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comfortless · 1 year ago

Note

write swagger. anything for swagger. anything. i’ll take a crumb, I’ll take medic x swagger i’ll take any overdone trope give me something for this man!!!! i love u and your writing sm syl i’m sorry this isn’t a köni request but..

Spin Cycle

Roland “Swagger” Kaminski x mercenary fem!reader

CONTENT / WARNINGS: 18+ minors do not interact! violence, enemies -> lovers, implications of sex (no actual smut), swagger points a gun at your head sorry, reader may have a gun kink.

i hate(love) you, lele!! i listened to this guys voice lines so many times they’re just embedded in my brain at this point. lil rushed & not proofread, so there may be some mistakes, sorry!

wc: 3k

Cold. Wet.

This isn't the weather for a battle. This isn't a night to die. But some lack taste in the intricacies of being victimized, and as her sight settles on the enemy maneuvering through the war torn warehouse, she realizes he certainly doesn't have a preference in which way he's ripped apart. The mask covering his face tells her everything she needs to know, he's dead already, hiding beneath an ugly cover to conceal his identity; an unknown, evil thing in her eyes. She would be doing him a favor. Mercy for the man marching around wearing a face not his own.

She slowly positions her pistol, quietly aiming as her finger brushes the trigger. Once, to prepare herself for more blood on her hands. Twice, to make peace with his creator in his stead— he wouldn't have the time nor the delicate nature for it. Thrice, because she likes the feel of the cold metal against her fingertip; it grounds her, tethers her to the reality of what she’s here to do. Lucky numbers be damned, it was all for the thrill of it.

She pulls the trigger and the bullet rips from the barrel as she bites her lip.

To her chagrin, it buries itself in the wall behind her target. To her relief, it definitely struck. The man buckles to the dirtied floor with a groan, gloved hands reaching out to apply pressure to the gash in his calf. It's not enough to kill, they both knew it, but it would put the buck down long enough for her to reload and fire a shot right into his brain. She wonders if she could tell what his face actually looked like when his mask was blown off and gray matter spackled the floor behind him.

"Knew you were in here, you slimy bastard."

The voice pulls her from her thoughts, and if she were forced to have any sort of virtue left she could be honest and embrace the fact she isn't the most coordinated mercenary out there. Her pistol clatters to the floor. She quickly slips further into the dark, not bothering with her lost weapon for the time being as she positions herself behind a crate to hide.

"Your aim is shit. Your hands must be shaking."

The man's voice continues to rasp. He's taunting her, wants to lure her out. There's something playful about his voice that sends a swell of unease from her chest to the pit of her stomach. The man had just been shot, and that surge of confidence couldn't stem from a wounded man unless he had some sort of a plan. She's been here so many times with so many different flavors of prey that the warning signs aren't lost on her.

She swears she hears the click of him replacing his magazine, the static of his radio, the sound of ripped fabric and a lightening quick application of a makeshift tourniquet. The thought that the gunfire gave out her position crosses her mind.

"Come out, fucking coward."

She's been here so many times, in the dead of night, playing this one-sided game of cat and mouse. She's seen blood, felt the sting of a bullet carving it's way through her, and she's never been afraid. Not until tonight.

This isn't a night to die, yet she's pissed off the fucking grim reaper.

A church bell rings out in the distance, some small mercy. It plants the seed of an idea and she follows the path her mind carves with her hand grasping for a knife at her belt. The knife rips through the quiet air of the warehouse, coming to a clatter some three meters behind him after she tosses it. The man takes the bait, fires several shots in the direction of the noise as she quietly finds her escape. Delivered from death by the heavenly portal of a broken window.

But when it comes to the intricacies of being victimized, it's very rare that things play out so simply. Hunting is a messy task, and one slip up can so quickly prove that prey often have fangs, too.

Her target, some Polish elite soldier, Roland Kaminski, isn't a buck at all. Bucks are easy, they're skittish and stupid. You fire off a shot at one of them, they buckle or prance back into the plush foliage of the forest for cover. When thundering footsteps can be heard in the dark, just past the safety of the broken window, she realises she's not dealing with another deer. Shes got a frenzied boar at her heels.

She's defenseless, her arms scattered in the darkness of the warehouse the boar is charging from, and she finds she lacks the will to break her ankle jumping down onto the pavement below. This is the line where the hunt becomes a proper fight. Her pulse beats like the thunder tearing apart the sky above her, every muscle in her body pulled tight like a spring waiting to maul her impending threat.

