...were starting to really impede your life, he just wanted to help.

He stood up from his chair, breaking your attention away from the plate of food you'd been poking at for a hour now and leaving you slightly confused, by now you'd gotten used to Alhaithams schedule and the one thing he never left out or cut short was his reading time...so why was he doing so? "Alhaitham, are you alright?" You asked, looking up at him slightly worried and running through different scenarios in your head, each one not really making enough sense to be considered a explanation.

"I'm perfectly fine, I'm more concerned with you. Would you like to take a nap together? You look exhausted and I can only assume you won't want to sleep alone because of your recent nightmare increase." Alhaitham held out his hand to you, gesturing towards the door as you tried to comprehend what he'd just said...he wanted to take a nap with you? "Oh...alright." You didn't really know a better way to answer as you accepted his hand and the two of you made your way to the large couch in the livingroom.

You crawled onto it first, watching as he left for a moment, only to return with your favourite blanket. Then he joined you on the sofa, sighing in content as you cuddled up to him and he covered you both up, in truth he was hoping this would help with not only your lack of sleep...but the nightmares themselves. He just wanted you to be okay.

𑁍༄Wanderer:

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Turning into air...was unlike anything else, exhilarating...calming...terrifying and apparently one of your most alluring qualities, well in Wanderers opinion anyway. Other than him most of the people in Sumeru considered this some type of witch craft, even though you carried a vision...they saw you as an outsider and whenever you attempted to take a trip to the city you get many stares.

Wanderer was the only one who found it beautiful, although to be honest he found everything about you beautiful and for some reason you were incredibly easy to talk to...to relate to. You'd share moments together where one of you would be caught up thinking about the things you couldn't change...forced to remember times you'd wish you could forget and then you'd comfort eachother, make the other feel better just by knowing what it was like.

"Heyyy get your head outta the clouds. The sooner we help her royal majesty the cabbage head, the sooner we can go home." Wanderer gently bonked your head, pulling you back into reality and making you smile, a very light blush colouring your cheeks.

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚Have a nice day*⁠.⁠✧

[missbluesunflowersstuff]

Gotham being a fuck up City once more

Gotham is a City with a lot of problems, Jason Todd knows it very well. And this is not about the pollution, corruption or the villains but the city itself is like that. The City is vile, dirty and knows how to make your old wounds bleed.

And sometimes Jason really hates Gotham because of this, the City plays with everyone and anyone. Oracle sent some messages to everyone, saying something about weird supernatural shit happens and everyone should be careful that night while Batman is working... Well Jason don't care.

Jason Todd is having a shit week and he is fucking tired! He just wants to go home and sleep - and maybe some beer and shower. Be the whatever shit is batman doing now it's definitely not his problem.

And Jason actually did it! He manages to avoid his siblings the whole way to the safe house. but before entering he sees a woman sitting against the door, his whole body freezes and he regrets not having paid attention to the warning because Jason knows that woman. And she definitely doesn't should be there.

"Jason" the woman got up and smiled at him, "look at you... You become so tall"

Jason's first instinct is run, but his body doesn't move, he barely can think

"look at your hands" Catharine keeps smiling and holds her son's hands, there's so much sweetie in her voice "I remember when you were a baby, your hands were so tiny, both of your hands fit in one of mine... look at you now... this time I'm the one who has to use two hands to hold one of yours"

Jason doesn't want to believe in it! She was dead! He knows it! She died years ago... But...but...

Catherine lets go of Jason's hand when she notices that her son is silent

"I understand, you must be angry with me... I'm sorry..." she starts to walk away, after all, what kind of mother was she?

That was enough for Jason to panic, whatever that was in front of him, he wasn't going to let it go that easily. He didn't understand why his parents always abandoned him, but whatever it was, he wanted to keep her there a little more

"I... I... I hurt people, mom..I hurt so many people" Jason doesn't know what makes him say that, at all the things he should say he chose. Why can't he do nothing right?

Catherine looks for her son again, She brings her hand to his face, wiping away the soft tears that have started to fall.

When did Jason start crying?

"You were trying to protect someone, weren't you? I know who you are Jason, you are my son, I raised you... you must have become such a smart man, do you still like books? I remember you loved going to the public library to read, it was a free trip so we walked there every weekend"

Jason hates it. Why Gotham keep tutoring him like that? Why Gotham keep doing this?

and the rest of the night the boy and his mom are just talking with each other in the same way they did before the drugs... She asked about the books he was reading at that time, his friends, if he had someone in his life...

They talked for hours but not enough... And then she disappears before the sun rises followed by the Oracle message "situation over control now, everything will be normal for now on"

And Jason starts sobbing on the floor again. He definitely hates how Gotham plays with everyone

[birboon]

CIRCUS BOY

ACT 1 - Chapter 3

PAIRING: Peter Parker x Dick Grayson

WORD COUNT: ~5k

PREVIOUS CHAPTER: chapter 2

HOW HE'D GOTTEN  himself into this situation, Dick didn't know. 

One moment he was sitting back against the leather interior of Mercedes's newest sporting model, the next he was sitting in the vents of the new Wayne Tower and staring down through the metal grating at the lead-lined floor, still as a mouse and cursing his super-stupid friends for not shutting up. Every time his phone vibrated in his pocket he winced, knowing the rattling of the metal around him was just as loud and audible to those who weren't inside it. 

They hadn't cared about his epic escape from the clutches of an evil fashion corporation (well, no one except Connor but Superboy cared about everything) and now - although he was too scared to move to reach for the device to silence it - he was pretty sure Roy and Wally were having a battle of non-existent wits. When he got the time, Dick was going to make a new groupchat with only the girls of his team.

The 'men' were all idiots. He needed culture.

Looking at his watch and squinting through the half-light, Dick concluded that there was a half-hour before the grand opening of the new Washington office. The receptionist preparing the front desk for the event had told him that 'Mister Wayne' was in a board meeting with some foundation sponsors but Dick had gone there to surprise the tricky man and found nothing but angry, tired businessmen and women at their wit's end because Brucie Wayne had charmed his way from the room before it'd even started. 

So now Dick was stuck hiding in the ventilation systems of Bruce's office, waiting for the man to come and collect the real copies of the ledgers he'd left unsigned so he could jump down and throttle him for giving Alfred even more reasons to lecture them. Besides, it would be a nice surprise for the big guy! He loved when Dick visited him in the office; a not-so-rare occurrence whenever the teen was on break and bored.

And Dick Grayson got bored a lot.

Another buzz from his pocket and he gritted his teeth,  frustrated, risking a grab for the phone. Just as his nails slid across the glass screen, elbows slamming into the sides of the cramped crawlspace as he twisted round, he heard a click. Lightning quick - though Wally would beg to differ - Dick spun back around, eyes wide, to watch the door slide open with a twist of the handle. Soft hair brushed against the metallic ceiling, gathering static as he leaned forward to peer carefully through the narrow slits below:

A surprise rally from above. That's what he wanted to do - get the drop on Bruce, if only to hear the man congratulate his stealth. Dick grinned to himself; he'd never see it coming. Or hear it coming, for that matter. 

"Dick, come out and say hello to our guests," came the ever-familiar voice, dark and rich. Expensive footsteps echoed through the  sizeable room until a tall, handsome head of dark hair came to a stop next to the desk, directly below him. Dick blinked. 

"What?" He whispered and could almost hear the man roll his eyes. 

"Get out of the ceiling," Bruce replied sharply, looking over his shoulder to check for company. He cast the classic playboy grin towards whoever was approaching and waved meekly. "Shouldn't be a second. Feel free to, er, touch whatever you want. Except the walls - I don't want to pay someone to repaint them."

"I wasn't aware you were having visitors," Dick snapped, grunting as he shifted the loose grate off to one side. His fingers latched onto the side of the vent as he gently lowered himself down, swinging to a perfect stop in front of Bruce. The man sighed and folded his arms, watching with warm eyes as Dick slotted the vent cover back in place. "How'd you know I was up there?"

Bruce levelled him with a stare that said all Dick needed to know. A classic i'm-batman look that he was all too familiar with. Bruce held up a tiny, beeping device. A schematic of the building's ventral system glowed on the screen, a single portion highlighted in red:

"Aren't you supposed to be modelling right now?" Bruce supplied, pocketing the new WayneTech prototype. He dusted off Dick's shoulders, spinning the boy around the face their 'guests'. 

"Aren't you supposed to be in a meeting right now?" came the reply, more of a huff than a biting remark. Dick let Bruce maneuver him towards a group of people that instantly left him feeling more embarrassed than he had been in a long time.  He'd not felt this tortured by a social interaction since Barbara had invited him to that sleepover with all her girlfriends.

Needless to say, he was not feeling the aster.

The striking mustard-yellow blazers looked a stark sickly-green beneath the quality lighting of Bruce's office. Dick didn't realize the new Wayne Enterprise building was some sort of attraction  but then again... he was in and out of them all the time. And this wasn't Gotham. Bruce Wayne leaving his city to set up shop somewhere else was always a novelty.

And here he was, Wayne's ward and heir, standing barefoot with dust-bunnies on his expensive clothes and smudged make-up on his face. With no way to escape the awful situation, Bruce pinning him to the spot with a hand firmly on each shoulder, Dick swallowed his pride and raised a hand awkwardly towards the small group of teens.

"Uh, hi," he croaked out towards the stunned crowd. The silence was deafening. A familiar face turned a bright pink as his gaze raked over them. "I'm Dick."

"This is my ward, Richard Grayson," Bruce clarified. "I ran into this wonderful group on my way to Starbucks, Dick! Can you believe it?"

Some of the students snickered and Dick resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He never liked the version of Bruce that he put on show for the world: "I can believe it."

"We're in town for a competition," a man - presumably the teacher - supplied. Dick raised a brow, scanning over the sea of yellow-clad faces. Peter no-surname looked a little nauseous, refusing to meet his eyes. 

They didn't seem the sport type. Far too... well, he didn't want to say nerdy because he knew a couple nerds and Wally West was one of the fastest people alive (and if that's not sporty then Dick didn't know what was). But this group wasn't going to be competing for college scholarships in football, that's for sure.

"Mathletes?" He guessed.

"No, we're- close enough. It's close enough," the teacher supplied. He was wearing a cardigan despite the heat outside and his mousy, thinning hair was beginning to stick to his forehead.

"Mister Harrington, we're not mathletes."

Mister Harrington suppressed a sigh, chest jumping with the action, pushing his glasses up his nose. He turned to one of the students, a girl with impressive curls draped over her rather pretty face. "We don't need to bother the Wayne's with specifics Michelle."

Dick couldn't find it in him to remind them that he technically wasn't a Wayne. He may be Bruce's foster kid, but he wasn't is son. Not biologically, anyway. He loved Bruce, he did, but he wasn't going to start calling him daddy. Michelle shrugged and popped her headphones back into her ears. If he strained, Dick could just make out the tinny sound of Black Sabbath blaring from her phone. 

"It's a decathlon," Liz added, ducking away from Dick.

"Wasn't the Olympics last year?" Bruce queried, smiling handsomely behind Dick's head. The boy pulled away from his guardian, trying and failing to dodge the hand that shot out to ruffle his hair as he did so.

"It's academic, Bruce. You know that," Dick muttered, folding his arms over his chest. He caught the eye of one of the students closest to him - a kind-faced boy whose eyes were wide as the sun as he stared at Dick. "Can I help you?"

"Oh my god, Peter - he just acknowledged my existence!" The boy whispered, a hand shooting out as if he needed to steady himself on his friend's shoulder. Peter didn't seem too impressed, stance awkward as he decided between crossing his arms in an imitation of Dick or letting them hang loose by his side. "Do you know what this means? I'm friends with a celebrity!"

"Friends?" Peter contained a laugh, eyes darting nervously towards Dick. "Ned, I don't think-"

"We're totally best friends now, Ned. Don't listen to him," Dick butted in with a sly wink towards the non-believer, watching Peter's jaw tense. He held out a graceful hand, encouraged by the other boy's forwardness and grinned as Ned shook it excitedly with both hands. Dick gathered he was something of a fan. "Do you have snapchat?"

"Yes! Yeah I do," Ned exclaimed, digging through his jeans for his beat-up iPhone. His smile was contagious. "Dick Grayson wants to add me on snap, wow."

Ned's bitmoji looked impressively like him, Dick noted. They'd even coordinated outfits, wearing the same shitty t-shirt. He was suddenly conscious of his own, glancing down at the cashmere shirt that lay airily against his chest, unbuttoned and elegantly fascist: "Sorry," he said suddenly, voice bordering on shame. Peter quirked an eyebrow towards him. "I've just come from a shoot... I'm not exactly dressed up for the occasion."

"Occasion?" Peter coughed out, tone what Babs would describe to be 'playing coy'. Dick just found it venomous.

"Meeting guests is an occasion."

"Right, because you care so much about first impressions."

Dick felt his mouth settle into a firm, begrudging line, as his lips pressed together. He willed himself not to frown as he watched Peter aberrantly look away. There was a stale tenseness in the air that Ned seemed unable to comprehend, because he kept sunnily speaking as though he didn't even notice the uncomfortable atmosphere:

"A shoot? Like a photoshoot?" Ned repeated excitedly, ignoring everything his friend had said. He was practically buzzing on the spot. "That is so cool."

Dick scratched at the back of his neck sheepishly, turning the entirety of his attention towards the teen he hadn't met before. "It's pretty sick," he agreed. "So... a decathlon, huh? You guys must be pretty smart."

"Not really," Peter began. As if he hadn't earlier boasted to Dick how he'd won awards in science. His contradictory words were cut off by Ned quickly, almost as if it were a common, practiced occurrence. 

"Peter's super smart. Like, if he had a superpower, it would be intelligence. Definitely not something else, like super strength or reflexes or whatever."

"I don't have any sort of powers," Peter reassured, glaring towards his friend through the corner of his eyes. Dick hummed, not missing the silent communication. That was something to keep in mind, then. He watched as an unspoken promise swept between the two teens.

"Right. Me either," Dick announced diverting his attention from the boys towards their classmates. Brucie wasn't finding it all that difficult to rally the troops, it seemed. The students - as well as their teachers - were hanging onto his each and ever word as though he were some sort of prophet foretelling an arbitrary second-coming.

"- and so that's when I told her that the champagne wasn't Dom Perignon but actually Lois Roederer! You should've seen her face, she looked as though... Oh, Dick! Dick, come here - you know this story. Remember when St Cloud -"

"No one wants to know about Silver's alcoholism, Bruce," Dick sighed, turning into the man's addictive aura. "Why did you bring them here?"

"They're from a Technology school Dickie! What better experience for a bunch of nerdy students than a tour through WayneTech's science-y parts?"

Dick sighed. Upon bringing back the rag tag group of high schoolers there was no doubt in his mind that Bruce had forgotten to mention that the WayneTech branch wasn't actually supposed to be starting full operation until next week. He must've had a good reason for leading them here: Bruce had a good reason for just about everything. But Dick was either too close-minded or not observant enough to see what it was.

"Follow me then. You'll never get your tour if you keep pandering to his ridiculousness," Dick announced, spinning on his heels and catching Bruce's eye. The tall man gave him an almost indiscernible nod as he moved to bring up the rear of the herd.

Dick led the way from Bruce's extravagant office, through the winding, grandiose halls of the new Wayne building. He knew where he was going well enough after his little adventure across the grounds searching for the man who'd gone to Starbucks, and tried not to feel hurt when Peter dragged Ned towards the back end of the queue instead of upfront with Dick himself.

WayneTech was the biggest division of Wayne Enterprises - specialized in retrieving and researching alien technologies outside of the public's knowledge, and in security detailing inside of it. It was no surprise to Dick, then, that they had an entire five-floor spread dedicated to their laboratories in the new Wayne Tower. If the new D.C office had been up and running for longer than five days, no one would have been allowed access to the main labs. Mister Harrington and his class were lucky they'd caught Bruce in a 'good' mood, despite whatever ulterior motive he had planned.

"This is the first floor's entrance to the test center," Dick explained as he led the gaggle of wide-eyed students to a dead-end. The wall opposite was embellished with a large painting - a façade of Alfred's favourite piece called The Ghost of  a Flea. It was a William Blake special event, the original art hanging high and proud in Wayne Manor. 

Dick stepped aside as Bruce swam through the shoal of people, movement fluid and calming like a deceptive predator. With a calculated flick of his wrist the entire wall rippled and plunged inwards, falling away like puzzle pieces to reveal a ringing, metallic decontamination vault with heavy steel doors and hazard symbols plastered all over it. 

"I hope you all have insurance," Dick joked, reveling in the momentary look of fear in Mister Harrington's eyes and snickering with the rest of the students as he stepped inside. "Company policy states you're all going to have to take off your shoes and wear these -" he jutted a thumb towards the right wall, hydraulics hissing as it folded upwards to reveal racks of lab coats and white sterile plimsolls. " - Totally monochrome, I know, but it's regulation."

Dick shrugged on one of the embroidered WayneTech coats and donned a pair of protective goggles. Amongst the exchanging of shoes and frisking of all personal items - phones, keys and anything else that could prove to interfere with experiments in the lab weren't allowed past that point - Dick noticed Bruce loitering near a particular tray of belongings. 

Peter was busily untying the laces of his worn-out converse, Ned shuffling eagerly beside him. It didn't avoid Dick's notice that as one of the lead research scientists came to collect the high schoolers with a tired smile and the pair looked away, Bruce took the split-second to slip the tip of his finger beneath the solo of one of Peter's shoes. 

Dick narrowed his eyes at the singular red flash that emitted from the beacon, petering out of existence as it activated. He grabbed Bruce's arm as he attempted to follow the class through the laboratory, grip like iron as it closed around the man's straining wrist:

"A tracker Bruce? Really."

"It's precautionary," the man replied with a wave of his hand. Dick could see the muscles moving beneath his suit. "It's Stark's kid."

A wave of surprise swept through Dick's blood, ice cold and sharp. Schooling his features to what he hoped could pass as indifference in the eyes of Bruce Wayne, Dick raised an eyebrow, releasing the handful of bespoke material:

"I wasn't aware he had a son."

"Because he doesn't. The kid's an intern," said Bruce. Dick studied his mentor's face carefully, meeting his steely eyes as recognition dawned on him.

"You think he was there? At the Avenger's pity-party?" Dick asked, bewildered. He stumbled back from Bruce, raking a hand through his hair brashly. No Way. Peter somehow-not-a-model? Absolutely not.

"The Sokovia Accords are a serious problem, Dick."

"Please, you're just jealous you're stuck with the league," Dick snickered, bouncing after Bruce as the man shook his head and continued into the lab. "Face it, B, there's no way Supes is going to start a revolution. Maybe you could try and rile Hal up, but -"

"That's enough work talk, Dick," Bruce cut him off sternly. They lingered behind slightly before rejoining the others, Bruce's steady hand gripping his shoulder. Dick wasn't particularly interested in another lecture on xenobiology by one of Barbara's brain-crushes. Not that Doctor Lovell wasn't worthy of being listened to - it's just that Dick had heard it all before. He'd experienced it first hand, he didn't need to be told how Amazo's copy-catting worked. "Remember where you are."

"Yeah well, I still don't think you should bug a high schooler, Bruce."

"You're a high schooler," Bruce insinuated. Dick wrinkled his nose as he leaned into the man's space.

"Your point is? I wouldn't want to be tracked by you," he retorted. He absently felt around his collar and cuffs, checking for a similar device. "Or by anyone, for that matter. You've never planted one of those on me have you?"

"Planted what on you?"

Dick froze. The dynamic duo, Peter and Ned, were staring at them from across a workbench and were flanked by the Michelle girl. She didn't look half as interested as the two boys, absently glaring into the distance with her head in her hand. Peter just appeared to be bored... probably of Ned: the teen was practically swooning at every action the Wayne Heir took. Dick wasn't supposed to be caught off guard like this - why the three of them weren't watching the awesome display of Green Lantern's cosmic constructs was beyond him.

Bruce squeezed his shoulder and Dick stared up at him. The slight pressure told him to keep quiet; the Bat would do the work for him. "My ward's always trying to avoid using the phones made by my company - which gets kind of expensive when he keeps taking them places he's not supposed to." A subtle dig towards Dick for that time he took his phone on patrol. It hadn't ended much better than a dislocated shoulder and a furious Bruce. Dick felt his cheeks heat up at the man's decisive stare. "Silly as it is, I've resorted to slipping the blasted things into his pockets when he's not looking."

Dick nodded mutely, pushing his hands into his pockets. The cold glass screen of his WayneTech phone pressed at his finger tips. "And he always succeeds," Dick said through his teeth, parading the phone for all to see. It wasn't even on the market yet.

"I thought phones weren't allowed in here," Peter recalled and Dick rolled his eyes. 

