#the INSTANT regret that filled me the second i let my head drop over the edge

[milf-harrington]

made the dumbas mistake of thinking it would be fun to hang upside down on the couch for a few seconds, forgetting the wise words of my old chiropractor ("dont do that") and its been an hour and a half since then and i still feel nauseous and dizzy

[goodlucktai]

Uhuuh if you don't mind for the injury promo maybe 12 with splinter/lou and his boys, pls?

dialogue prompts

12. “Where are they? Where are they?!”

this one got away from me :') rise/2012 crossover babyyyyyyy

x

Splinter’s counterpart reacted to the news of their sons’ abduction with a level of dramatics that he would never ascribe to his own self. 

“What?” the shorter rat (“Call me Lou,” he had said, and then proceeded not to explain why) squawked at the disheveled humans still trying to collect their breath at the entrance of the lair. “When did this happen? How did this happen? There were TEN of you!”

Casey and April both winced in face of the not-unwarranted scolding. The children had had perhaps too much confidence as they left together earlier that evening. Donatello’s computer had alerted him in the middle of dinner to a new lead on the gang whose activity they had been following for the past weeks. Raphael had smashed his fists together, a wicked grin on his face, and said they should strike while their forces were doubled and make those ‘goons’ regret robbing every pharmacy in Manhattan north of The Battery. 

“Tiny feral Raph is hilarious,” Lou’s Purple had said in a deadpan. “And also alarmingly down to commit atrocities. I want to ride with him.”

And now, not even two full hours later, their human companions returned to report a resounding failure. 

Casey, scowling at the floor, said, “They got the drop on us. The door sealed as soon as we were in and the room started filling up with gas.”

“They said they were chemists,” April added. She couldn’t lift her head enough to look Splinter in the eye, staring hard somewhere near his shoulder instead. “One of their colleagues was mutated about a year ago and they’ve been studying the mutagen ever since. I don’t know what they want with the boys, but they made it sound like the gas was made with the turtle’s physiology in mind. That it would outright kill me and Casey, but shouldn’t harm them.”

Lou was bristling, tail lashing. “‘Shouldn’t’ is the word they used?” he gritted out. 

“Yeah. It hit them hard in seconds. But Blue—uh, your Leo—” Casey said, with an uncomfortable sideways look at Lou, “—he managed to get one of his swords out and portaled me and April away. We waited for like five minutes to see if he’d get anyone else out, but…”

But no one came goes unsaid. 

Splinter tapped his walking stick on the floor once to recall their focus, warm affection filling his chest for these little Hamato adoptees who fell haphazardly into his clan. 

“Lou is correct,” he said. “It is unfortunate that your team was so quickly overwhelmed. We will discuss how to better handle situations like this another time.” 

Both humans stood a little taller when it became clear that that conversation would be tabled for the time being, and April finally found it within herself to meet Splinter’s eyes. 

“For now—” he started, only for Lou to cut him off with a sound not unlike a cat whose tail had just been stepped on.

“Don’t put words in my mouth,” the shorter rat snapped. “I don’t care if they lost within two minutes, let alone two hours. I only meant,” he went on, with a hard look at the teenagers, “that you should have called the instant you were in danger! Why on earth would you run all the way home like this without letting us know what had happened, putting yourselves at unnecessary risk? This organization could have had additional members waiting to pick you off when you were alone! You could have at least made time to send a text!”

Casey and April looked absolutely bewildered. Their respect for Splinter was so deeply ingrained by now that it carried over to this odd likeness of him but they did not seem to know what to do with this manner of reprimand. 

“Uh,” Casey said eloquently. “Splinter doesn’t have a phone.”

“There was the cheese phone,” April interjected. “Sorry, I mean, he had a landline. But the wiring got messed up awhile ago and Donnie never got around to fixing it.”

“You have seven children,” Lou seethed, narrowing his eyes at Splinter, “and you don’t see the importance of having a working phone?”

Splinter frowned. He was taken aback by the number seven, but more so by this hostility that seemed to have sprung up from nowhere. 

“We have gotten along just fine. Donatello’s inclination towards technology was not inherited from me.”

“There’s no time to continue this conversation, and if we do I am liable to start screaming profanities anyway. Jones, O’Neil, take me to my boys.” 

Lou was still bristling with anger, only now that Splinter was looking closer, he saw that the shorter rat was actually bristling. His fur was standing up as though with electric static. 

“If even one scale on their shells has been harmed,” he added darkly, to no one in particular, “there will be hell to pay.”

April led the way to the garage at a sprint, hopping up without breaking stride to grab the keys from their hook on the wall just inside the door. She tossed the keys to Casey and claimed the front passenger seat for herself, leaving the two fathers to pile into the back of the van. 

It wasn’t until she was still that Splinter noticed her fingertips were red and raw from where she had bitten the nails down to the quick. As Casey started the engine, her thumbnail found its way back between her teeth, blue eyes feverish with worry as she stared into the middle distance. 

She was very anxious, for all that she seemed determined to keep it to herself in present company. Her sideways glance at Casey made it clear that she wanted to share her thoughts with him; a flick of her eyes toward the rearview mirror decided her continued silence.

On the bench seat beside him, Splinter watched Lou take out his own phone. It was a thin flat device, held in a protective case that looked like it would probably survive an apocalypse. The caller ID on the screen was a picture of that behemoth snapping turtle in a fuzzy pink hoodie, squeezed cheek-to-cheek with his tiny spotted brother so they both fit into the frame. 

“Red, this is no time to screen my calls!” Lou said when the tinny automated voice encouraged him to leave a message. “Contact me at once or you are grounded for a month! No, two months!”

“They are probably in no position to answer,” Splinter pointed out, Lou’s restlessness leaving him feeling ill-at-ease. “I am sure they are fine. My sons have been in situations like this countless times.”

Lou pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yoshi, I’m going to level with you. I don’t know how to explain that it’s weird you have become desensitized to the news that your children are in danger. My Baby Blue once locked himself inside a prison dimension with an evil killing machine, and less than a year after that he almost cracked his foolish head open on that ridiculous half-pipe mimicking some superstar skater, and my soul left my body in exactly the same manner both times. That never changes. It has never gone away.”

It was disingenuous of Lou to presume that Splinter did not worry after his sons. Of course he did. They were his greatest pride and it was a privilege he did not deserve to have raised them. 

But they were not the clumsy toddlers they once were; at some point, the parent must let go of the bicycle and step back, or the child will never learn to ride it. 

Splinter could not say he had ever taken the time to consider what it might have been like to meet another version of himself—one who had lived a similar life but had made different choices. He almost did not recognize himself at all in the fussy, short-tempered mutant sitting beside him. 

Lou checked his phone no less than eleven more times during the twenty-minute drive. By the time Casey finally announced, “This is it,” Lou was out of the van before it had even begun to slow. 

“The two of you must remain here,” Splinter told the teenagers in the front firmly. He couldn’t help but think of Lou’s scolding from earlier, and added, “If there is any sign of danger, escape at once and go to the Mutanimals. They will help.”

“I texted the group chat earlier and they haven’t seen it yet,” Casey said, flicking through his phone to double-check. 

“We can’t just leave you,” April added with enough stubborn loyalty that she could have been Raphael’s twin sister. 

“You absolutely can leave us, or you will be grounded, too,” Lou interjected from over by the door, his voice taking on that sharp no-nonsense tone Splinter had last heard directed at Blue over breakfast to curb his relentless teasing of Donatello. 

‘It is just how he and Purple show affection to each other,’ Lou had explained to Donatello, whose shoulders had begun to creep up towards his ears the longer Blue carried on. ‘That does not make it any less irritating for the rest of us though!’

‘Skill issue,’ his twins said in unison. 

‘I will cram all three of you into the get-along shirt! Do not test me!’ Lou had snapped in that particular tone that caused his children to grumble and sulk but ultimately obediently subside. 

Similarly, April scowled but did not seem willing to argue any further. Splinter would have expected her to give a Miwa-worthy retort that she was too old to be grounded and not Splinter’s daughter to discipline besides, but she only jerked her chin in a barely passable nod and said nothing more. An equally unhappy but unargumentative Casey turned off the headlights and twirled the steering wheel, backing the van up and parking it by the access road.

Lou had already kicked the reinforced door down by the time Splinter joined him, and he barely had a moment to think My seventeen-year-olds are stealthier than that before he realized Lou had not come with stealth in mind.

He had the first unfortunate human within his line of sight pinned to the ground with a knife in seconds, barking, “Where are they? Where are they?”

The human, caught unawares, coughed at the unforgiving pressure on her windpipe, and managed to wheeze out, “Wh-who do you—”

“You are a scientist, and therefore I know you are not an idiot,” Lou hissed, much like the animal he had been mutated with. “Do not waste my time acting like one.” 

The woman scrabbled at his arms, for what little good it did. Her eyes, behind the clear visor of the gas mask, were wide with fear. To her credit, she steeled herself enough to cling to whatever mission she and her associates seemed to have rallied behind, saying, “So many incredible things could be—be accomplished—if we had a chance to study the mutagen more closely, if we had test subjects with human-like intelligence. It’s closer to magic than science, and we could do so much—”

“You would experiment on children? My children? Turn them into lab rats?” The last he said with a very personal sort of dark anger. The scientist coughed again, and her renewed struggles were a desperate, animalistic thing as she lost the last of her air beneath the unrelenting press of Lou’s hand. “Is that what you think you should be saying to me? Is that what you think will save you—an appeal to the greater good?”

Splinter dispatched the handful of people who streamed into the room in a series of swift strikes. They were unconscious before they hit the ground.

“Lou,” he said, “that is enough. We are here for our sons.”

He was not unsettled by the shorter rat’s capacity for violence. He knew himself better than that. But he did not understand Lou’s hair-trigger temper, his turtle-shaped blind spot. He couldn’t speak for the other’s students, but Splinter’s own were experienced, and tempered, and incredibly skilled. After everything they survived and accomplished together up until now, he found it hard to believe that an organization of regular humans could pose much of a threat to their well-being. 

From the way Lou was acting, it was as if he was any ordinary parent whose ordinary children had been taken in the night. 

Splinter shifted to intervene when the woman Lou had pinned continued to choke. Finally, Lou released her enough that she could heave in desperate breaths. 

“You would not actually kill her,” Splinter chided him, no fan of theatrics. 

“Someone has not been paying attention,” Lou replied shortly. “If my boys are hurt, I will burn this building down with everyone inside it. Honor can go hang itself.”

With that, he removed the woman’s gas mask and informed her that she would lead them to the turtles without making a scene, or she would bleed to death on the floor and they would find the turtles on their own. White-faced, she wisely settled for the first option. 

Leading them toward the back of the building, where rooms that were once offices had since been repurposed into labs and testing areas, the woman said hoarsely, “I didn’t know they were kids.”

Like clockwork, Lou’s fur bristled with offense. “They are wearing matching Sanrio hoodies. They speak in memes. I am sure at least one of them called you a boomer to your face.”

“No, I meant,” she said, touching her bruised throat briefly before dropping her hand, “I meant I didn’t know they were someone’s kids. I’m—I wouldn’t have—sorry. We were trying to do good. I’m sorry.”

“Hmph. I will consider forgiving you in roughly one hundred years as long as my turtles are completely fine. This door here?”

He kicked it down before she could move her head more than one half-inch in a nod. There was a flurry of excitement inside, and then Blue’s voice rang out, “Daddy!”

He sounded ecstatic to see his father, but not at all shocked. His words were a little slurred as he went on, “I told them you’d be here any minute. Our cousins over there wanted to stage a break-out, and I was like. Just nap. You know? Just take five. See, Miguel’s got the right idea.”

“Hush, silly turtle,” Lou said, his tone now a complete departure from how he had sounded for the last half hour. “Come here, let me look at you all. I need to be absolutely certain no one in this building deserves to die before we leave.”

Splinter joined him inside the room in time to take in the sight of the shorter rat attempting to hold all four of his much larger sons in his arms. Orange was deeply asleep in Red’s lap, his smaller stature probably contributing to the higher concentration of the drug in his system. The twins were upright at a forty-five degree angle, and Red himself seemed groggy but alert for the most part. They were smiling as they absorbed their father's fussy attention, leaning into his hands.

Comparatively, Splinter’s own sons were swaying where they sat. Michelangelo’s eyes were open, but his head was resting on Donatello’s shoulder, Donatello’s cheek propped on the crown of his little brother’s head. Raphael was wired, digging fingers into his thighs to keep himself awake, while Leonardo seemed to have been startled out of a meditation by the door crashing down. 

They all lurched with surprise to see Splinter standing there. Leonardo in particular gazed up at him with wide eyes, as if he didn’t know what to do now that the task of rescuing the seven others was no longer his responsibility. As if he had no experience with a burden being lifted away once he had decided it was his to carry. 

For the first time all night, Splinter faltered. 

On the other side of the room, Blue said, “I’m, uh, sorry. I wanted to get us out, but I didn’t have time for more than one door.” 

“Dum-dum,” Purple said succinctly. “O’Neil and Jones would be dead if they were still here.”

“Dee’s right for once, Leon,” Red rumbled, “you made the only call you could.”

“But I should have been able to save everyone, right?” Blue said. “I’m the leader.”

“You,” Lou said sternly, holding Blue’s face in both hands, “are seventeen.” 

That’s right, Splinter found himself thinking, looking down at his eldest son. The brilliant boy he taught to read, the one he taught to fold origami flowers for his mother and sister’s shrine, the one he had stopped holding one day without even realizing it. He is. 

[tavyliasin]

Bouquet of the Frontiers - Wyll Week One Shot

Wyll Week Day 2 - Flowers

This is my entry to the Wyll Week Fanworks event that's running from 3rd-9th March - Please take a look at the other wonderful entries!

It's the night of the Tiefling Party, and despite being a true hero and helping keep all of them safe, Wyll finds it difficult to join the merrymaking. He chooses a quiet spot by the water, away from the noise and celebration, reflecting on everything that's happened in the last tenday. His friends, however, don't want to let him sit out there alone. One by one they drop by, giving him gifts that mean more than they first appear.

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Click Here to read on AO3 5,701 words

Spoilers Act 1 only.

Canon Compliance The party is canon, most of the rest isn't. Though all of the flowers are real, and the symbolism matches mostly to modern European interpretations.

Other Notes I'll include pictures of all the different flowers at the end of the piece!

Mood/Song Life is a Flower by Ace of Base

"When every race is run And the day is closing in I don't care about the world I'm living for the light Don't cry for me today' ah ah ah

We live in a free world I whistle down the wind Carry on smiling And the world will smile with you Life is a flower So precious in your hand Carry on smiling And the world will smile with you"

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FULL ONE SHOT FIC BELOW THE CUT

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Bouquet of the Frontiers

The sounds of the celebrations were filling the camp. Songs and laughter, drinks raised, stories swapped between old friends and new ones. But for Wyll… It was all a little too much, at least for now. He slipped away not long after the first bottle was opened, taking a lesser vintage for himself and a few pieces of simple food from the table. 

It was quieter to sit by the water’s edge, looking out at the moonlight reflecting on the rippling surface, grateful that it wasn’t mirror-smooth to show his reflection. He subconsciously reached up and touched his horns, pulling back in an instant as if he had touched a heated pot on the stove. His head ached, still unused to the balance of extra weight curling around and back;, the horns themselves were sensitive at times, too. 

Everything had changed. Again. 

Wyll had just about accepted his fate in leaving his home behind and taking up the mantle of the hero, stepping in to help the refugees from Elturel the moment he found them after escaping the grasp of the mindflayers. Out of the frying pan, into the fire, though. Or in this case, out of Avernus and into the pitfalls of a contract written by one who stretched the truth to its limits.

He didn’t regret it, not for a second. The loud laughter booming from the Tiefling woman in the middle of the party was a comfort. He would gladly accept the torture of feeling his entire body being transformed before killing Karlach, who was a victim of the Blood War as much as he was. She was having fun. Laughing, smiling, making friends with anyone who took long enough to realise she was more than she appeared to be on the surface. The irony of the thought escaped him as he continued to fret over his own changed looks. 

“He looks sad.” The voice of one of the children - he couldn’t remember which - broke him out of his thoughts. 

“Come on, quickly!” Several more followed, giggling, the sound of small footsteps carrying mischief quickly came closer. 

“Now hold on just a moment-” Wyll tried to stop them, though he feared reaching out in case one of them got hurt. 

“Nope!”

“Not gonna!”

“Come on, Mister, you’ll look nice!” 

The group of them were working like a terrifyingly efficient team, leaping and scampering around him, weaving vines around his horns before taking his hands and pulling him to his feet. 

“Careful, I don’t want to-” They cut him off again with their giggling, as the vine wove around his outfit, each of the children swapping around to dance with him as he was wrapped and decorated. “What is all this?”

“You weren’t at the party.” 

“So we brought the party to you!”

“You look pretty…” 

Wyll couldn’t help but laugh. “Pretty? The stone eyed monster is pretty now?” 

“Mmhmm.” The children nodded, all in agreement with their assessment.

“Thank you, I think.” He patted each of them on the head in turn, a little regretful that he didn’t have any treats to give them. 

“Alright, tiny soldiers, hup hup!” Karlach appeared with a beaming smile, ordering her small army to line up with sharp salutes. “At ease, now go on back to the party - Gale and Rolan said they’re going to do some magic tricks soon!”

“Magic’s a bit boring…” 

“Everyone will be distracted though, not looking at their pockets.” 

“Oooh! You’re right!” 

Before either of the adults could stop them, the miscreants scampered off back to the main party, giggling and conspiring with one another as they went. “Are you sure it’s safe to let them go pickpocketing?” Wyll raised an eyebrow towards Karlach, but her smile didn’t fade.

“Oh, they’ll be just fine! Didn’t you get into a little trouble at their age? Or were you running around with a pot lid and spoon playing the hero to stuffed toys?” She gave him a playful nudge with her elbow.

“I didn’t go around stealing from anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.” He sighed a moment, taking a seat back on the fallen log he’d been on before. “Sorry, Karlach, I’m not the best company right now. Go on and enjoy the party, please - don’t stay out here on my account.” 

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” She took a seat nearby, leaving enough space to not worry about an accidental touch burning him. “So, what’s eating you? Is it the horns? Gods, they’re a pain sometimes.” 

Wyll watched her as she talked a mile a minute, the brightness of her eyes never dulled, her gestures adding to the feeling of how passionate she was as she spoke. 

Karlach pointed to the stump of her horn, rough from the break. “When I first lost this one, gods it was so hard to get used to. My balance was off for weeks! And I kept reaching up or ducking through doorways on that side like it was still there - ridiculous, right?” 

“No, not ridiculous at all.” He looked at her with concern. “Does it still hurt?” 

“Come on, Wyll, that was meant to make you smile at least a little!” She poked the stump of her horn. “I feel it, a little, but less and less with time. Part of my devilish charm now, might as well own it.” 

“You’re not a devil, Karlach.” He looked deep into her eyes, the softness in them clearer than ever as she blinked, perplexed. “I wish I had seen that sooner.” 

“No use dwelling on the past, soldier. Plenty more problems ahead to kick us in the arse all over again.” She looked over his shoulder for a moment, leaning around and plucking something from the bushes behind him. “Well, will you look at that. Just like us!”

The flower she quickly placed in his hand - before it could char in her grip - was strangely familiar. The centre of the blossom was a large pale yellow petal that curved in an almost egg-like shape, with a hole like an open hood in the middle. At one end of the oval, there were three dark burgundy petals, one rounded and curled, but the other two were thin and twisting, curled out to the sides-

“Just like our horns.” She repeated, quieter this time, her eyes fixed on the delicate bloom. “Well, you’re already decorated with leaves, why not add that one too?” 

“An infernal flower for a cursed fiend?” He contemplated it, hesitating until she corrected him.

“Enough of that. You know already, don’t you - it’s not what we look like that makes us who we are. Besides, it’s pretty, right? So it suits you.” Karlach patted him on the shoulder, standing up to leave again. “I’ll leave you to it, but you know they’d love to see you. Out there. Where the actual party is.”

“I’ll…” He paused, looking at the flower once more before tucking the stem into his hair at the base of his horn. “I’ll think about it. Thank you, Karlach.” 

“Don’t mention it, soldier!” She beamed, smile brighter than the moon, tail swishing behind her with a spring in her step as she left him to his thoughts for a while.

He didn’t have long to himself before another voice cut through the bubble of quiet by the water. “So this is where you’ve been? And you took the good wine, I see.” Wyll turned to see Shadowheart approaching, empty chalice in hand and a wry smile. “Mind sharing a drop?” 

“I’m sure they have a better vintage back there.” He said, even as he was picking up the bottle to top up her goblet as well as his own. 

“Maybe.” She replied, already taking a seat beside him. “But then you’d be out here on your own, wouldn’t you?” 

“You don’t need to be here on my account.” He countered, watching her expression for any clue as to what she was really thinking. The cleric kept everything close to her chest, so it was hard to tell what she really wanted.