The fight never comes.

One moment, he's charging through the wreckage inside like a behemoth with a taste for human flesh, and the next he's simply staring at her while he's shrouded by the dark. It's almost comical, really, her thoughts flood with pictures of horror mascots as she teeters on the windowsill, staring right back into the wide, dark eyes of his mask. They remain in a stasis for a moment, both breathing shallow, both watching the other. Then, he does something that surprises her. Surprises and infuriates her.

He pulls his radio up to his mask, breathes out a heavy sigh as the sound of static cuts through this pair's silence. The grim reaper has the audacity to pretend his frustration over arches her own, and she's gritting her teeth wondering how likely it was she could free his esophagus from the column of his neck with her mouth alone.

She feels his gaze rove over her, lingering along the empty holster at her hip and the garter on her thigh.

"Target's down."

He's lying to his team, lying because he pities her, and she can't think of a thing more insulting. A mercenary is no different than a prostitute, money for flesh, pain or pleasure. She's aware of it, she's seen her fellow mercs gunned down without a second thought from their enemies. She's heard the men in her company boast of ravaging paid women without thought. For some time, she's considered they may all be beasts, but the grim reaper is sparing her. Sparing her, because he doesn't see her as a threat at all. A defenseless woman clinging to a broken window like it's the only tether she has to the world at all. He's no boar, no blood-stained reaper, just a person. He doesn't see her as pounds of flesh to march into battle before him. She sees humanity, and he sees an insect unworthy of his bullet.

"I tried to kill you," she breathes out, enunciates each word careful and slow as she tries to get a read on him, praying her assumption isn't true. There's the creaking of broken glass beneath the toes of her boots as she pivots herself to fully face him, standing in the window with the backdrop of a dark sky threatening violence. The man shrugs his broad shoulders, turns away, as though nothing has even happened. Her stare drifts to the tourniquet on his calf, and it dawns on her that he isn't even limping.

"I wouldn't even need a minute with you." He sounds bored. The pity stung enough. She wasn't just a hapless rabbit in his eyes, she was a gnat. A nuisance to top it all off. "Who are you working for?"

She falls silent, teetering on the ledge of the windowsill in silent debate. The jump would end in injury, but the darkened sky and the rain could cover her. There’s a building less than half a mile away and if she just made it there then—

“Answer.” Roland’s gruff voice sounds out in the quiet warehouse again, and she hazards a glance up just in time to catch those dead eyes of his peering at her from over his shoulder.

“I don’t know.”

“No?”

“I don’t have a name.”

Roland merely huffs at that, rolls his shoulders a little. He’s confident, a bit too arrogant for a man that’s been shot. She may have seen a boar, and he may have seen an ange, because he has the audacity to give her a comforting pat on the shoulder with a gentle swipe of his thumb along her neck.

Tells her, “Get lost.”

Follows it up with, “Let us never meet again.”

She doesn’t die on this frigid, rainy night, but a part of her is lost with him. Lost with a man that looks at her as though she had tiny angel’s wing, buzzing at her back. Lost with a man who’s entire existence is an enigma to her. Shoot to kill, and she hadn’t. Shoot to kill and not ever would she again, not to him, not to the man who gave her mercy when she deserved none.

— — —

She finds herself working alongside the Polish GROM. Realistically, she had returned sopping wet to her shabby hotel and spent hours researching how to work her way in. She doesn’t know why, but she’s found herself enthralled in a shadow, worshipping him in her own way. All for a chance to see her should-be reaper. And she’s no elite, can barely keep her trigger finger steady, but supplementing for a fallen soldier is the standard and she’s got enough falsified experience under her belt to look the part of a proper gunman.

It pays enough to keep her afloat until the next thing piques her interest or her contract ends, whichever comes first. Her room is simple, a barren mattress and dark walls, a concrete floor. It doesn’t feel homey, but no place ever does nowadays. Small blessings are found in the fact she doesn’t have to share the space, it’s hers and hers alone.

She spends her first few hours inspecting the place for bugs, then takes to staring up at the ceiling, listless, because what the hell had made her so impulsive? Roland could have already had his head blown clean off by anyone else by now. Did she even want to see him? To choke him with his own words or thank him for his kindness?