"There are exceptions to every rule," Dick muttered. He looked up through his eyelashes towards Peter's frowning face. "It may be pure favoritism, but, well... I am his son."

This just deepened the other boy's expression, much like the laugh elicited from Ned made him slump further down the table. Bruce sighed: "You're not supposed to be in here barefoot either, Dick. What happened to your shoes?"

"I lost them in the studio. They were giving me blisters."

"Oh. Saint Laurens?" Bruce assumed, face twisting as his ward nodded. "Understandable."

"Couldn't you have just worn a pair of these?" Michelle interjected, flicking her leg to rest on top of the table. The stark-white trainers cut a bold contrast atop the onyx workbench. "We all had to."

"Obviously you all don't have any taste. No one who knows anything about fashion would willingly put them on their feet. Why would I?"

"Because it's protocol?" Peter suggested. He seemed almost offended. Dick couldn't see why he would be. It was a perfectly reasonable observation to say that he had no dress-sense - a no-brainer. The dude was wearing the type of t-shirt Wally  would wear, one of those with the dorky science puns. There was no way anyone who dressed Kid Flash on his days off had good taste.

"Not for a Wayne," Bruce replied coolly, steering the conversation to the left. He checked his watch, eyebrows knitting exaggeratedly as he frowned. "Well then, Dick. I've got to be off. Time really does fly, kiddos."

"You're leaving?" Ned asked somberly. Bruce flashed him his 'Person fo the Year' winning smile, laced with regret as he looked to Dick.

"I have business to attend to and an opening to attend," the man sounded sincere. Dick wondered if he'd been contacted by the league, because there was no way Bruce was actually going to go to the Tower's christening. Maybe Diana had buzzed in for a date. Or Selina. Or- "My CEO wishes to remind me that Wayne Enterprises doesn't run itself. Mister Harrington-"

"Call me Roger, Mister Wayne -"

"Alright, Richard. I'm afraid I'm going to have to cut out time together short," Bruce said solemnly. "Doctor Lovell, if you could finish this up rather quickly and have Dickie show these lovely people out? Thank you, dear."

His embellished his words with a wink, face melting into one of irritation as he turned so only Dick could see him 'Clark' he mouthed, face grim-set as he swept away. Dick's stomach churned - it must be important, then. Unless Clark had offered to take Bruce on a date. Dick always had wondered about the two of them. He grinned, watching the hulking figure of Bruce Wayne abandon the theoretical ship through one of the emergency exits - one that lead to a stairwell onto the roof, Dick noted.

As Doctor Lovell wrapped up her explanation of whatever theoretical science she was explaining, shutting down the hologram display of the Justice League's last fight with Amazo, Peter finally turned to face him. The eye contact was awkward and Dick had to refrain from looking away as the other boy pushed himself from his seat. It was almost as if Bruce's presence had been a dampener on whatever he'd been meaning to say.

"Does he always just walk out like that?" he asked. Ned almost tripped over the legs of his stool in his effort to be the first to stand beside Dick.

"Mostly always," Dick countered, waiting for the disappointed students to swarm towards him in an orderly fashion. "Sometimes he lasts longer than five minutes though, if you can believe it."

"Can't say I can," Peter said, staring off in the direction Bruce had ventured. "How does he run a multimillion dollar company?"

Dick frowned, looking over his shoulder to follow Peter's gaze: "Multibillion dollar company. He does a lot for Wayne Enterprises - you can't begin to understand the work he puts into helping this business succeed."

Peter had prodded one of Dick's more tender issues with Bruce's public persona. He couldn't stand people thinking the man was an idiot. Bruce was- Bruce was amazing. The most capable man Dick had ever and would ever meet. With everything he did to protect and serve... all people like Peter saw was Brucie.

"I didn't mean to offend," Peter retreated quickly. His eyes were warm and Dick felt somehow lighter as he stared into them. "It's just, with people like Tony Stark in the business how does he manage to stay afloat?"

"You're awfully talkative all of a sudden," Dick snapped, not un-kindly. Peter reeled back ashamedly:

"I... I'm sorry?"

"Apology not accepted. Maybe if you stop scowling at me I'll rethink," Dick said. "Y'know, I thought we were getting on okay earlier, but I guess not. Ned seems cool though."

"Ned is cool," the man himself supplied from his position on the floor, pulling off the white abominations from his feet. 

"I just didn't clock who you were before I saw you in Wayne's office, that's all!" Peter replied, ignoring him. "And then I was like... oh god, he's rich and a model and famous - It's kind of a lot to take in, y'know?"

"A lot to take in?" 

"'Cause I said all that stuff to you and I never would have if I'd know, I swear!"

Dick felt his chest deflate. Of course. He wasn't just another teenager to Peter anymore: He was Richard Grayson. Heir to the Wayne fortune, with far too much status to even consider speaking to. Dick's intrepid eyes scaled the walls opposite, thumb running over the material of his sleeve. "It's okay. I get that."

"You do?" Dick didn't enjoy the relief he heard in Peter's voice. 

"Yup," he replied, voice strained, and he leant against the doorway to decontamination to watch the boy struggle to remove his lab gear. His eyes flickered to the beat-up trainers Peter began to pull from his tray, mouth dry as he watched the boy begin to undo the laces. "Uh, hey Peter -"

"Yeah?"

He had half a mind to let Bruce's schemes alone. What did he care if Bruce's tracker was stuck to the guy's shoe? But a guilty feeling rose uncomfortably up his throat, threatening to choke him, as he observed the tying of grimy shoelaces.  "Er, about your shoes -"

"What about them?" the boy replied, not bothering to look up. It was a good job he didn't, too, otherwise he might've seen how obvious Dick was being as he went about this whole thing. He didn't exactly have a plan: He was flying by the seat of his pants here.

"I need them."

"What?"

"Give me your shoes."

"What?"

"Look, you heard me," Dick hissed, and he was pretty sure any friendliness recovered between the two of them was destroyed at that exact moment. He could feel his onw cheeks beginning to flame. Forget earlier, when he'd crawled from the ceiling in front of everyone: This was embarrassing. But he couldn't just let Bruce track the poor guy. What if it were Dick being tracked? He'd never let it happened, of course - Bruce would (figuratively) murder him. But he couldn't shake the bad feeling away. Someone knowing his every move? Possibly the grossest thing ever. "Hand them over."

Peter stared at him as though he'd grown a second head and for a moment Dick wished he had. It would've been easier to explain. 

"Are you serious?" Peter said, letting out a nervous laugh. Mister Harrington was beggining to shoo the other students from the boxy room single file. 

"Why do you want his lame-ass shoes?" Someone asked. A taller boy, with dark hair and a confused look on his face. "You can have mine, they're way cooler."

"Let's go, Flash."

"But Sir-"

"Beat it."

In the boy's defense, Dick did think the kid's Nikes were cooler than Peter's worn converse. Although he wasn't sure he'd want to wear anything from someone named Flash. He'd never hear the end of it from Wally. 

"Peter, I'm not joking. I'm tired of being barefoot and you- you have socks on!"

"Look, Di- can I still call you Dick?" Peter asked uncertainly. The other teen nodded rapidly, fingers twitching. "Er, I'm not sure why you're asking for my shoes but I'm definitely not giving them to you."

"But I need them," Dick pleaded.

"Sorry, I guess? Bi I 'need them' too. I have to walk back to our hotel," Peter said, standing up straighter. He still hadn't successfully put on both trainers, the left being wedged poorly onto his foot with the laces draping dangerously on the floor. He peered over Dick's shoulder towards the rest of his class slowly walking away nervously. "Hey wait- Ned, wait for me?"

"Look, Peter I'm sorry but... you're really not leaving me with many options here, man. I really need those shoes."

"Can't you just buy a new pair like them?"

Dick rolled his eyes, pushing away from the wall. He could see the faint glow of Bruce's tracking device lodged into the material and inwardly cringed. He could envision what he was about to do and it was not going to look good on record: 'Dick Grayson, Wayne Heir, assaults Academic Decathlon student'. 

Had he no shame? Of course he did! Was the shame going to stop? Of course not.

"You're not understanding me here," Dick said slowly, voice a low treble. He tried to add in a bit of gravel, like Bruce did when he spoke as Batman. It only served to confuse Peter more greatly.

"Look, Mister Grayson, you're kinda starting to freak me out - can you let me pas-" Peter's frankly shitty attempt to de-escalate what he hadn't known to be an escalated situation didn't fill Dick with any comfort as he lunged for the boy.

His quick movement obviously took the boy by surprise because the shriek Peter let out as he was barreled to the floor was nothing less than fantastic. "What are you doing? Get off me!"

Dick had to hand it to the guy, Peter was strong. Much stronger than he looked. After only a few attempts he was able to shove Dick off of him and scramble to his feet but Dick's work was already done: he grinned up at Peter from where he was laying on the floor, waving those terrible converse in hand, and bounced up to his feet with triple the grace of Peter, daring the high schooler to do something. 

The teen's chest heaved rapidly with adrenalin and alarm, and he lurched forward to grab the objects from Dick's hand but with all the dignity of a gymnast Dick spun away and wheeled out of the room. His laughter echoed down the hallway as he sped away. Peter's eyes were wide as he watched him get away.

"What the hell?" Peter breathed out. He made eye contact with Ned, who was standing stock-still with his phone out. A terribly angled selfie was displayed on the screen:

"Do you think he'll send streaks?"

[Next chapter]

[aikrus]

Will We Ever Learn? (we've been here before)

my hero academia

teen+

warnings: strong language, major injuries

an: my take on Izuku & Katsuki’s relationship (could be read platonic or romantic)

        Eraserhead was five blocks away when he saw the building collapse. He heard it before he saw it, the shifting rumble and snap that sounded so much closer, and then he heard the world erupt into noise, just to fall back to silence. He turned and all he saw was smoke.   

            “Status report?”

            He winced at the voice in his head, “Few blocks out, already in motion.” It was true, even as he spoke the man had begun to swing off firescapes to build the momentum for his capture weapon. He hadn’t had to grapple in a little while, and the cloth fabric was giving him a run for his money. 

            The operator paused a moment, “ And Dekiru and the angry one?”

            No response from the boys, just what are they doing at that boring speech?

            “They’re with the head of the Safety Correlation doing a minor security detail while I patrol the east side.” 

            “This is Woods, Matsuura-san has been pronounced dead upon arrival.”

            And that’s when it hit him. The change of venue update he’d barley glanced at while propelling between buildings, the ping from Midoriya just on time with the scheduled updates,  it all fell together and his chest began to squeeze. Because yes , the mass casualties of a collapsed building is devastating to hundreds of people and families, but the building being the same one he sent his students into? It’s just, it’s…

            It makes him sick. It makes the shops he swings by blur stronger into nothing but background noise, makes nothing in the world matter, not the creaking of his arms, not the snarl he couldn’t ease off his face, because a building just collapsed.

            “Has the cause been determined?”

            “ Not yet- fire’s on sight now talking with the first responders.”

_______________________________________________________________

            There’s not much to be said about the relationship between Izuku Midoriya and Katsuki Bakugou. They were childhood friends, and now they’re not; see? It’s simple really. Just like how there wasn’t much to be said about this supervised protection detail, until everything came crashing down. It was a simple assignment, now it wasn’t; do you see?

            “Kaachan?” 

            The voice, his voice, was so soft– so delicate and fragile and heart wrenching that Bakugo’s eyes clenched shut to barricade his tears when it reached his ears. Tiny gasps reverberated off the cement surrounding them, circling him and mocking him, and his first thought was that Deku was such a cry baby; then he realized they were coming from him. 

            “I um,” Izuku started, “I’m not really sure what to say.” And wasn’t that the truth. Because standing in front of him was Izuku. Tall and bloody, covered in a thick layer of dust, posed like Atlas. Midoriya had caught the building they were evacuating. Standing below him- he had to blink away the nausea-  was the assignment laying with a steel pipe skewering his throat.

            Katsuki could hear the joints creak in his elbows as his legs braced most of the weight– a seven-story building all crushing down on this one weight-bearing beam that Izuku was posted under– keeping them both alive.

            The thought washed over him like a freezing cup of water was just thrown onto his face– If Izuku hadn’t caught the building I’d be dead. If that wasn’t the most terrifying realization; and suddenly everything became so real. He was thrown into this hyperaware state of mind. The dust filling the air, pebbles hitting the ground from above, debris cracking and shifting and buckling much like Deku was, everything was so real and it was terrifying. 

            “I-” A beep from their coms cut off Midoriya's voice after the first syllable. 

            “Boys?” A frantic, desperate voice crackled in their ears. “if you don’t respond right now I,” 

            “We’re here, Aizawa-Sensei.”

            “Midoriya,” His voice was thickly coated with relief, sounding through like molasses.

            “Yeah, we’re fine.” His eyes flicked up to Deku’s body, which had begun to shake ever so slightly, gaining a soft sheen, “Mostly fine.”

            A pause. 

            “Mostly?”

            Izuku made eye contact with his friend, his once friend, and spoke: “We’re in a little predicament right now, sensei, but I don’t think either of us are majorly injured. 

            “Okay, Okay.” They heard a deep breath before a much more steady version of Aizawa rang out, “What’s the predicament? We have scouting dogs looking for you two so we know where to start digging. Max time is around twenty minutes with how much debris is around before we can get drilling. Will you be able to hold out till then?”

            “Oh sure sensei-”

            “Deku’s holding up the fucking building.” 

.

            “What?”

            “You heard me over the shitty ass coms,” he bit, despite the sharp edge being taken away with how laced his voice was with concern– and fear. “Deku’s supporting whatever weight is on top of us, and seeing how the building crumbled inwards and we’re near the middle of the stupid fucking parking garage, that’s all of the fucking weight.”

            “Midoriya?”

            “Yes, Sensei?”

            A hesitation, “I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me here, understand?” 

            “Yes.” And If Bakugou thought Izuku had been at his limit before, the twitching supernova answering their teacher with one barely-there syllable had cemented that thought.

            “How long can you keep your hold on that ceiling?”

            He took a broken gasp of air before answering “I’m not,” he readjusted his hands ever so slightly and the entire world shook , “not really sure, Uhm.” He shook his head just barely to disperse the dust around his head that filled the void around them, “As long as I need?”

            “That’s not an answer, kid.”

            “I really don’t know,” he gasped as, above them, a slab of cement holding a pile of debris snapped and shifted its weight, “This is pretty different than the mountain Muscular put on top of me. If it was just the weight I could probably fight my way through a half-hour; but,”

            “But the building’s still crumbling.”

            Izuku’s eyes searched Katsuki’s face and, whatever he was looking for, he must have found it because in less than a second his face hardened– “However long I need.” 

            A silence, however brief, hung over them like an eternity. “Understood. We’ll keep you updated, but I need you to tell me if anything changes down there alright?”

            “Yes sir.” 

            And in all honesty, neither was quite sure who spoke; because immediately following the response one of the few remaining weight-bearing poles crumbled in the middle. 

            “Shit-” Izuku’s stance widened, as some two hundred more tons came crashing down on him. Katsuki’s hands began to shake, in what he distantly recognized as both fear and anticipation. 

            “I could-”

            “Absolutely not.” Izuku had never spoken so curtly towards him before , “If you even think about setting off an explosion I’ll drop this building in a second.”

            “But if I could just-” 

            “We both know you’re not at the point where you could set off a blast strong enough to pulverize a building and cause no flying debris. As it is, if you even try, you’d be more likely to kill us with the explosion and everyone else with the shards of metal and steel flying in the air.”

            He fell silent, and a sticky slick of embarrassment came over him.

            “Look,” Izuku sighed, “I appreciate your thoughts but I think all we can do now is..”

            And so they waited

            and waited

            waited

            and waited some more.

                                               …

            Until finally, something new. 

            “Boys? Are you still there?” His voice filled the space so suddenly and completely Katsuki wanted to flinch, but knowing Izuku is right there just standing he couldn’t move a muscle.

            “ Yes ,” Izuku wheezed the response, and Katsuki, who had been looking at his squeezed shut eyes the entire time, was semi startled back into awareness and the sound of a water droplet splashing against the ground. 

            His eyes flickered. Midoriya had produced a dark circle ring around his shadow. “Sir, I have no clue what shitty plan you lot of extras are throwing together up there, but get a fucking move on.”

            The or else of that statement was silent but remained well heard. Any other circumstances and Eraserhead wouldn’t have hesitated to sideline the young hero and lecture until he’d been thoroughly scandalized for swearing over the open comms, but he knew Bakugo wasn’t angry.

            No, there was no burning under his tone; instead it was a shaking ocean miles off shore where the waves crashed inwards on itself. Katsuki was scared, and Aizawa doubted.

            “ Status report Dekiru?” 

            A brief silence passed, “Uhm,” a heavy rasp escaped him by force, “I’ve seen better days, Sir.” 

            “That’s an understatement if I’ve ever heard one.”

            “Kid?”

            “It’s fine, Eraserhead.” Izuku’s voice cemented, and Katsuki was watching when his eyes opened.

            He felt it in his chest first, the harsh clench from his lungs and the flip of his stomach; his limbs were next, hair rising involuntarily. He saw green lightning flicker as Izuku’s glowing eyes began to illuminate the shoddily lit room of patchwork light. The pressure was enough for Katsuki to crush under. 

            His stance didn’t widen, but it hardened. His breathing was strong and short and reliable, the low air quality seemingly not affecting his oxygen level while Bakugo was pretty sure the dark spots around his vision were growing. Izuku’s face darkened and Katsuki almost felt more fear than before.

            “I’m not done just yet.” 

            He’s pretty sure everyone’s ignoring Katsukis gasp and light pants out of respect or at least horror. Still, they’re put on full display as the line once again goes quiet.

            “ That’s good, kid. You can’t back out now, we’re figuring it out but it’s all for nothing if you’re not there when we get through.” 

            “Trust me,” gritted through grinding teeth, “we’re not going anywhere.” 

            And wasn’t that so true ? Wasn’t that the very basis of everything they were? Not, not humans, or heroes , or even Izuku and Katsuki, but Kaachan and Deku, who they are in their core , and who they are together?

            “Why don’t we?”

            “Huh?” Izuku looked at him, fully looked at him , and Bakugou couldn’t breathe , couldn’t think couldn’t move couldn’t, couldn’t even comprehend because his eyes were shining . Shining so unnaturally it almost made him look like a.. like a..           a god.

            And wasn’t that something? Deku the god. Dekiru , probably, because Deku had never made him think even for a second that Katsuki Bakugou couldn’t do something. That’s how it’s always been, but Dekiru almost looks like a sculpture designed to be marveled and gawked and cowered at; drawn specifically to show the great distance between man and god.

            He couldn’t do that. 

            “Go anywhere?”

            Izuku blinked, then laughed. Bakugou’s voice had been so void of anything in tone that it was.. scary. Scary at least to Izuku. “Because we like to stay in? Because we always want to stay in. You want to stay in.”

            “But you don’t.” And while this wasn’t the kind of going anywhere Bakugou meant- because yes he meant why don’t we go out ? Why can’t you lift the building and fly like you so obviously can ? Why not show this incredible power to the world instead of hiding it somewhere so plainly as here and to no one but me ? “You want to go out.”

            Izuku paused and a thicker drop of sweat fell from his curls- dark and stuck to his skin in tight ringlets. It makes Bakugou all the more unsteady, he’s been waiting for Deku to finish styling his hair every morning since forever. He was so proud of his fluffy soft curls, no matter what poof they make. 

            “I like staying in,” his eyes seemed to peer straight into his soul with that shine of his, seeing the deeper part Bakugou is sure no one could ever see, “as long as i’m with you.”

            “We could go out,” a lump had grown in Bakugou's throat as the minutes continued to pass. He wasn’t sure how long it��d been since he heard anything on the coms or since he’s heard anything in general, “if you wanted to.”

            “I know.” 

            And this time Bakugou looked in his eyes, not the shine. Past that glowing ethereal shine was a perfectly hidden iris belonging to one Izuku Midoriya. It was still him, still Deku. It made him feel a little less like he might die but a little more not okay. Before, before he looked and saw that it really is Izuku standing there, the same Izuku he’d grown up playing hero’s with, the same Izuku he trains with daily, before he saw it's really him under there. Before he seemed almost omnipotent in his power, like even if he did die it would be near a god and doesn’t that make it more meaningful by connection? 

            “I wouldn’t mind going out,” if it was with you.

            Why can’t he say it? He wants to say it? He should say it. 

            “I know.”

            But just like always he doesn’t have to. Not with Deku. Not since they were much much smaller, because Deku just seems to understand him in a way most people can’t. Deku doesn’t need words or time beyond training, Deku knows what’s important and Deku agrees . Except, Bakugou wants to be number one, and Deku wants to be a person able to catch the building.

            “We’re so different.”

            “You’re just now realizing that?”