“You don’t need to be so suspicious - Karlach mentioned you might be getting some headaches from your…situation.” She gestured to his horns, pulling a couple of herbs from her pack. “The wine certainly won’t help with that, not by morning anyway. So take these, and make them into a tea. Consider the drink as payment, if you must.” A wry smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “Oh, cheer up, Wyll. They’re celebrating all of us, you know.” 

“I feel more like a decoration than a guest right now.” He gestured to the new adornments to his outfit.

“So you do.” She smiled, reaching back into a pouch at her side and drawing out a stem of large violet flowers. “Do not touch this one with your bare hands, and definitely don’t get it near your food.” 

“You’re giving me poison?” Wyll leaned back involuntarily as her gloved hand came closer with the plant. 

“It’s not poison if you treat it with care.” She took a little of the vine that was around his right horn and wrapped it gently around the blossoms, being cautious to secure the stem without damaging them. “Call it…a reminder. That even though something might be dangerous, it can also be quite beautiful.” She wiped her glove carefully with a clean cloth, rinsing with a little water from her flask. 

“Are you still talking about the flowers?” He took a sip of his wine as he watched her stand. 

“Maybe,” she smirked. “Hold still.” She laid her bare hand on his forehead for a moment, a wave of cooling and soothing magic washing through him, the dull throb at the base of his horns melting away, and even a few lingering bruises from the day’s battles healing in an instant.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Wyll looked up at her, trying to find the right words for gratitude but falling somewhat short.

“No, I didn’t. But I wanted to.” Shadowheart began to walk away without leaving a chance for him to reply, though she did call back over her shoulder. “Thanks for the wine, Wyll. Perhaps next time we can share more time with it as well.” 

—

The next voice to disturb the peace carried a familiar lyrical quality. “Wyll, darling, why are you out here all by your lonesome? No dance partner catch your eye for the evening?” 

He looked up to see the owner of the voice sauntering over, carrying with him half a bottle of wine and a few white flowers. “Not you as well - is this entire camp determined to turn me into a bouquet?” 

“And what would be wrong with that?” Astarion grinned, a hint of sharp fangs glinting in the moonlight. “Have you forgotten the old tradition of fair maidens giving flowers to their gallant knights on the eve of battle?” 

“You’re not a maiden, it’s not the eve of battle - it’s the night after it - and I’m hardly a knight.” Wyll argued, though he made no move to get up or leave as the pale elf began to place the blossoms at different points on his outfit.

“Oh, details, details. Does it matter? They suit you.” Astarion took a couple more moments to check the positions of the flowers, before standing back with a satisfied nod to himself. “And you, my dear warlock, have plenty of the qualities of a knight. Heroic, chivalrous, and that dreadful habit of being all too ready to throw yourself onto the sword to save someone else’s sorry hide.”

“We all have a duty to protect those who are weaker than us, to stand up for what’s right.” Wyll sat up a little straighter, feeling the slight swell of an older pride stirring in his chest. “You would do well to remember that, yourself, sometimes.” 

“Perish the thought - no, I’ll leave the good deeds to you, darling. The whole shining armour thing never suited me anyway. Clashes terribly with my complexion.” He ran his fingers through his hair for a moment for emphasis on the last part, smoothing it to just the way he preferred his waves to fall. “It suits you, though. Better than that stern look, at least.” 

“It’s never too late to change, Astarion.” The warlock tried to appeal to the vampire’s better nature - if he had one. The man didn’t seem entirely evil, but he was harder to read than Shadowheart.

“That wine really is going to your head isn’t it~” Astarion laughed, brushing off the comment and turning to leave once more. “Do remember to have a little fun sometime, Wyll. Happiness isn’t deadly, you know.” 

Wyll leaned back, taking a moment to look up at the stars. He wasn’t unhappy, not entirely. But if even Astarion was trying to cheer him up then maybe he should at least make more of an effort.

The sounds of the party grew louder again, the bard starting a new bawdy tune, with the crowd clapping along. 

Later. An effort can be made later, when it is a bit calmer. He reasoned to himself. Plenty of night left. 

—

Dammon’s footsteps were so soft that Wyll barely noticed the Tiefling approach until he was standing right next to him.

“Do you know what they mean?”  The blacksmith asked quietly, gesturing above. “The stars, that is.” 

“I have no idea,” Wyll laughed, the warmth of the wine making the corners of his mind just a little fuzzy around the edges now. “Do you?”

“They’re beautiful, I know that much.” Dammon turned to look down towards him, the sparkle and warmth in his expression not so dissimilar to the twinkling of the constellations above. “We can give them our own meanings, though, can’t we?”

“Then what meaning do you see up there, out in the dark?” He couldn’t help the curiosity, and the blacksmith’s presence alone felt somehow calming.

“Freedom.” Dammon replied simply, a hint of something deeper behind bright eyes. “To be out here, looking up at the stars - it means we’re still alive. And that we’re no longer trapped in Avernus.”

“We’ll get you all to the city, somehow.” Wyll felt the need to reassure him, noticing the edge of fear between calm words. 

“We should be able to make it most of the way.” A new voice joined them, as Zevlor strode into view. “So this is where the man of the hour had disappeared?” 

“It is quieter here, at least.” Dammon reached into the pocket of his apron, pulling out some small pinkish red flowers, similar to daisies but with a deep orange centre of pollen, the petals curling back a little. “These make a nice addition, if you don’t mind?” 

“Please, go ahead.” Wyll shrugged, accepting his fate to become a walking bouquet, but not averse to the gentle nature of the Tiefling threading them into the back of his locs with care.

“A fitting choice,” Zevlor hummed, nodding his approval.

“Our Blade needs to remember that the same sword that cuts flesh can also slice a cake.” Dammon stood back, looking to be in deeper thought for a moment. “I hope someday that’s all you’ll need it for, and that I can go back to making tools and decorations, rather than instruments of war.” 

“Your steel has been a great help to all of us.” The old warrior patted his shoulder kindly. “Go and check on the young ones, won’t you? They’ve been giggling to themselves a little too much for comfort. I need to rest my old bones a while, and that looks like as good a place as any.” 

“I’m not sure I can keep that lot out of trouble, but maybe I can distract them for a minute or three.” Dammon gave Wyll a short bow, his tail raising behind him as part of the gesture. “Take care of yourself, my friend. I hope we meet again soon.” 

“You, too.” Wyll replied, a little lost for words for a moment as he considered how easily, and sincerely, Dammon had called him friend. 

“Good fortune is hard to come by, but serendipity found us with both of you.” Zevlor mused, watching the blacksmith leave before taking a seat next to Wyll.

“Serendipity? It feels more like one long nightmare to me.”

“I know nightmares. Mine are filled with my mistakes…” The old warrior softened, the edge of pain carefully hidden again behind a kind sincerity. “You are no mistake, Wyll, nor are you a nightmare. Only a knight, and a fine one at that.” 

“That might depend on who you ask.” He felt the old conflict in the shadows of his mind - the wish to live up to an impossible standard, and the fear that he had already lost that chance.

“We’re the only two on this log - and of the two of us, you’re far more worthy of the title.” Zevlor laid a hand on his back for a moment, careful to avoid the vines and flowers, a gesture akin to a proud parent. “You will find your way, in time. Ah, and of course there is this.”

“Not you as well…” Wyll sighed with half a smile as the paladin pulled out a single beautiful violet flower. Three larger petals on the outside - with dark veins, a white band, and a yellow centre - surrounded narrower violet and white striped petals in the centre.

“I’m afraid so. If you’ll allow an old man to be nostalgic for just a moment, I’ve always been fond of these.” The tiefling fixed the stem to Wyll’s shirt over his heart with a small pin. “They suit you perfectly.”

“You make it too hard to argue.” He looked down at the new addition to his outfit, a question tugging at the back of his mind. “Do they mean something to you?” 

“A simple flower can mean a lot.” Zevlor smiled, a far off look returning to his eyes again. “But I think perhaps you should make them mean something to you.”

Wyll touched the edge of the petal with a careful thumb, thinking over for a while what a blossom might mean beyond just something pretty to look at. 

The two sat quietly for a while together, sharing a bit more of the wine and enjoying the sounds of their friends having a much louder gathering in the centre of camp. The laughter, cheers, and even the sounds of pointless arguments between friends who didn’t mean a word of insults thrown with drunken vigour - it was a comfort just to be near.

“It has been a pleasure, Wyll. I should go and make sure that everyone stays in one piece until morning at least. Should our paths cross again, I would consider us to be more than fortunate.” Zevlor groaned quietly as he stood up with a stretch. “Perhaps it would be even more fortunate should we meet again somewhere with comfortable seats.” 

“I’d settle for a rickety bed at this point.” Wyll complained with a smile.

—

It was a little longer before the next visitor arrived to Wyll’s little corner of serenity. “Lae’zel? I didn’t expect you to drop by” 

“Tchk. Expectation would mean being predictable. A swift way to earn defeat.” She admonished him for his words, but not unkindly. A hint of playfulness flickered across her eyes. “I hear we are to pay tribute. With these.” 

“Is everyone in on this?” He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head slightly as if trying to work out who had come up with this devious plot. Not that he was going to complain; it felt rare for the Gith before him to make such a gesture, and he had no intention of insulting someone who wielded a sword that large without breaking a sweat. 

“Perhaps. I was intrigued. Is this a usual custom?” Lae’zel came closer, carrying several long stems with a ball of tiny blossoms at the top of each. The smell of onions was strong which he quickly realised were from the flowers themselves.

“These are…unusual?” He stayed still as she threaded them through the vines on his shoulder, like a decorative pauldron of petals. 

“And what exactly is usual?” She hissed, though without any malice in her meaning. “Should we not be celebrating? There is strength in knowing what you’ve won…and enjoying it.”

Wyll shifted slightly as he caught her eye and the hint in her words, a little unsure of what to do with it. “Hard to join the party when I look like this. Like a monster.” 

Lae’zel laughed, her face breaking into a genuine and wide smile of amusement. “This? These horns, a few scars and ridges? Your horns are weapons, should you need them, and scars proof you are alive. That’s no bother to me, no more so than the fleshy noses and small ears of your kin.” She peered closely at his face for a moment, a little too closely. “As long as there are no ghaik tentacles, you are just fine.” 

“Well, that’s…reassuring?” The smell of the flowers was clearer now they were so close, but he found himself not minding the unusual scent. It was interesting to learn more about what his companions liked, and to a degree how they saw him.

“They suit you.” She stepped back, nodding firmly with her choice. “Come and find me later, if you want to share a fresh bottle.” She indicated the empty wine by his feet, long since emptied with Zevlor’s help.

“I’ll keep it in mind.” He gave an appreciative nod as she turned and walked back to the main celebration, seemingly satisfied with the brief conversation.

—

“Would you like to see a magic trick?” Gale’s smile was wide as the great Wizard of Waterdeep stood in front of Wyll dramatically, cheeks a little flush from the evening’s events.

“Don’t tell me - there’s something up your sleeve? Behind my ear?” He teased, already checking behind his head just in case.

Gale rolled up his sleeves with more performative flair, demonstrating there was nothing there. “Not at all, my dear warlock! That would be far too derivative and predictable, so no, far be it from me to bore you with those old parlour tricks.” 

“You do remember I know magic as well, don’t you?” Wyll smiled, still wondering where this was going, but entertained nonetheless.  

“Well, yes. But do you know…THIS!” Gale’s hands moved in the quick gestures of prestidigitation that Wyll knew well, the faint hum of an old melody singing through the Weave around them as the Wizard looked perplexed. “No, wait, that’s not right…it was…THIS!” A rather crude symbol appeared on Gale’s own forehead this time.

He stifled a laugh, as best as he could. “Are you sure that’s what you-”

“No, no… No idea what that just did, but I’ve got it this time!” The third casting produced a shimmering blossom in the Wizard’s fingers, the illusion sparking around the edges with the frayed Weave pulled into shape by his drunken spell. “There. This will do just perfectly.” 

The rich pink petals were soft and layered on each bud, open and closely packed around the stem. Wyll took it and fixed it to one of the few remaining spaces on his outfit carefully, hoping the magic might stabilise a little more. “But this one is an illusion, it’ll only last an hour, won’t it?” 

“Well, that’s the beauty of all flowers, is it not? Are they any less beautiful just because you know they’ll be gone in a few days? Are the petals less bright because they’ll wilt?” He wasn’t sure if Gale was still talking just about the plant any more, as his smile slipped for just a moment into a far off look. “Personally, I think they’re more special because we only have them for such a short time. We treasure them whilst they’re there, make the most of every moment we have to admire their beauty, burning them into our memory where they can never truly wilt.”

“I must admit, I’ve never thought of it like that.” He found himself a little lost for words, fingers lingering on the edge of soft petals.

“Well, it would also be a shame for them to be all gone before the night is over, so I did bring some real ones too.” The spectral form of Mage Hand floated out from where it had been hidden behind the wizard, carrying three more of the same flowers in a small bouquet of pale pink, rich magenta, and a vivid violet. 

“You are full of surprises, Gale of Waterdeep.” Wyll couldn’t quite hide the genuine astonishment at the gesture. 

“I told you so.” The wizard winked. “I dare say there’s plenty to all of us that we don’t yet know - some more than others, of course - but that’s where the fun is. Although, it really is more fun out there, with all of our companions and their secrets. Who knows what Shadowheart might let slip if we give her just a bit more wine!” 

“Soon.” Wyll nodded. “I just need a little more time, if that’s alright.” 

“I shan’t force you.” Gale smiled, leaning down a moment to straighten the magical flower, the magic symbol still on his forehead. Wyll contemplated telling him, knowing the spell would last an hour if not erased, but truthfully he didn’t want to ruin the moment. “Thank you for allowing a humble wizard to entertain you for a while, at least.”

It was hard not to laugh again at the bow and flourish that followed his parting words, but perhaps it was intentional after all? Well, he thought, someone���s going to tell him soon enough. 

—

Sure enough, the laughter from the camp - and the indignant cry of mock-injured pride that - followed it carried clearly on the night air.

“You could have told him.” Halsin chided gently, sitting comfortably on the log beside Wyll.

“And deprive everyone of the fun?” He replied, a hint of a mischievous smile playing on his lips. 

“You sound brighter than you did earlier - and you look it, too.” Halsin gestured to the array of flowers adorning Wyll’s body and outfit. 

The look brought forth a question, one that had been playing on the back of his mind for a while now. “Did you put them up to this, Halsin? Turning me into a walking bouquet?” 

“Don’t you think I am a bit old for pulling pranks?” The druid smiled warmly, his deep voice just as welcoming and soft.

Wyll nudged the large elf gently with his elbow. “You’re only as old as you feel, or so they say.” 

A low laugh bubbled up with the response, still neatly evading the question. “In that case, I must be older than the Oakfather himself!” 

“He’s preserved you well.” The wine brought the words forth without much more thought beyond how the moon lit the druid’s admittedly handsome face. “Sorry, what I meant to ask was why? Why has everyone been so insistent on giving me flowers?”

“The children started it, I believe, when they decided to cheer you up with some games. They remember you looking out for them in the Grove, standing up for them, telling them all sorts of stories in the short time you were there.” Halsin began. “Did you know that ivy is known to represent loyalty? One of your many strengths. A fine choice.” 

“Plants have meanings now?” Wyll looked across the array of leaves and petals again, already wondering what they might be. 

“They do, and they always have.” The druid pointed to the first, the one Karlach had plucked from nearby. “This one here, Cypripedium, the Lady’s Slipper Orchid. It means protection against curses, hexes, and malevolent spells.”

“Isn’t that ironic? That something that looks so devilish is meant to be protective against them?” Even the petals looked like the curling horns of an infernal beast…

“Are your horns, or Karlach’s, or even Zevlor’s, are any of them a mark of true evil? There is more to nature than what is on the surface.” Halsin reminded him of how Karlach had spoken, how there really was no match between her hellish traits and the boundless positivity and kindness that radiated even brighter than her mechanical heart.

“Then what of this one? Shadowheart told me it carries deadly poison, hiding behind the pretty appearance.” Wyll was careful not to touch the flower that the cleric had carefully bestowed on him, just in case.

“Fitting for her, isn’t it? Look at the layers. A beautiful flower, hiding deadly poison, almost the opposite of your devil horned orchid. Aconitum Napellus, monkshood. To some it might mean misanthropy or treachery-”

“That’s hardly a comforting thought.” A slight shiver chilled his spine, fears yet to ease until Halsin continued. 

“But to others, it represents chivalry and knights who stand against those principles.”

“I wonder which she will turn out to be…” Wyll wondered aloud.

“No doubt your influence may be of help there.” Halsin patted his shoulder gently, cautious to avoid the various carefully woven plants. “Similar to Astarion, perhaps - those ones were his, were they not?” 

The warlock looked to the delicate white flowers, placed carefully and deliberately to balance the aesthetic like a florist arranging a bouquet. Quite unlike how some of the others had simply found a space to add their own offerings. “They remind me of stars.” 

“As well they should, they’re often called the starflower. Ornithogalum umbellatum, they represent trauma, mourning, but more importantly welcoming pain without repressing it.” Halsin’s voice grew quiet for a moment, dropping to almost a whisper. “I cannot tell you if they are more for you or for himself, but it wouldn’t harm you to work through everything that troubles you, unlike the man who hides it all behind an easy smile.”

“That’s not a very comforting thought.” Wyll felt a pang of that pain sting at his heart like a thorn. There was a lot he still needed to mourn, and that was no secret. And they had all witnessed… He wasn’t quite ready to think about that just yet. “Please tell me that at least Dammon’s isn’t so depressing?”

“The starflower is still beautiful despite the pain, and perhaps it is more symbolic that Astarion trusted you with something so personal…but the blacksmith’s gift was far more positive, much like the giver.” The druid’s voice grew a note more hopeful again, along with his words. “Echinacea, the coneflower. It represents a spiritual warrior and a shield, and the blossom is also well renowned for its healing properties. It represents protection as much as strength.” 

“Almost like he gave me a shield…”

“Your well-being is important to your friends, Wyll, you would do well to keep that in mind before you make any risky decisions.” Halsin seemed to be looking right through his eye in that moment, past the flame-tinted iris, and speaking directly to his heart. “Zevlor, too, his gift is one of protection. The Iris may have a simple name, but the meaning is layered. There are some who see it only as hope, valour and victory, but it may also represent pain, wisdom, and protection from evil spirits.” 

“A gift as complex as the one who gave it,” Wyll smiled. “I can think of none better from a paladin of his experience.”

“And I am certain he would be grateful you called it experience instead of age.” The druid smiled and pointed to the next flowers, the faint smell still clear in the night air. “Lae’zel chose an interesting one for you, Allium, the same plant as the onion in your stew.” 

“That explains the aroma.” He had to admit it was surprising for a beautiful flower to have such a strange scent, but it was beginning to grow on him as the night wore on. 

“The interpretation is fitting too. Mostly referred to as simply strength, those little blossoms are also nature’s way of saying you’re elegant, you’re perfect. You do not have to be a rose to be admired by those who appreciate you.”

“That is…surprising.” Wyll considered the words, wondering if she knew all of those meanings when the gift was presented.

“I should say that your companion is more surprising than you give her credit for, too.” Halsin winked, the meaning behind it completely lost on the warlock who was already looking at the next flowers.

The last ones to be given, one magical, and three more entirely natural. “Gale already talked more about these a little, though I couldn’t tell you if that was anything accurate or just the wine making its what into his thoughts.” 

“Those come from the same family as the humble cabbage.” Halsin began, already hinting a little of his own interpretation in the origin. “Matthiola incana, to give it the proper name, quite simply represents lasting beauty. His way of saying you'll always be beautiful to me.” 

Wyll felt the blush rise to his cheeks, each and every person who had visited him had given him something quite wonderful and filled with meaning. Whether they knew it or not, they had covered him head to toe in affirmation, validation, and a warm feeling of acceptance that threatened to sting at his eye with tears…he could probably blame that one on the onion, at least.

“There is one more.” Halsin held out his palm, a small seed growing in his hand and rising to a tall stem with a cone of tiny pink flowers. “Epilobium angustifolium, fireweed. I think this one most fitting for you. Bravery and humanity, Wyll, qualities that you embody entirely.” The druid fixed the flower front and centre, before standing up and offering a hand. 

“I’m not sure…” Wyll hesitated still. The party was still loud, and he felt almost a fool to walk in there as a living bouquet. Reluctantly he stood, careful not to let a single petal fall to the ground.

“Just for one song?” Halsin offered hopefully. “Although you may find yourself hard pressed to leave after one alone… You will not find yourself lacking in dance partners.” --- ---

ENDING NOTES --- ---

This was a lovely prompt to work on, so I'd like to add in the flowers for you here at the end so you have a better idea of how they look.

Please keep in mind that many of these flowers might be pretty but are actually poisonous. There are poison cures in BG3, magic, potions, and resistances. We don't have those in real life! Please do not pick, touch, eat, or even sniff any flowers that you are not certain are safe. This is also just general life advice!

Karlach's Flower - Cypridedium, the Lady’s Slipper Orchid.