All of this uprooting driven by impulsivity for a man who told her not to meet him again and yet she’s here, walking about the compound like she truly belongs.

She should have cut her hair, tried to make herself look different from the trembling mouse on the ledge that night, but a part of her wants him to see her. Recognize her, bring him down from that gilded throne of his where women like her are just nuisances instead of a proper challenge.

Only, she’s not a challenge. Not at all, because the second she meets him in the stairwell her mind starts swimming and all she can do is stare. He looks a bit tired, likely having just returned from some dreadful mission, even wearing all black he’s covered in sprays of dust, the denim of his trousers painted darker in some places, blood.

“Ja jebię.”

He hadn’t forgotten.

His breath sounds shaky, and she’s not sure if it’s because the gas mask in its proper place or if he’s actually surprised, startled. If anything could shake him down from his pedestal she imagined meeting the woman who tried to kill him once again would do it.

“How’s your leg?”

“Better than your aim, pizda.”

She imagines that he would probably like nothing better than to put a bullet through her right then. The man merely laughs, something breathy and low. She’s surprised him, probably both startled and impressed that she even had the balls to face him again. She likes that, likes that little laugh, that his voice isn’t angry, that he’s playing with fire just as much as she is.

“What are you doing here?”

“Contract,” she states simply, not bothering to hide the way her gaze rakes over his body in the yellow haze of fluorescent lighting. “Just a few months, filling in a gap.”

He mutters something under his breath, a string of Polish and French that she doesn’t quite catch. She knows that he knows she’s infatuated, taking to follow after a wild coyote like a house pet.

It’s a dirty word, infatuated; dangerous in a way that scares her more than facing down the barrel of a gun.

Roland takes a step towards her, brushes her hair from her face with a touch too rough and leans in close to look at her, inspect her as though she’s not even really here, some figment of his vile imagination. She just… lets him. Despite her better judgement she lets him grip at her face like she’s nothing but putty in his hands.

“Here to kill me?” He asks his question as he retreats from her and drops his hands to his sides, staring at her as though she’s not an implant in his force, but an implant on the planet itself.

“Not this time.”

He gives her a tilt of the head and a grunt in response before brushing past in a hurry.

— — —

The following morning, she wakes to several rapid knocks at her door. Sounding just impatient enough to pull her from her sleep with her heart fluttering like a small bird in her rib cage. She readily hops out of bed and dresses before turning the knob to reveal something she didn’t expect— Roland. It’s the first times she’s seen him without his gas mask, but she recognizes him immediately. He’s more handsome when he doesn’t look the part of a famished buzzard seeking out carrion.

“Kaminski.”

“Swagger,” he corrects and she can’t help but laugh at the usage of his callsign. She wants to know how he got stuck with that, something so embarrassing it makes him sound as though he’s some teenage boy desperate to fit in or perhaps even a pirate, not the man she sees before her.

“We aren’t on the field.”

“Today we will pretend.”

He grabs her arm in the very same boorish way he had grabbed at her face just yesterday, and leads her down an empty hallway in silence. Each step seems to echo louder than the last. She wonders for half a moment if he does intend to kill her, hazards a look up at him expecting to see some flame of gruesome determination in his eyes only to be met with a calmness that makes her reconsider.

Today isn’t a day to die, either, it seemed.

He leads her to a room of bulletproof glass and well-placed targets. Pulls his gun from his holster after inspecting that she hadn’t thought to bring her own. She feels silly when his touch goes to prod at her hip, dips along the waistband of her trousers to seek out a weapon that just isn’t there. She’s ill-prepared and now her face feels hot all while Roland didn’t seem to have so much as a care.

“I’ll teach you to shoot,” he huffs as he steps behind her and places his gun in her hands, an ugly thing she recognizes to be a SIG P226. The metal feels cold and heavy in her hands, but she handles it well enough. It doesn’t particularly help that one of his arms curls around her middle to keep her steady. It’s even worse that one hand remains splayed over hers as she holds the gun.

Shooting when you’re in a desperate situation is difficult enough. The thought that death could be approaching doesn’t keep most grounded, not her at least. It makes her shaky. This is far worse. The man is so close she can smell him, gunpowder and something pungent and clean like mint. She feels his warmth cover her back, his fingers digging a bit into her side.

“I’m ready.”