            “No, I-” As if he hadn’t spent hours upon hours comparing every component of them against eachother to understand just what made them so far always so fucking far from one another, “obviously I know.”

            “Then why say it?” Izuku arched a brow and it oddly fit perfectly into place on his sweaty chiseled face contoured by effort.

            “Why respond?”

            “ Glad to see you two are lively as ever. ”

            “Crude humor Sensei,” Izuku panted each word but his diction was still strong. Katsuki appraised him and it seemed much the same; supported, firm. 

            “Y’all are takin your fuckin time huh? What is it, happy hour? Sippin’ mimosas on the job?” 

            “We’ve located your position, the problem is on the superior levels of the building. A few people have tried to pave the way for the extraction team but-” the comms screeched in their ears for a moment, just a moment, but Deku, Deku’s neck, ever so fragilely placed  beneath his shoulder stretched, the shoulder that stood between Bakugou Katsuki and death, the shoulder holding up his life, his world shook. What was he to do? What when the comms yelled and the world rolled down between his shoulder blades. Less supported, less holding, more, more, more surviving. More being crushed.

            Izuku’s body rippled like waves, muscles straining and shifting and relaxing just to begin once again. Why am I just standing here ? Bakugou turned away from Midoriya. He took a few steps before bracing his knees and throwing up hot, thin, acidic stomach fluid. He hadn’t had time for breakfast. He couldn’t help a glance at Deku despite the tears which distorted his vision; he was completely still. Unaffected and unrelenting, he endured and Bakugou may have been sick but he feels much more here . 

            “What the fuck have you punk-ass above ground bitches been up to.”

            “ Not staying above ground .”

            “Sensei?” And it’s a good thing Midoriya responded because Bakugou thought his next words would be we’re coming to get you.

            Instead, he got “ The upper floors are still completely unstable, same goes with the debris piled on top. A few have tried to, to shift the weight. They only managed to add some.”

            He looked to Deku, Deku who has plans. Deku who always knows , not like him. Bakugou could never just know . Bakugou had to wait . He had to observe and learn . He had to fight for growth. Izuku, Izuku just seemed to.. to.. 

            Except Izuku hadn’t just transformed overnight. It wasn’t sudden or recent, it just felt that way because they are childhood friends, and now they’re not. When Izuku had come to him in middleschool, all bloody and bruised and weak, weak in a way Bakugou didn’t understand– he wanted Izuku to grow to become more when he was a kid, if only he knew what that shrimp would becom e- and asked what they were, what happened, wanting to know why things changed, that’s what he’d responded. Now they’re not.

           As if he could unwrite the years of scripture etched by their youthful hands. They wrote each other's souls and Bakugou dismissed it, covered it up like a blemish. The boy keeping him alive. The boy that just seemed to know where he had to learn . The boy who would never look at him but rather, rather around him. 

            Every interaction seemed like an evasion, even as they spoke. It doesn’t matter, Bakugou will catch up. He’ll catch up and be able to make Deku look at him. He’ll see him.

            The collapse happened before anyone could even react. One second, everything was tense but stable, and the next, it all shifted, a chorus of crushing concrete and snapping steel. Dust filled the already stifling air, cutting visibility down to nothing, turning the world into a thick, choking blur of sound and movement.

            Bakugou's ears rang, his breath caught, and he heard—no, felt—Izuku's desperate grunt beside him. His first instinct was to scream something—anything—but the words refused to form, locked behind fear and frustration lodged in his throat. Instead, all he could do was stumble, blinking rapidly against the sting in his eyes as he tried to comprehend what had happened.

            “Kaachan,” the voice rasped out from the settling haze, and it was softer than a whisper, as though the building had swallowed everything, including Izuku's voice.

            Katsuki's head snapped toward the sound, heart pounding, and there was Deku. Still there. Still standing. Still holding. The green lightning danced across his form, barely flickering now, but it was there, and the sheer sight of it made Bakugou feel something he rarely allowed himself to feel—something that wasn’t rage, wasn’t spite, wasn’t blinding ambition.

            Relief.

            “Deku!” Bakugou’s voice was strained, barely masking the fear that tore through him. He clenched his fists, his palms heating up with the barest spark of an explosion that never made it out. He wanted to do something. To help. To fix it. “Are you still—”

            “I’m... still here,” Izuku answered, his voice cracking under the weight of his effort. Katsuki saw him brace again, muscles locking, feet digging deeper into the rubble-strewn ground. His arms trembled, the world above them threatening to press down harder, as if it somehow knew they were reaching the end of whatever strength Izuku had left. "I said... we're not going anywhere, didn't I?"

            And Bakugou swallowed, that lump still stuck in his throat, hard to dislodge. He hated this—this waiting, this feeling of uselessness gnawing at him, screaming in his chest. He wanted to fight something, anything, but all he could do was stand there, and it killed him. The world was ending around them, and Deku, stupid, heroic Deku, stood there with it all on his shoulders, just like he always did.

            “Stop looking like you’re about to cry, Kaachan,” Izuku forced out, and there was a smile—small, pained, but somehow still Izuku—cracking across his dusty face. “We’re almost there, alright?”

            The pressure on Bakugou’s chest almost doubled, the words failing him once more. He looked away, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek, the taste of iron spreading in his mouth. Deku, with that stupid smile, always had to make it seem okay. As if they weren’t standing at the edge of disaster, seconds away from everything coming down.

            “Who the hell do you think you're talking to?” Bakugou finally bit out, voice rough, the edge of desperation there for anyone who knew him well enough to hear it. “I don’t need your reassurances, dumbass. I need you to—”

            He didn't know how to finish that sentence. He needed Deku to what? Be okay? Keep holding? Make it out of here?

            Live?

            It was all too much, too heavy, and yet none of those thoughts managed to make it out of his mouth. Instead, it was just another harsh inhale, the sting of dust and uncertainty clogging his throat.

            “I know,” Izuku said, as if he heard it all anyway, the words Bakugou didn’t say. “But I need you to trust me. Just a little longer, okay?”

            “Trust you?” Bakugou scoffed, the familiar heat finally sparking behind his eyes, his heart hammering with the weight of it all. He glared at Izuku, saw the strain, the muscles that were seconds from giving in but refused to, just because that was who Izuku was. "I’ve always—always—"

            “ Boys !” A voice shouted through the comm, Aizawa’s, but it was muffled, static-laden, almost lost to the rumbling in Katsuki’s ears. “We’re starting the extraction now—hold on!”

            A rush of something unnameable went through him, relief so sharp it almost hurt, and his gaze locked onto Izuku’s. He saw it—saw the exhaustion, saw the pain, but also saw the flicker of hope, the determination in those glowing eyes. They were going to make it. Somehow, against all odds, they were going to—

            The ceiling groaned, an awful, grating noise, and Katsuki’s heart stopped. 

            The sound was deafening—a deep, aching groan that reverberated through the walls and the ground beneath them. Dust poured from above, and Katsuki's gaze darted upwards just in time to see the concrete begin to shift, tiny cracks spidering out like veins. It felt like everything slowed down, the looming threat of the collapse freezing the world in place.

            Bakugou’s breath caught in his chest as he saw Izuku’s knees start to buckle, the weight of the entire building pressing down on him like an unforgiving tidal wave. It wasn’t enough—Izuku’s strength, his will, his quirk—it wasn’t enough, and Bakugou knew it. The green lightning, once so bright and so powerful, flickered like a dying ember, the last vestiges of energy draining from Deku’s body.

            Izuku had  to widen his stance into a deep squat  as the debris shifting down his back; in a moment of instinct so desperate he couldn’t explain, Dekiru reached a hand out to Bakugou where he sat in horror.

            Katsuki’s heart pounded in his ears, louder than the crumbling around them. He had to move. He had to do something.

            Anything.

            “Deku!” Bakugou roared, his voice breaking through the noise, rough and desperate. He lunged forward, his body reacting before his mind could catch up, and grabbed Izuku by the shoulders and ignoring the eclectic zap that went through him. “You’re not giving up, you hear me?!”

            Izuku’s eyes widened, the shock cutting through the exhaustion for just a moment, and Bakugou saw the spark there—saw that even now, even with the weight of everything literally crushing down on them, Deku still wasn’t ready to let go.

            “I… I’m not…” Izuku managed, his voice so strained it was almost inaudible. His gaze met Bakugou’s, filled with something that was too much—too many emotions, too much pain, too much hope. His arms shook, the muscles visibly trembling as they struggled to keep the ceiling above them from collapsing completely.

            Katsuki grit his teeth, feeling the burn of frustration mix with fear, and did the only thing he could think of—he planted his feet, held onto Izuku, and began to channel everything he had left.

            “Damn it,” Bakugou snarled, sweat dripping down his face as his palms began to glow, the sparks of an explosion igniting in his hands. “We’re gonna blast our way out of this. You’re not allowed to die here, Deku. Not while I’m still standing.”

            Izuku blinked, his green eyes wide as the heat from Bakugou’s explosions built up, the warmth spreading through the air. Bakugou could see the realization slowly coming to Izuku, and even though he looked like he was on the verge of collapse, he nodded, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips.

            “Right…” Izuku breathed out, his grip tightening on the rubble. “I trust you, Kaachan, just don’t take anyone else out with us.”

            The words were soft, but they struck Bakugou harder than any punch he’d ever taken. He looked away, scowling, trying to ignore the warmth in his chest that had nothing to do with his quirk.

            “Yeah, well… don’t be an idiot,” Bakugou muttered, his voice cracking as he spoke. He let out a deep breath, and then yelled into his comm, “Aizawa! We’re getting ready to blow this thing! Get everyone out of the way!”

            Static filled the comm for a moment before Aizawa’s voice came through, barely audible over the chaos. “Bakugou, wait for the—”

            “No time!” Bakugou cut him off, his voice raw with determination. He looked at Izuku, and in that instant, they both knew. There was no more waiting, no more holding back. It was now or never.

            “Deku,” Katsuki said, his eyes blazing with intensity. “Brace yourself.”

            Izuku nodded, every muscle in his body straining as he pushed up with everything he had left. The green lightning surged, flaring brighter, the energy building. Katsuki gripped his collar tighter, the heat in his palms growing until it was almost unbearable.

            And then, with a scream that tore through his chest, Bakugou let loose, the explosion bursting from his hands in a blinding flash of light and power. The force ripped through the debris, the concrete above them shattering, crumbling, the blast creating an opening—a path to freedom.

            The air rushed around them, dust swirling violently, and Bakugou could feel the ground tremble beneath him. Izuku’s legs nearly gave out, but Katsuki held him up, pulling him along as they moved, as fast as they could manage. He could see the opening, the light beyond the dust, and he refused to let it slip away.

            “We’re almost there!” Katsuki shouted, his voice raw, and Izuku nodded, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

            The world was chaos—a mix of dust, noise, and blinding light—but somehow, against all odds, they pushed forward. Katsuki could hear voices—Aizawa, other heroes, shouting their names—but all he could focus on was the way Deku’s hand gripped his arm, the way they were still standing.

            And then, suddenly, they were through, the pressure easing, the light overwhelming, and Katsuki stumbled out of the rubble, Izuku beside him, both of them gasping for air.

            The voices grew louder, hands reached for them, pulling them to safety, and Katsuki finally let himself collapse, his body screaming in exhaustion, his breaths coming in ragged, uneven bursts.

            He looked over at Deku, who was lying on the ground beside him, his eyes half-lidded, his body trembling from the effort. But he was alive. They both were.

            And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, Bakugou let himself breathe, the tension in his chest loosening, the fear finally fading.

            They had made it.

            Bakugou blinked up at the sky, the light of day almost surreal after the dim, dust-choked world they'd been trapped in moments ago. His heart still pounded, the adrenaline still rushing, but there was an emptiness to it now—like his body hadn't quite figured out how to come down from the edge of disaster.

            Around them, heroes moved quickly—checking the rubble, pulling out survivors, making sure the area was secure. But all of that seemed distant, muted. Katsuki's ears still rang, and the only thing that seemed sharp, that seemed real , was the wheezing breath beside him.

            He turned his head to look at Izuku, who was still flat on his back, staring up at the sky with a dazed expression. His face was caked in dust, a bruise blooming across his cheek, and there was a weariness in his eyes that cut Katsuki deeper than he'd expected.

            "Oi," Bakugou rasped, his voice hoarse. He hated the way it sounded—weak, raw—but he couldn't seem to find anything better. "You look like crap, Deku."

            Izuku huffed a laugh, the corners of his mouth pulling up just slightly. "Thanks, Kaachan," he murmured, his voice just as rough. "You don't look much better."

            Katsuki scowled, the retort forming automatically, but when he opened his mouth to fire back, nothing came out. Instead, he let the words fade, swallowed them down, and looked away.

            They were alive. That was what mattered. The rest—the yelling, the fighting, the constant push and pull—that could wait.

            For now, he just needed to breathe.

            "Bakugou! Midoriya!" Aizawa's voice cut through the haze, and Katsuki forced himself to sit up, grimacing at the way his body protested. Aizawa was pushing through the chaos, his expression as unreadable as ever, but there was something in his eyes—something almost like relief.

            "Sensei," Izuku mumbled, trying—and failing—to push himself up. Katsuki rolled his eyes, shoving his arm under Deku's shoulders and hauling him up with a grunt of effort.

            "Take it easy, problem child," Aizawa said, his gaze softening slightly. He looked between the two of them, the tension in his shoulders easing as he seemed to take in the fact that they were, indeed, both in one piece.

            "We're… we're okay," Izuku managed, though his voice wavered. He glanced at Katsuki, a small smile tugging at his lips again. "Thanks to Kaachan."

            Katsuki felt a flush rise to his face, and he scowled, looking away. "Don't get all sappy, idiot. We just did what we had to do."

            Aizawa watched them both for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly before he let out a sigh, shaking his head. "You two are going to be the death of me," he muttered, but there was no real heat in his words. Instead, he stepped forward, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. "But… good job. You made it."

            For a moment, silence stretched between them, the weight of what they had just been through settling in. Katsuki glanced at Deku, saw the exhaustion there, but also the determination—the same determination that had been there when he'd stood alone, holding up a collapsing building just because it was the only thing he could do.

            And Bakugou knew, with a certainty that he hated to admit, that they really had made it together. Somehow, despite everything, despite the chaos and the fear and the rage, they had made it.

            He let out a deep breath, nodding once. "Yeah," he muttered, his voice softer than usual, the fight finally fading out of it. "We made it."

            Izuku smiled, tired but genuine, and for the first time in a long time, Bakugou let himself return it—just a little.

            And then, before the moment could linger, before it could become something he wasn't ready to deal with, Katsuki shoved Deku's shoulder lightly, a scowl pulling back into place.

            "Don't think this means anything, nerd. We're not done yet."

            Izuku let out a soft laugh, his eyes closing as he leaned back, his body finally giving in to the exhaustion. "I know, Kaachan. I know."

            Bakugou looked at him for a moment longer, then turned away, his gaze fixed forward. There was still so much to do—so much to fight, so much to fix. But for now, they had each other. And somehow, that was enough.

[echantedtoon]

Waning Obsession Ch14 Epilogue

(Hey everyone. I just wanted to thank everyone who read this far and liked my story enough to read it to it's end. I had a lot of fun writing it and it makes me happy knowing some people loved it enough to read it fully. If you liked this consider checking out my other works. Thanks to everyone for reading this, faving it, or leaving a nice comment. And thank you to Koyoharu Gotouge for creating such wonderful characters and giving me the opportunity to make this wonderful story.)

Church bells chimed in the morning.

Flowers. Soft petals. Meant for their beauty to symbolize the beauty of the bride.

Organ music. To match in chimes of the steps of the bride walking down the aisle.

An audience to shed tears of happiness for many happy moments to come from this union.

Smiles shown at one another in the joys of the moment.

A breath to fill her lungs trying not to cry as she smiled up at the man in front of her. The one she were going to marry and have a life with. But this moment couldn't wait. This magical moment after a year. Some say it was fast but she supposed it was called love at first sight for a reason.Or at least it was supposed to be. A wedding was nothing if a groom never had given up on the woman that grabbed him by the heart and refused to let him go whether she wanted to or not. Whether she knew or not.

The softness of the cushion under her legs helped little to calm her nerves. Neither did the figure of the tall man next to her dressed in the traditional black attire for the ceremony. The smiles of the few guests in attendance also did little to comfort her pounding heart after being brought to this place. Everything happening so fast and too soon. Only to clutch her wrist and bring it up to his chest. The stare of six darkened eyes of love and obsession. A fine line between both melting into one unholy merge. He supposed she knew what would happen after that night when she awoken the next morning after that day.

The war had ended roughly a year after that. He was filled with more determination than before to end it knowing that he had a ceremony to host. His father's reaction was as expected. Disappointment at both of his sons marrying ones not from nobility. His brother a farm girl, and himself a candle carver. But he didn't care. For once in his entire life he did not care about his father's disappointment. He could take his anger with him to the grave, he more than made up for his disappointment by leading several bloody battles personally and ending so much of the enemies forces by hand alone.

He EARNT this.

He DESERVED this.

He NEEDED this!!

That's why she chose him over staying. She needed him too. That's why she was here dressed in the finest silk shiromuku and sitting next to him patiently as the priest continued on with the rites of ceremony.

"BAH!"

It was only briefly interrupted by one of his infants. The chubby young boy probably did not appreciate being held in one place for so long by his grandmother who quickly shushed the fussing three month old into being still again. It was a gift from whomever gods was watching him he supposed. He wasn't expecting the shock of finding out in a short amount of time he himself would be becoming a father, but he nearly passed out when not one but two children were born unexpectedly. He remembered the exact moment the doctor relayed to him the good news that he would become a father. ...He would not speak about how angry his father was for springing the news he was going to be a grandfather on him or how one of his men had to poor water over his head in order to wake him up from his fainting spell-..

No one was allowed to speak of that moment again!

Currently his smiling mother held one while his twin napped blissfully unaware of everything Yoriichi's arms. Both twins seemed to favor his mother and brother, tolerated his brother's wife, and absolutely refused to let his father hold them. As soon as their tiny eyes laid on their grandfather's faced they wailed and wouldn't stop fussing if he ever held them making his father give him scolding looks and telling him he'd have to start training them to stop that soon....He conveniently ignored him every time. The only thing he cares about is how happy his mother was with them and that was more important than making them tolerate his presence. He missed enough of their early life as it was during the pregnancy and first month. It was only by pure chance he was visiting the very day they were born. It has been an intense few hours of himself pacing the corridors with Yoriichi trying and failing to calm him and their mother patiently sitting by with a smile as his fiance was shut away with the finest doctors and midwives. Until his heart stopped when the screaming stopped, a baby wailed, and a little while later a midwife had come out of the room with a small blanketed bundle in her arms....he couldn't bring himself to move so the infant was given to his crying grandmother to hold. Which he didn't mind. She seemed in happy bliss holding her first grandchild in her arms. The boy was the spitting image of his mother with those big turquoise eyes that blinked at them as he sniffled.

He was...tinier than he imagined. So chubby and watery eyes. So unlike him. But at the same time a deep pride of something he created was seated beneath the shock.

"Oh he's just so precious," Akeno cooed expertly shushing the whimpering boy in her arms before looking at the smiling midwife. "But how's my daughter-in-law?"

The midwife smiled happily. "She's doing just fine. She's in a small rest before she births the second child."

His head SNAPPED to the midwife all six eyes wide. "SECOND?!"

"Yes! The doctor discovered that she's in fact having twins-"

THUD-

Yoriichi tried and failed to catch his brother before he again collapsed to the floor.

....He was NEVER speaking of that incident again either.

His hands squeezed hers tighter as she smiled at him from under the hood of the shiromuku. A smile that was his and his ALONE as he vowed to her.

"The gods may have brought you to me, but they won't take you away from me. I will deny them just like they've denied me. You're mine eternally." 

[keyh0use]

Kinktober Day 17: Marking

Mentions of burning, cutting, scratching, biting, hitting

"So, what's your love language?" Sarah asks from across the table.

Barry and Rafe bore many signs of claiming, some more subtle than others.

It all started at some random dive bar on a neighboring island they were invited to for a birthday get together for one of the older man's coworkers. They ate greasy food and chatted idly, Barry's arm around Rafe's shoulders and when he shivered a little, the dealer was shrugging off his sweater and handing it over.

Something in the way Barry looked at Rafe changed but neither of them knew it would be a thing in their growing relationship.

Not until they were getting into the shower the next morning after and the aftermath of rough sex is all over Rafe's lean body. Whatever mental damn Barry had when it came to intimacy—always trying to be relatively gentle but never vulnerable—came crumbling down when they tumbled into the unmade bed.