Shadowheart's Flower - Aconitum Napellus, Monkshood

Astarion's Flower - Ornithogalum umbellatum, Starflower

Dammon's Flower - Echinacea, Coneflower

Zevlor's Flower - Iris, Iris

Lae'zel's Flower - Allium, Onion

Gale's Flower - Matthiola Incana, Cabbage

Halsin's Flower - Epilobium angustifolium, Fireweed

Ok and that's your floral lesson for the day! I hope you enjoyed my entry to Wyll Week - please do go and give all the other creations over on @lovewyll and on the tags some love, there are some absolutely beautiful pieces that deserve to be shared and seen~

[blackjackkent]

Quick chats with Cerys and Art Cullagh, who are both hanging around.

-----

"Back in Last Light, I was wracking my brains. How the hells do we get past the curse? And then a blinding light cuts through the darkness, like a blade through butter. All thanks to you, I hear."

Rakha never really knows how to respond when relative strangers are grateful to her for things that she did - especially given she wasn't really thinking about them when she did it. So she just kind of shrugs this off. She does tell Cerys about Zevlor, but Cerys is pretty skeptical that they'll see him again.

"He didn't have any fight left in him," she tells Rakha. "I looked up to him - we all did. But he let us down when we needed him most."

Perhaps she's right. Rakha remembers the beaten, defeated look in Zevlor's eyes - the knowledge that he was controlled and used by something in his head that wasn't him. She knows that feeling all too well.

-----

Art Cullagh is also complimentary of her, although his comments are a little easier for her to process.

"When Duke Eltan formed the Flaming Fist, he sought out people of courage and honor to fill its ranks. You saved Thaniel, lifted the curse, and killed an immortal. It's safe to say you'd have been recruited in an instant."

(A/N: I know I said this when I blogged Hector's run as well, but for gods' sake, can we PLEASE get this man a TOWEL, and then a SHIRT? He's been in the Shadowfell for a century; he doesn't deserve to stand out here just hanging around looking moist and uncomfortable.)

Rakha has no particular associations with the Flaming Fist except her interactions with Florrick - but those associations are positive enough. She isn't really sure about his description of her - courage and honor.

I fought to kill, and to not die. Is that courage and honor?

"How did you make it here?" she asks.

"A Flaming Fist. A novice, actually," he answers. "She dropped everything to make sure I made it here safe." He frowns. "I heard about Duke Ravengard's capture. If his soldiers are anything to go by, he is a man to admire and respect. I hope you can save him - for the good of Baldur's Gate."

Rakha is struggling to turn her attention to the "good of the city". She know she should... but her thoughts remain firmly with Wyll. If she does manage to find Ravengard, it will be for Wyll first, and the city very much second.

"What about you?" she asks, rather than try to explain this.

"When this land fell to the curse, I should have gone with it. Thaniel is the only reason I survived. It's only fair I stay here and wait for him to awaken."

Rakha quirks an eyebrow up. "And after Thaniel awakens?"

Cullagh shakes his head slightly. "I don't think there will be an after. The truth is... the Shadowfell broke something in me - something no healer can fix. I don't know how long I have." He smiles, without any trace of self-pity. "But... because of you, Thaniel is safe. Because of you, I could help him, as he helped me. So thank you, my friend, and know that I have no regrets."

Rakha stands there and chews over this for a long time after Cullagh walks away. Her life - the part of it that she can remember - has been a constant struggle for survival, hers and her companions'. To stay alive and keep from being consumed by her own violence.

Cullagh's calm acceptance of his own impending death, peaceful and serene, gives her considerable pause. Yet another thing she cannot imagine ever manifesting in herself. Yet another thing that takes a strength she does not possess.

[irrfahrer]

What was your muse’s first sexual experience? { *hides secret tape recorder* }

By the question a wolfish grin split the Tynnans muzzle like a open wound and she placed her teacup on the cargobox she was sitting on and leaned forward, purring loudly: "Ohhh, I don´t think that any of you could ever kriffing handle the kriffing amazing and kriffing sexy story of my first time! How could I ever risk of letting you indulge in the kriffing spicey details that for sure were not kriffing embarassing, kriffing awkward and kriffing cringy, because for sure every kriffing first time works perfectly and is not totally stupid! I could never dare to spoil you with a totally amazing time that was better than any other time I had had since!", Too dramatically to be serious Ziv placed a small paw on her chest, posing theatralically. She kept her act up exactly half a minute before the young woman bursted out in laughter, grabbed her teacup and took another gulp. The Hangars gates had been locked and closed as the night approached and the pilots had sat down together around a carryable battery-driven on of them had taken along like travlers would sit in old times around a campfire. One of the spacers had brought a bottle of spotchka as blue as the ocean to the group and Ziv had put a kettle with hot, red tea on the transportable oven so the hot, spicey scent soon filled the big, dark hall as if it was the sillage of a campfire. One of the pilots chuckled over Zivs antics and the Tynnan winked at them, before ending her act.

"Okay, yeh not at all sexy or spicy-", she explained rather unfazed and in fact almost bored: "So it happned when I was around fourteen with another Adept named Malkhaz and when I say it, I mean : we sneaked off in our lunchbreak in the sickbay, went to the next kriffing fresher, stemmed our feet against the kriffing door because the fresher couldn´t be locked and tried our best to not slip and crack our skulls like kriffing koja nuts. Around twenthy minutes later of instant panic whenever we heard a kriffing trooper pass by on the corridor we stopped or more exactly he had to stop and almost kriffing squashed me. And with "he had to stop", i kriffing mean- Malkhaz managed to actually do slip in the most stupid way, hit his head bloody on the tiles and was so kriffing groggy that I had to drag him halfnaked through the whole kriffing sickbay to my teacher so she could patch him up. Aren´t you amazed by this kriffing sexiness that for sure was not at all kriffing disappointing and embarassing and definitive a thausand times better than any other time I ever rolled in the bunk?" Ziv rolled her eyes and for a second she actually looked flustered with a red hue rising on the inside of her ears and on her small nose, yet she did not turned away and only laughed in all good humor, almost giggled. She did not regretted the horribly awkward episode in the fresher and she did not regretted having that expierence with Malkhaz. It had been sweet, like a drop of honey on the tounge or like the memory of Malkhaz laughing was sweet. And still in her mind. Then she shruddered, shaking the memory off like a too heavy coat and instead turned to Ben with a smile that showed the sharp edge of her teeth and did not looked soothing at all: "Well than, I showed you mine to have a good laugh, so where's Yours?" and then she added, just a little sweeter, a little lovlier and as sharp as a knife: " If you had one, that is, Benny-cub."

[ @kylo-wrecked ]

[saturnsorbits]

Play Away: Prologue

Fandom: My Hero Academia. Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Cheating. Word Count: 1.9k.

-> Series Masterlist

Bakugo is soaked. The soft spikes of his hair have wilted and stuck to his head, marking rough triangles out on his skin. Despite the rain dampening his clothes, you can still make out the dark patches of sweat spreading from under his arm-pits and across his chest below his collarbones.

'Did you run here?'

He doesn't wait for you to open the door properly and invite him in. Instead, he throws his palm against the wood and forces his way into the hallway. Pausing momentarily in the cramped junction of your one-bedroomed apartment, he just about manages to toe off his shoes before he's off again, striding away from you and vanishing into the kitchen.

You frown and shut the door. There's a small puddle on the hardwood where he's dripped onto the floor and you make a note to clean it later, after you've found out what's got him so wound-up, he's been driven to jog to your apartment at almost half-ten at night.

Following down the hallway, you poke your head into the kitchen and find him hunched over the sink. His arms are braced either side of it, his head dipped as he lets the rain drip from his hair into the metal basin.

'You're drenched.' Coming up behind him, you reach out and feel the wet material of his hoodie with your fingers. You pull at him. 'Give me these and I'll wash them.' Crossing the kitchen, you crack open the washing machine and pluck a washing tablet from the counter before chucking it in. 'You've still got some joggers upstairs I think.'

The faint aroma of linen fills the room as you pour a healthy dose of fabric softener into the washing machines draw and push it closed with a click. You've used the good fabric softener. The stuff you bought because his mum uses it, because it makes everything smell like him.

It's always been like this. The domesticity of it is almost sickening, but falling into it had been easy. Everything is easy with Bakugo, despite what everyone else might think. Turning your back on the machine, you look him over. 'You'll catch cold if you're not careful and you know the guys won't let you live it down.'

He grinds his teeth, jaw clenching painfully as he focuses on the steady drip-drip-drip of the water that falls from his hair into the sink. He hasn't heard a word that you're saying. He knows you're taking. He can hear the faint melody of your voice in the background of his thoughts, but it's not quite loud enough to break through.

'Katsuki?' You lean back against the counter and fold your arms, tucking your hands into your elbows. 'Has something happened?' Something heavy settles itself in your stomach. Your Baku-reading skills are second to none and nothing of what he's giving you now is good news. The thing in your stomach squirms making you want to throw it up, but it stills suddenly when he turns his head to look at you.

He's crying. The tears haven't yet breached his eyelids. They swim below the sun of his iris' and rest there, trapped in his lash-line.

'Oh, baby.' You're at his side in an instant. His shoulder is sticky and cold when you press your cheek to it. The cold only spreads when you wrap your arms around him and squeeze as tightly as you can. Slipping under one of his arms, you re-orient yourself in front of him so you can cling to his chest. You can hear the beating of his heart through the material of his hoodie. It's rhythmic, but quick. Too quick. Letting your hand slip down his back, ghosting over the thick strips of muscle below his shoulder blades, you fiddle with the hem of his hoodie and carefully begin to peel it away from his skin. 'Let's get you out of this, yeah?’

'I -.' His voice cracks and he regrets trying to speak at all. Dropping his head into the crook of your neck, he clamps his eyes shut and tries to focus on the way you feel. You’re warm and solid and for a moment, the thoughts in his head are quiet.

You kiss his neck, just below his ear where he likes it and he shivers at your touch. 'Let me take this off,' you whisper.

His moment of peace shatters. He can't keep this up. 'No.'

You pull back just as he does. Eyebrows furrowing, you stare at him hoping that the next words out of his mouth will dispel the growing unease infesting your insides. 'Katsuki, what's wrong?'

'Kiri -.' He looks frantic. His face contorts, eyebrows dipping, mouth pulling downwards as he chokes on his words. The tears lingering in his eyes are shining now, brightening his iris' and causing the blood vessels in his sclera to pop.

'Katsuki, you're worrying me.' You've never seen him like this before and it causes the muscles in your stomach to tighten as if they're trying to crush the panic bubbling there.

Hauling in a breath through his nose, he locks every muscle in his body to stop him from walking out, or collapsing onto the floor. He looks at you, at the way you're staring at him, at the way he can tell you already know that something is wrong, really wrong. It sends a surge of sickness through him. 'Kirishima...' He breaths through the sentence, forcing down the bile that rises in his throat. 'Kirishima kissed me.'

The sentence hits you oddly. You're even tempted to laugh, but the look on Bakugo's face stops you. It's the tightening pulse of his jaw as he clenches and unclenches it repeatedly to ground himself that tells you there's something else, something more, something you're not going to find funny. You swallow. 'He kissed you?'

He nods. The way your lips part releasing a silent gasp makes his chest hurt, but he owes you an explanation. He knows that much. ‘When we met up with the old gang - It, it was just us waiting for a taxi and he – he just... Kissed me.'

You tilt your head. The thing in your stomach stirs again and promptly gets to work mashing up your insides. Taking a step back, you chew the inside of your cheek. 'Did you kiss him back?' Bakugo's eyes drop from yours in an instant and you have your answer. Your chest constricts painfully. 'Have you -.'

He cuts you off. 'This is the first time it's happened.'

Suddenly, the ground under your feet feels uneven. The question claws its way out of your throat despite the sudden emptiness blooming in your chest. 'Do you like him?'

'I don't know,' He mumbles because it's true. The guilt in his stomach clenches, knocking the air out of his lungs. 'I'm so fucking sorry.'

A solitary tear breaches his lid and you resist the sudden urge to laugh again. The emptiness has allowed a subtle anger to build inside of you, one that only gets worse when you see the panic thaw in his eyes and melt to shame.

It's the shame that gives him away. If it was just a kiss, he would have laughed it off, made a joke of it, but he hasn't. 'Well, you kissed him back.'

'My heads a mess, okay – I -.'

'You what, Katsuki? You've just told me that you kissed Kirishima. You can't expect me to not want answers.' You don't shout. There's no need. No matter how hot the hurt burns, you don't reduce yourself to a screaming match. It wouldn't do either of you any good. Instead, you close the gap between you and lay a hand on his bicep. 'Kiri -.'

'I don't, I -.'

Seeing him like this hurts too. Weakness isn't something he wears well. You'd known that from the beginning. You squeeze his arm before releasing his bicep and tracing his shoulder with your hand. Mapping out the curve of his neck with your index finger, you rest your palm against his cheek and brush a thumb across the skin. 'Do you like him?'

'I – fuck.' He grits his teeth. Your touch makes him want to melt. Right now, all he wants to do is strip his sodden clothes from his body, run a scorching bath and sit you between his thighs, let your head rest against his chest as the water washes away everything that isn’t the two of you. Things had been good. Things had been so fucking good. Then, Kirishma had kissed him and lit a new fire in his chest. He just wanted to forget any of it had happened, but he couldn't. Could he? 'I don't know – I think – I – I need time.'

His confession makes you want to be sick. You don't ask him if he's still in love with you. You’re scared of the answer. Instead, you let go of his cheek, note the panic that announces itself on his face and flip on a smile. 'Okay... So, you're going to give me those clothes and go get a shower, I still can't have you getting sick.' You pat his chest gently. 'Then, I'm going to order that spicy ramen you like and we're gonna sit on the sofa until you're ready to go home, okay? You can have as much time as you need.' There's a warmth spilling down your cheeks. '… As much time as it takes for you to figure out what you want, yeah. But, I'm not going anywhere, okay... Not until you tell me to go.'

He nods weakly. 'I'm sorry.' The apology slips from his mouth like a prayer, like he's confessing his sins in the booth. He's not apologising for the kiss. Although, he knows he should. No. He's apologising for the betrayal. He's apologising because although Kirishima had initiated the kiss, it was him that had pulled him back in and slipped his tongue into his mouth to see what he tasted like. He’s apologising because when Kirishima had tangled his fingers into his hair, he'd pressed him harder against the restaurant's brick wall just so he could feel the throb of his cock against his thigh.

He's not apologising for the kiss, he's apologising because of what it did, because of what it means.

'Hey... Hey, hey, hey.' You clutch his chin, digging your nails into his jaw just enough to pull him out of his spiral.

Even now, as panic swells in his chest and he can feel the reality he knows crumbling under his fingers, your touch calms him. He bites his lip and smiles.

'Shower, now. Yeah?' You hook your hand over his shoulder and urge him out of the room. He leaves and you hear him pad back down the hallway, but it's only when you hear the shower gurgle into life that you finally let yourself go.

The sobs wreck your chest, shaking you to the core as the emptiness you've struggled to hold back surges through your being. It's as if every inch of you that loves him begins to scream. It's torture. You don't entertain the idea of being without him, you don't because you can't, because the thought of it steals the air from your lungs.

The years you’ve spent together stretch out and shatter. You think of everything you have, of everything on the line, everything you stand to lose.

But, one kiss won't get in the way of that.

Will it?

Next Chapter ->

-> Series Masterlist -> Full Masterlist

[marvel-trash-bin]

Taking Risks.

(Not my Gif.)

Summary: Zemo gives you what he thinks you deserve. *Some TFATWS Ep. 3 Spoilers.*

Pairing: Zemo x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Smut for days baby. Dirty Talking, Possession, marking, Soft!Dom Zemo. 18+ Only.

Word Count: 4.2K

Tags: @greeneyedblondie44

A/N: Look we all know we're walking dangerous territory, simping for a war criminal. But Sugar Daddy Zemo got me feeling some type of way and also, Daniel Brüle is hot asf. Also, I don't actually know german so pls if it's off just blame google translate, I just have an insatiable language kink and I needed the pet names more than air itself. I thought about making this a chaptered fic, but I barely had the time to write this, never mind chapters of it before he likely fucks over Sam and Bucky next episode. Anyways, enjoy!

Here’s the thing.

You knew he was dangerous. You knew his past, the EKO Scorpion kill squad and everything with the Avengers, manipulating them and breaking them up from the inside. He was smart, unpredictable. You knew there was a very real potential that you could be hurt - or worse - if you went down the road.

And maybe, in a past life that would’ve been enough to stop you. But you weren’t who you used to be. You liked playing with fire now, inviting danger and chaos rather than straying from it. You had lived in - hid in, was more accurate - Madripoor for a handful of years now. You laid low, kept yourself under the radar of the Power Broker and those who worked for him. This way, no one bothered you and you could live fragments of a normal life, Trading and bartering to make a living. But living this way, like forgotten trash on a sidewalk, got old.

Maybe that’s why when you caught his attention, you didn’t shy away from it.

It had happened so fast. You were dancing, just intoxicated enough that the rubbing of strangers' bodies against yours was not just welcomed, but encouraged. So encouraged that when a new body, tall and firm behind you, took the place of another, you didn’t hesitate to back up into the warmth. His hands gripped your hips tightly, not stopping or guiding you, just resting. Turning your head slightly to see what your new dance partner looked like, you startled a little seeing the Baron.

Helmut chuckled, a low sound you felt rather than heard, and ducked his head down to speak into your ear, “You know who I am.”

You let your body relax back into his, feeling reckless enough to bless the menacing man with your flirtations, your head falling back onto his, “I’ve heard a thing or two.”

“And yet you trust me to hold you like this,” his hands flex on your hips, just hard enough to show the strength they hold, “Like a lover.”

You grab one of his hands, leading it down to your upper thigh where your knife holster sits, never once letting his hand leave your body.

“If I didn’t want you touching me, you’d know it, Baron.”

The gust of breath you felt against the side of your neck and the large hand gripping your thigh had shivers rolling pleasantly down your spine.

“You are far too beautiful to reside in these undergrounds,” he spun you around in his grasp, allowing you to get a good look at his face, “A woman like yourself should be treated with the most expensive riches, the finest wines. She should drain a man of his earnings.”

You laughed, not expecting the words that came from his mouth nor how handsome he was, even this close, “Point me to the man who’s willing.”

He smirked at you, but there was a smugness to it. A glimmer in his eye that suggested he had the riches and the desire to give you anything you wanted. You felt like you were drowning in his gaze, lost as you were under the heat of it. He looked somewhere behind you, pulling his eyes from you to nod once at whatever, or whoever, had stolen his attention from you. When they returned to you, the heat and desire were replaced with determination.

“It is with great regret that I must leave you, for now,” He captured your hand, bringing it up to his lips, the softness of them brushing lightly against your knuckles, “I can get you out of Madripoor, give you a life you deserve. If you meet me tomorrow morning, the airstrip.”

The world felt like it froze around you. The rational part of your brain was screaming at you. You couldn’t trust him. You Shouldn’t trust him. But as you stared into his eyes you saw nothing but honesty.

“And if I don’t?” You ask, just to buy yourself some time.

His hand travels up your arm, taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger securely, “I will not pressure you. I’d leave you be, but the ghost of you would haunt me, schatzi.”

And with that, he was gone. Leaving you with nothing more than your thoughts, mentally preparing how quickly you could pack your things and leaving Madripoor behind. After all, you’ve always loved taking risks.

~

The next few weeks were a blur. Zemo was laying low, but his form of laying low was still luxury to you. It was private jets and upscale accommodations, not to mention that he was a man of his word. He spoiled you. Within three days of being in his presence, you had acquired a whole new wardrobe. Your suitcases - also new - were filled to the brim with the fanciest and latest fashion. You had rare jewels on nearly every piece of jewelry you owned. Maybe spoiled was an understatement. You’ve only dreamed of owning riches like these.

He had picked something particular for you to wear tonight, both of you making an appearance at some sort of party with some higher-ups. It was all laid out on the king-sized bed, a little black dress of sorts. It was short and sheer in its long sleeves, the sparkles in the fabric ensured that you would shimmer under any lighting. With a simple clutch, matching jewelry and a cropped, white fur jacket to keep you warm until you got to your destination. You looked good. You felt good.

He looked just as good. Sporting an outfit similar to the one you had met him in, instead choosing a dark red turtleneck to create a stunning relation between both your outfits. Nothing had happened between the two of you yet. Aside from lingering glances and innocent touches, he had been a gentleman. The chemistry was there, for sure. You were able to joke and talk with the man, matching his wit and charm every step of the way. And he loved it.

“Best behaviour tonight, schatzi.” He had said, low in your ear as you walked towards the venue.

You had smiled back at him, the perfect picture of innocence, “Always, Baron.”

And at the time, you had fully meant it. But you found yourself craving him. He looked too good, it honestly wasn’t fair. The way that ridiculous fur jacket draped over his shoulders, fostering a powerful ambience. And you knew he was faring no better himself if by the way his eyes were glued to your curves was anything to go by.