He grunts in response, maneuvering her a bit closer to a small window carved out in the glass.

“Then shoot.”

So, she does. She misses, of course, and she feels even more silly when he mutters something into her shoulder and deliberately moves and angles her arm properly. The only thing good is that the gun’s recoil is soft, because if she were pushed any further against him she may very well melt down into putty.

Again and again she takes aim and fires at the brightly colored target through the window. After what feels like hours she’s finally hit some place that makes Roland give her an appreciative pat to her tummy.

“I’m improving.” She feigns his confidence, puffing out her chest a little in pride.

“Are you?”

He steals the gun from her hand and draws away to face her properly. There’s a tension she can’t place, something strange in the flicker of his eye.

“You saw—“

Her words are cut off when the man tackles her to the floor, covering her entirely as he pins her from either side. A sharp intake of oxygen is stolen as her spine tingles in pain from the sudden force. She yelps, he laughs, and none of it is funny because he’s still holding a loaded fucking gun. Only, worse, when he presses the muzzle against her cheek and uses his free hand to fix her wrists to the cold floor beneath her.

He tuts at her when she doesn’t try to fight him off, only looks up at him with wide-eyes and parted lips, a face too warm to only depict fear. If he didn’t know before, he knows now. She catches a mischievous glimmer in his eyes right before she tilts her head to kiss the cold steel clutched tightly in his fingers.

Roland stiffens above her for a moment, every muscle in his body pulled taut, jaw clenched and eyes fluttering.

“Not pizda,” he whispers as he clicks the safety back on and shifts to holster the weapon. “You are like a…”

“Ange?”

“Non,” he laughs. “Aniołku.”

If she didn’t know before, she knows now.

— — —

Any training session is spent with Roland.

Every mission they’re tethered to one another.

Any free time she finds yourself having is spent with him, even seeking him out herself just as often as he comes pounding at her door.

It feels both natural and absurd, sharing meals with the man she almost murdered, covering him as he covers her, both finding themselves less and less willing to be on their own as the days pass by. The progression just doesn’t halt, a train plowing off track, the man has his blunt talons curled into her and she just doesn’t have the sense to beat him back because she knows she’s got her teeth embedded just as deeply into him.

It doesn’t even come as a surprise when she starts her mornings peeling herself away from him, still sleeping peacefully in her bed. His room lacks taste— too barren, too bogged down with well-oiled metal and violence. She’s spruced hers up in the free time she has with small items, things she can pack up and carry with her to whichever side she finds herself pulled to next.

The thing she keeps most sacred, however, is a little photograph of him, one he had insisted on her keeping on the bedside table, despite being in flesh, wrapped tightly around her each and every night.

She picks it up, turns it over in her hands a few times before the weight of a heavy hand splays itself out across her middle, languidly tugging her back down.

“Stay,” he murmurs, someplace lost between dreaming and waking.

“Just for a bit,” she whispers in reply, nestling close, curling against his chest.

“Forever, aniołku.”

With a soft inhale, she falls back against him in a tangle of limbs and warmth, a part of her lost to the fantasy of permanence.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．

ange: angel (French)

Ja jebię: fuck me

pizda: cunt

non: no (French)

aniołku: angel

#cod fanfiction #mw3 fanfic #roland kaminski #roland swagger kaminski #cod swagger #Roland Kaminski x reader #swagger x reader #i hate this guys name my god #cod x reader #cod x you

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mazzystar24 · 9 months ago

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i feel like you’re the right audience for this but i’m rewatching gilmore girls and buck and eddie are so luke and lorelai coded sometimes. christopher is rory and shannon is christopher (sorry shannon i love you). ana is max medina.

BABE YOU HAVE DEFINITELY REACHED THE RIGHT AUDIENCE ISTG I THINK I MADE LIKE 167283 POSTS ABOUT THIS

Like eventhough Chris is Rory in this situation I feel like buck is more loralie and Eddie is way more luke, so like plot wise it’s the other way but dynamic and character wise DEFINITELY Luke=Eddie and loralie= buck

Like there is something about the yapper/ fond of the yapper, the one who believes in fate and the universe/ the one who thinks it’s all bs, sunshine/ grumpy, needs attention to survive/doesn’t like attention dynamic that is just RIGHT