Rafe had caught sight of himself in the bathroom mirror while undressing, even turned to observe the marks better. The kooks ass was mottled with bruises, both from the impact of Barry's heavy hand and from his talented mouth. Fingerprints littered sharp hip bones and the faint imprint of teeth were visible on his shoulder.

By the time Rafe collected himself enough to join his man in the shower arousal was already swimming in him, but when he seen what he did to Barry, that set him over the edge.

Long, angry red scratches covered Barry's broad back, tan skin raised and stinging as water drains pink.

What happens next isn't soft or cautious, but it does leave both of them with new blemishes.

That transcended into Barry putting his joints out on Rafe's skin, tiny red spots blistering. Then Rafe digs his claws into the older man's ribcage while an orgasm rips through him and the tiny crescents bleed, and when he sees the beads of red it gives a high no drugs can compete with.

Sometimes when the boy wants attention while Barry is busy talking with people about whatever dumb basketball game is playing on the bars TV, Rafe will wander off and wait for someone to inevitably flirt with him. All Rafe will do is stand there and let whoever talk to themselves, completely uninterested and not engaging but also not telling them to fuck off like he usually would.

And it always works. Once five minutes have gone by without sight of pastel shorts and bright blue eyes, Barry is off his bar stool and hunting the kook down, weaving through hordes of people cheering on their team.

Barry will drag Rafe out by the arm before security can toss the older man for starting a fist fight, scold him for running off before opening the passenger side door for him. At home the boy will take Barry's fingers into his mouth and suck the sticky blood off, still dripping from split knuckles.

Then one day Ward clapped Barry on the shoulder and called him son and panic set in.

The love Rafe and Barry shared was all consuming and overpowered every other feeling, including doubt—which is how the drug dealer ended up running head-on into his first relationship. But it's like that one word snapped the older man out of it and suddenly he wasn't sure, solidified when his perfect boy waltzed in with a grin, tall and well dressed and way too damn good for someone like Barry.

Barry wasn't sure what the fuck he needed to hear; reassurance they wouldn't end or that they would, and he shouldn't get his hopes up but the thoughts haunted him for the rest of the evening, following from Tanneyhill all the way home on the cut.

After Barry jogs around the truck to open the door for Rafe, the boy flashes a shark -like grin and flips open a switch blade previously hidden in the glove compartment.

"Found this when I went up to my old room," the boy explained. "Maybe tonight you can carve your—"

"Maybe we shouldn't," Barry had rushed out. Rafe's eyes grew wide and he drowned in them, swallowing nervously as he tried to find the right words to stop the mess he's started.

After a minute, Rafe asked, "What do you mean maybe we shouldn't? Shouldn't what?"

"Maybe we should slow down just in case we don't, y'know...in case we don't work out." The words taste like acid in his mouth, vomited out quietly.

"Excuse me?" Rafe replied, voice hard.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself down, Barry went on to say, "I don't want you to regret bearing so many physical reminders of me if I'm, like, your ex. Alright?" And while that's true, a big part of it was that Barry didn't want to look in the mirror and be reminded of he once had and lost.

Rafe had shut that shit down so fast it made the dealer's head spin.

One minute Barry was on the verge of sobbing for the first time in a long time and the next he was sitting in the backseat of the beat-up truck getting his cock ridden so hard he was seeing stars, blade of the sharp knife pressed to his throat.

"You can't leave me," Rafe started with a threatening tone, bouncing in his man's lap. "I won't let you."

The statement got Rafe's back slammed down on the worn seats to receive the fucking of a lifetime in the cramped cab, his own knife now wielded by the man of his dreams as the threat was recited back, just as genuine.

"Uh, hello, Earth to Rafe," calls Sarah, reaching across the table to snap in her brother's face. "I asked you a question."

Rafe slowly blinks a couple times and remembers where he is, ducking his head with a fake cough to hide his flushed face.

The conversation the two had been having comes back to him: Sarah wanting to connect better with John B. by taking a magazines advice to learn eachothers love language, going over the list while the siblings sipped iced coffee.

So, what's your love language?

Nimble fingers slip over his inner thigh, where Barry's initial is carved, able to feel the deep scar through the thin material of his swim shorts.

Rafe answers easily, "Physical touch."

[arjaandsimoni]

Broken Dolls

Content Warning: The antagonist of this story is a serial killer and the story begins with the fate of one of his victims. Reader discretion is advised.

A small scream, a loud snap, and the game was done. He looked down at the thing in his hands, so tiny and delicate, but now just completely gone and empty of life, the limbs bent at angles, as if they had double the number of joints they should.

He shrugged, chucking it away. There’d be others. There always were.

"Dead again…" came the voice of his partner.

“Yep, went ‘n broke another one…” he chuckled, straightening up and looking down at her body.

"Oh well. Where to next?"

“Hmm… ain’t been to London in a long time…” he mused, walking back through the cavernous wine cellar to the doorway. He passed a window, revealing a skeletal thin man with long gray hair and ashen skin, half hidden under a too large teeshirt and a pair of baggy jeans. “Lets go find a new doll to play with…” he chuckled, opening the door to reveal a pitch blackness so deep it seemed to suck the light from its surroundings. He walked through, then slammed it shut.

The last doll wouldn’t be found for another month, when a complaint of a smell caused police to smash in the door to the abandoned wine cellar to find the barely recognizable corpse, dental records identifying her to her parents and ending a month-long search.

Another victim of Pale, the serial killer who shouldn’t be alive.

London England, Four Nights Later

“LOOK OUT! HE’S COMING THIS WAY!” shouted Dawn, hanging onto the side of a building like a little girl version of Spiderman.

“SHIT!” exclaimed Nelen, dodging as an arm twice as long as a human should have almost took his nose off, razor sharp claws missing him by mere centimeters, the warlock rolling away and managing to get his back to a wall.

Standing nearby was a massive hulking beast of a man, most of its body hidden under a great ragged green cloak, just two eyes peering out of darkness to mark where its head was. It had arms almost as long as Nelen was tall, its legs far too long and thin to support it yet allowing it to move with an eerie grace, and antlers growing back out of its skull, covered with hanging moss.

Slung over its shoulder was a large bag made of sackcloth that was wriggling and shaking, a scream of terror coming from inside it.

“Stay on it Dawn! If it makes it back to the park that kid is as good as gone!” he shouted, lashing out with his arm. There was a flash of dull metal and the creature screamed like an enraged stag, a dingy grey dagger sticking through its left bicep, the skin around it steaming and reddening.

Dawn nodded, blinking ahead to the next building as the creature snarled and tried to follow her. “C’mon you bastard, just a bit closer… just a biiiiiit…” he growled, “NOW SHAMAN!” he shouted.

From out of the shadows of the alleyway burst Shaman Bond, a length of sharpened iron taken from a wrought iron fence held like a spear. His legs were a blur as he rushed the monster from behind and drove the makeshift weapon through its back and out through its front.

Nelen grinned, then vanished as Dawn teleported him up into the air above it, the warlock lashing out and grabbing its antlers with Merihim’s tendrils, then landing behind it and pulling with all his inborn strength as a Fullmoon! The creature reared back like an angry bull, then stumbled, and Shaman held the spear firm as it sank into the soft dirt, impaling the monster!

It thrashed its limbs and wailed like a child deprived of a toy… and then there was a moment of split time, and a tattered garbage bag was stuck to the fence post.

Nelen walked forward and picked up his iron dagger where it lay, then cut the ropes holding the sackcloth bag it had been carrying it shut, opening it up and pulling it back.

Inside was a young boy of no more than six, his eyes red with crying and his body trembling with fear.

“Hello lad.” nodded Shaman, kneeling down. “Its alright now, the monster is gone, we saw to ‘im.” he smiled, helping the boy to his feet. “Dawn, there’s a police station three blocks over, can you get him there? They can get him back to his parents.”

Dawn nodded, hastily putting her glasses back on and grinning, “Yeah sure, c’mon squirt.” she said to the kid, patting his shoulder and guiding him off through the alleyway.

Shaman straightened up and blew out his lips, looking at the trash bag, “Every bloody solstice, I swear…” he sighed, “Thanks for the assistance Fullmoon.” he grinned, shaking Nelen’s hand.

“No problem. Almost lost a cousin to one of the Fair Folk a while back. Any time they’re giving you grief lemme know.” he grinned back.

Shaman smiled at him, “Much obliged. Once your daughter gets back, I’ll buy us a round back at the Wulfshead.”

Nelen nodded back, pulling the bag down off the spike, then tossing it in a garbage can. He gathered up some nearby pieces of fairly dry newspaper and sticks, threw them ontop, then lit a match and tossed it in. Within a minute the contents were burning. “And that was the end of the wicked Narg Grin.” he nodded, dusting his hands.

"Do you have to say that?" grumbled Merihim.

“Yes, actually I do. Its how the damn things work.” he replied.

Shaman gave him a bit of an odd look, then shrugged. He’d worked with strange folk before, someone who talked to themselves wasn’t that weird… then he paused as his phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and said, “Shaman Bond speaking… Penny dear! What a pleasant surprise! I wasn’t expecting to… ah… I see… well then. Hm… right, I’ll be along shortly.” he nodded and hung up. “Nelen, sorry mate but I’m afraid I’ll have to take a raincheck on those drinks. Something’s come up.” he said.

“Anything serious?” he asked.

“Nothing I can’t handle, but I’m afraid it’s a personal matter. You understand, I’m sure?”

Nelen nodded, holding up his hands, “Of course, in our line of work personal is personal. I’ll wait for Dawn and catch you at the Wulfshead next time.”

“Sounds lovely.” he smiled, patting his shoulder, “Thanks again though mate, couldn’t have done it without you.” he grinned, then walked off into the London night.

Dawn reappeared shortly after, looking around. “Huh, where’s Shaman?” she asked.

“Something came up and he had to take off.” replied Nelen. “How about we see if there’s a chips shop open?” he asked.

Dawn grinned, “Fish and chips?” she asked.

“Well, it is London. I’m sure I can find something that doesn’t taste like the inside of a shoe for me.” he smirked.

“Good luck with that.” snorted Dawn.

“Hah, yeah.” he chuckled, the two of them setting out. “All the damn spices the empire got in the old days, and they won’t use any of them...”

About an hour later...

The pair had found a twenty-four-hour takeaway joint and Dawn was messily devouring some fried fish sticks, Nelen eating the potatoes around them. He’d never been huge on seafood, but Dawn was a cat so… yeah.

“Wonder what Shaman had to go for.” she muttered, licking the batter off her fingers.

“You know how it goes Dawn. Its ‘personal.’ That means ‘you don’t ask.’ He doesn’t ask us when something comes up involving Merihim or other stuff like that, we don’t ask him when its…” he paused to clear his throat meaningfully, “… personal. We all got skeletons in our closets, everyone at the Wulfshead does."

As they walked along Dawn glanced at a TV, the announcer talking about the Jubilee in honor of the late Queen. “Huh, thought they had a necromancer on retainer.” she commented.

“They do, but there’s only so many times anyone can bring a body back before it can’t pass as human anymore. Heard a rumor that one of the maids posted on Twitter some pictures showing that he fucked it up and what she got brought back as actually ate a couple buck house guards before the rest could bring it down.” he replied, “The pictures are gone now of course, the royals stomped on that fast.”

Dawn laughed at that, “HAH! The beefeaters got ate?” she grinned.

Nelen snorted, “Yep, guess her highness was in the mood for long pig.” he grinned back as they walked through the crowd. They got a few odd looks there, though a couple chuckles were heard. As they made their way through the city looking for a convenient spot to open a door back to the Wulfshead.

“Hmm…” he looked around, then spotted a mostly empty alleyway with some convenient shadows. “That should do… Dawn?” he asked, looking around.

She wasn’t there. He blinked in confusion, wondering if he’d lost her in the crowd, when suddenly she appeared in the alleyway nearby. “Ugh, sorry about that. Some jerk tried to grab me. Gave him a good slash across the face and poofed first chance I got, probably freaking out that the kiddie he wanted to fiddle got some claws.”

Nelen frowned, “Ugh… did you see his face? We should probably report him and let the mundy authorities handle him.” he grumbled. He’d rather sort the guy out himself, loudly and violently, but he knew the right thing to do would be to set the police on him.

Dawn paused, then looked back at the TV nearby, “Actually… yeah, he looked like that guy, well, that guy with five claw marks on his left cheek now.” she said, pointing to the newscaster.

Nelen blinked, leaning in towards the TV in the shop window and adjusting his glasses, reading the closed captions.

“… Patrick Sampson, also known as the Doll Collector Murderer, The Pale Man, or ‘Pale,’ wanted in several US cities for child abduction, infanticide, and escaping prison has been spotted in London this evening. Citizens are encouraged to contact police immediately if they see him, but do not attempt to stop or restrain him. Assume he is armed and dangerous and be sure to tell police exactly where he was spotted…” said the newscaster as the screen showed an image of a man with long hair framing a sunken face with bags under his eyes and an unnerving grin.

Nelen raised his eyebrow, “Pale… That rings a bell…” he frowned, getting out his phone and opening it up, then bringing up the Wulfshead BBS. “… SHIT.” he stared.

“What?” asked Dawn. “He’s one of our type of problems?”

Nelen quickly scrolled through the listing. “Yeah, standing bounty. He’s not normal. Nobody is sure what exactly he is, but apparently, he’s supposed to be dead! He was arrested back when I was in high school, and they sentenced him to death. It was carried out two years ago and they apparently confirmed his death but…” he glanced back at the image on the screen. “… cops can’t handle this. Which way did you see him go?” he asked her.

She nodded, pointing down the street as she and Nelen rushed off. Drinks at the Wulfshead could wait, this one was more important. This wasn’t just some monster, Pale had a birth record and everything, a researchable history as a normal human being but somehow, he had survived a technique that was supposed to kill a person with one hundred percent lethality, then came back to kill again.

“So what is he?” asked Dawn as they trailed him, the feline managing to find him again pretty quickly. Pale didn’t seem to even be trying to hide his presence and it was mostly luck that people weren’t noticing him… luck or perhaps something else.

Nelen shook his head, “I have no godsdamn clue, nobody does. Anyone who could answer that tends to wind up dead with as many bones broken as possible.” he replied, “Pale is a real sick bastard… he sees young girls as ‘dolls’ and likes to ‘break them.’ Arms and legs first, then however many bones he can before they black out from the pain, then he snaps their neck to kill them."

Dawn made a face at that, “Wow…” she hissed low, “Even some of the nastier vampires we’ve gone up against don’t go that far… what is his freaking deal?!” she muttered.

“No clue… but he’s dangerous.” he nodded, “Merihim? Any ideas?”

"Search me Fullmoon. I’m not aware of him having any pacts with the Pit, and if he was a Christian being executed for murder is immediate entry into Hell. Commandment breaker and all. Upstairs is really hot on those lately." came the reply in the warlock’s mind.

He nodded, watching Pale ascend the steps to an old burnt out flat in a rather low rent area. It’d be a crackhouse except the crackheads had standards, this place was an inch from being knocked over… Hell a good storm would do it.

Nelen walked forward, peering carefully inside through the window, then nodded to Dawn. She took his hand, then focused and… suddenly they were on the far side of the building.

Dawn blinked, “… what the…”

“Dawn, we need to get inside…” whispered Nelen.

“I know we need to! That’s where I was aiming!” she hissed back, “Hang on, lemme try again.” she nodded firmly and… suddenly they were infront again.

“Oh come on!” she mrowled, glaring at the house. “One more try!” she nodded and… east wall. Then west wall, out front again, then roof, then back infront.

Dawn glared at the door, panting for breath as her eye twitched. “Okay, WHAT?” she snapped, “I can’t teleport inside there! Something is… I dunno… throwing me off!” she hissed.

Nelen looked at her, “Okay… THAT’S new… that shouldn’t be possible, should it?” he asked. He’d heard of spells to block teleportation, but not misdirect it!

“HOW THE HAIRBALLS SHOULD I KNOW?!” she snapped, “I’ve never heard of anything that can keep a Cheshire out! We’re cats, we get in everywhere! THAT’S THE WHOLE DAMN POINT OF BEING A CAT!” she yowled furiously.

Nelen raised his eyebrow, “I thought noon naps in the sun, eating fish, and making dogs go insane were the point of being a cat.” he replied.

“THERE’S LOTS OF POINTS TO BEING A CAT!” she glared.

Nelen shrugged, “Fine, well… when in doubt…” he walked up to the door, then turned his side and SLAM! A quick rush at the wood and the door practically fell apart!

"Well, sure, if you wanna do it the boring way…” she grumbled, following him up. “Why even have someone with my talents?” she frowned… then paused as Nelen put a hand infront of her.

The inside of the house felt… off… something about it made Dawn’s fur stand on end and Nelen could tell from years of fighting supernatural threats… there was something in there… “Dawn… be ready, I think we ma…” he started, then a massive white hand burst out of the doorway and grabbed them both, yanking them inside!

A minute later the door reformed and slammed shut, locking very VERY firmly.

For a minute all was blackness, the two of them looking around frantically as Nelen fished his flashlight out of his pocket, then turned it on and shone it around. “What the fuck… was that?” he muttered.

“I dunno, some kinda ghost? You said Pale was supposed to be dead…” she whispered, taking off her glasses and tucking them into her shirt.

“Yeah, but the mundanes know he’s around and show him on the news… that says still alive… but that was no human that grabbed us…” he nodded, turning the flashlight this way and that. “Dammit I can’t see anything!”

From behind them came a laugh. They both spun and Nelen shone the flashlight beam… but there was nothing there.

Then a whisper came through the old building… “Dolly… dolly dolly dolly… come play with me, dolly…” it giggled softly.

Dawn’s hair stood on end, the feline girl hissing. “Yeah, I am NOT okay with this… Nelen?” she asked.

“Fucked if I know… Merihim?” he asked.

"I got nothing Fullmoon! This isn’t a wraith! I can’t touch any spectral entities unless they’re infused with wrath!" warned the demon.

“So… unknown foe, something about it blocks Dawn’s teleportation, and you have no clue either. Well… shit.” he grunted.

And then they were aware of a presence… they turned and Nelen’s flashlight beam shown on an easy chair, and slouched in it was a lanky man with ashen skin and long grey hair.

Nelen stared, generating a tendril of Merihim’s essence. He narrowed his eyes and extended the tendril towards him, attempting to see if he was alive…

As soon as it got close the occupant’s head jerked up and snapped forward, the tendril jerking back just in time.

“Oooo… that’s new…” the voice giggled, and Nelen saw a pair of deep black pits for eyes and a jaw like a child’s caricature of fangs, a huge grin with long narrow and yet impossibly sharp teeth. “Hmm… ain’t gonna play with an old ugly thing like you, but your friend…” he slowly rose, then tilted his head, “Hang on, this dolly is different…” he muttered.

“I’m not a damn kid!” she hissed, pulling off her sock hat, then reaching back and pulling her tail free with a grunt, “I’m a cat! A Cheshire cat! And I’m nobody’s damn doll!” she arched her back, her hair fluffing out like fur as she extended her claws.

Nelen stood ready, conjuring a glob of Merihim’s essence and infusing it with the nastiest pathogen the demon could conjure. If what he’d read about Pale’s crimes were right no jury on Earth, supernatural or otherwise, would blame him…

“Hmmm… hmm hmmm… you’re really different…” he stared, then frowned, “But I don’t wanna play with a cat… you TRICKED me!” he snarled, his body swelling as he reached up to his ear, pulling out what looked like a long sewing needle.

"Wait… that needle…" whispered Merihim’s voice.

Nelen hesitated… and in that instant Pale made his move! Something poured out of his body, a milky white substance that seemed to permeate the air around him, and the house went insane!

Lights flashed and exploded above them, a table suddenly charged at them as its legs began to move like actual living legs, and ancient objects left inside the building threw themselves around as if an invisible hand was chucking them forward! Dawn yowled and tried to teleport them out, but only managed the next room which was going just as crazy!

"WHAT THE HELLS?!” shouted Nelen, “Is he a psychic?! Does he have a poltergeist bound to him? A necromancer?!” he gasped, lashing out with a tendril just in time to smash a chair to bits before it could tackle him before immediately conjuring a blood shield as the shards of the chair flew towards him.

Dawn couldn’t do anything! Her teleportation wasn’t working right and she couldn’t use her eyes on things that didn’t HAVE eyes!

"NELEN! Listen! I know what he is! I haven’t seen one in centuries, I forgot all about them! He’s a Sin-Eater!" came Merihim’s voice.

“Really?! Outstanding. WHATS A DAMN SIN-EATER?!” he snarled as a cuckoo clock tried to peck his eyes out, the warlock grabbing the hanging pendulums and smashing it into a counter.

"They’re kinda like us, but instead of being bound to a demon he’s bound to a special type of ghost called a geist! It’s how he survived being executed, he DIDN’T! The geist came to him the moment he died and held him together long enough for them to chuck him in the morgue, then he escaped!" said the demon.