So, you decided, maybe you shouldn’t be on your best behaviour tonight. It’s not like you were making a scene or anything that would call too much attention. You were simply letting the alcohol take over your body. Whether that meant a hand on his thigh as you listened to the conversations around you, your fingers playing with the short hairs at the back of his neck or dancing a little too scandalously when you knew he was watching. You felt confident. And when you felt confident, you felt dangerous.

By the end of the night, you were teasing yourself just as much as you were him. You were pushing your luck, hands trailing a little too close to the bulge in his slacks, enjoying the way his facial features changed briefly in shock before settling back into that infuriating unmovable stoic impression. The last straw was you bending in front of him, having ‘dropped’ something from your purse. You only had to bend so much before the dress, as short as it was, had ridden up just enough for him to catch a glimpse of your panties.

In an instant, he had you standing upright, thanking whoever he had been talking to for a wonderful night, tugging your dress back down to a respectable length and steering you towards the door by the back of your neck.

“That was not best behaviour,” he growled into your ear.

You giggled, despite the tight grip on your neck, “I was just having fun.”

He had done nothing but stare at you, eyes hard with a warning that had you rethinking your actions. You had forgotten, for a moment, that this man was not just someone to give you all the pretty trinkets you wore. He was a mastermind, a criminal mastermind at that. A man most deemed dangerous enough to be locked away.

“You have been bad tonight, kleine Schlampe.” He said once he had gotten you back to his car, away from the prying eyes and ears of the party guests, “You will spend the trip back thinking of ways to make it up to me.”

The words sent heat through your core, and you did exactly as he said.

~

By the time he had gotten you up to your accommodations, you had thought of thousands of different scenarios that could earn you forgiveness for your recklessness. You were uncertain if his words earlier had implied sexual favours, or if a simple, genuine apology was all he was looking for. However, once he had turned to you, the room door closing behind him and his eyebrows raised expectantly, you fell to your knees in front of him like it was second nature.

He chuckles darkly at you as he peels his gloves off, tossing them gently onto a side table nearby before letting one hand brush away the hair that had fallen in your face.

“Seems you are meine kleine schlampe indeed,” You had no idea what it meant, but fuck it sounded good coming from him. His eyes were hard and dark as he stared down at you, “If this is the path you’ve chosen to apologize, so be it. But not here, you are meine schlampe not a common whore. Get up. Go to the bedroom.”

You did as he said, quickly pulling yourself up to a standing position and walking to the designated room. The bed, so far, had only been used by you. He hadn’t wanted to push or pressure you into sharing a space with him. He understood that just because you decided to join him, didn’t mean you wanted to be with him. But tonight, you had decided, you wanted to give him your everything. You wanted to show him how grateful you were for all the gifts he’d given you so far. And if you couldn’t give him luxuries, you would give him your desire.

“So,” he began, nodding in approval at the way you resume your position on the floor in front of him, “Let’s begin with the basics.” As he talked, he rolled up his sleeves, doing so with precision, “Tell me, what exactly are you apologizing for?”

He commands every drop of your attention. There’s an aura to him that you had only previously caught a glimpse of. His eyes dark and locked onto yours, never once wavering. Waiting. Calculating.

“For teasing you.”

“And?”

You take a breath, shame flooding your core at the answer that sits on your tongue.

“For embarrassing you.”

There’s a pause. He cocks his head, gaze softening just a tad. He's quiet for several moments, analyzing your words. Your heart starts to beat a little faster at the extended silence, thinking you’ve done something wrong and you can’t keep up the eye contact. You duck your head, averting your gaze to his feet.

“Look at me, schatzi.” His voice is soft, but still with enough edge to make you listen.

Only once your eyes meet his again does he continue.

“That’s very sweet of you, to be concerned about my image. But make no mistake,” He steps closer to you, letting one hand cup your jaw, tilting it upwards. His thumb brushes against your bottom lip, “You could never embarrass me,”

You dip your head, nipping softly at his thumb. He smiles softly at you, something glimmering in his eye, “I simply just don’t like to share what’s mine.”

Your breath leaves your body at his words and suddenly the need for him to claim you had you nearly vibrating in your skin. You watch, every muscle in your body clenched tightly, as he walks slowly over to the armchair in the corner, never once taking his eyes off you. He sits, legs parted, one arm draped off the side, the other rested so he could prop his head up.

“Proceed.”

Instantly, you make your way over to him. Once in front of him, you stand up on your knees, placing your hands on his knees and slowly sliding them up his thighs. They continue its upward motion, skimming lighting over the hardness in his pants and reaching to start on his belt. You make quick work of his belt and buttons, eagerly working his pants and briefs down. He chuckles above you.

“Mein Schatz, so eager to apologize.” He purrs, almost mockingly, hand coming down to brush the fallen hair away from your face.

Once you had him free, you took a second to admire him. Your legs clenched at the size of him. Not terribly big, but big enough to anticipate the stretch, the fullness. Your eyes flicked back up, looking up at his through your lashes, leaning in but stopping just before you could actually get your mouth on him. The hand that was previously fixing your hair was now clenched in it, messing it up again and forcing your head back suddenly to look at him properly.

“It would not be wise to tease me more than you have,” he warned.

A smirk spread across your features and you quickly realized how much you liked him like this.

Powerful.

Strict.

However, you knew you were on thin ice already. With that in mind, as soon as his grip loosened you licked a wide stripe up his length, swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him fully into your mouth. The tension his body held melted the second your tongue touched him. His mouth dropping on a soft groan. His hand stroked your hair as you sucked, encouraging the bobs of your head, not forcing but guiding. You keep your eyes trained on his face, not wanting to miss a second of experiencing him like this.

He glows in the low lamplight of the room, the shadows playing across his features delicately. You like him like this too. Reduced to a heap of gasps and moans beneath the heat of your mouth. As you suck, your hands wander, up under the fabric of his shirt, nails dragging down his sides. He hisses at the pain, but doesn’t tell you to stop.

After a few minutes of your slow torture, he decides he’s had enough. His hand tightens in your hair, his movements becoming less gentle and more demanding.

“That’s a good girl, take it all for me.”

You do as he asks, taking a breath before taking him as deep as you can. He groans at the feeling, hips shifting a few times to test you before beginning to thrust in and out of your mouth. Your jaw aches, but his eyes are on you and his thumb is tracing your bottom lip that’s stretched wide around his cock and you think for a second that you could spend eternity like this.

It’s not much longer before he pulls you off his cock, hand wrapping around his base tightly, “Apologies, schatzi. I am out of practice, and I fear I'm not quite finished with you yet.”

You laugh softly, voice rough due to your previous activity, “That’s okay, I don’t mind.” You insist, more than happy to let him finish like this. Whatever he wants.

He stops you before you can dip down again, standing up and taking you with him. For the first time, his lips are on yours. He overwhelms all your senses. His breath loud in your ears, his hands on your waist, his scent. His tongue slides against yours as he walks you forward, shedding his lower clothing as he goes. He only parts to give you an order.

“Turn around.”

As you do, he finishes undressing and it kills you that can’t see him. Just as quickly as the thought crosses your mind, it’s gone as you feel his hands at the top of your dress. He slides the zipper down, letting the fabric fall off your shoulders. You take the liberty of helping the sleeves the rest of the way down, the fabric falling down around your heels once you’ve done so. He hums behind you.

“Such beauty,” he whispers against your shoulder. His hands begin to wander, around your waist, up underneath the fabric of your bra, down to your thighs and ass. He chuckles, dragging your panties down enough that they too fall, forgotten at your feet, “I can hardly stay mad at you, liebling.”

Your head falls back onto his shoulders as he works your bra off next. You shiver, feeling bare and exposed before him. You want him more than you can express and you let your whole body fall back into his embrace, whimpering at the feeling of him, hard against the swell of your ass.

“Helmut,” you moan, one of your hands finding purchase in his hair as the other rests on one of his forearms.

“Tell me you’re mine, Schatzi. And I’ll give you anything you want.”

“I’m yours,” you say without hesitation, breathless as his hand dips between your legs, finding your clit. He hums, pleased at the arousal he finds there, “I’m yours. Only yours.”

He growls pulling his hand away from, “Lay back on the bed. I’ll be right back.”

You do as he says, positioning yourself in the middle of the bed. While you wait, you let your mind wander, listening to his rummaging somewhere in another room while your mind runs through everything you want him to do to you. At some point, your eyes must close because when you feel the bed dip, they open to see him crawling between your legs.

He’s done messing around, wasting no time before his face is buried between your thighs, hands maneuvering your legs so that they’re thrown over his shoulders, your heels crossing sweetly behind his head, no doubt scratching at his shoulders. Your breath leaves your body at the feeling of his tongue, warm and wet and fan-fucking-tastic. He alternates between dipping it in and out of your heat and flicking it against your clit. Your hand finds his hair, gripping it between your fingers and guiding his movements ever so slightly. His eyes don’t leave yours, spare for the few times he closes them to moan against you.

One of his hands move, leaving its place at your hip to sink two fingers into you. Your head falls back on a moan, back arching up when he crooks his fingers and finds your g-spot.

“Fuck,” you gasp, one hand gripping the pillow behind your head as you feel your orgasm rush towards you, “Fuck- Wait, I-”

You can’t even feel embarrassed about how easily your body has reacted to him. Before you can warn him much more, you're falling over the edge. Your thighs tensing around his head, back arching in pleasure as you ride out your high. In this moment you belong completely to him, unable to think of anything else.

“So sweet for me, liebling.” He comments, hands rubbing up and down your calves as you come down, taking a moment to unfasten your heels, letting the shoes drop to the floor before leaning back in. His lips brush against your inner thigh.

Then a bite.

“Such pretty sounds you make for me.”

And then he’s sucking harshly at the skin there, watching the shudder that rips through your sensitive body at the sensation. He doesn’t pull away until the mark is dark and flush against your skin. He continues this on the other thigh, on your ribs, your breasts and finally your neck, marking you thoroughly.

“Mine.” He growls, hot against your ear, “Mein schatz, will you let me have you?” he asks, and it’s literally all you can think about so you don’t even bother hiding the truth, the confession tumbling from your lips breathlessly.

“I’d let you do anything to me.”

He groans, capturing your lips in a deep kiss as he does so. He pulls away to grab the condom that he had put next to him on the bed and leaning back on his haunches to roll it on. You’re so impatient, nails digging into his thighs and arms, whining as you watch his hands work.

“So needy,” He comments, swallowing your moan as he finally, finally, sinks into you.

The stretch as he enters you has your head rolling back on a moan, your legs wrapping around his waist the bring him the rest of the way in. He buries his head in the crook of your neck, growling against the skin there.

“Fuck,” he groans through gritted teeth, his resolve quickly slipping at the feeling of you around his cock. And to his credit, he really tries to wait, to be good. But not seconds later he’s adjusting his grip on your hips and he’s thrusting into you with a force that makes the whole bed shake.

It’s barely been 30 seconds, but the build-up that had occurred throughout the entirety of the night had you right back on the edge, your nails clawing at his shoulders, his back, his thighs. Any purchase you could get on him, you were begging for more. You’d take anything he gave you without so much as batting an eyelash. His grip on your hips is tight and bruising, but the pain twists into a delicious pleasure that only spurs you on.

You must be speaking, babbling something back to him about how good it feels, how much you love being fucked by him because he’s laughing through a moan against your neck. He pauses for just a second, straightening up and throwing one of your legs over his shoulder before continuing to fuck you.

“That’s it Kätzchen.” He purrs, eyes moving down your body to where he enters your body, “Taking my cock so well.”

You mewl at the praise, your body arching in response to his words. Your second orgasm takes you both by surprise, having hit you like a fucking freight train when he thrusts particularly deep, hitting one of your sweet spots. You scramble for purchase on him, mouth dropped open in a near-pornographic moan that you’ll surely be embarrassed about later. But for now, all you know is pleasure.

His hips falter, stuttering as your walls tighten around him. His head falls back on a low moan, fucking you hard and slow through your release.

“Such a sweet cunt,” he gasps, “Mein Gott..”

And then he’s tangling your hands together, holding it high above your head as he pushes your thighs back, flush against your chest. He’s the one babbling now, words from God only knows what language, whispered against your skin as he chases his own release. He gives one last hard thrust and he’s done, his teeth dragging against the skin on your shoulder, moaning against you as he rides out his orgasm.

As you both come down, you stroke the back of his neck, playing with the hairs there, trying to catch your breath. After a few moments, he pulls away just enough to kiss you. There’s a lingering heat and it’s a little messy due to your shared exhaustion but it’s good.

Once you’ve both caught your breath, he removes himself from your body, taking the necessary time to deal with the condom. You watch him lazily, unable to do much other than that. You’re so tired. But there’s that ache between your legs that you love so much and you think briefly that you could go another round, if he wanted to.

He must see something in your eyes when he returns because he laughs softly, “I feel I may have my hands full with you, schatzi.” he says as he crawls back into the bed with you, covering the both of you with a blanket, the cold now biting at your skin. You know you have to get up soon enough to sort yourself out before bed, but for a moment you stay with him.

His fingers brush over your face softly, following the slope of your nose and the angle of your cheeks. There’s no real purpose to his movements, just... touching. As if convincing himself that you’re real.

“You are special, schatzi.” he says softly, “I don’t know what your plans are, but I can only hope that you choose to continue to bless me with your presence.”

This man is such an enigma to you. He carries such confidence in every aspect of his life and yet he still doubts your loyalties. There’s anxiety and pain hidden within him, you can see it in his eyes as he continues to look at you. You wonder, how much of his past weighs on his shoulders. How long before he deems himself worthy of your affection? You lean in to kiss him softly, your lips dragging slowly against him. When you pull away you keep him close, brushing your noses together.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

[salemwritesxx]

𝓲𝓷𝓮𝔁𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓭.

𝔹 𝔸 𝕂 𝕌 𝔾 𝕆 𝕌  𝕂 𝔸 𝕋 𝕊 𝕌 𝕂 𝕀

     ⇴ male reader [22, virgin]      ⇴ all characters are depicted as [18]+

↳ summary: Bakugou is a 34 year old pro-hero. He had been single since reaching his thirties until one inexperienced, young pro-hero caught his attention a few months ago – [Your.name]. For the past six months [Your.name] and Katsuki have been dating and without knowing it, both of them are struggling with their feelings and emotions, until it all explodes eventually.

↣ rating: / ↣ warnings: Age Gap (12 years), older Bakugou (34), shy virgin reader, cute, sexual tension, sexual things implied

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

Standing in the kitchen, you were setting the table while your eyes wandered to your boyfriend every now and then. Bakugou was in front of the oven, adding finishing touches to the dinner he had cooked, not really realizing you were looking at him.

With a small gulp you hastily turned your head again and stared onto one of the plates, your heart racing and blood rushing down south – just by looking. Though, who could really blame you? Katsuki was, despite your age gap, so fucking beautiful and handsome, it was hard for you to keep your cool around him. It also didn’t help that you hadn’t had any sexual experience yet. Thus, you were even more sensitive to… simply everything.

“No! Think about something gross!”, you yelled inside your head, because one glance to your boyfriend made your stomach cramp with all the happy, fluffy feelings that were rushing through your body. (Together with the very horny, very desperate feelings that made their way down south.)

“[Your.name]?”, Bakugou suddenly called your name and touched your shoulder, hence a yelp escaped your lips. You were way too caught up in your own thoughts.

“K-Katsuki-san!”, you stammered, an instant jolt wandering down in your lower abdomen making you gulp. He was so close, smelled so nice, looked so sexy, the way his plush lips looked so soft, his muscles from all the hard work, his pecs and yet the small waist and just-

“Are you okay, [Your.name]? You’ve been silent for a while…”

“No!”, your voice went high-pitched, “I am completely fine!”

With a raised brow, Bakugou looked at you, the pro-hero not really convinced. You didn’t know, you couldn’t know, but your weird behavior worried him. He didn’t want to show or say it, but he was insecure.

“Okay… Dinner’s ready soon.”

“Okay! Thank you, Katsuki-san!”, with that, you quickly turned around and almost fled into the bathroom.

He wondered if you felt awkward due to the age gap.

Biting his lip, he also turned back to the oven. Since he was already 34, Katsuki hadn’t even wanted to date you in the beginning, despite there being obvious sparks between you. But, having a 12 year age gap was not something that could be easily overlooked – at least that’s what he thought in the beginning. Now, he was very comfortable with you, however, some things started to feel a little… iffy.

You had been dating for almost half a year at that point and there had been NOTHING sexual happening between you two. By now, he was rather insecure and wondered if you just simply didn’t find him attractive or too old. But then again, you were the one who was persistent until he gave in to try and date you. So why was it so different now, a few months later? Did you not like him anymore?

It wasn’t like he didn’t want to initiate things. Fuck, he hadn’t had sex in like four years after his last relationship ended horribly and he needed time to be ready again. So to be dating and not have sex was bizarre to him, because if you would just try, he would willingly jump you any second – but seeing you so passive, he worried he would overstep a boundary if he dared to try something. You were so much younger after all.

“Ugh! I fucking hate this. Relationships are way too fucking hard.”, he thought while quietly sighing.

--

It all came crashing down a few days later.

Bakugou was freshly out of the shower and still drying himself, when he heard his apartment door being opened and your voice calling for him.

“Katsuki-san? I’m sorry for the intrusion, my friend just got me two tickets to-“, you said excitedly while walking into his home, however, stopped immediately when he came around the corner with a mere, short towel around his hips.

“Two tickets?”, he said so casually, not realizing how hard it was for you to stay calm as all your blood was rushing south.

“No- I- uh- uhm! I-“, you helplessly stuttered before turning around, literally about to just run away, when Bakugou, however, decided enough was enough.

And thus, he grabbed your arm, stopping you from fleeing yet again.

“Wait! What’s the fucking problem?!”

“No- it’s nothing, I just-“

“Kiss me!”, Katsuki then suddenly demanded, catching you off-guard.

You swore you were about to explode, but in the end, you complied and nodded. You WANTED to touch and kiss him, you were just too shy to act upon your pent up horny feelings. So once you stepped closer again, you leaned down to just peck his lips.

And Bakugou seriously thought you wanted to make fun of him. Thus, he grabbed your neck and pulled you down further, this time however kissing you fully on the mouth – hot, passionate and fiery. Thankfully, you immediately kissed him back and it truly seemed like you had relaxed a bit.

“Why don’t you stay the night, [Your.name]?”, he finally asked after pulling back, panting a little. However, he did not think your reaction would be so strong when you stepped back immediately.

“No, I can’t- I, Katsuki-san- and… uhm-“

And that’s when Bakugou simply snapped. Being rejected was one thing, but being rejected from the one who you were dating was definitely hurtful on another level.

“What’s your fucking problem, [Your.name]?! If you don’t like me anymore, just say it and LEAVE. I am done putting up with your shit. I am too fucking old for that!”, he was furious and yelled, before turning around and walking into the living room.

Now you’ve done it.

Your heart dropped into your stomach when you realized how stupid you had been acting the last couple of months, ever since that desperate horny feeling was taking over you.

“No! Wait- Katsuki-san!”, you hastily ran after him, “That’s not it at all! I really, really like you-“

“Oh really?!”, Bakugou interrupted you.

“Fuck, [Your.name], you won’t even fucking kiss me properly, do you REALLY think I am believing you??? Don’t waste our time and just be straightforward and find someone else who suits you better, huh?”

“Katsuki-san, no! That’s not it! I swear it’s not you, it’s-“

“Then what the fuck is it!?!?”

“I am a virgin!”, you then suddenly blurted out, cheeks flaming hot.

“Oh…”

“And you’re so hot and amazing and I don’t want to disappoint you with my non-existing skills and you’re probably weirded out because what 22 year old is a virgin nowadays, you know? Hahaha aha.. so-“, though before you could ramble on more and embarrassingly laugh at yourself, a hand on your cheek and soft lips on yours suddenly stopped you.

Once more, you melted into the kisses, your hands awkwardly placing themselves on his exposed waist. His bare skin underneath your fingertips felt absolutely amazing, you would probably short circuit if you were to touch him deeper.

“You’re so stupid and cute…”, Katsuki then whispered, all his worries and insecurities falling off his shoulders.

“You’re not… disappointed, Katsuki-san?”, you sheepishly mumbled.

“Why would I? I don’t fucking care. I was just… worried. Like you regretted asking me out and you weren’t into this anymore.”, now he was slightly looking to the other side, a soft pinkish hue on his cheeks.

“NO! I like you so much, Katsuki-san!”

Catching him off guard you suddenly hugged him so passionately you both stumbled back a bit and Bakugou’s little towel loosened and eventually fell to the floor. Which you immediately noticed due to the fabric landing on your feet.

“Oh…”

Though before you could pull back in embarrassment, Bakugou had cupped your face and kissed you – quick and soft, a mere peck really. But it made you stop in your erratic movement, even if your cheeks were warm and your [eye.color] eyes shimmered with embarrassment.

“So… how do you feel? Wanna stop running and finally try?”