Plus like loralie- fucked up and complicated relationship with her parents where she never felt seen by them, troublemaker when she was younger, has a tendency to make things about her/ take things personally, kinda needy and like loves attention, yapper, adhd coded in my opinion, ran away from home at a young age to then find herself in another place and build this sort of found family dynamic, emotional attachment to a jeep, has a tendency to sometimes get control freak, micromanaging mode

All of which are very buck things

And Eddie is so luke for obvious reasons like the sort of need to kinda drag things out of him a little more, endlessly fond and supportive, would rather die than talk about his feelings, like just that sturdy energy idk

And rip Shannon but I have mixed feelings about you and you do fit the Christopher role: like left their kids with no contact✅technically has like a reason of being young scared etc but still went NO CONTACT WITH THEIR CHILD✅ their love interest romanticises their relationship eventhough in reality it’s not a good relationship ✅

Also omg Rory as Chris just works so well cos it’s like that smart beyond their years and supportive energy (cough cough both had a player era too)

I see your Ana as max and I raise you Tommy as Rachel, nothing overtly wrong but they’re just not the right person (if he has the Rachel send off I’d die of joy)

TAYLOR IS JASON (digger) LIKE THE SAME ENERGY OF BEING A BIT COLD AND CLOSED OFF AND SHIT AND THEN BETRAYING THEIR TRUST BY HURTING THEIR FAMILY - actually depending on how Tommy goes his personality also fits Jason too like the kinda closed off energy works

Marisol is Nicole cos Nicole pisses me off 🙄 (like we haven’t seen Marisol enough for me to hate her but you know what edy made me hate her because seeing her face and hearing her voice actually physically makes me vomit) but like lbr personality of a wet towel, underdeveloped, moved very quickly then moved back then moved quick again then imploded

Omg tho if we get any form of luke and loralie build to buddie I would love it like I made a post before about the “I feel like I’m never gonna have it- the whole package” “you will” “you don’t know that, how do you know that” “ I just do” conversation but also the luke and loralie first kiss would be so scrumptious for buddie

I’m gonna shut up now cos I feel like I yapped too much but yes I love you sm because you absolutely clocked me right with this ask

#911 #buddie #evan buckley #911 abc #911 fox #eddie diaz #911onfox #evan buck buckley #buckley diaz family #asks open #send asks #send me asks #answered asks #asks #my asks

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f1nalboys · 3 years ago

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Hello! I hope you are well🙂

Could I request something similar to the last request? Where the reader is having a really bad day and the boys are not answering their phones. Then the reader goes to a party without telling them and gets a bit intoxicated. The boys go home and can’t find the reader so they go out to look for her or call her friends or something. They show up to the party and she doesn’t want to leave cause she’s mad at them, so Billy just picks her up over his shoulder and carries her ass home lmao. Ends in fluff please🥺It’s a bit of a weird request so you don’t have to complete this if you don’t want too.

Also, thank you for being you and making these posts! They help me mentally❤️

I LVOED THIS SM thanks for requesting and again, sorry for how long it took me to get to it!!! this req is in reference to this post of mine!

WORD COUNT: 968

WARNINGS: GN!Reader, alcohol, reader gets drunk, fluff <3

Another call that went to voicemail. You groan, flopping back onto the bed, your phone falling beside you. Today sucked and now your boyfriends weren’t answering you which just made it worse. Texts and calls, all ignored. You know that they’re busy; that’s the only reason they wouldn’t be answering you, but a small part of you wondered if it was on purpose. Maybe they didn’t want to hear you whine about your day…

Fuck this. Sitting up, your anger rising with each passing second, you pull your shoes on. You’re not staying here, waiting around for those two to come home to pay attention to you. No, that was pathetic. You remember your friend had told you about a party tonight, one that you told her you weren’t going to because you wanted to see Billy and Stu. So much for that.

The walk to the party had you pissed and the second you walked into the house you made a beeline for the table that held the drinks. One after another you downed them, only stopping to talk to a few people you knew and to eat a handful of chips. By the time two hours had passed you were drunk, more than you had been in a long time, but you hadn’t forgotten about why you had come to the party in the first place.

When Billy and Stu arrived at the apartment, they were expecting to see you there, arms folded across your chest in annoyance. Instead they were greeted with darkness and silence. “Man, what the hell? Where are they?” Stu asked, searching through the apartment to double check. Billy sighs, pulling his phone out and hitting your contact. His eyebrows furrow when he gets your voicemail, a small wave of fear going through him.