“Good. Great. Grand. How do we kill him?!” he barked, conjuring a shield again just in time to deflect the contents of the cutlery drawer.

"… good question…" was the demon’s only reply.

The Sin-Eater cackled, standing in the doorway and enjoying the show, Nelen so focused on keeping himself and Dawn alive that he couldn’t even try to attack him.

“Hmmm, how long until you get too tired…” giggled Pale, watching him with glee, “Can’t keep that shield up forever, can you?” he grinned… “Soon it’ll be aaall over and…”

Then the front wall of the house exploded inwards.

All three of them looked towards the wall, and Pale’s expression faltered, Nelen and Dawn feeling their jaws drop.

Standing in the doorway was a man covered in golden armor, seamless golden armor with a flat featureless helmet covering his face. The man strode into the room as Pale snarled and threw everything in the kitchen at him!

He didn’t even flinch.

“… holy shit…” whispered Dawn.

“I can’t believe it… that’s… that’s one of the Droods.” added Nelen.

Even the supernatural community had their legends. The Droods were that legend.

The Golden Men, the Really Secret Agents, the family who acted as the shepherds of humanity according to some, who secretly ran the world according to others… but all the rumors had one thing in common: they all wore golden armor, and they were all in the truest sense of the word invincible in it.

Pale snarled and lashed out again and again, sending everything he could in the room at the Drood, but the man silently stalked forward as if he was just flailing his arms.

Nelen keept his shields up as hard as he could as the Drood strode right past them and up to Pale, grabbing him around his throat. He tried to wriggle free, but the golden hand held fast as another came up and gripped his throat as well, both of them pushing down with bone-crushing force!

It seemed whatever Pale was, he still needed to breathe! The Sin-eater clawed frantically at the gloved hand holding him, his body slowly shriveling form it’s monstrous form back into the face Nelen and Dawn had seen on the news. He kicked and pushed against the golden armored chest of his attacker… then there was a loud SNAP, and he went limp.

The Drood examined him for a long moment, then tossed him to the ground in a heap before turning to look at Nelen and Dawn. He regarded them, his shining face betraying nothing, then turned and walked back out the way he came without a word.

A moment later Nelen said, “Dawn… I never understood the British expression ‘lose your bottle,’ but… I damn near lost mine.”

Wulfshead Club, one hour later

Loren raised her eyebrow, “A Drood. Yer shittin’ me cous.” she replied, “Pull me other one, they’re legends even among us!” she snorted.

“I swear to whatever gods you care to name Loren, golden armor and all. I almost had a heart attack.” he nodded.

Dawn nodded as well, “Yeah! Trust me, you can’t trick my eyes, that was the genuine article. Nothing Pale threw at him even slowed him down!” she said, her eyes huge.

Loren shrugged, “I dunnae… what do ye think Shaman?” she asked.

Shaman Bond looked up from his beer, then shrugged, “Who knows? They clearly saw something… maybe we’ll never know the truth. Glad you two are alright though. Be a damn shame to lose good friends to something like Pale.” he nodded, raising his glass to them.

“Amen to that man.” replied Nelen, raising his as well. “Still, hope I never run into one of them again for a very very long time.” he sighed.

Shaman just grinned, drinking his beer and nodding in response as he leaned back in his chair.

There are stranger things in heaven and earth than man has ever dreamed, and the Drood Family is legendary even among legends. Over time Nelen and Dawn would likely question what they really saw that night, but that’s just how the Droods preferred it. Let them wonder, it helped keep things in order.

Back at the abandoned house however… there was no sign of Pale’s body, just a bit of disturbed dust on the floor among all the other debris.

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[flysafepapi]

"How'd you get that scar?"

The room goes quiet, all the different conversations stopping when the young boy speaks up. Having all the attention on him makes him uncomfortable, but he finishes pulling the shirt on and looks at Finn. The boy is sitting on the table, looking at him curiously, and all thoughts of retreating back to his bedroom leave his mind. He takes a seat next to him.

"It looks bad. Did it hurt?"

"Yeah, it hurt. Worse thing I've ever felt."

"Can I touch it?"

From the corner of his eye, he can see Arthur moving in to herd Finn away, but he holds up a hand to stop him. He knows Finn doesn't mean anything by it, it's just the curiosity of a child. "Carefully, it still hurts sometimes."  He lifts the shirt back up on the right side, and watches Finn's small fingers run along the raised scars. He's careful, tentatively feeling along.

"What happened?"

"A bullet got me."

"But you're okay, right?"

"Yeah, Finn, I'm okay. I'm tough, aren't I? Put up with your brother, eh?"

Finn laughs and jumps off the table, says he's going to go play with his friends and runs out of the house. Vincent sighs, watching him go, and makes his way towards his desk. If he knows Finn, the kid won't let it go that easily. The whole interaction leaves his mind when he sits down to start going through the books, until he stands up to put the ledger away and Finn interrupts him.

"Wait!"

Vincent watches in amusement as Finn rushes over, dragging a chair behind him, and climbs up on it so he can put the ledger away. He nods to himself, satisfied, when he notices that Vincent is still standing there, empty handed, and climbs down off the chair.

"What are you doing, kid? I can put my own work away, you know."

Finn looks at the ground, hunching his shoulders, and then rushes forward, his words getting muffled when he smashes his face against Vincent's stomach. "Idon'twantyoutogethurtagainsoIthoughtI'dhelpand-"

"Whoa, take a breath. Want to try that again?"

Finn looks frustrated now.

"I don't want you to get hurt again, so I thought I'd help and carry things for you so it doesn't hurt the-" he gestures up at Vincent, towards the scar. Stifling a grin, Vincent nods seriously. "Alright then, you can help me, I just have one more thing I have to pick up."

"What is it?"

He swoops down and grabs Finn around the waist, hauling him up over his shoulder. "This," he says, grinning, and digs his fingers into Finn's ribs, going right for the spot where he knows Finn is the most ticklish.

"Uncle Vinnie, stop!"

Finn can barely get the words out through his giggles, and when Vincent puts him back down on the ground, he's red in the face and breathless.

"I appreciate the help, but I'm fine, nothing's going to happen to me."

"Are you sure?"

Vincent kneels down, so he's face to face with the young boy, and looks him in the eyes.

"I promise. You're stuck with me, aren't you? I'm never going anywhere."

He almost stumbles back when Finn crashes into him, hugging him around the neck tight enough to bruise, but he stays down, patting Finn on the back softly.

"I love you, Uncle Vinnie."

"I love you too, Finn. Now let's go annoy your brother, hey? You attack from the left, I'll take the right."

Arthur never sees them coming.

[husbandohunter]

You know ur small predicament post?? you should make a reverse version where s/o is smaller!

A Smaller Predicament [Genshin Impact x Smol!Reader]

Characters: Scaramouche, Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, Xiao, Zhongli, Albedo

Synopsis: Not only did you shrink, you went pocket sized as well!

(A sequel to "A Small Predicament")

(A/n): Sorry for the long wait anon, and I kind of added a twist to the scenario for more diversity hahaha hope you don't mind >_<. And why is Childe the poster boy for this series lmao.

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

Childe

When Childe walks in, he doesn't see you....until he looked down. He almost crunched you beneath his feet if it weren't for your constant flailing of arms and screeching voice. He blanks out for a hot minute as you clung onto his toes, doesn't dare to move an inch because he's so petrified (even though there's nothing to be afraid of??). But honestly if Childe moved right now, he might accidentally flail you to the side and that's the last thing he wants.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU??" He screamed so loud it nearly blew you out of proportion. Seems like he's going to have alot of adjusting to do. Childe is a tall man (canonically the tallest) and he knows how impulsive he can get which is why he bought a handmade dollhouse from one of the Liyue merchants for you to stay in.

Though there's something about your tiny size that makes his heart flutter. With your face so small with a pair of eyes far too big, *clutches chest* "My oujo-chan is so cute" -Childe probably. He won't stop saying them over again and you were growing tired of his gushing reactions. He can't help it. He wants to spoil you rotten. You fit right onto the flat of his palms, the way you just snuggle up againts his finger and he just- swoons, might tear up (bruh).

Toys may be for kids but for Childe it was now his favourite pass time. While you navigate around the wooden dollhouse, he pitches in by moving around the furniture to make it easier for you. Offers to carry you through the rooms like a personal elevator. And please, please let him tuck you to bed. He has to pinch his fingers to grab the blanket. It's so adorable to him.

Loves it when you snuggle up against his collar. He thinks it would be the best area for you to be nearby him since the risk of you getting hit by anything (or him) by accident is very slim chance. Sometimes he pulls up his collar so that you're more comfortable and cradled within. He would have to avert his eyes down rather than turning his head if he wanted to look at you otherwise you'd be hit by his chin and that would hurt.

The poking sensation with you by his neck can bother him since he's veeeery tickilish there. Plus, Childe can get easily sweaty so have fun with that.

You have a feeling that he wasn't so pleased when you transformed back. You might be right. Actually, you are right. He secretly has an extra potion hidden somewhere...just in case.

Diluc

Mortified, his soul just left his body. To think things couldn't get any worse ever since he turned into a child to the point no one took him seriously, now you're literally the size of an apple. Oh god what if his bird suddenly swoops in and gobbles you right up? Or the wrath of the wind comes by, swirling you away towards a tornado. Needless to say, Diluc grew paranoid over your well-being ever since.

Due to your extremely small size, he will ensure that you are supervised by him (except at night where he has places to go). In otherwords, you're slipped into the inner pocket of his coat. It's super warm, you can fall asleep (and feel his heartbeat awww). Diluc doesn't like keeping you in places where people can see you, it would be too easy for outer things to access your tiny form (or maybe he secretly likes the feeling of you in his pocket.)

And he's such a gentleman about it. You noticed how careful he moves among his footsteps because he's worried that you might get dizzy. Diluc guards the pocket at close parameter, keeping an eye on things so he won't bump into them. As if he was treading on thin ice (you even suggested it was best to leave you home but he's too overprotective for his own good).

You're like his little assistant. Diluc does so much paperwork through out the day and although the act was small, he finds it endearing how you would help bring the papers back to it's rightful pile or pushing the ink bowl towards him. Or during his shifts at Angel's Share, crawling around the glass utensils and trying to find a specific wine beverage on his shelf. Of course that only happens when the shop is closed, how is he going to explain to his patrons that you shrank and now live in his pocket?

He dislikes the thought of you wandering too far. It's so easy for you to get lost especially when the mansion is so large.

At night you now sleep atop the fluff of the pillow. Diluc is a calm sleeper so he won't have to worry about hitting into you. However he radiates warmth so you just subconicously roll towards to his face. He usually wakes up with you sprawled over his nose. He can hardly breath (careful, he might just sneeze too).

This all happened because of the experiements you participated with Albedo. Diluc ensures that doesn't happen again. It will take some tencaious effort to convince him otherwise.

Scaramouche

Fuck this guy. He treats you like his new pet, a new toy (though you technically are one). He has this arrogant, smug and sadistic look as if he was a predator looking at his prey and grabs you by the collar before dangling you up in the air.

"Hmph, looks like the tables have turned," he says while toying with your state. You tell him he's just angry because he's short himself and mad that everyone else in the Fatui organization is taller than him. Scaramouche demon face activated. He's about to devour you. (Maybe you should keep your mouth shut this time. Honestly your relationship with him is pretty weird).

His hat is so fun to play with. You'd swing around like Tarzan using the strings that were hanging from it. His head was your playground now which annoys him to an enourmous extent because it makes him look ridiculous. Scaramouche will have a hard time catching you since you move around so much. Climb around him, especially the back of his neck. He'll start wheezing when you tickle him there.

The type to put you in a box but also the type to keep you on his shoulders. Being relied on makes him feel taller (lmfao). Scaramouche seemse to have developed a habit to poke your cheeks whenever he needed your attention and you bit him back once when he pushed too hard that you nearly fell off. Despite your size, your teeth still hurt. He threatens to put you back into the box if you don't behave and the outcome ends with a full out brawl as he tries to grab you again while you run around, pulling the strands of his hair to climb on top of his hat. (This is literally Tom and Jerry wtf.)

After transforming back, he outwardly admits his disappointmen. Scaramouche says it suits you better (when he actually meant that he highly prefers you small). You marked his words, keeping an extra vial for your own entertainment in the near future.

Xiao

Xiao was face-palming against his forehead real hard about this. For the love of Rex Lapis, what kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time? First it was the child incident, now you're the size of his finger? Good grief, looks like he will have to keep an eye on you from now on but at the same time he's scared to get too close, you are nothing but a tiny mortal in which he would have to double his effort to look after.

He lets you sit at the crown of his head rather than anywhere else. You insisted since it was easier to see everything at a nice distance (plus he's short so you won't have to worry about him bumping into door frames). You noticed that Xiao also has a little strand sticking out from the center (ahoge) and you sometimes grab onto it for stability. Turns out he's quite sensitive there and winces when you pull too hard.

For the remaining week as the antedote was being prepared, Xiao became extremely aggressive over your well-being, he looks as if he's ready to massacre everything in his way...which he did. Clears out the monsters off the path before going on daily strolls with you, you wouldn't have to lift a finger from now on. No one except for him is allowed to hold you unless they're a trustworthy person. You could feel his sharp eyes glued on you like a hawk when walking into the grasp of Zhongli's hand.

You once accidentally tripped into his almond tofu when he wasn't looking and he almost ate you. Turns out being small made his job as your gaurdian ten times harder (especially when you're the clumsy type). If you were to fall off the table, he would have to catch you right? Xiao often bumps into furnitures in the process...ouch!

He's very soft. It's all over his forehead, his mouth, his eyes. When he looks at you, his tense eatures melted away and there's an invisible fondness over them as he cradles you in his palm. The way you snuggle in them is lke the most precious thing in the world.

When you turn back, there's a wave of relief. He was really stressed out you know?

Zhongli

His first thought is to get you as far as he can from the Funeral Parlour before Hu Tao finds you. Who knows what that child might have in mind. Zhongli takes one of his empty tea pots and urges you to go inside, or carries a tea cup with you in it, he likes placing you on objects while carrying you around.

Zhongli realizes that you can no longer use the household items like before so he has to remake them to your standards- especially when he realized he doesn't have the mora to buy you a dollhouse. He improvises. Takes a handkerchief to make your blanket, his cups for your bathtub, Zhongli had to cut the foot into byte-sized too. But in terms of clothes, well he had to make them as well. Living thousands of years would mean he would have lot of experience. Sewing was one of them luckily. But that would mean he has to take your measurements as well. In the end, most of the things he made were dresses since they were alot easier.

You like to sneak in between his shirt and his vest tucked behind the coat he wears. Unfortunately Zhongli doesn't seem to have visible pockets (most likely the reason why he doesn't carry mora either), though if you don't hold on tight you might just slip down his vest and right to his stomach. It makes him chuckle when that happens even if the amount of effort to get you out took more than he thought since his attire is quite complicated to put on. If you really want to climb on him, he'll find a seperate pouch (but realizes it won't be a good idea when there's alot of pick-pocketers in Liyue streets).

All of a sudden he reads you bedtime stories. It's some sort of inner instinct that tells him he's taking care of a child now (he's right though). You realized that his voice was equivalent to a thunder's roar due to size difference. He would have to whisper now.

It will always be part of his precious memories when you turned pocket-sized. Zhongli still keeps the clothing he made somewhere in his closets too.

Kaeya

Amused by this eventful situation. Absolutely thrilled! He's not evil like Scaramouche but this new version of his s/o is both adorable and fun at the same time. You're so easy to tickle, just one poke using his finger against your hips makes you yelp. Sometimes he twirls your hair or taps your forehead gently despite your protest, he's so handsy like always in an affectionate yet annoying way.

Kaeya picks you up and places you among the fluffy comfort of his feathery scarf. You sneezed, the last time he cleaned it was before he went on a mission with the knights. Though you have to admit, it's the best feeling in the world. It's so soft you might sink deeper into the fabric. He likes to put you in places where he can talk to you easily, sometimes on the table while he downs on his wine. Normally you have to take the bottle away before it gets too much, now you have to push it away which he finds very entertaining at your futile attempts.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" you tell him. Since you turned byte-sized, he can't seem to stop playing around. Takes his two fingers and pretends they're legs walking across the surface. You would turn around and he halts, Kaeya sends you his signature grin. When he promises that he wouldn't do anything funny, you would let him hold you. Since hugs are out of the equation, Kaeya gives you his finger instead to wrap your arms around. He can't get enough seeing you like this, things he couldn't do when you were normal-sized. he enjoys your reactions way too much.

His favourite pass time is helping you brush your hair because the hairbursh is too big for you to handle. Kaeya ensure he's handling things delicately but he would love to help style it for you as well. Pretty please? At this point one request turns to another because he's having way too much fun. But it couldn't be helped since you would need his assistance in almost everything so there's really no escaping.

You were so happy when things were normal again but Kaeya would bring this up again during your conversations (how next time he would like to put you in his drinks while you're wearing a swim suit).

Albedo

Legit blurted out if he could put you on a hamster wheel.

What about trying out the little maze he just made?

Or participating in a race against slimes of different elements?

No? Okay, then he'll just turn you back.

Albedo isn't going deal with this as along as he can help it (especially when he remembers what Klee did to him when he turned small.)

[huneekrispee]

Where is my lover?

Pairing: c!Dreamwastaken x gn!Reader

Summary: Living outside the Dream SMP, far from the war and chaos, Dream was able to find comfort in you. One day, he leaves, promising to come back to you. It's been months, now you're left wondering... where is my lover?

Warnings: cursing, use of dream's real name, spoilers for the Dream SMP Finale, tiny bit of fluff at the start, angst

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I've been watching Attack on Titan recently, and the song 'Call Your Name' has me in the feels :( Sorry for being away for so long :( School has been an ass to me, I hope you enjoy it!! -Hunee <3

Also! Please don't mind the pronouns in the song! This is a gender-neutral fic, I merely just wrote the song lyrics as they are :)

She lost her brother a month ago

His picture on the wall

And it reminds me

When she brings me coffee... her smile

I wish I could be with her until my last day

In the forest, a cottage lays peacefully in a secluded meadow near a running stream. The tall trees lay their shadows onto the grassy floor, leaving marks from the sun. Water solemnly runs along, moving to its next destination through the stream. Grass rustles and a soft sigh is heard.

Stretching his arms above his head, a man clad in green slowly sits up, emerald eyes darting around. He yawns. "(Y/N)!" He's now standing up, searching for his lover. Dream's hand reaches down to grab his mask left abandoned on the grass, quickly putting it on.

Preparing his sword, his hand on the hilt, Dream slowly steps toward the cottage. He rests a hand on the door, waiting for something, anything.

A scream is heard.

He now slams the door open, netherite blade on full display, ready to attack. Looking around, he notices no one but (Y/N) in the cozy home, with a kettle on the ground next to them. Lowering his guard, sighing with relief, he sheathes his sword once more, walking over to his distraught partner.

"Are you alright?" Removing his mask, he takes their hands in his. Dream looks at them. (Y/N) looks down, taking their hurt hand out of his. Sighing, Dream quickly leads them over to the sink, running the tap. "What happened?" The coldness of the water helped soothe the burn. "I just, accidentally burnt myself with the kettle. It's okay, I'll live, Clay."

The man remained silent. The only sound heard in the cottage was the running tap water. After treating the burn on their hand, Dream leads (Y/N) to the chair on the side of the room. "You. Sit. I'll finish doing whatever you were doing. You just sit there and take it easy, you just burnt your hand." Bending down to their height, Dream stands face to face with (Y/N). He narrows his eyes slightly. He was always like this. Whenever (Y/N) got hurt in any sort of way, Dream was always on it, almost suffocating them with his overwhelming protectiveness.

They sighed, avoiding his eyes. "I- I was just... I just wanted to make you a coffee this morning. I know you're going to be busy later, so I wanted to make sure that you were energized for your work." Fiddling with their bandaged hand, (Y/N) smiled gently. "I see how you're always so dedicated to the stuff you do, and I wanted to return the favor, even if it's just a cup of coffee."

Dream's eyes softened. It was true, he was dedicated to his work. Running an SMP was hard, especially with some people interfering with his plans recently. He had plans to take power over the server again. Finding and taking everything his people were attached to was difficult, but at least he had (Y/N) to come home to. It was all for them. It was worth the hard work and pain just to see (Y/N) smile at him, showing him their love.

"It's okay. Thank you for wanting to do that, but you don't have to." Running his hand up to their cheek, he smiled. "I do all of my work for you, to help make a safe place for you. Once I sort out the rebellious people, I promise, I'll come back to you, and we can live together in my SMP." (Y/N) gazed up at him, looking into his eyes. They smiled, beaming at the idea.