“YES!”, the way your voice cracked and was all high-pitched was enough for Bakugou to grin widely – you were so cute.

“Good, because I was so fucking close to just jumping you in the next days.”, and with that, Katsuki pulled you down again, lips colliding and tongues meeting in a passionate embrace.

Your raging hormones were all over the place, but now that Bakugou knew, it was easier to let loose and not feel like you had to catch up to him. Because in the end, it was impossible to catch up on a 12 year old age gap, but at least today you could embark on your sexual journey filled with lots of love and lust.

｡☆✼★━━━━━━━━━━━━★✼☆｡

@salemwritesxx || do not repost, edit, modify or translate my works

⇻ salem.talks: I just find shy reader and older baku so cute. idk if I will write the nsfw to this but I am kinda wanting to… see how experienced baku just completely wrecks yn hmmm so yeah let me know what you think!

[wastelandlovingscenarios]

regret | deacon x sole survivor

“i don’t feel the same way, charmer.” his voice was barely a whisper.

sole felt a lump grow in their throat as they tried to fight back the tears that threatened to escape. they tried to let out a simple, “okay, i understand,” but only silence filled the air.

deacon knows. he catches the tears building up in their eyes and knows their voice is silently attempting to scratch its way out.

he desperately wants to stop their pain, wipe their tears and remind them that he thinks no differently of their relationship, but something in his heart tugs as sole fights back to hide their vulnerability from him. “i’m sorry.” is all he truly lets out because in reality, his words are just as lost as soles own.

to sole, his words become a blur. their knees become weak as their vision becomes clouded with tears they refuse to let out.

‘i’ll give them time,’ he thinks but his feet struggle to find movement as he continues to stare down at sole, speechless for the first time in a long while.

before he could make a move, sole rushes out of the room, not sparing him a second glance. the sound of the door shutting behind him breaks deacon out of his trance, grounding him back to reality.

a tinge of regret pokes at his heart and he silently pushes it away, knowing that this was for the best. he didn’t have feelings for them and it was nothing but the truth.

or so he thought.

-

the next few weeks are almost a blur for him as his partner goes mia from the commonwealth. the first two weeks, he tries to let it be, convincing himself that sole might’ve needed some time to themselves to sort their feelings out, so he lets them. seeing them might be the last thing they need, so he tries to fight the urge to do so.

yet, as time goes by, the worry in his heart rapidly grows when they’re announced as missing by the minutemen. he grows unnaturally quiet upon hearing their words and feels himself grow weak at the possibilities of what could’ve happened to his partner.

searching far and wide did almost nothing for him and only flared his concern. there was little to no clues of their disappearance and the hope that he would find them sooner or later began to slowly deteriorate.

deacon takes in a deep breath, trying to soothe his mind of all the concern and regret. how could he let it get this bad? why couldn’t he at least check up on them day to day instead of running away?

deep down, he knew the truth of it all. it screamed volumes to him and no matter how much he tried to silence it, it grew louder with every passing second. he avoided sole as much as they avoided him because deacon refused to confront the truth between them both. he never provided closure because he never knew how to.

and the more he refused to face the reality of the situation, the longer the days stretched. he found himself pushing everyone away, spending countless nights with tears streaming down his face, hoping someday sole would just turn up on the railroads doorstep. he didn’t care if they forgave him or not— he just wanted to see them safe.

tonight, he found himself with a bottle in his hand, hunching over the counter as he drank the night. he silently thanked lady luck for landing him in an almost empty bar for no one to catch the state he put himself in. unbeknownst to him, a certain mercenary watched his back from the minute he’s entered the bar till the very last drop of his nth bottle.

“you know, i don’t think that’s a very healthy thing to do.” deacon looked over his shoulder, and though his vision continued to spin, he automatically recognized the annoying face that pestered him.

“let a man ‘ave fun, asshole.” he slurred, trying to push out a grin. maccready rolled his eyes and occupied the seat near deacon, folding his arms.

“i’m serious.” mac pulled the bottle away from his hands, tossing it to the bin nearby.

“hey, i was-!” before he could finish, the mercenary cut him off, not wanting to listen to a word that left his mouth. “do you wanna talk about it?”

his words cut through the facade he tried to pull off and deacon immediately fell silent upon his words. “i know we don’t meet eye to eye all that much, but i hate to see you like this.”

as much as he wanted to lie to his face, continue his said facade, he wasn’t physically able to upkeep that image anymore. it was extremely tiring, especially with everything going on. he let out a sigh and allowed his head to fall on his arms that rested on the table. “you wouldn’ understan’.”

theres a pregnant pause, but he eventually responds. “i don’t, but i could try.”

it takes him a few moments to decide whether or not to confide in someone, especially maccready of all people. to his dismay, the words leave his mouth before he could stop himself from letting it out.

“you won’t tell?” it’s a point of no return— he knows — but for some reason, he doesn’t take it back. was the consequences of actions finally getting to him? probably. he didn’t have time to think as maccready let out a small, but shocked, “of course.”

and so he lets it out— not everything — but enough for maccready to get the message. how it all lead up this point and how it contributed to their disappearance.

“i think i made a mistake.” he says, voice barely a whisper. “i made a huge fucking mistake and i don’t know what to do.”

mac looks down at agent with sympathy, detecting the pain trapped in his voice and sighs, “we all do. it’s just the human in us.”

the rest of his words grow obscured as his eyes droop, the alcohol and sleepless nights finally catching up to him. slowly, but surely, the world blacks out.

-

it’s almost dreamlike— the feeling of his hair being brushed softly and the way a familiar voice lulls him awake. he lets out a small groan as his head pounds violently from what he hoped was the night before. he thinks it’s all in his head; the soft touches and the soft voice that continued to fall upon his ears. it’s so painfully familiar, yet it couldn’t be but he felt his heart jump at the possibility of it.

“sole?” his eyes shoot open but close back in an instant as the gentle light illuminating from the window cracks filled his vision. his head dips on what seems to be their lap, trying to block it out desperately. he felt the same hand that brushed his locks rest on top of his eyes to protect it from the sunlight that only made his head throb more.

“morning sleepyhead.” upon hearing that sweet sound, tears began to form in his eyes once more. the one person he’s yearned to see for what seemed like centuries was finally within arms reach. just like that, his tears fell effortlessly, collecting in soles hand as it streamed down his cheeks.

“deacon?” before they could remove their hand to reveal the tears spilling from his eyes, he quickly places his hand on top of theirs as a silent request to keep his eyes hidden.

“i’m sorry.” he chokes out, voice cracking through each word that left his lips, “i’m fucking sorry. i-“ he gently squeezed the same hand that rested on top of theirs. sole remained silent, watching as he spoke through ragged breaths. he tried his best to muster out his apologies, thoughts — feelings — through the pounding of his mind.

“everything i said, it was a lie. it was all a fucking lie just to avoid having some kind of attachment in my life. i hurt you because i was scared of facing my fears.”

“lie? scared? deacon, what-,” their words drifted into nothingness as deacon continued on.

“no matter how much i tried to run away from it, i knew i couldn’t. i had feelings for you. feelings more than this partnership that we both agreed to do, more than the best friends we claimed to be.” at this point, his feelings poured through the cracks of his heart and he knew that he would fix it this time, even if sole no longer felt the same way. “i fell for you hard. i was in love with you and i still am, sole.”

after a deep breath, he continued on. “you don’t have to forgive me. you don’t even have to give me the chance to love you properly, i just want you to know i’m sorry. i’m sorry it had to take you to leave from my life for me realize how much this meant to me. how much you meant to me.”

for a moment, it’s still; the air seems tense at first and time seems to freeze. there’s this sense of fear that overtakes his mind for a mere second.

soon enough, time seems to continue on as sole places a soft kiss on his forehead, allowing it to linger for a few seconds. “we’ll talk about this more when you wake up, okay?” they whisper and as reassuring as it sounds, he’s still terrified. terrified that he’ll wake up alone.

“will you be here when i wake up?” he tries to let it out calmly, but there is a hint of panic and unsureness in his voice he couldn’t push away any longer. all of that seems to melt away as sole lets out a small chuckle, his heart swelling with a mix of pain and relief.

“yes.” they reassure, “i’ll be here for as long as you need me.”

he let out a relieved sigh, keeping his hand on top of the one that covered his eyes. for the first time in weeks, everything finally felt right.

“love you, charmer.” before he could hear their reply, he felt himself being pulled into slumber that quietly called his name.

[parkerslatte]

Life’s Too Short

Spencer Reid x Reader

Warnings: mentions of injury

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Spencer is shot in the neck and Y/N sits in the hospital with JJ and Alex talking about her future with him.

MASTERLIST

***

The white lights in the waiting room shone brightly as Y/N bounced her foot up and down anxiously. Even though there were many people around her, Y/N felt alone and isolated. Obviously being in the FBI had its fair share of injuries but this particular injury to a particular team member had left Y/N unable to comprehend it.

Her hands shook as the memory of the traumatic incident replayed in her mind over and over again. She could still feel the blood pouring out of Spencer's wound as she applied pressure to it. She remembered how he looked at her - dazed but afraid to die. She remembered how everything around her seemed to happen in slow motion.

"Don't die on me Spencer, you hear me? Don't die," Y/N pleaded with him, "Stay with me, okay? Stay with me Spence, please."

Her final words to Spencer before he was loaded into the ambulance were frantic and slurred together. Y/N stood there and watched as the ambulance drove away. She didn't go with him in the ambulance. Now sitting in the waiting room, she regretted that decision. She had been told that Spencer was trying to ask for her in the ambulance before he passed out. If he died, Y/N would hold the guilt of not going with him in the ambulance for the rest of her life.

Alex, who had been sat next to Y/N, placed a gentle hand on her knee causing her to jump.

"It's only me." Alex calmed her. Y/N only nodded before her foot resumed it's light tapping.

"He's going to make it, he's strong." Alex tried to comfort Y/N although Alex herself was filled with the same fear as Y/N - though not as strong.

"He needs to." Y/N's voice was barely audible but Alex heard her fine.

JJ took a seat across from Y/N and Alex, her face was filled with stress and worry - for Spencer but also for Y/N. The blonde had never seen Y/N look or act like this. Y/N would always try to give people words of encouragement whenever something bad happened. But now, seeing her sitting there looking pale and worrisome caused a wave of sympathy to wash over JJ.

Y/N zoned out as JJ and Alex fell into a conversation. She wanted to be alone, although she knew that neither of the two would allow that. All she wanted to do was wake up from this nightmare she was living and be safe and sound in the arms of Spencer - alive and well.

"Could you imagine Spence as a dad?" JJ said, bringing Y/N out of her mind space.

Y/N felt like she was frozen. Her and Spencer had discussed before the topic of kids but Y/N didn't think she was ready and the topic was dropped respectfully. But now, Y/N realised how short life was and how it can be cut even shorter in an instant.

"Y/N, are you okay?" JJ questioned, "You're crying."

Y/N looked at JJ through teary eyes. Shakily, she brought her hand up to her cheek to find it damp. She didn't even realise she was crying. Hastily she wiped away the tears and let out a long sigh. There was a long pause where no one spoke. JJ and Alex both looked at Y/N waiting to see if she would speak. They both wanted to comfort their friend.

"Spence and I were talking about kids," Y/N broke the silence with an unsteady voice, she sounded like she ould burst into tears at any second, "It was about six months back."

"What did you say?" JJ asked softly.

"I said I wasn't ready," Y/N admitted, "And I wasn't, not then. With our job and everything I didn't think that having a kid would be the best thing at the moment," Y/N explained.

"I see it all the time but today I realised how quickly a life can be taken away. I never thought I would nearly see Spencer lose his life - he's fighting for his life in there and I can't do anything about it," Y/N paused for a moment, "I now see how short a life is and how easy it can be taken away. I've been desensitised to it for a long time but once it was the man I loved in that situation - I can't act normal. I feel like I'm deteriorating and nothing can stop it until I know that Spencer is out if surgery and safe."

JJ quickly moved next yo Y/N as both she and Alex comforted her as he body began to shake with sobs. Y/N felt like everything was closing in on her. JJ shushed her as her hand was rubbing up and down Y/N's back. After a while Y/N began to calm down. Her face was red and puffy, she for sure did not look attractive in that moment.

***

Not too long after JJ left to go and work the case. Y/N was told not to continue on it and be there for Spencer - and also considering the state she was in, she wasn't fit to work anyway. She was now left with Alex and Penelope. Y/N was glad to have Penelope around since the blonde could always make a smile appear on her face. Penelope Garcia was like a guardian angel.

Speaking of angels, a doctor had come into the waiting room. Y/N immediately clocked her and shot up from her seat. Her legs were slightly wobbly due to her sitting in the same position for however long she was. But Y/N didn't care, she needed to know is Spencer was okay.

As she approached the doctor, a small smile grew on her face causing Y/N to fill with hope.

"The surgery went well and he's in recovery," It was in that moment where Y/N almost ascended to heaven. Spencer was alive. Her Spencer was alive and was okay.

"I can show you to his room if you would like." Y/N nodded, not trusting her voice to speak. She was elated. All the worry had dissolved from her body and was filled with happiness.

The doctor led her, Penelope and Alex to the room where Spencer was in recovery. Every step Y/N took, the closer she was getting to Spencer. The doctor stopped in front of the room and gestured for the three to go in.

Y/N rushed in first. Spencer was sleeping on his bed. His head was slightly tilted to the side, his lips parted and hair messy. She walked to the chair beside his bed and took a seat. He looked peaceful in his sleep, a completely contrast to the last time Y/N had saw him when he was loaded into the ambulance.

Y/N took her hand in his and laced their fingers together. She brought his hand up to her lips and placed a gentle kiss on it. Spencer was okay, all that was left was for him to wake up.

***

The next thing Y/N knee was being shook awake. She groaned and slowly opend her eyes. For a moment she forgot where she was but then remembered as soon as she saw the hospital bed. She looked up and saw Penelope, who had shaken her awake. She had a smile on her face.

"Look who's awake?" Penelope said, looking to the hospital bed.

Y/N looked over at the bed and Spencer's eyes were open and he was staring at Y/N lovingly. Even though he was still a little drowsy and spaced out, he still thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on.

"Spence." Y/N spoke quietly.

"I'll give you two some privacy." Penelope said before leaving the room.

"Hey." Spencer said, his voice was raspy and sounded like how it did in the morning - Y/N loved it.

"You're okay, thank god." Y/N sighed, placing another kiss to his hand.

"Are you okay?" Spencer asked, squeezing her hand slightly.

Y/N let out a small chuckle, "You literally just got shot in the neck and you ask if I'm okay."

"You're eyes are bloodshot, they're red around the outside, your cheeks are puffy and-"

"Okay, okay, you don’t need to profile that I've been crying, it's obvious - even to someone who isn't a profiler." Y/N said, standing up. She hovered over him and placed a soft kiss to his lips before sitting back down.

"What was that for?" Spencer questioned.

"Because you're alive," Y/N stated, "I thought you were going to die Spence. When you stated at me before you were taken into the ambulance, I thought that was the last time I would ever see you alive."

"Y/N, look at me," Spencer said and Y/N looked up from their joint hands to his face, "Do you feel me?" Y/N nodded, "Can you feel my pulse?" Y/N nodded again, "Am I alive?" Y/N nodded a final time, "Then there's nothing to worry about." Spencer gave Y/N's hand another squeeze.

Y/N smiled and rubbed her thumb over Spencer's knuckles. He was real. He was here. And most importantly, he was alive.

"I was doing some thinking." Y/N started.

"About what?" Spencer said, getting slightly worried.

"About us."

"What about us?" His worry increased slightly.

"I realised how short life is and how easy it is to be taken away and I thought why wait."

"Wait for what?" Spencer asked, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I want a family," Y/N confessed, "I want to start a family with you Spencer."

Spencer's heart felt like it could jump out of his chest. Ever since he had met Y/N, he knew that she was the one. The one he would love. The one he would cherish. And the one he knew he would grow old with. There was no other person he would want to start a family with other than Y/N.

"I thought you weren't ready?" Spencer questioned. Even though right now he was internally jumping for joy, he didn’t want Y/N to feel pressured into doing anything.

"Well I am now. Life us short, why wait?" Y/N said.

Spencer smiled. His heart felt like it had expanded three times the size it usually was. He was going to start a family with Y/N. However there was one thing he wanted to do before.

"Can you do me a favour?" Spencer asked.

"Anything."

"Can you go in my trousers pocket and grab the box that's in there?"

Y/N nodded and began to rummage through his belongings bag. She reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a small velvet box.

Y/N was frozen. Only one piece of jewellery came in a box like this. She was stunned. She knew she wanted to start a family with Spencer, there was no other person she would want to start a family with. However, he had no idea he would propose, especially not now.

"Is this what I think it is?" Y/N asked, her voice slightly unsteady.

"Open it." Spencer said smiling.

Y/N complied to Spencer's request and opened the small box. Inside was a simple diamond ring but it was the perfect ring for Y/N. Tears began to brim Y/N's eyes as she stared at it.

Spencer reached forward, signaling to Y/N to pass him the box. She placed the box in his hand and he took the ring out and held it to her.

"Y/N, I know that this isn't exactly the circumstance that either of us wanted this to happen, but I wanted to ask you - will you marry me?" Spencer said, "I originally had a big speech planned and I memorised it and everything but I don't think that the situation matches the speech anymore."

Y/N stared at the ring in front of her and the man holding the ring before she nodded, "Yes, yes I will marry you Spencer."

Spencer smiled as Y/N leant forward and pressed a kiss to his lips, this kiss more passionate than the one she had given him when he had woken up. This kiss was filled with pure love and adoration.

Y/N pulled away, smiling bright. Spencer's eyes were filled with pure love as he looked back at Y/N.

"I love you, you know that right?" Y/N mumbled.

"Of course I do," Spencer said, "And I'm one hundred percent sure that you know I love you back - so much."

"I'm not as big of a fan of statistics as you, but that is one statistic I know for definite," Y/N replied, "But promise me one thing."

"What?"

"When we get out of here, I want to hear the full speech you had planned."

Spencer chuckled, "It may take a while, it's five pages long."

Y/N smiled, "I would expect nothing less from you Spencer Reid."

SPENCER REID TAGLIST:

@spenxerslut @averyhotchner @drayshadow

- add yourself HERE or message me to be added or removed -

[dreamerstreamer]

Office Lunch

Pairing: Quackity / Alexis x gn!reader

Summary: [Dream SMP!AU] Being vice president is far from an easy job, and it’s starting to take a toll on Quackity. Thankfully, you’re always there to pick him back up, again.

Warnings: some cursing, minor mentions of alcohol

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: requested by the lovely 🐌 anon, who wanted some reverse comfort & fluff for big q! the story takes place during schlatt’s presidency, and also serves as a bit of a character study. i hope you enjoy!

The quiet ticking of the clock felt absolutely deafening in the barren silence of the office. You fidgeted your feet, your thumbs nervously tapping at the throw pillow at your side. Despite how plush and comfortable the couch cushions were beneath your thighs, they felt as stiff as rock digging into your skin. Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you sat up straight, your eyes glued to the clock as you stared down the taunting, ticking hands.

Were presidential meetings always this long? You were no professional, but employees still had a lunch break, right?

Sighing, you tore your eyes away from the clock on the walls, sweeping your gaze across the office. A tall window decorated the wall opposite from the looming mahogany door, the warm, midday sun washing the room with light. The bookshelf tucked away in the corner of the room was adorned with shelves upon shelves of files, alongside a framed photo of the Manberg flag. On the floor sat a deep crimson rug, the golden tassels brushing along the soles of your shoes.

It was a beautiful office, really. But it looked so much more dull when it was as empty as it was.

Your gaze flickered down to the container sitting on the coffee table in front of you, your lips curling into the smallest of frowns. So much for giving him a surpris—

All of a sudden, the office door swung open, slamming into the opposite wall with a loud thud. Jolting, you whipped your head up, your eyes landing on the huffing figure standing in the doorway. You watched as Quackity stomped across the room to his desk, his gaze stormy as his grip tightened around the already crumpled stack of files in his hand. He was practically seething as he dropped the stack of papers onto his desk, cursing loudly under his breath.

“What an ass,” he muttered, irritation lacing his every word. Reaching up, he tugged at his navy tie, the tight fabric unravelling around his neck. “Always keeping me late because he can't be bothered to show up on time.” His scowl deepened. “That lazy piece of sh—”

“Alex?”

Quackity froze at the sound of your voice, whirling around to face you with wide eyes, his lips parted in shock. “[Y/N]?” he whispered.

You lifted your hand in a shy wave, offering him a sheepish smile. “Hi.”

His lips split into a wide grin as he strode over to you, crouching down next to you. “What are you doing here?” he breathed, his bright eyes scanning yours. “Don't get me wrong, I'm always happy to see your beautiful face, but you're here.” He gestured vaguely to the space around him, his eyebrows knitted together. “In my office.”

Heat crept across your face at his words, something fuzzy and warm blossoming in the crevice of your chest. Bobbing your head, you reached across the coffee table to hold up the container you had brought with you, a glimmer of hope flitting through your eyes. “Yeah! I, um, wanted to surprise you today, so I brought you lunch!”