Telling himself to calm down he calls your friend, sighing in relief when she answers. “Hey, do you know where Y/N is?”

“Oh, they’re at the party. They’re pretty drunk, too, so you may wanna come get ‘em.” He sighs, thanking her before hanging up. “Where are they?” Stu asks, biting his nail. Both of them were nervous; you had never left the apartment without letting them know where you had gone.

“That fuckin’ party. They’re drunk, too, so I guess they’re pissed at us. C’mon, let’s go get them.” Stu and Billy make their way to the house party, both with varying levels of annoyance and worry. When they got there it was easy to find you; you were surrounded by your friends and you were talking loudly, swaying as you tried standing still and slurring your words. “Baby! Hey, come on, let’s go home.”

Stu tries to wrap his arm around your shoulder but you move away, your face contorting into disgust. He ignores the pang of sadness; you were drunk and pissed off, that’s all. “No, m’not going. You guys leave an’ leave me ‘lone.” You slur, pushing at Billy’s chest weakly. He grabs a hold of your wrist with ease, your movements slow. “Let go! You guys didn’t answer me, leave me alone, I’m staying here- Hey! Put me down, Stu!”

Stu grabs you, tossing you over his shoulder, and turns on his heel. Billy says goodbye to your friends and follows after Stu out of the house and into the car. He tosses you into the back seat, closing the door and locking it before getting into the passenger side seat.

“No fair,” You grumble, struggling to buckle yourself in. You’d never admit it, but you were glad to leave the party. Your head was starting to really hurt and all you wanted to do was fall asleep. You ignore the two men the entire drive home, waving off Billy when he tries to help you out of the car.

“Stop being stubborn,” He says sharply, wrapping his arm around your waist when you stumble over your feet. The two of them get you into the apartment, placing you gently onto the couch. Stu sits down next to you while Billy goes and grabs you a glass of water. “Now, you wanna be honest about why you’re mad?”

You shake your head, still mad at them for ignoring you. You take a large gulp from the water, taking the medicine he gives you for your headache. Stu pulls you into his side, holding you still even when you struggle against his grip. Billy sits on the other side of you and curls into your side, his hand grabbing your own, and you sigh. They weren’t going to leave you alone. “M’mad because you guys ignored me all day. Today sucked so fucking bad and I just wanted to hang out with you both to forget about it and I couldn’t.

“We’re sorry for not answering you, baby, honest,” Stu whispers into the side of your head, placing kisses to your temple. Your eyes close and you breathe in his scent, snuggling into him further. “It totally slipped our minds to try and get a hold of you as soon as we could. How about this; we all stay home tomorrow and spend the whole day together. You can get allllll the Billy and Stu attention you could want.”

“Promise?” You mutter, your eyes heavy with sleep. You can hear Billy laugh beside you and suddenly Stu is standing and they’re pulling you up from your spot on the couch. You groan in annoyance, allowing them to drag you from the couch to the bedroom. They fall into the bed with you in between them, limbs tangled together. Billy is kissing you gently, his lips pressed to any exposed skin he can find, and Stu is whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

“We promise, baby. Now, get some sleep, alright? We love you.”

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interdimensionalvoid · 2 years ago

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Okay I’m curious what is the target incident-

Oh boy you’re in for a wild ride strap in this is going to take a while

Strap in and buckle your seatbelts

So basically there’s this asshole we created named Sam gars (accidentally made an oc with canon brother lmaooooo)

Also this is part of the msa x sm crossover and vivi and Arthur were also a part of this

So it’s a normal day and the gang is shopping at target (specifically the chocolate aisle bc ya girl vivi needs it)

Be a shame if something were to happen

So ANYWAYS Sam Gars and his little brother Caleb (good kid. Friends with the hatz. Also knows Kevin and Streber bc of Ross bc I love the hc that Ross and Kevin are brothers)

So anyways Sam and Caleb walk by the chocolate aisle and Sam, THIS MF, decides to make a snide comment to Caleb abt Arthur and Streber being amputees. (Caleb hates it when Sam pulls shit like this, esp on his friends)

Vivi overhears

This is when shit hits the fan.

Vivi leaves the group to go find Sam bc she’s pissed that he made fun of her friends. Kev, Streb, and Artie don’t realize she left.