"Alright! I promise I'll wait for you! I'll always wait for you. I love you, Clay."

"I love you too. I promise I will come back to you. Always."

He would do anything to see that smile on their face all the time.

She said she gave all her love to me

We dreamt a new life

Some place to be at peace

But things changed... Suddenly

I lost my dreams in this disaster

It had been two days. Two days since Dream had left. (Y/N) had since then tended to the flowers and read a few books Dream had gotten them from a faraway village.

'I wonder what he's doing now?' Looking up at the sky, (Y/N)'s mind began to wander. What was dream doing right now? Maybe he was still on his way back to his SMP? Or maybe he was trading with villagers for resources?

They smiled. Dream had been one of (Y/N)'s lifelong friends turned partner. They had met when (Y/N) used to live in a village as a child. (Y/N) was nine and Clay was ten. Dream had gotten into a rough fight with two skeletons and a zombie. He was stumbling around, trying to find help for his injuries.

That was when (Y/N) appeared. Hearing the boy's cries, they ran out of their family home, taking Dream into the house to be treated, screaming for their parents to help him.

They had grown up together as best friends after that. Meeting George and Sapnap, the group loved to go on little adventures together and play their favourite game: manhunt. Dream would always insist on running, with George and Sapnap chasing after him. Sometimes, (Y/N) would join them, but they quite enjoyed seeing the trio panic during the game. It was fun.

A couple years ago, Dream visited (Y/N), saying that he was starting up his own SMP, a place where he and his friends could have fun and just be themselves all the time. The two of them spend hours in (Y/N)'s room, talking about their big plans and ideas for the SMP. Dream wanted to build a cottage near a stream, and live there peacefully with (Y/N). They were shocked, Dream wanted to live with them? "Why?" They asked.

"Well, because of... I'll just show you."

That was the day Clay had kissed (Y/N) for the first time.

I'm crying

Missing my lover

I don't have the power

On my side forever

A month had passed. Nothing from Dream. Usually, he'd send a message through on their server communicator, asking how they were and informing them of his journey and new discoveries. But that didn't happen, not this time.

It was hard. Clay had been such a big part of their life that sometimes they found it hard not to worry about him. They knew he was strong, he could take down armies of people, but everyone had their limit.

Raising the iron hoe, (Y/N) swung down, making way for the new seeds of crops that would grow over the next few months. Wiping their forehead with their sleeve, they sighed.

All they wanted was for Dream to be safe, and for him to come back home once he finished his business in the SMP.

Oh Where is my lover

And I got no power

I'm standing alone, No way

Calling out your name

Heavy pants of breath echoed throughout the underground bunker. He was panicking. It wasn't supposed to go like this.

The plan was to kill Tubbo and make Tommy give him his disks.

It all went to shit when Punz showed up with backup, showing the people of his SMP that had turned against him fully.

"W-woah! Okay! Tommy, calm down!"

The blonde boy didn't listen, hands gripping the axe of peace and lifting it high above his head.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you Dream, right here, right now."

Dream silently gulped. For once, his plan failed. It backfired on him and blew up in his face. 'Sorry (Y/N). Guess I'm not coming back tonight.' He just wanted this to be over. He just wanted to be back in the cottage near the stream, sitting with his lover.

His green eyes darted around to everyone in the room. They looked disgusted, some disappointed, others angry. He knew this would never change. He would never get his SMP back. They hated him. Wanted him gone.

"Does Y/N know you're like this?"

His breath hitched. Eyes went wide.

Sapnap had stepped forward, sword out, pointing it threatening at Dream. "Do they know just how bad you are? How corrupt you've become?!" He was yelling at this point. Sapnap was upset as well. It was hard to believe that his best friend would do all of these bad things, it hurt to betray him, but he had to do what was right.

"S-stop. Stop talking about them."

For once, Dream was vulnerable. He hated it. He was always so soft when it came to them. When it came to (Y/N). Sapnap knew that. He had seen it when they were together, how happy dream was when he was with them, following them around like a lost puppy, longing for their love. It went both ways, (Y/N) was the same.

"Who the fuck is- Nevermind. Dream. Give me one good fucking reason why I shouldn't-"

"Tommy stop." Sapnap stepped in again. "This is important to not just me but for another person as well." Tommy stepped back, axe still prepared to lash out just in case. Tommy kept muttering to himself, something about a green bastard.

"Dream. Where is (Y/N)? You said they would join the SMP with us, but they're not here, nobody has seen them, probably besides you. You said that they changed their mind about the SMP, or was that a lie too?"

Dream gulped, words caught in his throat.

"Tell me, you bastard! Where is (Y/N) and do they know?!"

"No. They don't know. All I wanted to do was protect them from something I knew would happen. The wars, the chaos of the SMP. They didn't need to be a part of that. I didn't want them to get hurt."

It was almost like a plea. Dream's voice was quiet like he didn't want them to hear what he was saying. Sapnap stepped back, somewhat satisfied with his answer. He was also upset, he hadn't seen (Y/N) in years, not since before the SMP started.

Tommy finally stepped forward.

"Now. Tell me why I shouldn't kill you, Dream."

"I can bring people back to life. I can bring Wilbur back."

I said I gave all my love to you

We dreamt a new house

Some place to be at peace

But things changed... Suddenly

I lost my dreams in this disaster

Three months. It had been three long months without him. (Y/N) would spend every other night crying in their bed, missing him. They missed everything about him. No messages from him on their communicator. No death messages about him either.

They had never thought that three months could feel so long.

Surely he was busy doing stuff that would mean the world was safer for them. That's what he always said. He said that he worked for them and that he promised that they could settle down and make a new cottage near a different stream, closer to the SMP.

He said he needed to dig out the rebellious people and make his SMP a better place.

All (Y/N) could hope for was that he was safe and doing okay.

We don't know what is wrong tonight

Everybody's got no place to hide

No one's left and there's no one to go on

All I know is my life is gone

Dream was not feeling safe and right now he was feeling anything but okay.

Tommy had just broken his mask. Split down the middle, from the axe of peace.

He didn't want anyone to see his face, no one but (Y/N) and the people who had already seen it before he started wearing the mask.

His mask was his safe haven. A facade he could hide behind. With it gone, there was now no place for him to hide.

All he had done was tell Tommy that he could bring people back to life. When he mentioned Wilbur, Tommy seemed shocked, but then he seemed to come back to his senses after remembering what Wilbur was like before he died.

He went crazy. Insane. All because of Dream and his stupid motives. He only fueled Wilbur's change, encouraging him to blow Manburg up after Jschlatt took over. Thank God for Karl destroying the button the first time. The second attempt was successful and sealed Wilbur's fate as a psychotic, destroyed ex-president swayed by the masked man into committing destruction.

Tommy was angry at that. At the fact that Dream would even think about bringing back Wilbur.

Enraged, he brought the axe down onto Dream's cowering figure.

I'm crying

Missing my lover

I don't have the power

On my side forever

Sitting up, (Y/N) slowly looked around the room. It was the same as always; no Dream insight. They woke up every day with a feeling of hope that they would turn around and see Dream at the door, back from his trip.

The situation was too much. (Y/N)'s breaths quickened, eyes blurring up with tears, the salty water slowly dripping down the sides of their cheeks. They let out a dry laugh, bringing up their sweater paw hands to their face, wiping the tears.

They stared at the sleeve of the hoodie they had on. It was green.

It was his.

He always left a spare here, just in case.

It always came in handy when (Y/N) missed him.

They sighed, flopping back down onto the bed, curling into themselves and the hoodie. It smelt like him. He always smelt like a run through the forest, with a hint of saltwater and citrus.

It was comforting.

He was comforting.

The tears wouldn't stop. Every time (Y/N) wiped them away, fresh ones would keep coming. Where was he? Was he okay? It was all they could think about.

(Y/N) hugged themselves, hoping to recreate a hug like his. It didn't work. It never worked.

Nothing could ever compare to his hugs.

Still sobbing, (Y/N) cried themselves back to sleep, despite it being morning.

Not like they had any motivation to do anything without the assurance of him being okay anyways.

Oh Where is my lover

And I got no power

I'm standing alone, No way

Calling out your name

Beep.

(Y/N)'s communicator went off.

Dream was slain by Tommyinnit.

[latte-fairytaekwoon]

𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧: 𝑆𝑒𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐷𝑖𝑙𝑓!𝐴𝑡𝑒𝑒𝑧 (𝑅𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑)

Warnings/Disclaimer: NSFW content/Older Ateez but age differences is written withing legal boundaries. Also mentions of infidelity (which I don't condone, justify nor encourage), corruption kink and loss of virginity.

A/N: Also, Yeosang's reaction is a sneak peek at the Dilf! Fic in my w.i.p.

❥𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓗𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓳𝓸𝓸𝓷𝓰

It all started as a way to get a passing grade for the semester, but soon became a mission to get inside your professor's pants. You still remembered the unamused gaze he gave you when you first suggested you 'help' him out.

"Nice try Miss Y/N.... but perhaps instead of wasting time behind the bleachers sucking off the jocks' cocks, maybe dip your head instead into your books and study for once."

You couldn't believe he'd actually reject you. No man had ever rejected you, they always fell to your charms. Professor Kim was about to become your biggest challenge yet and you didn't mind. Besides, something about fucking an older man had you pulling out your trusted vibrator out so many times during the night. Kim Hongjoong was just so fucking hot and you desperately wanted him, even if for one night.

"Please Mr. Kim..... you know they say I give the best blow jobs here." You tried yet again one day when everyone else left.

"They? You mean horny 20 something year olds who bust a nut by just a booby pic?"

For the first time, his poker face finally had an expression in the form of a smirk.

"Honey, you're going to have to try a lot harder than that. I've had my cock sucked by countless women in all my years. Besides..."

Leaning closer to you, he reached a hand out so his thumb could graze across your bottom lip.

"What makes you think a pretty young thing like you can take a mature cock like mine? You've probably never even had one half the size of mine."

You let out an involuntary moan as you pictured just how well endowed your teacher was. Looking down, you noticed the obvious bulge he was donning and you wanted nothing more than to pull him out and suck him dry. It seemed he noticed since he sat back down on his chair. Gesturing for you to come over, you practically hopped over to him, letting him guide you on your knees as he began to take himself out.

"But do knock yourself out. I'm kinda curious to see what the newer generations do nowadays."

❥𝓟𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓢𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝔀𝓪

Others would have complained and would be annoyed by the fact their new neighbors would have almost daily fights between them, typical marital disputes. But not you, you didn't mind hearing their screaming that was clearly heard through the walls. Especially since more often than not their fights would end in rough, angry sex that had you touching yourself at nights, a guilty pleasure you always looked forward to.

And you had been eyeing the husband from the moment the couple moved in. Park Seonghwa was everything you looked for in a man and even more. Handsome, mature, tall, well sculpted, responsible, sexy as hell and you knew for a fact he could definitely fuck. One day you knocked over at their door to give them one of them many pastries you'd often bake for your neighbors in the building.

"You know Mr. Park....if you ever get too frustrated with your wife....my door is always open." You boldly offered him.

He looked at you in shock but you sent him a reassuring wink before walking back to your apartment, making sure to sway your hips so he could have the image engraved in his mind. And boy did you rile him up. Now he couldn't stop thinking about you. You're all he had in his head. Now whenever he'd fight, he'd storm out and you'd welcome him, proud to get what his wife wasn't getting anymore. And you were hell bent on making sure you'd keep him to yourself.

"Cum inside me....fill me up." You told him one day.

He was so lost in his lust for you he didn't think he'd hear you correctly. Giggling, you flipped the position so you were now on top of him, bouncing yourself on his enormous cock.

"I'll give you what your wife won't give you. Knock me up with your babies, fill me to the brim. I wanna carry your kids in me." You ran your hands down your chest and placed them on top of your stomach to get your point further across.

Seonghwa was going wild by this point. He had wanted to become a father for so long but his narcissistic and conceited wife would not budge. Yet here you were offering him the one thing he wanted and he couldn't resist. Sitting up, he began pounding up into you with more intensity, sending you crying his name over and over again as his teeth began to mark your neck.

"Oh I'll make sure to knock you up babygirl. Gonna fuck my kids into you...fuck! You're going to look even more pretty carrying my baby in you."

❥𝓙𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓾𝓷𝓱𝓸

Yours and Yunho's relationship was rather.... unconventional to say the least. He ended up becoming your sugar daddy after you had auctioned off your virginity online cause you were a broke college student and you honestly didn't give a damn at that point. But it was you who were in for a surprise when you met him in the hotel room and he just handed you the money without wanting anything in return.

"Just take it and don't give away something so valuable away like that."

You were so stunned by his behavior and it honestly sent some weird feeling inside you.

"But what if I wanna give it away?" You asked before he could open the door to leave. He let out a deep sigh.

"Trust me, you don't." He insisted.

Biting your lip, you took in his height and built. You weren't going to lie and pretend you didn't size him up from the moment you saw him. He probably had a monster cock that could tear you apart and part of you wanted that. Plus he was probably experienced in making love to someone so why not?

"If it's with you I really do..."

He whipped his back at your words, about to scold you but his words got caught in his mouth when you began to strip in front of him before laying down on the bed, legs spread for him and anxiously waiting for him to touch you. He couldn't resist himself. He ended up pining your tiny and virgin body under him, tearing your hymen apart and claiming you as his. He made sure you were in no pain and he had you cumming more than once. You could say it was an amazing first time.

You spent the rest of the night talking, and you ended up spilling about your economic situation. Perhaps it was pity, perhaps he was high on having taking your virginity, or perhaps he truly felt something for you. Either way you agreed to be his sugar baby, and you don't regret it one bit. Not when you get to have his monster cock in you, and he's not complaining either when he gets to stuff himself in you.

"Fuck! You're still so damn tight my little one... just like the first time."

❥𝓚𝓪𝓷𝓰 𝓨𝓮𝓸𝓼𝓪𝓷𝓰

He tried to ignore the sound of the shower right behind the door he was leaning in. He had to. He shouldn't try to imagine what was going on in there. But as his eyes closed, he couldn't stop picturing your naked body glistening as the water cascaded down your skin. His hand grazed over his erection, wondering if perhaps you were doing something similar.

Before he knew what he was doing, he slowly and quietly opened the door, the hot steam fogging up the glass doors to the shower but he could still make out your beautiful and young figure. He witnessed as your hand played with your clit, dipping inside your folds as tiny gasps and pants escaped your lips.

"Mr. Kang...." Hearing you murmur his name sent any self-control he had out the window.

He began to strip himself out of his clothes, very slowly and in silence so as to not disturb you. Besides you looked so pretty as you touched yourself, trying to get yourself off at the thought of him. Without taking his eyes off you, he slid the glass door and soon stood behind you in the luxurious and spacious shower. You jumped slightly when you felt familiar hands wrap themselves around your waist, fingertips digging into you. You could never forget his touch, you remembered how those hands felt when they once caught you and saved you from a nasty fall.

You knew it wasn't a dream or fantasy when you felt lips pressing open mouth kisses against the side of your neck and traveled down to your shoulders. You moved your hand away to allow the person behind you to take control, his long and slender fingers finally making your darkest fantasies come true as they penetrated inside you, moving back and forth in an effort to bring you into an orgasm.

Kang Yeosang's deep and husky voice breathed into your ear, sending shivers down your body.

"You don't know how long I've lusted after you..."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓢𝓪𝓷

With Choi San it wasn't you seducing him. It was letting him seduce you. Ever since he saw you walk in with your short skirt, applying for a part time job at his bookstore, he had been wanting you, craved your body. And honestly... you fed him in his game.

You would wear even shorter skirts, bending down right in front of him so he could get a glimpse at your scantily clad pussy. Or you'd constantly ask him for help in putting away some of the books that went on higher shelves just so he'd put his hands around you, which he'd often keep there longer than needed. And you loved it.

One day he had been frustrated by you past his limit. Throwing away all decorum, he came up behind you as you arranged some books. You let out a gasp when you felt his hands grope your breasts.

"I've been working you too hard my darling... maybe I should let you take a little break?" You became putty in his hands when he used his satoori tone with you.

You didn't stop him when he lifted your shirt up to your neck, nor when he pulled your breasts out from your bra cups. You just moaned with no shame as his fingers tweaked and pinched at your highly sensitive nipples.

"Fuck you have really soft and squishy boobs. It's like they were made for my hands."

Snaking one hand under your skirt, he was surprised to not only find out that you were practically dripping for him but you were not wearing any underwear that day.

"Shit darling, did you came here hoping I would fuck you?"

You threw your head back as he cupped your heat, rubbing at your clit.

"Yes! Please fuck me Mr. Choi! W-wanna get fucked by you." You begged him, pushing your ass behind you to grind against his very obvious bulge.

He was more than satisfied by your answer. Finally getting your consent, he no longer had to hold back. Freeing his cock which was leaking at the tip, he pushed your skirt up to expose your ass cheeks. Giving each of them a few slaps with his cock, he teased you as he rubbed his bulbous tip along your slit.

"Now my little apprentice, I'm going to show you how a real man fucks a little cunt like yours."

❥𝓢𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓲

Spotting exactly what you were hoping to find for the night, you approached the older male and sat in front of him. Giving you a little glance, he furrowed his eyebrows as he took in your countenance.

"Aren't you a little young to be in a club like this?" He questioned you.

"Trust me, I'm old enough." You boldly took the glass he had in front of him and took a sip before setting it back down.

He let out a tiny chuckle as you practically drowned almost an entire glass of straight vodka. You had guts, he was giving you that.

"Little lady I'm sure there are more young men your age scattered about waiting for a beauty like you to pay attention to them. So why not go find them?" He suggested.

You frowned at him, a tiny huff coming out from your lips.

"Guys my age are all idiots and little babies. Absolutely nothing fun about them."

You scooted closer to him, your hand coming down to rub at one of his ridiculous thick thighs.

"I prefer men who are more older and..... bigger." You made emphasis on that last word.

The male snorted as he let you continue your little game. He was actually pretty amused and flattered at having a young and attractive girl hit on him.

"Little lady as much as I'd love to take you back to my place and fuck you into my sheets, I'm warning you that I'm into more.... risque and exotic pleasures and honestly....I don't think an inexperienced thing like you could handle it."

The man, whom you soon found out was named Song Mingi peeked your interest even more as he confided in you that little detail. And you were more than happy to indulge in extremely naughty kinks. That's how you ended up in his bed, your hands and feet tied to each of the bed posts, blindfolded, gagged, nipple clamps adorning your perky breasts as your older lover for the night was continuing his abuse on your swollen and red pussy, drawing out orgasm after orgasm out of your body.

"Fuck! Holy shit!" He cried out, grunting in an almost animalistic manner as he pumped his cum all over your body.

Removing your blindfold and mouth gag, he looked for any signs of regret but was instead met with your fucked out face that held a tiny grin.

"Older and bigger cocks are indeed the best."

❥𝓙𝓾𝓷𝓰 𝓦𝓸𝓸𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓰

Working as an exotic dancer, you met a lot of customers and got used to having regulars. But no one got under your skin or made you lose your senses like Jung Wooyoung. Usually you didn't give any special treatment to anyone unless it guaranteed more cash in your garter belt. But there was something about him that had you constantly looking over when he was there. Every time he was watching from the crowd, you made sure every wink, every lip bite or swirl of your tongue was directed at him.

You were thinking about giving up, since weeks passed and he didn't seem to make a move on you or on any of the other girls. Perhaps he was dragged there by his friends since he always sat there idly, no expression whatsoever. When you were told someone payed to have a private show with you, the last person you expected to see was none other than Jung Wooyoung himself, sitting on the couch, a glass of wine on his hand. Pulling out a large bill, he smirked at you.

"One hundred dollars if you take off that top."

His request had your legs wobbling. Since it was a rather fancy and elegant strip club, none of you ever actually stripped completely bare, only staying in scanty lingerie. But honestly, you didn't hesitate and let the top fall to the floor. You loved the way Wooyoung was eyeing your chest, tongue poking out to wet his lip. Reaching into his pocket once more, this time he produced even more bills and layed them on the table.

"500 dollars if you remove that lace thong."

Holy crap, you thought to yourself. That was a lot of money that you weren't going to refuse. And besides, you were already wet for the older man that you would suck him off right then and there if he asked you to, with absolutely no payment. This time his hand began to rub at his crotch. Unzipping his pants, he took his long length out which had your mouth watering and staring for so long that you didn't notice the even larger stash of cash he had taken out of his jacket which layed beside him.

"One thousand dollars if you hop your pretty ass over here and bounce yourself on my cock."

Not needing to be told twice, you practically plunged yourself down on him, not caring to take your time as you began to fuck yourself on his cock. The man underneath you was enjoying himself as well, the visual of your ass clapping against his hips driving him insane.

"Fuck! Yes! Just like that- oh god!"