Quackity blinked at you once. Twice. Then, he opened his mouth, an enamoured expression creeping onto his face. “[Y/N],” he said, gentle and soft, “have I ever told you how incredible you are?”

Your heart flipped in your chest, joy sparking in your chest like a firework as you shot him a cheeky grin, winking slyly. "You could stand to mention it more often."

He laughed at that, getting to his feet before settling into the space next to you on the couch, his side warm against yours. Leaning over, he rested his head against your shoulder, letting out a long sigh of relief.

“God,” he sighed, the tightness trickling out from his body as he melted against you, “I can't even begin to describe how happy I am you're here.” He glanced up at you curiously. “What did you make?”

You grinned, your fingers curling around the container lid. “I figured you would want something easy to hold that was still tasty, so...” The lid tugged open with a pop, revealing an array of sandwiches stacked next to one another, stuffed full with vegetables and spreads. “Ta-da!”

Quackity gasped, sitting upright to gape at the lunch you had made, elation shooting across his face. “Are you an angel?” he blurted, his mouth practically watering at the sight. “You must be a fucking angel, I swear.”

A giggle bubbled up in your throat, warmth fluttering in the pit of your stomach. “Last time I checked,” you hummed, gently nudging his shoulder with yours, “I was just the love of your life, but angel works, too.”

Quackity's eyes gleamed fondly, but you didn't miss the way his fingers twitched in anticipation. Tilting the container toward him, you smiled, amusement seeping into your voice. “Yes, you can eat.”

His eyes lit up like the sun, and you could only laugh as a “thank you” tumbled from his lips before he was grabbing a sandwich. As his teeth sank in for the first bite, his eyes fluttered shut and he made a pleased noise. In an instant, he was absolutely devouring the sandwich, his cheeks puffed with delight.

“This,” he said between bites, “is so good.” Swallowing the final bite, he reached over for a second, his tongue darting out to swipe at his lips. “I don't think I would mind eating this for the rest of my life.”

You flashed him a grin. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Leaning back against the soft cushions, you lifted a sandwich to your mouth, savouring the burst of flavour across your tongue as you took a bite. “By the way,” you said before you took another bite, casting a curious glance in Quackity’s direction, “how’s your day been so far? I missed you.”

In an instant, Quackity’s eyes went dark, the smile falling from his face as he let out a long, drawn out sigh. “Schlatt,” he said.

You swallowed, raising your brows at him. “Schlatt?” you repeated.

He deadpanned. “Is the fucking worst.”

You winced at the exhausted look that flitted across his face, setting your sandwich down on the container lid. “So, I take it your morning went badly.”

The groan that escaped his lips was absolutely gut-wrenching, frustration soaking into his every movement as he got to his feet, pacing around the room. “Like you wouldn’t believe. He cancelled two meetings—the first because he was hungover, and the second because he wanted to drink. Then,” he said, whirling on his feet with a glower, “when he did actually schedule a meeting, he was late.” He threw his hands up into the air. “Like, what the hell?”

Your heart churned in your chest at the sight of his irritated face, the bitterness in his tone winding rising higher and higher, filling the air like a dam that was about to burst. “Plus, he still hasn’t read the report I submitted last week, and also he interrupted me six times today.” He held up six fingers toward you, a deep scowl etched into his features. “Six! That’s seven times too many.”

You had half the mind to laugh at his words, but the sorrow you felt outweighed the flicker of amusement that shot through you. “And did I tell you that he made me make him coffee this morning?” He groaned again, his hands tightening into fists at his side as he collapsed back onto the couch, draping his arm over his eyes. “Sometimes,” he grumbled, “I feel less like a vice president and more like an unpaid intern.”

You shuffled closer to him on the couch, reaching your hand up to gently stroke his back. “I’m sorry that’s happening, baby,” your murmured, rubbing a soft, soothing circle around the base of his neck with your thumb. “Schlatt sounds like an awful boss.”

He whipped around to face you, a grimace stretched taught across his face. “He is!” he cried. “He’s such a fucking... dick! There are so many things I could say.” He lifted a hand, counting off on his fingers. “He constantly misses meetings, he’s always goofing off, and he’s always fucking drunk. It’s like he doesn’t even care about this country.” He sighed, dragging his hand over his face. “Like, why run for president if you’re not going to at least try to make a difference?”

Suddenly, he went quiet, his hand freezing around his chin. You watched as a cloudy fog passed over his gaze, his voice dropping to a low whisper. “God, am I making a difference?”

Your breath hitched in your throat as he turned to look at you, his heart hanging heavy in his lungs as you watched the gears turn in his head. “What have I done?” he whispered, his brows sloping downward. “I’m just helping push Schlatt’s agenda, whatever that is.”

He dropped his head, resting his elbows on his knees as he hung his face in his hands. “Why did I even support him in the election in the first place?” His voice cracked, and you felt your own heart cleave at the sound. “Seriously, just what the hell am I doing?”

A long, thick silence fell over the two of you, Quackity raised his head, turning to face you with a cloudy, broken gaze. “Maybe I’m just as bad as he is.”

The words were out of your mouth in an instant, a wave of protectiveness crashing over you and filling every inch of your being. “Don’t say that.”

He gazed at you sadly, regret flickering across his face. “But, aren’t I—”

“No,” you said, firmer this time, “you’re not.” When Quackity’s eyes went wide at your sudden shift in tone, your gaze softened, adding gently, “I swear.”

Pulling your hand away from his back, you let your eyes scan his doubtful expression, your lips pressed into a thin line. “People like having power, Alex. Physical power, bargaining power, political power—” You shook your head with a sigh, disappointment tugging at the back of your mind. “It can be obsessive, and a lot of the time, that power’s misused.” You sent him a knowing look, brows raised. “You would know.”

His lips twitched the tiniest bit, and he bobbed his head, almost as if there were a set of weights on his shoulders. “Yeah, I really fucking do.”

“But,” you hummed, a smile tugging at your lips, “it’s not always misused.” You leaned against him, your soft side pressing into his. “Look at you—you’re trying your hardest to make this country a better place, and that’s amazing.”

You felt him shake next to you, the fabric of his suit trembling against you. “But,” he said quietly, sounding so very unlike the bold, confident man you loved, “I’ve hardly been able to do anything.” He squeezed his eyes shut, sucking in a weary, ragged breath. “Everything I try to do just gets shut down, or pushed aside, or it’s not even looked at.”

You reached over, slipping your hand in his and intertwining your fingers together. “That doesn’t demean your hard work and effort, though,” you said softly. “I’ve watched you work overtime so many days in a row, and you’re always spending late nights at the office to pick up Schlatt’s slack.”

Your lips curled into a smile, genuine and fond. “You’re wonderful, Alex, and Schlatt is lucky to have you. You’re a wonderful vice president, and an ever better person.” Your eyes curved into soft, crescent moons. “Don’t put yourself down like that, okay?”

Quackity stared at you for a moment longer, then lowered his gaze to your connected hands, the light in his eyes flickering. “Even if you’re right,” he said quietly, “Schlatt’s still the one in power. He’s the one with the most control.”

You scooted a fraction closer to him, your knees brushing against his. “The thing about power is that one person hardly ever gets to keep it to themselves forever.” You reached your other hand up, pressing your palm to his cheek, his skin warm against yours. “Schlatt may be president now, but a new term will come soon, and he’ll be voted out, I’m sure of it. And when that happens, you guys will be able to turn a new leaf.”

You brushed your thumb over his cheekbone. “I believe in you.”

Another silence fell over you, but this one was different—it wasn’t tense or heavy like the last, weighing down on you like an anchor. Instead, a certain brightened bloomed across the room, and you watched with kind eyes as Quackity lifted his head, his eyes meeting yours with a serious expression.

“I love you.”

Your heart leapt into your throat, heat exploding across your face as your chest shook with a hazy whirlwind of emotion. “Wh—huh?” you spluttered, your face growing hotter by the second. “I-I love you too, but where did that come from?”

His hand squeezed tightly around yours, an ardent spark of affection springing inside him. “My heart,” he said honestly.

You couldn’t stop the smile from splitting across your lips, wide and bright. You opened your mouth to respond when, without warning, he was tugging you forward until you were pressed flush against his chest. Wrapping his arms around your waist in a tight embrace, he dipped his head down next to your ear and murmured, “Thank you, [Y/N].”

You blinked for a moment, then melted against him, resting your head on his shoulder as you snaked your arms up and around his backside. “For you, anything.”

For a long moment, the two of you simply held each other, nestled closely within each other’s arms. You let your eyelids fall shut as you brushed your nose against the side of his neck, inhaling his lingering scent of linen and lemon.

After a few minutes, you felt his breath tickle your cheek as he opened his mouth. “Hey, what time is it?”

You opened your eyes, your gaze darting to the clock on the wall behind him and squinting. “Um, quarter past one.”

Quackity’s eyes shot open to the size of saucers, and in a flash, he was scrambling off the couch, stumbling across his office to his desk. “Oh shit, I’m late for my next meeting!”

Your eyes widened as he quickly picked up a new stack of papers from his desk, grabbing a pen from his cup holder before slipping it behind his ear. While he balanced the mess of office supplies in his arms, striding back over to you, a flurry of swords tumbled from his mouth. “The sandwiches were fantastic, everything you said means the world to me, you’re beautiful, and I love you so fucking much.”

Your heart swelled in your chest, love rushing through your veins as you struggled to process his words. “I—”

All of a sudden, he leaned over the coffee table and pressed his lips to yours in a sweet kiss, pulling away just as quickly as he had arrived. “See you when I get home?” he said, his cheeks flushed a rosy pink.

Your head spun with dizzying waves of adoration, and you felt your own face grow warm with affection as you nodded hazily, offering him a wave. “See you then.”

The grin he flashed you made your stomach soar with butterflies, and in a whirlwind of papers, he was rushing out the door, his undone tie still hanging around his neck. The office door slammed shut behind him, and just like that, you were alone again, accompanied only by the ticking of the clock.

You let out a breath and pressed a shaky hand to your chest, feeling your heart thump against your rib cage. Sitting up, your eyes dropped down to your half-eaten sandwich still sitting on the coffee table. An image of Quackity flashed across your mind, and you couldn’t help but feel your lungs blossom with something that you were absolutely certain was love.

With warm sunlight caressing the side of your face, you picked up your sandwich and took another bite, a thoughtful smile gracing your lips.

Maybe you should bring him lunch tomorrow, too.

[blackkatmagic]

Hi Kat, thanks for doing prompts!

Agen takes the hit on Geonosis that was meant for Tan. Zabraks may be sturdier than humans but its looking bad. Tan does his best to protect his master but they only survive thanks to the intervention of the clones.

There are hundred of reasons why Tan should turn around and keep fighting right now but he can't bring himself to leave his Master.

“You're okay,” he says desperately, clutching familiar dark hands even though he knows the words are wrong, a lie. “You're going to be fine, Master, it’s okay, Master Allie will be here soon, okay?”

Agen's fingers close tight around his, even as he takes another bubbling breath, and Tan can't remember ever being so scared in his life. He leans over Agen, eyes burning from something other than the dust, the echo of Jedi dying that ripples through the Force. He should get up and go and help fight, because one more lightsaber and one more body might save someone, but—

The person Tan wants most to save is right in front of him.

Agen turns his head, fingers loosening just a little, and the flicker of emotion Tan gets from him is a warning, sharp and alert. Instantly, Tan throws himself to his feet, spins with his lightsaber already lit, and blocks a shot from the advancing ranks of droids. There are other Jedi behind them, Master Windu and Master Secura fighting back to back, but they're not close enough. All the Jedi are being pushed back, surrounded, and Tan managed to drag Agen out of the worst of the fighting but now that means they're alone.

Jango Fett is above them, on the balcony with Dooku's body, and he’s watching like this is fun. Tan’s never hated anyone before, but—he thinks this might be able to make him.

With a cry, he ducks a blaster bolt, lunges. Cuts through the first droid, then the second, but the third one almost hits him, and there’s one passing him. Agen could stop them, even with just a lightsaber, all on his own, but Tan has only been a padawan for two years, isn't nearly as good a swordsman. He only just deflects a flurry of shots, staggers at the impact, and his heel is right against Agen's side. There's nowhere to retreat to, and he can't—

A transport drops from the sky, right between the circle of the remaining Jedi and the droids advancing on Tan, and bodies in white and blue armor spill out. There's a cry, blaster-fire, and the droids turn to face the new enemy, abandoning Tan and Agen in a rush to regroup.

Tan staggers, feels the stinging in his arm where a bolt grazed him, but doesn’t pause. Throws himself down, grabbing for Agen again, but he’s still, he’s terrifyingly still, and Tan’s breath catches. He fumbles for Agen's wrist, searching desperately for a pulse, and for a horrifying moment he can't find one.

“Master,” he says, choked, not able to breathe. Agen took that bolt for him, and Tan knows how sturdy Zabraks are, knows that something that left Agen this hurt would have killed him outright, but if Agen dies for him, if Agen dies and he doesn’t—

“Sir!” a voice cries, unfamiliar, and a soldier, this one in blue and white with a white pack on his back and red medic symbols on his armor, throws himself against the last rank of droids, blasts one, drops low and slams his shoulder into another. Tan sees the droid behind him raising its blaster and throws a hand up, gets a hold of the droid and jerks, and it tears into pieces. The soldier doesn’t even glance back; he covers the remaining distance between them at a dead run, hits the ground on his knees with his pack already halfway off.

“Are you hurt?” he demands, even as he grabs for a hypo, for a dermal mender. Tan’s breath shudders out of him with relief, and he nods quickly, rising to his feet again and stepping forward to guard the medic. There's no need, though; the soldiers are pushing the droids back, overwhelming them, and the space around them has opened up. The Jedi are pushing forward, and the soldiers are advancing to meet them, and the constant, steady press of death in the Force is pausing as the Jedi stop dying.

“No,” he manages, and hates how it still shakes. Someday he’ll be as steady under pressure as Agen, but—not today. Not when his Master almost died for him. “Master Kolar took the shot because he was protecting me.”

The trooper raises his head for just an instant, then refocuses. “Can you help me?” he asks. “Over here, hold this.”

Tan hurries around to Agen's other side, takes the dermal mender that the man passes him. “Who are you?” he asks, because there are hundredsof soldiers landing, filling the arena.

The man reaches up, pulls off his helmet and sets it aside, and casts Tan a smile. It’s Jango Fett's face, but—different. Tan’s never seen him smile before, and this man has his hair clipped short, lightning bolts shaved into the sides. “We’re clones,” he says, and then leans forward, putting a hand on Agen's chest as he jerks. “Sorry, sir. I'm sorry. Just a minute, I’ve almost got your lung back in one piece.”

Agen's hand gropes, finds Tan’s knee, grips hard, and his dark eyes slide open. “Tan,” he manages, and the clone makes a soothing noise in his throat.

“I'm here, Master,” Tan says, though he doesn’t move. “And so is—”

“Kix,” the man finishes for him, after a brief hesitation.

“Kix,” Tan repeats, and leans forward a little, watching Agen's gaze flicker to him. He smiles as best he can, and says, “Kix is helping you, Master. You're really going to be okay.”

“You are,” Kix agrees, and there's something soft in his voice. After another minute, he sets his device aside, then takes the mender Tan is holding. “Can you get me some bacta patches? He’s going to need some time in a tank, but this should hold until he can get there.”

Tan hurries to get the patches, pulling out two of them. Jango, he notices, is gone from the balcony, though Dooku's body is still there.

“Thank you,” he says, and kneels down next to Kix, offering the patches. “I thought—”

Kix grips his shoulder for just a moment, then presses the patches down and seals them to Agen's skin. “There you are, sir,” he says, sitting back, and Agen raises a hand, touches the patches, then reaches out. Instantly, Tan grabs him, lets himself be pulled down, and all but collapses on Agen's chest, clutching at him desperately. Feels the relief, the regret, the love, and has to close his eyes so that he doesn’t cry.

“You're well, Tan,” Agen murmurs against his hair, a little rough, a little ragged, but there. “You're well. Thank you. You’ve been brave.”

“Don’t ever do that again,” Tan demands, though he already knows it won't matter. Nothing can change Agen's mind when he decides to do something, and Tan already knows just how much Agen loves him. Enough to die for him, if he thinks it’s necessary, and Tan hopes it never is again. He’ll make sure it never is again.

Agen huffs softly, then tips his head, offering Kix a nod. “Thank you as well,” he says, and reaches out.

Kix hesitates for a fraction of a second, then catches Agen's hand. His face looks a little flushed, but he smiles. “My pleasure, sir. You're—I'm glad I could help.”

Agen closes his eyes again, clearly exhausted, clearly still in pain, but he tips his head. “Find me,” he says, quiet. “Later. After. So I can thank you properly.”

Tan smiles, pressing his face into the pale, blood-stained cloth of Agen's robes. He’ll make sure Kix does. It seems like the least he can do.

[On AO3]

[sidespromptblog]

What to Do?: Chapter 4

One, Two, Three, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

Summary: Logan realizing that his first mistake was seeing the other sides as anything other than coworkers. They weren't a family. They didn't even like each other. How had he not realized sooner?

Warnings: General Angst 

Word Count: 2,411

Janus raised an eyebrow at the side in front of him, with his arms smoothly crossed over his chest he was certain that he looked like an almost imposing figure to the side who had dared to come onto his side of the fold. From the looks of it they didn’t even have the gall to be nervous, or in the very least sorry that they had woken him up so dreadfully early when he could have at least slept in for another three or so hours. He’d barely even had enough time to get dressed before he’d been called, let alone enough time to tell Remus where he was going. 

“Well well… Look who it is,” Janus preened, clearly acting like he didn’t even have his morning makeup on and that his dark circles clearly weren’t on display for the whole world to see. “To what do I owe the untenable pleasure, of having you in my presence dearest Loga-” 

“Logic.” Logan cut in, before Janus could get through another singular letter of Logan’s name. “It’s Logic now.” 

Everything that Janus had prepared came to a screeching halt, all the monologues that could have bothered Logan and every philosophical quote that he had on the tip of his tongue, all of them, were swept away in an instant. And in that moment, he was left speechless for what felt like the first time in a very very long time. Right now, he felt very out of the loop, and like he had missed something dreadfully important. 

He did not like it. 

Janus blinked down at Logan, “What?” He almost dumbly asked. 

Logan smiled, and that alone made Janus feel as if he had just walked right into a trap of his own making in some way. It was a polite smile that just bled the fakeness of a modern setting, of a cubicle worker who was seconds away from slamming a clipboard on another co-workers head if they invited them to their baby shower just one more time. Except Logan’s smile seemed to lack that last part, with every inch of face to his eyes just oozing that politeness of a work setting. This in no way felt like the Logan that he had benched for the trial, and this did not feel like the Logan he had gotten out of the way so that he could take his place when it came to talking some sense to Patton. 

Logan shuffled the papers in his hands, forcing Janus to break the open stare he’d had on Logan’s face back down to his hands. “I need these filled out by next wednesday if you could, I could possibly give you until thursday, but it has to be done within the week if things are to go smoothly.” Logan held the papers out to him expectantly, “Understood, Deceit?” 

The papers that Logan held out to him went untouched as that one word hit Janus like a punch to the gut, and it took conscious effort to not touch his chest just to be sure that he wasn’t physically hurting from some invisible hit. He could feel his face falling, into a look of shock, hurt, and unease before he managed to school his expression into one of abject emotionlessness before the other side could truly see how it had made him feel. It honestly surprised him, with just one simple word… Logan had managed to wound him in such a way. 

“Excuse me?” He asked softly, but it was so very clear that underneath that softness, a fierce anger only sparked by his hurt was bubbling just below the surface. “Could you repeat that?” 

For a long moment there was nothing, as Janus looked down at Logan. He fought the urge to tap his foot impatiently, as he waited for something.. anything really that would explain as to why Logan was acting like this, or even just talking like he was. It made something infernal in him want to rage and snap like he had at Roman, but for his own sake he held off but he wasn’t going to for long… not if Logan used that word again when he well and truly already knew Janus’ name and knew that he could use it. 

Was he doing it out of spite? Or just to piss him off and see him lose his composure? 

Why even come here to give him stupid paperwork of all things if he was going to act like this, didn’t he know that the way to get anyone to do anything was to not make them angry?

Had… had something happened with him and the other sides? 

“What are you doing Loga… Logic,” Janus quickly amended the moment he saw Logan’s mouth about to open to correct him. “You know that this isn’t you… so what are you doing acting like this? You aren't fooling anyone.” And then a bit more softly he added, “Are you okay?” 

There it was.

Something in Logan’s expression softened slightly, maybe it was his eyes or the fact that his firm and fixed polite smile fell away just slightly… but clearly enough for Janus to spot it. 

“I…” Logan’s hands dropped down to his side, the papers hanging loosely from his hand, “This is the way that it has to be… with everyone. I can’t be the Logan that everyone wants from me anymore, that’s the version of me that the others… and you walked all over to get what you wanted out of me. I have to be like this, because if I don’t then they won’t listen, and if they won’t listen… then nothing will get better for us or for Thomas.” For what felt like the first time in days, Logan felt like he was wearing his heart on his sleeve. “And if that means treating every single one of you like you're just my coworkers, instead of people who are supposed to be my friends, and people who are supposed to care about me… then that’s something that I’ll have to do.”  

Logan’s mouth opened again, but this time no words came out. He was running out of things to say, and ways to explain his thought process. It had all seemed so clear to him when he had been inside the imagination, but now… now it was so hard to explain things and explain just what he was trying to do. 

The actions seemed easy though, or at least they should have been.

He had never known that cutting himself off from everyone would have been so hard...

“You’re upset though,” Janus cut in almost immediately, he didn’t need a built in lie detector test to tell him that. Logan wore it like a wet coat, as if it troddened him down with every step that he took. The others probably couldn’t see it through their own sadness, but Janus could… he always could. “How long exactly are you planning on keeping this up, Logic?” 

If it was possible Logan tried to look everywhere but at Janus, for the first time since he had seen him everything seemed to weigh down on Logan all at once. The slump of his shoulders, his messy hair that was brushed just enough to be out of his face, and his red lips that he had clearly been chewing and gnawing on. A bunch of bad habits all rolled into one logical side, and for a moment it almost seemed like Logan would succumb to them. 

But then his shoulders straightened, and that look of pure determination lit up like a fire in Logan’s eyes. 

“For as long as I have to.” Logan stubbornly returned, It doesn’t matter if this upsets me or not, if this makes things run more smoothly… if this will make them finally listen to me and take what I am saying seriously… then I don’t care. I really don’t care if it hurts them or me, it will make things better…”

Eventually... 

The word went unspoken on Logan's tongue, and honestly it had taken every part of him to not talk to the others during dinner, and even more of him to not look at their faces. He knew that had he looked at them and seen their expressions or even just knew how they were feeling, then he would have broken and all of this… all of his grand statements about how they treated him and what he wanted would have been swept away like dust. 

Janus was right, he misses them… god did he miss them. Even this, just talking normally to someone like Janus felt good to him, like a soothing aloe on something that burned inside of him. It was so dreadfully boring talking professionally all the time, that even this… was almost relaxing for him.  

But this was the way that it has to be unfortunately, for him and them as well. 

Taking in a deep breath, Logan fixed that same polite smile he'd had with the others into his face. "Now if we're done here I have to get back to work. Have a swell day… Deceit." It felt like he was lugging concrete with the effort that he took to turn his back to Janus, and even more to not look at the other side's face. 

A face that right now was a mixture of regret, and numb horror. 

A sour taste curdled in Janus’ mouth and swept all the way down to his stomach, he could only stare at the place that Logan had once stood with an empty expression. He felt like sinking down to his knees, and just curling up and feeling nothing so that he wouldn’t have to face any of the turbulent emotions that were sweeping through him. But he couldn’t, he couldn’t be allowed to falter over this, especially when it came to one of the light sides and the things that involved them. 

Pressing his hand against the wall, Janus allowed himself a moment to slump against it, his head thudding against it solidly. 

Was this his fault? 

Yes. His mind answered him easily, he had dabbled in the business of almost everyone of the sides just to be able to get his foot into the door when it came to getting Thomas even close enough to accept him. He had known that Remus didn’t particularly care whether or not he was accepted, but Janus had cared… he had wanted it so damn much. Just to be able to help and to possibly rub it in Virgil’s face that he was helping in ways that the anxious side said that he never could do. This was his fault, whether he liked it or not, and…

He was going to have to find a way to help fix it, or at the very least deal with the idea that he had caused it. 

With that in mind, he made his way back to the subconscious. 

“What’s kraken Jan-Jan?” Remus spouted from somewhere in the corner of the living room, Janus didn’t really know as his feet shifted lifelessly forward. 

His entire mind was numb, and the only thing he could really focus on right now was getting back to his bedroom and doing something… anything really to take his mind off of this new development that had happened. His mind felt like it was falling into the pit of a blackhole, stuck in one place but still being pulled in no matter how much it felt like he wasn’t. He shouldn’t care this much, he shouldn’t care this much about one of the only sides he had continuously messed with finally having enough of him. He shouldn’t care about just what Logan decides to do with himself, or with any of the others. 

But…

“Deceit.” 

Logan had called him, and he honestly hadn’t expected that one word to hurt so much. It felt like a barb being dragged over his chest, digging in deep and cutting him in places that he hadn’t even been aware of. He had gotten so used to using his actual name, that hearing his title had felt like a slap to the face. 

Least of all from Logan of all sides. 

“Janus!” Remus snapped loudly, sounding as if he were right behind Janus now rather than off to the side like he had been just a moment ago. And before Janus even knew it he was being tugged back by his middle, almost stumbling on his way back before he felt Remus’ hands on his shoulders steadying him for a moment. “You know that I don’t like being ignored… especially by you.” Remus grumbled hotly, a somewhat bothered look in the creative side’s eyes, and underneath that… an almost worried look in his dark eyes. “What’s going on?” He asked once more, as he scuffed his foot irritably against the floor, almost like that of a bull getting ready to charge. 

Looking down, Janus noted the green sash that had been looped over his head and around his stomach, that Remus had used to practically laso him and then drag him back away from his room. It’s pressure firmly fixing him to the present, and making him think about what had happened and the consequences that would unfold from both his doing as well as Logan’s. Of course Remus would be the one to make him think about it when he really didn’t want to… that was what he did best after all. It was oddly his worst and his best quality that had slowly endeared Janus to him, not that he’d had much of a choice with how clingy Remus had been in the past. 

But looking back at him, Janus felt himself sigh deeply. 

He couldn’t not tell him. 

“It’s…” Janus struggled for the right word. “Weird.” He lamely finished. 

With a tug from his sash Remus stubbornly led him over to the couch, where he forced Janus to sit down before plopping himself right on top of Janus’ lap. 

“What a coincidence!” The creative side crowed, “I’m perfect at weird things.” There was a challenge in Remus’ eyes that told him to just try and get his way out of this one, they both knew that there was no way he was squirming his way out of this one. And especially not with Remus right there. “So go on… talk.”

And so Janus did. 

[sukiglycerin]

it takes two || katsuki bakugou.

* pairing: pro-hero!katsuki bakugou x reader (gender neutral!)

* genre: fluff, teeny bit of angst

* words: 1,647

* warnings: brief fighting scene (implied), swearing (duh), a lil bit of insecure katsuki but ofc comfort after, reader is mentioned to be in the hero business field, KATSUKI WEARS SHOES IN THE HOUSE !!! can you believe the audacity-

* original request:  Hello dear :)) Can I request a Bakugou x reader fic where he gets hit by a clone quirk and the clone is like the complete opposite of him, personality-wise, and Bakugou frequently loses his temper because the clone keeps hitting on his s/o I am sorry for bothering you :(

* a/n: you? bother me? never. actually, i’m sorry this took so long to complete! i’m hoping i can restart a consistent posting schedule soon. happy early birthday bakugou! this is my gift :) i hope you all enjoy~ i love @toishi for proofreading this T^T

it’s a lazy day for you. all you’ve been doing is sleeping, waking up occasionally to eat, and indulging in six different rhythm games despite your lack of rhythm, it’s a good day, snuggled up under the mountains of fuzzy blankets and squished in between soft pillows on your bed, your favorite song quietly playing from your phone on your nightstand. natural light fills your otherwise unlit room, curtains pushed aside to let the sun shine in her full glory. time is idle in this sanctuary of yours for only today; whether a minute or an hour has passed is something out of your concern. 

there’s nothing different when bakugou comes home, the jingle of keys and click of the door telling you that it’s him. he’s oddly quiet, though, and for a second you’re almost wondering why he hasn’t yelled “i’m home, dumbass!” before said blond peeks his head into the room. 

“hey, love,” he flashes a rare smile. it’s kind, like the soft light of the sun you've become so acquainted with. “i’m home.”

“hey?” you sit up, propping the pillows behind you so you can comfortably lean against the headboard of your bed. “you feeling alright?”

you expect a gruff reply of “the fuck are you talking about?” and a scowl, but get the opposite. a pleasant expression graces katsuki's face, which makes him look more handsome than usual. his hair almost seems tame this way. he’s also uncharacteristically clean; his costume is usually dirt-treaded and at least a little battered whenever he returns from hero patrol. now, though? his outfit is pristine, as if pulled out from a laundromat and ironed professionally. there’s a ghost of a frown on your lips.

"i'm lovely, now that i can see you." the line is spoken like a sappy confession from the male lead of a k-drama; you'd laugh if it wasn't for your utter confusion about katsuki's sudden change in demeanor. his facial expression is twisted in such a gallant way that it arouses suspicion in you.

you’re opening your mouth to reply when there’s a startling crashing at the front door. katsuki’s face falls into downhearted dread, as if expecting the intrusion. his reaction surprises you more than the intrusion itself. the door slams shut in the distance, rattling the house. the sound of boots clomping against the hardwood floor frightens you as you thrust your warm sheets aside (alas, they could wait) and reach for your bat under the bed. katsuki only stares at you, transfixed, and you feel the slightest urge to clobber him with the weapon. why isn’t he ready to fight? you’re up and approaching the doorway of your bedroom when you stop in your tracks.

“hey, fucker!” a loud, abrasive voice yells from down the hallway. “i found ya!”

you recognize that timbre in an instant, then turn to look at katsuki, still standing at your bedside, with a questioning gaze. he’s wearing an expression you never thought you’d see your husband have - his eyes are wide, mouth agape like a deer in headlights.

despite this vote of inconfidence from him, you pad forward slowly, bat gripped tightly and slung over your shoulder. you plunge forward, passing the doorway and glancing left. a shadowy figure stands five feet from you, its stature menacing. you swing blindly, but you bat is only met with more air. the figure is a little bit further now - damnit, it had good reflexes.

“you could still use some work on that swing,” it lowly chuckles and confuses you. you squint, trying to make out who in the world this guy thinks he is to comment on your swing. you gasp, faltering your grip on the bat. 

“k-katsuki? what?”

“got hit with a stupid clone quirk on patrol,” this katsuki grumbles bitterly, stepping towards you. he’s dressed in his full hero costume, green grenadier bracers a tight fit in the narrow hallway. “i apprehended the guy but my clone won’t stop following me around. it’s stupidly fast, too, whenever i try to catch it.”

“....and,” you start, “how do i know that you’re not the clone?” you pretend to inspect him close, eyes slowly trailing from the tips of his spiky, golden hair to his black combat boots. (oh, man, you were going to yell at him about wearing shoes in the house later.)

“don’t start this inception bullshit with me now,” he groans. 

“what’s katsuki bakugou’s favorite food?” you question, though you have no doubt that this katsuki is the real one. 

“anything spicy,” he bemoans. “now, let me-”

“that was an easy one.” you shake your head. “what was the first idea katsuki bakugou had for a hero name idea instead of lord explosion murder?”

if you were in better light, you’re sure you would’ve seen his cheeks flush pink. 

“mighty boom,” he mumbles. 

“sorry, what was that?” you tease.

“mighty boom!” he half-shouts, flustered.

“oh, okay, so you’re the real katsuki,” you say. “how do we defeat the clone?’

“according to the quirk user, it should disappear after two or three hours. but it can’t really do much harm, as long as it’s not in the sight of the user himself,” he says. “now let me at ‘im. he’s making a fool of myself.” 

he attempts to shove himself forward, but you stop him before he can see through the door frame. you glance at the clone, who’s looking at you with round, ruby eyes. he looks like a puppy with that innocent expression, and for a split second, you think that you actually might miss the calm, charming air of this katsuki. turning back to the real katsuki, who pretends not to notice the shift in your eyes, you exhale. 

“have at it, but take it outside first, please. i can’t have you tracking in more dirt.” you look to the dirt-ridden footprints behind him on the wooden flooring, sighing.

but in a flash he’s past you - wow, you really weren’t blocking him at all before, were you? - outfit a blur of black, green, and orange as he seizes the clone, slings it over his shoulder like it's made of air, and vanishes past you and out the door. he seldom leaves a trace of dirt, this time, smooth maneuvering himself outside while the clone bids you one last pleading farewell.

you hear blasting, yelling, and yelps, the lattermost presumably the clone’s, barely muffled from your position inside. your first thought wonders what the neighbors will think. you glance one last time at the tracks of katsuki’s boots then turn back to your room. he’d have to mop up that mess later. 

ten minutes and an eternity later, katsuki returns inside. by the pause at the front door, you figure one of two things: katsuki’s either taking the time to take off his shoes and put them away properly or staring at the filth he left on the floor. you’re hoping it’s the former. his footsteps are light as he goes to fetch a mop and clean the mess.

finished, he shuffles into your shared room and briefly looks at your comfortable position on the bed.

“what?” you whine. “hero business is hard. i needed a day off.”

this earns a laugh from the man, who’s in the process of removing his gauntlets and stowing them away. he shrugs off the rest of his costume, opting for much more comfortable attire and dropping his mask on a dresser. 

“how was your day?” you ask when he snuggles next to you on the bed. he’s sweaty and smells deeply of caramel, but you’ll nag him to shower later. the wear shows in his eyes and movement, sluggish after a long day of work. 

“good,” he mumbles, nuzzling into your warmth. “except for that clone bastard.”

you hum, joking, “he was charming, though.”

when he looks up at you with a vulnerable look in his eyes, you regret it.

“did you… really like him that much?” his voice is hoarse, scarcely a whisper. he averts his eyes, fiddling with the hem of your shirt sleeve.

“of course not,” you reply tenderly, bringing your hand to caress his cheek. he still can’t look you in the eyes.

“you know you’ll always be number one in my heart, right? even if you’re not the number one hero, you’re the constant in my heart.” you touch your chest, right over your heart. 

“y-you sure?” his words crackle like dying embers, inconsistent and unstable, flakes of lit ash that weakly dissipate into the atmosphere. a waning fire is still warm, though; with a bit of oxygen it can be rejuvenated, relit, and burn bright once again. 

“am i one to be wrong?” you ask him, and he faintly shakes his head. “i fell in love with you not for your looks, katsuki… i don’t want a disney prince. i want you, not some fairytale guy.”

“i yell, and i’m brash-”

you cut him off, chuckling, “and that’s what i love about you. you don’t-” you make a vague gesture with your hands, then drop them, unsure how to articulate your thoughts. “you don’t care what people think. you’re unapologetically… you.”

“you sure?” katsuki tries again. “that- that guy, that thing- you sure you don’t prefer a guy that’ll buy you roses with a note on the tag that says ‘you are the most beautiful flower in my garden’ in fancy cursive script on it?”

“do people really do that?” you frown. “i mean, i hope no guy does that for me-” katsuki exhales a breath of relief. you look at him questioningly but don’t press the issue. 

“i love you, katsuki,” you finish, “and no shitty clone will ever change that. ever.”

while he showers, katsuki’s thankful that he burned the roses from some secret admirer he found in your shoe locker during your high school days. 

[bakugohoex]

can you please write a fic where youre aizawas' wife and you're pregnant with twins, and while he's in the middle of teaching at UA you go into labor and you call him, and he leaves in the middle of their class, (the class dosen't know he's married and obviously dosen't know he's about to become a father) and the class thinks that something's seriously wrong because they saw panic on his face for a slight second when he got the call, so they end up following him to the hospital only to see him sniling and holding two newborn babies that look just like him and the woman who is on the hospital bed (you) and theyre in shock when they find out that you're his wife and those are his kids, but what shocks them most is the big smile on his face when he was holding his babies 🥺 idk i thought it would be cute

“did he steal two babies?”

pairing: shouta aizawa x female reader

cw: language, fluff

word count: 3000+

a/n: i live for domestic one shots, i might write some more depending on how i’m feeling, hope you guys like this have a happy new years eve people, the stupid tags arent working so if you could reblog it it would mean a lot 

summary: in which you’re aizawa’s secret wife, aizawa gets a call in the middle of class that you’re going into labor and eventually leaves, the class being noisy pricks follows him to a hospital, feeling worried they continue to follow until they see him holding two babies with a smile at his new family

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

Eight months, eight full fucking months of carrying Aizawa’s little spawns. Having spent your last term of pregnancy on bed rest, it had been the worst term ever, you would rather have taken the puking up last nights dinner then staying in bed. Even Aizawa had gotten annoyed with how frustrated you had got, you craved how he could get up and leave for work. You hadn’t gone into work since your maternity leave started and you were annoyed, being a pro hero it had been worse.

As soon as you told the agency you were pregnant, you were desk bound, unable to go on patrols. It was fucking annoying and you hated every second of it, and all Aizawa could do was smirk at your frustration. “I’m due any day now, just leave work and stay with me.” You plead grabbing the material from his neck, you wanted him to hold you. You already felt gross staying in bed 24/7 but now you didn’t have your husband beside you 24/7.

“Kitten, this is my last day, I’ll spend the rest of the pregnancy with you.” You were grouchy letting go of him and turning your head to face away for him. “Y/n.”

He tried to gain your attention but ignored him, “you should’ve gotten pregnant as well you’d understand.”

He raised an eyebrow, shaking his head as he crept his arms around your body, his hand resting on the baby bump. You shuffled closer to his body, before turning your head to see him softly rubbing back and forth across the bump.

“Be patient, my love.” It was a whisper which brought you comfort.

“If you’re not home by 4pm then I’m locking you out of the house.” You threaten.

He looks down at you with your fiery eyes, “sure you are.” He kisses the top of your head; you pout wanting a proper kiss. He looks at how perfect you looked with his babies, when you both found out you were having twins, the small apartment you had called home since dating. Had gone and a house in the country close enough to UA and still for you to do pro hero work was where the both of you had situated.

Your relationship have been very secretive, a small wedding ceremony which had been perfect with your family and friends. Of course people had noticed you had gone MIA but one day you’d come out and tell the world how you and Aizawa were an inseparable family.

He moved to capture your lips, grabbing his face you wanted to just drag him back to bed. But he quickly moved out of your grip, “patience Y/n.”

“Shouta.” You whine like a child would.

“Seems like ill be raising three babies now.” He mocked putting the scarf around his yellow goggles.

“I hope you break your goggles.” You huff again, he doesn’t speak only kissing your temple after the small peck he had given to your lips.

He starts to walk out the bedroom, your wedding photo situated on the cabinet. You were perfect back then and now with his kids inside of you, you became somehow even more perfect. He had never thought that the woman he had met all those years ago, who had showed of her quirk to the whole world would be the one he fell in love with.

He looked back at you, you were grumpy due to hormones but once the babies were out you knew you’d go back to being yourself (and both of you could fuck properly, but that was just a bonus.)

“Make sure to walk around the house.” He warns.

It was your turn to raise an eyebrow, “and what if I don’t, will you come home early?” Your extra clinginess melted his insides, he knew how bored your loud self was and being cooped up inside had took a toll on you.

“I’ll come home early.” The sound of your squeal lifted his spirits, it was adorable, and he loved how easily your mood changed. Your face was full, and you had something to look forward too as he left the room.

The day for Aizawa had been smooth sailing, having asked to leave at 2pm and being able to, he had been with the students whilst they were training. He could imagine teaching his kids everything to do with this world, he couldn’t wait for his own leave, to spend time with his future babies but also with his loving wife.

The sound of Bakugo shouting was something else he had gotten used to; how could a 16-year-old boy be louder than the babies he had heard on those stupid pregnancy videos you made him watch. You had shown him a woman giving birth and to say it was the weirdest thing he’s ever seen; he’d happily watch stuff go inside of you but the other way round was another issue.

He stood watching over them, they had gotten a lot stronger in the months and the events that had occurred. It was another reason for the secrecy, having to hide your relationship to prevent disaster from happening. He watched the time tick away; another two more hours and he could leave and spend the rest of the trimester with you.

The sound of running caught his ears, he looked up and saw Principle Nezu walking towards him. “Agh Aizawa, we got a call from your wife’s mother.”

He hadn’t checked his phone, but if your mother had been calling it must’ve been something serious, the class had noticed the principle and had gotten quiet even Bakugo who wanted to know why the principle was here.

“Finally, you answered, she’s going into labour.” He heard on the other liner, he was in shock, his phone dropping to the side.

“Sh…She what?” It was early, of course you both knew about early pregnancies but this he had just spoken you a couple hours ago and now here you were about to go into labour.

“In labour, her water broke whilst I came to see her.” He could hear you screaming on the other side, how you must’ve been in pain, he knew you had been dilated a couple days ago but this, this was sooner than he had expected.

Nezu got the hint that something had happened and so had the class, a flash of worry across Aizawa’s face. “We’ll send the students back to the dorms.” He was calm and Aizawa quickly rushed out of the gym, leaving nothing else to say. He needed to make it to the hospital as quick as he could, in an instant he called your mother.

“Is she okay?” He had ran outside going to his car to quickly rush to the hospital.