You let out a yelp when his hand came down to slap your cheeks rather harshly, hips taking control as he rammed his cock into you. Through raspy grunts and growls, he made his final proposition to you:

"Your own place, monthly allowance and anything else you want if you leave this place and become my own personal fuck toy."

❥𝓒𝓱𝓸𝓲 𝓙𝓸𝓷𝓰𝓱𝓸

Working as the personal assistant for your father's CEO friend was not easy. Not because Choi Jongho was difficult, scary and begrudgingly agreed to have his friend's daughter work for him when she had no experience, but because the man was hot. You had the hots for your dad's friend and knowing you would have to be by his side for 8-10 hours on the daily both thrilled and terrified you.

"Can't you even work a simple printer? Seriously? How stupid could you possibly be?"

You honestly didn't mind his constant insults and degradation. In fact...that's exactly what you wanted, even more if he did it in front of others. Truth was, you did know how to work a printer and do other office related small tasks. You just chose not to just to have him yell and scream at you. His anger further fueled your sexual desires for him.

Eventually he ended up finding out what your little plan was when he chanced upon you sending a fax for someone, something he had always refrained from teaching you cause he thought you'd be too stupid to do.

"Why you cunning little vixen." He clicked his tongue in annoyance as he saw you, angry that a little brat like you was getting under his skin just to get a reaction out of him. He felt his palm start to tremble with an urge to bend you over and spank you into place.

Which he did end up doing, among other things in an effort to get you to behave or straighten up. But it never fully worked since you kept testing his patience, and he truly didn't mind. He liked your little game and he started to look forward to having his little vixen misbehave just to put her back in her place. And you lived for having him punish and degrade you.

"Look at you. You look like a common whore, letting me fuck her little hole as much as I want to."

You whimpered as his hand pulled your hair, making you lift your head and watch from the mirror as he fucked you from behind against his dresser.

"Maybe I should take a picture and send it to your dad. Let him know that his precious daughter is nothing more than a slut that likes getting her tight little hole fucked by his best friend."

You shook at his words, tears steaming down your face from the overstimulation he was putting you through. You absolutely loved it. Loved having him remind you of how wrong and sinful it was. Pressing your back against his chest, he wrapped an arm around your throat as he pounded his cock into you like the beast he was.

"But no... I won't do that. This will be our little secret."

Gifs not mine. Credit goes to their respective owners

[phoenixyfriend]

Anakin, Shmi, and the Jedi Babies

(Plus Jango)

A scene from the Anakin and the Jedi Babies

Warnings for: canon-typical discussion of slavery.

Shmi is eleven years old when the stranger comes.

He’s tall, and covered in the kind of dark clothes that are hell in the desert. He’s got some armor, too, but not as much as the Mandalorians she sees walking around sometimes. His expression is mean, even though he’s smiling, and she thinks the trader is scared of him.

He’s buying her.

“Now I just need a name for the ownership paperwork,” the trader says. She thinks he’s sweating.

“The sale is already completed, yes?” the stranger says. He tilts his head and purses his lips, still smirking. “No sudden fees coming my way?”

“Of course not, honored customer,” the trader simpers.

“Anakin Skywalker.”

Shmi’s heart stops. That’s her family name.

The trader gets a little paler, as he realizes why this man is here. Shmi watches the calculations fly, wondering if he can maybe squeeze out a few extra wupiupi on this sale. Former slaves freeing family, even family they don’t know, always fetches the highest price.

The stranger—Anakin—leans across the counter and looms over the trader, smiling in the most threatening way Shmi’s ever seen. “No sudden fees, right?”

“Well, there will be the code transfer f—”

“I’m the most dangerous person in this city,” the man says, smile dropping away like flies from a bantha. “Don’t make me prove it, friend.”

The sale is secured, the codes handed over, the detonator passing hands.

Shmi falls into step next to Anakin, hurrying to keep up with his longer strides. He takes her a few blocks away without a word, and then into a shallow spot in an alleyway, right where foot traffic won’t be a bother.

“Hey,” he says, dropping to one knee and placing himself where, even when she sets her gaze low, he’ll be there. He smiles at her, hesitant but far, far kinder than what she saw in the shop. “Do you want me to deactivate your chip now, or once we’re on my ship? I can’t remove it until we’re out of here; I’m no surgeon.”

“…now, please,” she whispers, and watches him punch in the numbers and codes to neutralize the bomb she’s carried inside herself since she was three. It’s done in less than two minutes.

“Do you want me to break this?” he asks, voice soft.

She nods, and watches in fascination as he crushes it in his fist with seemingly no effort.

He smiles at her, tosses the shards into the nearest compactor, and then offers her the hand that isn’t in a glove. She takes it, like she used to take her mom’s before they were separated, and follows him through Mos Pelgo. He’s family. He’s cleanly, clearly freed her. She should be able to trust him.

“Where are we going?” she manages to work up the courage to ask.

His stride stutters a bit, his hand squeezing hers, but his voice is even when he speaks. “Well, I would like you to stay with me, but if you have… have any family to return to, that you know how to find…”

“I don’t know where my mom is,” she says. “She got sold when I was four.”

He squeezes her hand again, and she dares to look at his face. His eyes are squinted, angry, and focused on the horizon. She’d call it stormy, if she’d ever been to a planet of water, but she was a child of the desert. She could feel his anger, and it wasn’t hot and sharp and blinding enough to be a storm of sand.

(She felt that it could be, in the intuition that had kept her alive these past years.)

“I see,” he says. “I’m… okay, then. I’d try to find her if I could, but I don’t know how to do that.”

Shmi shrugs. “She was sent to Jabba’s. I don’t think she’s… um. She’s probably dead, now.”

He’s silent in response to that.

“How did you find me?” she asks, because her intuition says to trust this man to keep her alive, even if she thinks she may not trust his temper.

He thinks about that for a second, and then lets go of her hand for a moment to brush aside a layer of his tunic.

A lightsaber.

Her eyes dart up to his, wide and maybe a little awed. He grins, a little more carefree than before.

“Jeedai?”

“A full Jedi knight, believe it or not,” he confirms. “The Force led me to find you. I don’t think I’d have been able to do locate you without it.”

“Wizard,” she whispers, and then he pulls her into his side and out of the way of a large, too-fast-for-these-streets speeder.

He swears under his breath in a language she doesn’t recognize.

“So, I’m going with you,” she says. “Um, where… where do Jedi live?”

“The Temple is on Coruscant,” he tells her. “But I’ve got business in Mandalorian space, so that’s where I’m based out of right now.”

“Okay,” she says. Mandalore… maybe that’s why he’s got armor like one of them. “I… I heard that Jedi are all called Master, so—”

“No,” Anakin snaps, turning around and getting to one knee in front of her again, hands on both her shoulders, stopping her in a fraction of a second with a look so intense that it scares her. “No, you are never to call me that. You are never going to bow your head to a master again, okay? You are free, and you are family.”

She stares at him for a long second, and then nods. She thinks her head jerks a bit too sharply, but he’s scary. He cares so much that it frightens her. He must be able to tell, because he closes his eyes and visibly forces himself to calm down.

“I was freed when I was nine,” he tells her. “By a Jedi Master. And I know… I know how uncomfortable it is to live like that, where the word means something different to you than it does to everyone else. I became a Jedi, so I learned to make it mean what it was supposed to, respect for teachers and—and elders. But you, you’re not a Jedi, you’re just a girl, and you matter, and—don’t make yourself say it. Please.”

“Okay,” she says. “Do I just… do I just call you Anakin, then?”

“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine,” he says, and his hands twitch on her shoulders. She thinks he wants to pull her into a hug, but is forcing himself to stop. “Or Ani, if you want, my—my mom used to call me that. Seems like something to keep for family.”

“Okay,” she says again. She can do that.

“Or, um,” he hesitates, and then barrels on. “We’ll be in Mandalore. They say ori’vod to mean older sibling. So, er, you can call me that. If you want. You don’t have to.”

She’ll have to practice. It looks like it means a lot to him. “I’ll think about it.”

“Great,” he says, and dithers for a moment before he stands up and turns around, black robes flaring. “Come on, let’s get out of the sun.”

He leads her to just outside the city limits, where there’s a small ship waiting, enough for a half-dozen people on longer trips, maybe. She doesn’t know much about ships, but this one’s covered in scratches and pits, like it’s been in fights and come out the other side.

They open the door, and are met with wailing.

Anakin rushes past her, shouting, “Ben!”

Shmi doesn’t follow immediately, but he’s been pretty insistent that she’s family, not property. She’s allowed inside.

She finds Anakin in the main room, holding a baby and bouncing it in his arms as he hisses a demand to a boy only a few years older than Shmi herself.

“—my kids, Jango!”

“I’m here to babysit the ship, not the baby!” the teenager argues back.

Anakin scoffs and turns his attention to the baby in his arms. Shmi isn’t entirely sure, but she thinks the baby is definitely less than a year old. It quiets in his arms, tiny hands fisting in the fabric she knows is still too hot from the sun outside.

“Shmi, you can sit down,” he tells her, distracted. “I’d love to talk more but I think I need to make a bottle for Ben. I’ll be back in a few.”

She looks around, sees a bench, and sits down. She presses her hands together in her lap, keeps her eyes on the japor charm her mother left with her years ago, hanging around her wrist. She can wait. She’s patient. She’ll figure out how freedom works eventually.

“Mmmmmmbook!”

Shmi jolts in her seat as a very small body collides with her leg, blue and white and giggling. The head of that small body turns up to stare at her with massive eyes, and she sees the child’s face is orange. Togruta, she thinks, and very young.

The little one pushes a flimsi book onto Shmi’s lap and pats at it, grinning up at Shmi with tiny, pearly teeth.

“Ad’ika, she just got here,” the-teenager-that-is-probably-named-Jango sighs, dropping into the seat next to Shmi. “Let her rest.”

“Sto-wee!” the baby Togruta insists, patting at Shmi’s leg. The little one tries to climb up onto the bench, and Shmi reaches out to help after she realizes the toddler is about to slip. She receives, in thanks, a delighted grin and a montral to the ribs as the child hugs her.

“’m Soka!” the little one introduces.

“She’s one of Skywalker’s,” probably-Jango says. “He showed up with those two a few months ago in the middle of a chaak’la snowstorm.”

“No!” Soka insists, slapping her little hand on the book a few times. “No ‘ssip! Book!”

Jango lets his head fall against the metal wall behind them. “Fine. No gossip.”

Shmi looks at the little girl, and then back at the book. She’s… well, she can read. Mostly. She can read better than most slaves her age, but this is Basic, not Huttese.

She cracks it open to the first page, finds herself relieved that it really is a children’s story with small words and big letters, and starts reading it out loud. She goes slow. The story is about an eopie trying to find its way home after getting lost, asking other farm animals for help. There are plenty of pictures, and sometimes Soka pats at the book and shouts the name of an animal. It’s very cute, overall.

About two-thirds of the way through, she stumbles. It’s a word she hasn’t seen before, long and with repeating letters that she can’t quite figure out how to say. She pauses, long enough that she’s sure little Soka is confused about why she’s stopped.

“Happabore,” Jango mutters.

Shmi lifts her head, but he’s not looking at her. She looks down at the book again, mouths the letters to herself, and thinks that yes, that probably fits. She keeps reading aloud, letting little Soka tell her about her favorite animals, and when she finishes and looks up, it’s to find Anakin standing across from them.

He’s leaning against a doorframe, bottle-feeding the baby named Ben, and watching them with an expression Shmi thinks might be ‘wistful.’

“Skyguy!” Little Soka cheers, sliding off the bench so she can toddle over to the man as fast as her little legs can carry her. “Skyguy, gots a fweind!”

He smiles indulgently and lets her hug his leg. “I can see that, Snips. You guys have fun?”

“Uh-huh!” the little one tells him. She raises her hands at him. “Up!”

“Sorry, hun, no can do,” Anakin apologizes. “I’m feeding Ben, and I need both hands for that.”

She pouts, and he jerks his chin at Shmi and Jango. “Go back to the bench and you can help me feed him, okay?”

Soka races back.

“Fett, go get the ship powered up,” Anakin says as he ambles over, voice the kind of casually commanding that gives Shmi goosebumps. It’s not familiar, not the way an owner is, but it’s… it’s a voice that’s very used to having authority. “I want us out of here as soon as possible.”

“You’re not the boss of me.”

“I am the commanding officer according to Jaster,” Anakin says, and Shmi watches him raise an eyebrow. “I know it’s not much of a mission, but I am in charge until we’re back on Concord Dawn. You want me to tell him you’re playing at insubordination?”

Jango makes a face, sticking out his tongue. Anakin waits.

Jango goes to start the ship.

“Teenagers,” Anakin mutters, shaking his head. “I want to say I was never that bad, but I’d be lying.”

Soka giggles, bouncing in her seat as Anakin carefully lowers himself down next to her. “Okay, okay, settle down. He’s cranky, kiddo.”

“Wanna help,” Soka stresses, reaching for the bottle. Anakin shifts away from her, keeping it out of her reach. “Skyguy!”

“Slow down, Snips,” he chides. “Climb on my lap and we can hold him together, okay?”

Shmi fiddles with her japor snippet, but she can’t help her fascination with the dynamic presented. Anakin obviously isn’t related to Soka by blood, but he’s adopted her as his own. They haven’t said as much, but it’s obvious. He can’t stop smiling as he talks the girl through holding the bottle for her baby brother, even though it’s obvious from the outside that he’s the one actually holding it, and her, and the baby.

The ship hums to life around them. Anakin tilts his head, as if listening to something, and then goes back to the baby.

It’s another minute before Anakin says, “Okay, that’s enough. I need to burp him. Go on, scoot.”

Soka grimaces as well as a two-year-old can, and slides off of Anakin’s lap onto the bench. He stands and presses the baby up to his shoulder, patting it on the back. There’s a towel there already, something Shmi hadn’t noticed earlier.

“I’m going to go check on Jango,” he tells them. “Shmi, can you get Soka in her seat? I’ll tell you how to buckle her in, but I promised Jango he could fly us back and I want to sit up there to make sure he gets us into hyperspace without, say, exploding.”

It’s only a minute or two to get both of them sat down and buckled in, and Soka spends the entire time until lift-off telling Shmi about how much she likes eopies. This continues well until they end up in hyperspace, the jolt of it making the little one squeal in excitement, even if Shmi feels her stomach drop out. Shortly after, the boys wander back in.

“We’re good for a couple hours,” Anakin says. “Nav computer’s got it until we jump back out. Anyone want a snack?”

“Me!” Soka screeches, bouncing in her seat. “Jan-Jan, snacktime!”

Anakin’s eyebrows climb up towards his hairline. “Well, seems like you’ve got a fan, Fett.”

“Shut up,” Jango grumbles, but he does go over and pick Soka out of her child seat, setting her on his hip and going in the direction of what Shmi assumes is the galley.

“You doin’ okay?” Anakin asks, carefully taking the seat next to her. He sits Ben up on his lap, but the baby has trouble staying in that position. Anakin takes his hands, letting tiny fists curl around his thumbs, to help him stay up.

“It’s a lot,” she says. “But I am happy to be free.”

He grins at her. “Glad to hear it. It’s a lot to adjust to, I know, but… I’m happy to have you with us.”

She nods, eyes on the baby that’s swaying from side to side as Anakin moves his hands, like a very, very small speeder pilot.

“Is he, um, yours?” Shmi asks. “Or did you adopt, like Soka?”

Anakin’s smile, so full of love, drops off. He presses his lips into a thin line, and for a moment, Shmi wonders if she’s made a horrible misstep.

“What… what do you know about Jedi relationships?” Anakin asks, voice quiet.

“Nothing,” she admits, but she’s not ashamed of that. Nobody knows much about the Jedi.

“Okay,” he says, more to himself than to her. “Okay, so… okay. There are a couple ranks in the Order. Younglings go in the crèche, communally raised in groups, and then when they’re five or so, they get to become Initiates. A few years later, usually between ten and fourteen, they can enter an apprenticeship to a Jedi Knight or Master, and the apprentice rank is Padawan. When the apprenticeship is done, they become Knights, basically journeymen, and at some point after that, Masters. There are positions that technically rank higher, councils and heads of divisions, and there’s stuff outside the apprenticeship system, like the service corps, but that’s not super relevant. It’s complicated but we’re only focusing on the apprenticeship path for knights.”

He hesitates, and then continues. “One of the ways to become a Master in the Order is to successfully raise a Padawan to knighthood. I was never an Initiate, because I came to the Order so much later than most. I immediately became a Padawan, and my master was freshly knighted. The relationship between master and padawan is… it’s family. Some of the more orthodox of the Order don’t like to put it in those words, but it really is.

“If I ever talk about my Master, just know I’m not talking about any of the owners I had before I was freed. I’m talking about the man who raised me, the man I saw as a father. He may not have seen me as a son, more a brother, but he was only sixteen years older than me, and… anyway. Jedi lineages are family. Your Master is a parent, or an older sibling, and your Padawan is a child to bring up as your own,” he finishes this off with the kind of deep, heavy breath that she thinks precedes grief. She can’t tell.

“My master is… well, he’s not in a position to teach anyone anything anymore. Ben here is all I have left of him.”

Oh.

Oh.

Anakin doesn’t look at her, just stares down at the baby that’s gotten cranky again, and rearranges Ben to lie sideways in his arms. He smiles down as the baby burbles up at him, and tickles at the baby’s stomach. Ben grabs at Anakin’s fingers and kicks at the air, laughing in the manner of all children that small.

The man hums, and Shmi is more shocked than she should be to hear one of the lullabies she’s heard in slave quarters all her life.

“He’s your son now,” she says, more firmly than she feels. “He is yours to raise and care for, and I can tell you love him as much as any parent.”

Anakin lifts his head, staring at her like he can’t quite believe she’s there, and tears collect at the edges of his eyes.

“Thank you, Shmi Skywalker,” he says, and she feels like there’s more weight in those words than there should be. He licks his lips, eyes darting away for a second, and then asks, “do you want to hold him?”

She steels herself, and nods.

This is her family now.

Hers.

[blindingdutchy]

The filming scene In part 1 of pornstar!tom where he’s tied up and you take the blindfold off and his eyes are all blurry and unfocused go me thinking:

Imagine the video went viral and people started asking for more sub!tom so they get you to do it again but with more edging, so you’re sitting there, tom is tied up and gaged and you’ve been edging him for the past half hour but he’s not used to being the sub so he’s crying cuz he just wants to cum so bad and everyone thinks he’s just really good at acting but you know he’s crying for real. So when the scene is done you untie him and remove the gag, and the directors are telling you to come see how good it looks but you’re too busy making sure Tom is okay, and he’s so tired that he’s falling asleep on you😍🤤

i am such a submissive person this was genuinely difficult for me to write, but i think i got somewhere 😅possibly not even a request, but i was inspired and wanted to challenge myself

read switch here!

cry baby | t.holland

{pornstar!tom x pornstar!reader}

word count: 2,254

warnings: smut ofc

warnings: sub!tom, oral (m receiving), bondage, blindfold, spit play, edging/orgasm denial

You never thought you’d have ended up here again. But, your video with Tom had reached heights you’d never achieved before, and the fans were eating it up. They wanted more—and to your surprise, so did Tom.

Now, as he laid in much the same position he had in the original video, you were starting to understand why. He was flat on his back with all four limbs stretched out and fastened to the bedposts with thick black rope. His chest was heaving, his lips parted in fast paced pants as he watched you with intrigue—he knew what was to come.

“Are you ready, baby boy?” you cooed, stroking his cheek with your thumb. Tom’s eyes fluttered at the caress, brown irises blown wide with lust and desperation, and he whined airily. The black blindfold shielded you from his longing stares, and he lifted his head a little too eagerly so that you could slip the strap around his head.

Already he had suffered through the torture of your hands, his body flushed from agonizing minutes spent with your hands stroking his cock hard and fast just to rip his orgasm away from him. The sound of his pleas and cries still echoed in your ears, a familiar pang throbbing in your core as you remembered the way he sobbed your name on the third denial. For being such a dominant man, Tom was incredibly good at being submissive.

This time, though, you were skipping the gag. You wanted to hear all the little noises Tom could make, to hear all the words that spilled from his lips as he yearned so achingly for your touch. Trailing your fingers down his chest, you murmured, “What do you want, hm? Want my hands again?”

He shivered, a stuttered gasp escaping his mouth as you swirled your thumb around his nipple. The little bud hardened instantly, standing tall and stiff from the stimulation. “I—I want your mouth, Miss.” he whispered, and you smiled.

“You know what you have to do,” you tutted.

Tom’s lips were trembling as you crawled onto the bed, perching on your knees between his thighs, and he pleaded weakly, “P-please! I want your mouth, Miss, want it so bad.” His hips bucked wildly as your hands delicately caressed the skin of his inner thighs, and you admired the trail of goosebumps that erupted in their path. He was always so reactive, and it made your belly twist up in knots.