He heard screaming which he assumed was you, “she’s grouchy…”

Before he could hear the rest of what your mother said, he heard you shout, “if that’s my idiot of a husband tell him to get to the fucking hospital.” It was a wail and he regretted not taking the day off.

“Y/n.” Her mother scowled, “we’re at the hospital, I’ll text you the room.” Is all her mother said before hanging up. Aizawa was stressed to say the least but what he hadn’t seen through the chaos was class 1A following him.

The class had seen the worry and panic before he jolted out of the room, “you all are dismissed for the day.” Nezu spoke before leaving.

“What do you think happened?” Momo questioned worried.

“He seemed in a hurry; it was probably something important.” Kirishima retorted back.

The class watched him on the phone the question of ‘is she okay?’ being heard. “Who do you think he’s talking about?” Mina asked.

“Why do you lot care so much?” Bakugo angrily said pissed that training had been cut early.

“He’s our teacher, what if something bad happened Kacchan.” Midoriya answered but it just fuelled Bakugo’s anger.

“We should follow him.” Denki suggested. “It might be serious and if people need help, we can help.”

They nodded, all assuming it had something to do with hero work, seeing Aizawa in his car, they started to follow him on foot, “we should’ve taken one of the buses.” Bakugo scowled following.

“We cant drive.” Kirishima muttered back.

Bakugo huffed following them all on the long walk, it was easy enough to keep following due to the mass traffic occurring. Aizawa having got the room number, he didn’t care for his surroundings, his eyes fixated on the road.

He finally saw the sign for the hospital and breathed out hoping you hadn’t gotten into labour yet. “Why is he at a hospital?” Ururaka questioned, “do you think someone got hurt?”

“Maybe we should go back.” Momo said not wanting to intrude on something that could have no villainous intent.

“Shut up extra’s, we’re already here.” Bakugo muttered walking to the entrance, they all followed the angry boy who glared at the children coming out of that ward.

“When did you care about the injured?” Kirishima questioned the blond.

“I don’t, you dragged me with you so now we’re staying.” For one thing the boy was persistent.

Across the hospital, Aizawa had ran to the room and saw your eyes filled with fury, your mother holding your hand as he could see how much pain you were in. ��Look what the cat dragged in.” You scowled in pain.

“You can take over now.” Is all her mother said, going outside and waiting. He took her place and in an instance your hands had grabbed his.

“You must be the husband, I’ll be helping your wife, can you wear these?” The doctor spoke passing the blue overall type to keep his clothes covered, Aizawa obliged still holding your hand. “Mrs Aizawa you’re about 9cm dilated once you get to 10cm I’m going to tell you to push, okay?”

You were breathless and felt dreary, it would’ve been fine if it wasn’t for the fact you were having twins. You knew you’d go through even more pain then normal and in that moment felt scared.

“Hey kitten, look at me, you’ll do amazing.” Aizawa tried to be encouraging but even he was scared for all three of you.

“It hurts.” You tried to hide the tears, but it mixed in with the sweat.

“I know kitten, but you can grab onto me as hard as you want.” He smiles moving the strands of hair away from your sweaty forehead.

“10cm’s.” One of the nurses spoke out, the doctor nodded before looking at the angry you and calm husband.

“Mrs Aizawa you need to start pushing.” The pain was excruciating, you tried to push your grip on Aizawa’s hands becoming tighter. It was the worst pain you’d gone through and you’d been stabbed before.

Aizawa gave words of encouragement but all you wanted to do was tell him to shut up, tears cascaded down your face whilst pushing. “I see a head.” The doctor spoke, “keep pushing.”

You pushed a long with what the nurses had told you, in time to make sure you weren’t just randomly pushing. Aizawa was the first to see it, first to see the baby come out, it was quiet before wailing out loud, it was his turn to cry. The baby being placed on your chest before the doctor continued, “one more push, let’s get the other one out.”

You felt the first baby on your ski grabbing your neck as you kept on pushing, “I don’t want too.” You cried out but seeing Aizawa and how he looked at the baby on your chest you knew you needed too.

“Come on kitten, one more push.” He spoke a loud, you suppresses the tears before feeling another hard push come and the head of another baby erupt out of you. The doctor but the second baby on your chest, both their crying having stopped.

They stayed on you, you let go of Aizawas hand as the doctor told him he could cut the umbilical cord, he happily obliged before looking at the two babies that you both had created. They were smaller then normal and there eyes were tightly shut clinging onto their new mother.

“We need to weigh and clean them.” The doctor spoke as two nurses took the babies ready to put tags on them, the oldest had been a boy and the youngest a girl. You missed there touch and hold wanting to hold them again but watching them being taken out.

“We did it.” You spoke sleepily as you felt yourself being cleaned up and ready to be moved into another room.

“Yeah, we did.” Aizawa spoke going in to kiss your temple, “we’re parents.”

Tears brimmed his eyes; this normal dry flat facial features had become happier and all he could think about was how you looked with his two children. How he had gotten a family that he had never expected to have had.

Being moved to a different room, Aizawa followed sitting on the chair beside you. You saw the two babies come back to you both, in an instance they were placed back into your arms. “You can hold them?”

You had seen Aizawa’s hesitance to even touch the babies, but he knew how to do it and with ease they both were situated in his arms. You could hear your mother outside, she seemed to be talking to some people, but you ignored it watching at how Aizawa’s eyes welled up at the two babies.

“Where are my grandchildren?” Your mother spoke a loud before having heart eyes at how Aizawa was holding your babies.

“Mum, please be quieter.”

“Hey, I had to handle your screams, let me be happy, they look adorable with their father.” She spoke moving to the bed.

“They really do.” You both watched him look at the two children, a tear falling from his face.

Your mother turned back to you and she smiled at you, “I’m proud of you.” You give a nod holding her hand before she speaks, “have you two got any na…”

Before she could continue you hear the door open with the doctor coming in, “it seems you two have more visitors.”

You were both confused on the matter, nobody really knew you had gone into pregnancy except your parents and his and your father was still at work whilst his parents were out of town. It was unexpected but your eyes widen when you see the group of 16-year olds.

“They were wondering around the hospital.” The doctor speaks, Aizawa hadn’t noticed his students, but you and your mother had.

The kids were in shock at seeing a pro hero in a hospital bed but there eyes went to Aizawa’s he had been looking at his babies, unaware of his surroundings.

Nobody spoke instead just watching Aizawa interact with the two new-born babies, a smile placed on his normal flat self. “Did he steal two babies?” You hear one of them whisper, you instantly begin to speak after that.

“Shouta.” You whisper.

“Yeah.” He was so out of dazed but once he turns to face them all, he’s in shock as well.

“I’ll leave you to handle this.” Your mother leaves not wanting to have to explain this scenario.

Aizawa was still in shock, you reach out for one of the babies, he passes you the youngest, who starts to grab at your fingers. He sits holding the boy, before the class start cascading you both in questions.

“Are they yours?”, “How do you know Pro Hero Y/n?”, “Who is she to you?”

Aizawa looks at them and then at his family, you nod a sign that he could tell them everything, “This is my wife, and these are our new kids.”

It was a simple but effective, the class in shock that there homeroom teacher who seemed to be detached had you the loving pro hero as a wife, but even more now had two kids.

“Congratulations.” They all spoke a loud. It was rehearsed and you could tell that it all came out due to shock.

“What are you doing here anyway, I thought we said go back to the dorms.” Aizawa scowled.

“Baby, it’s fine, it’s good they found out anyway, since you wont be teaching them for a bit.” You calmed the man down.

He shakes his head at how easily you calmed him down, “you’re an amazing pro hero.” Midoriya spoke a loud, you thanked him before they didn’t know what else to say.

“I’ll go call Nezu, he can get you back to UA.” Aizawa muttered handing you the other child as he left the room.

“You married Aizawa.” Mina spoke a loud everybody looked at her, “what? We were all thinking it?”

You laugh looking at them all, “yes I did.”

“And you slept with him.” Mina continued with ever more eyes growing wider.

You continued to laugh, “that is how I got pregnant.”

“What are their names?” Ururaka asked coming towards the two kids.

You sat upright, letting them have a closer look, they all came forward even Bakugo who saw children as devils spawn. They were fresh out and anew, so pure and innocent as they tugged onto your hair.

“We haven’t decided yet.” You said looking at the two kids, you notice Aizawa at the door looking at the class as they surrounded you and the babies. The way they were quieter than they had ever been around two new-borns, they spent time asking questions and looking at the two babies. Before being dragged back to UA, all smiling happily at having spent the afternoon with two new-borns.

“They look like you.” You mutter sleepily, the two babies being put to sleep on the other sides of the room. “We made them.”

“I love you.” He whispers kissing you softly, you kiss back, happily at the new family you had and Aizawa finally realised what his happiness was. You and your two babies were all he ever needed now.

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[strangerivy]

Say Your Mine

Summary:   Levi and you head out with a small group of Scouts out of the walls to clear out some titans and your taught a small lesson on why your hair should not be long and in the fear pint up emotions are brought out into the open. Warnings: Swearing | Some Violence | Spoilers for No Regrets OVA   Pairings: Levi Ackerman x Reader (y/n) Genre: 18+ | Fluff  Word Count: 2.8k Author’s Note: So my dumb butt forgot Flagon is dead... so I fixed Confessions in the Snow switching it to Mike, nothing changed though. Anyway, let me know what you guys think! and if anyone wants to be tagged in future Levi fic’s just let me know and I’ll start a taglist 😊 💜

|| Masterlist | AOT Masterlist ||

Year 845 - Spring

You sat on your horse next to Levi, running your fingers through your horse’s mane with a soft smile, soaking up the little amount of peace you would have for the majority of the day. The morning sun just barely breaking over the top of the wall as you waited for the gates to open. A soft spring breeze blowing through you, sending a chill up your spine. The frost on the almost bloomed flowers that lined the streets and in window garden beds of the homes around you was a symbol of the cold night air still lingering around. 

Your hair blew wildly around you and you quickly swiped it away from your face with a huff as you continued running your fingers through the mane, your horse letting out a snort in appreciation lifting its head for you to pet it more causing you to let out a small giggle scratching the underside of its chin. You heard Levi click his tongue and you looked over at him with a tilt of your head.

“What?” You asked not sure what could have pissed him off so early but then as you thought about it, there were a number of things that could have. For instance, you may have given him your cup of tea rather than his. But he would have said something you thought, your morning tea always having sugar added to it, which is something he hated, always commenting on how it ruined the taste of the tea.

“Didn’t you have time to do anything with your hair?” He questioned looking over at you with narrow eyes, another gust of wind sending your hair into a wild dance again. When the wind died down once again you quickly gathered it up and pulled it behind you taking the hair tie you did have, tying it sloppily back to appease the grumpy man beside you.

“Better?” You pointed at the messy bun with a cheeky grin unphased by his cold attitude and he scoffed once again with a roll of his eyes.

“It’ll do,” He sighed knowing he wouldn’t get a better result now as you were about to leave.  Of all the days you could have overslept, it had to be the day you go out beyond the walls. Erwin, who was leading this mission, yelled out that the gates would be opening shortly. You felt your heart began to beat faster as the minutes tick. 

There was always a sense of excitement and nerves each time you went outside the walls. Excitement to see the outside world once again, beyond the walls. Nerves because you could never predict what was going to happen, how many people would be lost this time? If you would be one of those, you glance at Levi from the corner of your eye, or if he would be among the dead. You let out a heavy sigh from your own thoughts and Levi eyed you curiously but still looking stoic as ever, the fear of what lay beyond the walls never seeming to faze him. You waved his unasked question off as the formation began to move forward, the sound of chains rattling signaling the gate was raising.

“Nothing,” you sighed heavily “Just lost in my own head,”

“Aren’t you always lost in your head,” Levi deadpanned your mouth dropped at his comment feeling your annoyance rise, the dark thoughts forgotten in an instant.

“Rude!” You shouted in offense shooting daggers at him with your glare, he smirked before you started to speed up making it outside of the walls into the open world beyond the walls. You closed your eyes for a moment letting yourself feel the sense of freedom beyond the wall provided before regaining your composure and becoming the skilled soldier you had become over the last few months.

The signal came to break off into your smaller parties, the mission was small so there weren’t many of you out in the field today. Reports of a few titans having been spotted too close for comfort, easy in and out misson.

You and Levi sped up veering off to the left of the formation following right behind Erwin and Mike, you would be closest to the trees that you would be looking for the Titans this time around. You kept your eyes open waiting to catch any movement.

You were quick to spot the 10-meter titan running at you, quickly shooting a red smoked signal flare into the air to signal the other parties. As soon as the Titan was close enough, Levi used the trees on the edge of the forest to take it out. You grabbed onto his horse so that he would be able to easily get back on and continue with the mission.

Levi got back onto his horse with ease giving you a nod grabbing ahold of its reins. Another 10-meter appeared that Mike was able to take out as you continued along the edge of the trees. That was the nice thing about your team now, you didn’t really need to speak to know what to do.

The mission was going smoothly for you each having killed a Titan. Erwin gave the order to retreat as it seemed you had got all the suspecting Titans. You were heading back to the gate with a small smile as it seemed for once, no one died. This seemed to be the case each time you went out with Erwin, he was growing quite a reputation of not losing people in his squad.

You turned to talk to Levi when a large leg of a 15-meter Titan shot out of the trees causing you to quickly turn your horse almost losing balance and falling off but you were able to quickly recover still moving as the Titan tried to swipe at you just barely missing as you swerved. You cursed yourself, getting into a stance on the back of your horse to use your gear.

You hooked your grappling hooks onto a tree just behind the titan using it to gain momentum with your gas to get high enough into the air to grapple onto the nap but just as you were about to do that, you felt your hair become loose flying wildly behind you. You made eye contact with the mindless creature, the world suddenly moving in slow motion as you watched its hand reach out grabbing onto your hair with a tight grip.

You let out a painful scream as you were yanked by the titan feeling the whiplash in your neck and then pain on your scalp from being held by your hair. You reached up dropping your blades, holding onto the base of your hair that you could grab to help relieve some of the pressure, trying to yank your hair out of its grip, legs swing wildly in the air. You felt the air leave your lungs as it brought you closer to its mouth your actions becoming more desperate, your eyes beginning to tear up as you thought your fate was now sealed. You tried to reach your dangling swords while still pulling on your hair another string of curses leaving your lips.

Just as the Titan was about to lower you to its mouth you heard the hiss of ODM gear and a scream of an angered soldier but not just any, Levi.

“Get your filthy hands off her!” He spat as he sliced at the neck, a more than large enough piece being cut from the nape nearly beheading the thing.  The titan began to fall forward with you still in its grasp, but it was now loosening enough for the strands to slip through. Its body already beginning to disintegrate. Levi quickly grabbed hold of you in midair before landing on the ground whistling for your horses to come back before another titan can make a surprise appearance.

You collapsed to the ground once your feet hit the earth breathing heavily as you tried to calm your racing heart down, adrenaline still rushing through you your hands shaking as you collected your blades sheathing them. Your horse appeared next to you and you began to stand up using Levi’s arm to help pull you up.

“T-thank y-” You were cut off as Levi slammed his lips onto yours once you were fully standing, his hands on either side of your face pulling you closer to him. You stared at him in shock at his actions feeling his lips move against your still ones as your brain tried to process that this was real.

You felt his tongue brush against your bottom lip asking for entrance and you relaxed into his grip closing your eyes and kissing him back just as passionately gripping onto his jacket. You parted your lips with a soft sigh letting him in your tongues battling for dominance after years of pint up romantic tension was finally let go, poured all into this one kiss.

He broke the kiss resting his forehead on yours both of you taking deep breaths to catch your breath. You relaxed your grip on his jacket as rubbed your cheeks with his thumbs. He let out a sigh before helping you back onto your horse, you weren’t able to take your eyes off of him as he did, confusion filling your mind. Once he was sitting back on his horse you went to speak.

“Le-”

“We are cutting your hair the second we get back to HQ,” He interrupted before taking off towards the others. You blinked a few times as you stared at him riding away knowing that once you were back things would need to be discussed, you could no longer play this game and you weren’t sure he wanted to either. One of you needed to make the first move, looks like it needed to be you.

You were laying on Levi’s bed, legs dangling over the edge gently swing them as you were waiting for him to gather the things he needed for your inevitable haircut. You traced the groves of the bottom of the top bunk with the tip of your figure as you heard him walkabout, you replayed the conversation you had with Hange earlier while Levi was conversing with Erwin about the mission.

“So, he just kissed you, in front of everyone, and then rode off?” She questioned as she was taking notes from her most recent experiment, she looked up at you threw her glasses, “What are you going to do?”

You let out a frustrated sigh falling back into one of her chairs running a hand through your hair working out the knots as your fingers reached the ends. “I don’t know,” You whispered staring up at the ceiling and Hange let out an equally frustrated sigh making you look up at her.

“You two are so much alike it’s no wonder neither of you have admitted your feelings to the other,” She states almost as if you weren’t in the room and she was speaking to herself. “Are you happy? Are you happy with how things are between the two of you? Can you keep going like this y/n?”

Hange’s words echoed through your mind making your frown. Your mind wandered to the kiss once again your heart starting to race at just the memory of it. You thought about what it could mean, but you knew in the back of your mind exactly what it meant but your fear of assuming the wrong thing had you pushing that thought as far back as it could go.

You lifted your head to see he was getting the chair set up, you let out a frustrated sigh letting your head fall back onto the mattress. You felt a gentle kick on your boot making you lift your head again.

“Come on,” Levi motioned to the chair and you lifted yourself off the bed taking a seat. He had grabbed your brush from your room brushing the knots out of your hair. This was your favorite part of the whole process. Levi always took his time whenever he brushed your hair, it was calming especially on nights you couldn’t sleep and you two would just sit there talking and he would mindlessly brush your hair with his fingers.

After Levi is satisfied with your hair being knot-free, he begins working on cutting your hair to a more manageable length.

“Honestly, how did you not notice this mop?” He questions a hint of annoyance in his tone

“It’s not a mop!” You let out a small huff, “And besides I’m not the only one who seems to have forgotten about their hair, yours is a bit longer than usual as well,” You defended, you heard Levi let out a small snort and you went to turn your head to look at him with a smirk, but he gripped your head-turning it back forward.

“Hold still,” He instructed, you both fell into a comfortable silence the only sound in the room being that of the scissors. Your mind once again allowed to wander to things you didn’t want to think about especially in the presence of the man those thoughts were about.

“Levi?” You asked, he let out a hum telling you that he was listening. You kept your gaze at the ground as you tried to find the right words. You must have taken too long because the room became quiet.

“What is it?” Levi asks curiously wondering what had you so on edge. You debated making something up to avoid the conversation once again, but you knew it would only make the situation worse if it wasn’t addressed now. If the kiss wasn’t addressed. You took a breath to calm your nerves.

“You kissed me,” Your voice was soft when you finally spoke the air in the room changing, thickening as the veil you and Levi danced around shattered, “Y-you kissed me and- and I don’t know what it means,” Your voice was barely above a whisper but sounded so loud with each word, your heart feeling like it was going to beat right out of your chest. 

The room remained quiet, the only thing giving away that he was still standing behind you was his breath. You began to heat up from nerves worried that this was a mistake, thoughts beginning to flood your mind of how you should have just kept your mouth shut and continued playing the game. You went to turn around in your seat to look at him, but he grabbed ahold of your shoulders pulling you tight to the back of the chair, holding you in place. You tensed at the sudden contact keeping your gaze on the ground, his fingers were trembling slightly giving away just how nervous he was.

“I’m sorry,” You panicked going to stand up and walk out “I s-s-shouldn’t have said anything” You rambled but before you could leave Levi grabbed a hold of your wrist.

“Will you just give me a second, dammit” His voice was quiet but still held a sternness to it that kept you from running out the door. His grip loosened slowly until his hand finally let go dropping to his side. You pulled your hand to your chest rubbing your wrist with your other hand as you cautiously turned to face him.

He was staring down at the ground his hair covering his face, hands dangling at his side. You took a step cautious step closer and then another until you were standing right in front of him. He slowly lifted his head so that he was looking at you and that’s when you could see the deep blush on his cheeks. Seeing him blush caused your cheeks to start heating up and you turned your head in embarrassment, but he gently gripped your chin turning it back to face him.

“It means that I love you, alright?” His voice gained more confidence as he went on, “It means that I’m yours and I would like- I would like i-if you would be mine,” He scratched the back of his head from the nerves and you stared at him in a bit of shock your mouth slightly opened as your processed his words a smile slowly spreading across your lips as it sunk in.

You threw your arms around his neck pulling him into you in a tight embrace as you snuggled into the side of his neck taking in his scent that always brought a sense of peace to you. He slowly relaxed, his shoulders dropping and his arms slowly wrapping around your waist holding you equally as tight to him.

“Of course I will,” You answered with a smile pulling back enough to look at him “Always have been,” He pulled you into a kiss just like before. He cupped your face rubbing soft circles into your cheeks. When you parted he pushed a few stray hairs out of your face.

"Now let's fix your mop,"

"It's not a damn mop!"