Seeing him there, entire body physically quivering for you to just do something, the world around you faded away. No longer did you care about the cameras trained upon you, and the faint sounds created by the crew vanished into white noise—it was just you and Tom. His legs were straining against the rope that tied them down, flexing and tensing as he tried his hardest to chase the hands that touched them.

Humming, your hands dragged up his thighs to rest on his hips. Thumbs dipping into the rippled lines of muscle that descended from his abdomen to his center, the length of his cock was reddened and leaking as it rested on his heaving stomach. Tom’s breathing picked up a notch as you teased the skin with a feather light touch, the area bare and smooth; he liked to keep things groomed for filming.

“Do you think you deserve my mouth, baby?”

Tom gasped when your hand closed around his length, stroking soft and slow pumps with almost no pressure at all. “Yes, I’ve been a good boy, Miss! I’ll—I’ll be so good for you!” he pleaded, voice hoarse, and you smirked at the way his head rolled around helplessly. “Please, Miss!”

Pulling at his length with more conviction, you relished in the strangled cry of relief he gave. “Don’t cum until I say so, understand?” you commanded, tone heavy with warning, and he nodded with a choked moan.

The sounds Tom made when your lips finally wrapped around his tip, lapping greedily at the pre-cum that was beaded on his slit, were purely animalistic. Carnal shouts of ecstasy and relief, his mouth hanging wide as he tugged relentlessly on his restraints. Each noise, each cry and plea for you to take him further, spurred you on. Your lips wrapped around him tighter, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked harder, and you flattened your tongue to take more of him.

Tears welled in your eyes when you pushed the tip of your nose into his pelvis, his length buried deep in your throat and choking you. “Oh, fuck!” he cried out, hips bucking wildly off the bed, and you gagged roughly around him. The noise of your wet, sloppy cough around his length paired with the sensation of your throat constricting had him trembling beneath you.

“Miss, ‘m gonna cum,” Tom panted. His voice was broken and cracked, his throat undoubtedly worn out from the guttural sounds that had ripped it apart. You hummed around him before pulling away with a grin, loving the way his hips chased after you sloppily. “I—why did you stop?” he groaned, lips puffing up in a tiny pout.

You tutted, swirling your thumb lazily around his tip and licking the vein that ran along his shaft. There was nothing more you wanted in that moment than to strip your costume off and slide into his lap, but the video didn’t call for that. This time around the focus was all on Tom, endless edging and denial for the panting man on the bed.

As his breathing finally slowed, the erratic rise and fall of his chest deepening with his steadier inhales and exhales, you dipped closer once more. Almost instantaneously he stiffened, cock twitching in your hand expectantly, and you smirked at how needy he was. Now, after all the times you and Tom had slept together, it made you feel good to finally be in control. It felt good to be the one delving out the excruciating push and pull, dangling him right at the precipice of ecstasy only to drag him away before he could fall.

So, maybe you were being a little vindictive when you sucked his weeping tip between your lips and curled your tongue around it just like you knew he loved. When Tom was in control he rarely gave you the chance to truly treat him well; most often he’d be holding your head and choking the life out of you as he thrust to his heart’s content. But now? Now you were setting the pace, calling the shots, and damn if you weren’t going to make him fucking cry.

Already he was whimpering pathetically, his breathing jagged and voice hoarse as he continually vocalized his need for you. His entire body was glistening with a light sheen of sweat and oil, the latter courtesy of Marlena the makeup artist, and he looked ethereal. He looked like a classical painting or sculpture, all artistically harsh edges colliding with soft flesh. The ridges of his muscle flexed and strained against his tender, slightly flushed skin, and it made your mouth water.

You pushed him to that cliff twice more, each time forcing more and more aggressive pleas from his pretty, pink lips. Tom was growing frustrated—angry, even—and the thought of it made you excited. His jaw was tensed and ticking with every grind of his teeth, and if you’d removed the blindfold you’d surely have been met with dark, swirling pools of rage in his eyes. If there was one thing he hated, it was to be teased.

Swirling your tongue around the broad, blazing red tip of his length, you giggled when a guttural cry burst straight from his chest. There it was, you were finally getting somewhere. His body was trembling all over, knees quaking and fingers quivering, and the sound of his desperation had finally reached its peak.

“Do you want to cum, baby boy?” you murmured, lips ghosting over the ridge beneath his tip eliciting a breathy whine, “Tell me how bad you want it.”

He jerked against the restraints, snarling madly. “I’ve been so good, Miss!” he choked out, “I’ve been a good boy, please, please, please, let me—oh!”

Your nose buried in the soft flesh of his pelvis, eyes watering and throat aching as he stretched your throat out. In the blurry edges of your vision you could just barely make out the way his hands stretched against their bonds, fingers straining and clawing through the air as he fought to grasp your head like he always did. You knew he wanted to move you, to thrust in and out of you at whatever pace he desired, but you had no intentions of moving.

How long could you stay like that? Face buried in his abdomen, eyes dripping tears, saliva trailing down your chin as you strained around him? You wanted to find out, and a part of you also longed to know if you could push him over the edge just like this. Not moving, just letting the erratic twitch of your throat as you gagged stimulate him.

In the end, you caved first. He was muttering unintelligibly, lips moving in a flurry of words you couldn’t make out that wavered in pitch dramatically. You wished to keep going, but the persistent ache in your jaw and lungs told you that you needed to stop. You needed air, and if you tried to push through it you’d either suffocate or instinctively clamp your jaw around the intrusion—that certainly wouldn’t have been good.

As you pulled off of him again, breathing heavily and wheezing slightly as you stretched your jaw, you wondered if he remembered this was the end. The script called for you to leave him begging, pleading his life to release only to be left unfulfilled. He was still whining to himself, and you could just barely make out the hoarse whisper, “I’ll fucking die if you don’t let me cum, please, Miss.”

You were still stroking him slowly with your hand as you sat up, your back aching slightly at the stretch. “Don’t be so dramatic,” you teased, and he growled under his breathe, “I don’t like your attitude right now, baby boy.”

He bared his teeth in a feral grimace, jaw tight and unwavering as he jerked against the ropes violently. “I want to cum!” he whined, voice cracking and slurred despite his demanding tone.

“Is that so?” you pouted, teasing the small slit of his tip playfully, “Well, it’s too bad I don’t really care what you want.”

With that, you got up and climbed off the bed as his length fell back onto his stomach with a dull smack. He hissed at the loss of contact and fought hard to chase after you, only to growl when he remained stuck. You admired the slick sheen that coated his body and the way his cock had gone a deeper shade of red, probably throbbing to the point of near agony from all of your edging.

“Cut!”

You swallowed down the swelling lump in your throat as you approached Tom timidly. The cameras were no longer rolling, his time playing the role of a submissive man over, and already you were shivering over what you’d certainly be facing later that night. What you hadn’t expected, though, was to find genuine tears streaming down his cheeks as you removed the blindfold.

The black garment was soaked with them, and you gaped at the red rim of his eyes and the inflamed ring around his nostrils. His brown eyes were unfocused and dazed as he looked at you, still watering as he blinked up at the sudden light, and your heart thudded pitifully against your ribcage. He was crying.

He was crying, and you didn’t know whether to feel guilty or scared. “Tommy?” you whispered, chewing on your lower lip as you stroked his sweaty curls from his face, “Are you okay?”

Tom’s head lulled into your touch, and he sniffled as he blinked up at you. “Yeah, ‘m good,” he croaked, “but you won’t be later.” His threat wasn’t all that intimidating as his eyes drooped, brown eyes clouded with exhaustion and lingering remnants of desperation. You brushed aside the feelings of nervous anticipation that stirred in the pit of your belly—that could wait.

All you cared about was untying Tom and maybe finishing what you’d started in your dressing room, though you were pretty sure he was too tired to go on. His eyelashes were fluttering as he fought to keep them open, and the sight was so heartwarmingly adorable that you couldn’t help but to coo at him. He pouted when you kissed his cheek, smacking his lips at you, “You missed, darling.” Rolling your eyes with a giggle, you pecked his lips and smiled at the pleased sigh that fanned your face.

All around you, you could hear the crew mumbling words of praise, all raving over Tom’s impeccable acting. “Damn, he should be in movies or something!” one man gaped, “(Y/N), come have a look!”

“Later,” you called back, “I’m busy.” Tom murmured sleepily, his head rolling deeper into the pillows, and you pondered to yourself how you were going to get him off the bed. A quiet snore perked your ears and you shook your head—for a man with so much stamina in the bedroom, he sure was beat from a little edging.

[akaashisbabygirl]

you’re just a game he likes to play

pairings: akaashi x female!reader

genre: angst, romance, NSFW 18+

warnings: use of drugs, drinking, vaginal penetration, fingering, oral (female receiving), angst angst angst

words: 2.6k

a/n: i’m sorry for not posting as much. i’ve always wondered how people write really long fics, and here i am. i spent last night + this morning working on this, so i hope you all enjoy <3 this i planned to be a one shot so i probably won’t be doing a part two

‘are you awake right now?’ 

akaashi’s fingers ghosted over his phone, a slight cringe filling his mind as he thought about sending the message. eventually, everyone around him started to pick up on his quiet, drunken tone. 

“who’s the girl you’re texting?” kenma asked.

“it’s no one...” he said back softly, locking his phone. as much as he tried to play it off as if he wasn’t texting anyone, he knew that one of the boys were going to comment about it sooner or later.

“come on man, we all know it’s hayami,” kuroo interrupted. akaashi knew kuroo meant it as a joke. as much as akaashi knew that kuroo was joking, yet there was still that smirk that rested on kuroo’s face that akaashi was so desperate to punch. it had been a year since akaashi had fallen out of love with hayami, a girl he knew he stood no chance with. 

within that year, things had changed. he never used to drink or anything. he had changed so much. it bugged him whenever the other men talked about love and girls. he started to think why it couldn’t be him, why he couldn’t be the one talking about a girl he loves. he wanted to express the love he felt for the girl that ended up catching him by surprise when he least expected. the same type of love that everyone thought was for hayami.

one thing that akaashi was clear of was that he was deeply, and drunkenly in love with you. 

like his friends knew, there had been a time in his life when he was in love with hayami. but after finding out that she had hooked up with one of his high school friends after she had told him that she loved him, akaashi started to fall out of love; and while he was in his broken state was when you came along. just when he needed.

everyone in the group was sure that akaashi was going to always be in love with hayami, only because she was said to be the hottest girl on campus; and he himself was a very good looking guy. everyone wanted her. unfortunately, akaashi’s friends couldn’t see that the love he had once felt for her had now died down into the pit of his chest.

however, despite telling himself that he had fallen out of love with hayami, he also hid behind the thoughts of your beautiful soft hair and the way you felt so small compared to him behind the fact that he still loved hayami. because, what is the point of loving someone who is just your closest friend? 

akaashi brought the glass of alcohol to his lips once more, letting the cold liquid slide down his throat. he sighed as he just about finished his third glass. had the room gotten louder? it had gotten to the point where he couldn’t make out the words of what his friends were saying. it was just too loud. 

he desperately wanted to text you. he wanted to send you cute messages about wanting to cuddle you, and kiss you and about how much he misses your touch and how he loves the feeling of your tiny body against his. after his third glass, those thoughts began to turn sexual. he felt different. had the others given him something? 

he remembered asking kuroo earlier in the night for something that would ‘take his mind off of everything’, maybe kuroo had given him something. his hands held onto the glass again as he watched the man across from him fill his glass again. 

his hands fiddled with his phone again. he so desperately wanted to message you right now, but his mind was clouded with sexual thoughts that he had never thought about before. he thought about how good he would be able to fill you up, how small you would be against him. he closed his eyes and sighed to the thought mentally. he wasn’t a pervert, at least he thought he wasn’t. 

the two of you were just friends. he respected the boundaries of your friendship. he wasn’t going to push you, he didn’t even know if you felt the same way about him. but once again, his mind and everyone around him kept telling him that he was in love with hayami. 

‘stick with the girl that all your friends know you love. you don’t wanna ruin your friendship with her’ said the narrator inside his mind, as if he was telling akaashi what to do instead of letting him figure this madness out on his own. 

akaashi stood up from the chair, making his way to the bathroom. after minutes, he was looking at his messy reflection in the bathroom mirror. he knew it was time to go home. he could see it in his reflection. he was drunk. drunk and in love. he wanted you by his side right now. maybe fixing his jacket or his hair. how you would be on your tiptoes just to try and reach him. how fucking cute. or how you would stand on your tiptoes to try and reach his lips. 

akaashi left the house, standing outside on the street waiting for a cab to pull up.

“what’s the address?” the man asked.

without a thought, he gave the man your street name. space and time had began to blur, his phone in his hands as the thought of you rushed throughout his mind.

you were in your room, sitting on your bed in an oversized shirt. your eyes scanned along the messages what you had just received from akaashi.

‘are you awake?’ 2:43AM

one missed call. 2:49AM

‘i miss you’ 2:54AM

‘i need your touch’ 2:58AM

one missed call. 3:02AM

‘need you so badly’ 3:06AM

he was high.

you knew he was. there was no way in hell akaashi would ever text you like this. he was in love with hayami. you were sure about this. you felt a stinging pain in your chest because it was obvious that you were deeply in love with akaashi keiji. you hated the way you were so badly separated from even being close to a relationship with him because the narrator in your mind always came back to remind you that akaashi was in fact in love with hayami. 

your fingers typed back.

‘i am not hayami. you have the wrong contact’ 3:10AM

there was no reply back. you thought that maybe he reached hayami’s apartment and that he was currently somewhere with her right now. you threw a pillow over your head.

he was such an amazing man. you had fallen in love with the person that he is, how he would always be there whenever you needed him so desperately. he helped you when you were down. it made you mad that hayami only wanted akaashi for his popularity around campus and not for the amazing person that he is.

it was hard to try and get over those feeling that were painfully stabbing your heart. you wanted to be with him. god, you wanted to be with him so fucking badly. but you knew that it would never happen.

because akaashi was in love with hayami.

the sound of knocking on your door threw you out of your haze. you checked your phone. no new messages from him. you opened the door, your eyes widening as his drunken state stood right in front of you. you hated to admit that he always took your breath away, even right now. he was so tall compared to you.

“can i come in?” his voice asked softly.

you nodded your head, opening your door further so he could come inside.

akaashi sat himself down on your couch. he looked lost. he was lost. he watched as you sat down next to him, your eyes not even looking in his direction. 

“are you... um... cold?” he asked, trying to make conversation.

you shook your head, silence running throughout the apartment.

“let me stay,” he blurted out. in fact, he had surprised you.

“you’re drunk,” you hated to admit the fact that his tone was deep and intoxicating. 

your fingers gripped his chin harshly, fingers digging into his jaw. you looked directly into his eyes. “and i don’t want to sit here and listen to you drunkenly express your love for hayami. not tonight.”

he watched as you pulled away from him, “i don’t love hayami! i don’t love her, i don’t know why you would think that!”

you stood up, trying to leave the room. you didn’t want to be around him right now. however, his hand gripping onto your wrist stopped your movement entirely.

without thinking, your hand slapped his cheek. hard. you were so angry. angry at the fact that you kept putting up with the same shit after knowing he didn’t feel the same way about you. tears perked in the corners of your eyes as you tried to control your emotions.

his beautiful face was inches away from yours as he pulled you to sit back down on the couch. his soft lips met yours for the first time. the two of you sighed into the kiss, almost as if it was some sort of relief for the both of you. his kisses were gentle, even if he was messily drunk right now. he was always gentle with you.

a soft groan escaped his lips as you opened your mouth, his tongue finding its way easily. he softly whispered against the kiss, “let me taste you... please.”

so polite.

you pulled your lips from his, looking into his blue coloured eyes. your lips partly opened. he saw your shy little nod.

“that’s my girl.”

the next few minutes had went by slowly. his lips attacked yours, his large hands pulling your body to straddle his waist, your clothed cunt pressing against his growing erection. his hands helped you grind against him as his tongue explored your mouth. your hands held tightly onto his shoulders as his hands grasped your ass.

akaashi stood up, having you stand up with him. he walked you down to your bedroom, his lips stayed attached to yours. 

the two of you made your way into the bedroom, akaashi’s jacket long discarded somewhere on the floor of the apartment. he gently pushed you down onto the bed. 

his hands found your thighs, spreading your legs open. his touches were soft and careful. he didn’t want to hurt you.

“tell me what you want me to do.”

“i want you to touch me,” you said as he removed his shirt, “please touch me.”

his hand found your ankle and lifted your leg slightly, pressing a soft kiss onto your ankle. akaashi kissed his way up your leg, his fingers removing your underwear.

his hands pushed your skirt up, his hands now grasping your legs with a firm grip. all his attention was on your womanhood now.

“so fucking pretty.”

he gathered your slick with his tongue, before drawing circles on your clit. he loved how your moans started to grow in pitch.

you affected him more than the alcohol did.

your hands clenched onto the bedsheets so tightly. he listened to your moans as his tongue ran along your messy cunt. he knew that you were holding yourself back. he could tell that your hands were clenching tightly onto the bedsheets, holding yourself back from grinding on his face.

one of his hands moved from holding your thighs down to toy with your clit. he could feel your body shaking and squirming underneath his large build.

akaashi never pulled away. even when you were starting to cum on his tongue. one of your legs had made their way onto his shoulder, the other around your waist.

akaashi’s face was coated with your juices. he removed his fact from your cunt, looking at you.

“i need to ask you... do you want to continue?”

you almost wanted to cry out now. akaashi had just made you cum. he was here right now, in between your legs, shirtless looking at you. you loved him. you loved him so fucking much. you couldn’t believe that this was happening right now.

“i want to.”

“yeah?” he placed your leg back down onto the bed, “tell me exactly what you want from me.”

“i want you to fuck me. please... fuck me.”

akaashi gave you a little smirk as he reached for his belt. the sound his belt made caught your attention quickly, your eyes darting to his lower parts.

you watched as he removed his pants and boxers. the size of his length made you press your knees together.

“i-its not gonna fit,” you mumbled softly, a deep red blush spreading over your cheeks.

akaashi chuckled, “i’ll make sure it fits.”

his voice was soft. he made you feel okay, made you feel safe. akaashi helped you remove the shirt from your body, “look how pretty you are.”

akaashi’s fingers found your entrance in no time. he pushed two fingers into you, listening to how you started moaning again. he loved the feeling of your tight walls around his fingers. he watched you clench around his fingers and with the beautiful moans you were giving him, he was ready to make you cum again. his skilled digits curled inside of your cunt, a cry falling from your lips as he did so.

akaashi leaned down to kiss your open mouth. you could feel him smiling into your mouth.

“i’m ready,” you mumbled out against the kiss, “akaashi, fuck me, please.”

akaashi removed his fingers from you, gathering your juices with the tip of his cock. he made sure he coated himself before pushing the tip in. he could hear your small voice whimpering and your soft pants. 

he looked at you, tears rolling down your cheeks as you tried to adjust to his size. he softly kissed both of your tears. 

“s-so big,” you whispered against his lips as you felt akaashi slowly start thrusting.

he smirked, his head dipping down to your neck to suck and kiss your skin. he looked at you, your voice broken and whimpering. you were crying for his cock. you could feel him twitch inside of you. he pulled his dick out before pushing back in, looking at where your bodies were connected.

akaashi could see the little bulge on your lower stomach. he grabbed onto your small hand, placing it down on your lower stomach so you could feel him. he gave you another deep thrust. your body moved with his thrusts. akaashi watched as your little body shook uncontrollably whenever his hips met with yours.

even akaashi was under the impression that your small body wouldn’t be able to fit him, but it was almost as if you were made for him.

“you feel so good around my cock.”

akaashi angled your legs, hooking them to his arms. the new angle made your eyes roll to the back of your head. one of your hands grabbed a handful of his hair, making him throw his head back. your lips pressed softly along his jawline. 

“s-so good, s-so fuckin’ good,” you moaned against his skin.

your forehead met with his as his thrusts became deeper and deeper. his voice was broken, his cock twitching. 

“cum inside me,” you mumbled softly, soft enough for him to hear. his thrusts were deep and he could feel you climax around his length. 

“i love you so fucking much,” he mumbled against your skin, “so fucking much that it hurts.”

“i know,” you cooed, kissing his cheek softly, “i love you too.”

he finished inside of you. you saying that was the last thing he remembered. he felt so safe in your arms, naked and bodies tangled. he knew his cum was dripping from your stretched hole. he fell asleep there in your arms.

you felt so at home, so safe in this moment. you shut your eyes too, falling asleep, enjoying this moment.

because deep down, you knew that in the morning, you weren’t hayami. 

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