Meanwhile vivi walks up to Sam, taps him on the shoulder, and immediately punches him in the face (giving him a black eye)

The gang realizes vivi is gone when they hear a “WHAT THE FUCK DUDE” from a couple aisles over.

They all run over to see The Target Brawl

Arthur and Streber go to pry vivi (who is like a foot shorter than Sam, and winning) off of him, Kevin is kinda dumbfounded, and Caleb is panicking. Vivi is shouting at Sam and a couple kids in the store probably learn a LOT of new words that day.

Caleb calls the cops (which are John and Jack. Keep in mind that jack and Streber are brothers) bc what else is he supposed to do

This is when things get even wilder

They arrive, come to check out what’s going on, and Jack is like “streber? What are you doing here?” Meanwhile John is questioning a very angry vivi and Sam

Sam (this mf) tries to frame it as ‘I was just talking to my brother and she came up out of nowhere and punched me!’ Vivi (very rightfully so) corrects him.

Jack hears that he was being mean to his brother and absolutely flips his shit on him.

Sam is like ‘oh shit they’re brothers’

Caleb is panicking still

Kevin is glaring at Sam

Streber is still processing how quickly that escalated

Arthur isn’t surprised tbh that vivi did that but is like very overwhelmed

Vivi is still yelling profanities

So anyways John is like ‘you guard coming to the station.’ Sam tries to walk away, and John drags him by the collar of his jacket like ‘no you started this’

Vivi kicks him in the nuts on the way out (girlboss)

They all go to the station in the police car (streber gets front seat privileges)

Where Sam basically proceeds to get trauma dumped on and yelled at by jack

John tries to question Arthur abt Lewis but jack is like ‘lay off the kid’ and offers him one of the emotional support donuts John bought for him (bc the my fault spiral has started for jack Heehoo angst)

And yeah they also give Caleb a donut and let him go bc he’s stressed

Also jack may or may not cry a little after the whole ordeal

And that’s the story abt how they got banned from that target

Sam can no longer go into the candy club or go-nuts

He went to go-nuts once after and bc streber works there when streber was ringing him out he charged him double

The gang bought pizza with it lmao

Also Caleb and Ross are both like you’ll never believe what happened’ abt the same event (bc Caleb was there and Kevin ranted abt it to Ross)

Yeah this is just a summary of it there’s like 18 pages dedicated to The Target Incident lmao

@jesterspin

@crossover-enthusiast feel free to add anything I missed

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dawbi · 4 years ago

Note

how would a love triangle between bakugo and todoroki go? i know you only said one character but this has been on my mind for a while 😣

hi hi !! omg no worries 💕 ahhh i see 👀 this is intriguing lol. see, i thought about this and it slowly turned to a poly relationship and i’m not even polyamorous 😂 but put me in a fucking harem and i just might sjahgahaal

anyways i tried thinking about it in a mature way as i think these boys would eventually. once they get passed the competitiveness & jealousy lol. i think they’d just want you to be happy with whoever you’d pick in the end 😌

phase 1 - fuck off, they’re mine

the first and longest phase of this love triangle omg especially on bakugou’s end. i think bakugou would be the one to confront todoroki as he keeps seeing him getting close to you. “back off, crossbreed. you fucking dumb, stupid or dumb?” todoroki would literally be quiet and in shock that bakugou was noticing and from the fact that he’s pining for you too. “like hell i’d let you and y/n happen. consider this a warning.” now todoroki is not the type to cower so expect lots of confrontations between the two. “who are you to decide what happens? no one ever tell you superiority complexes aren’t a good look?” ahsgshjsk the sass 😭. kaminari and kirishima would try and ease the tension as best they can. passive aggressiveness around you and full on aggression when you’re not there lol.

phase 2 - kinda civil but not really

ahhh the second phase. something tells me bakugou and todoroki would want to show you the good sides of them. and for this reason, they would chill out with aggression. both of them are always secretly waiting for you to talk to them or even just look their way. lots of glances from afar and heart beating fast when you get put on a team together. everything is great until they’re face to face with each other. “shit.” you’d start trying to figure out how to complete the assignment and todoroki would suggest “we should go right.” “left.” he’d turn towards bakugou already getting pissed off but then turns towards you. “where do you think we should go, y/n?” both of them would be waiting for your answer, wishing you’d be on their side. “hmm let’s turn right.” you reply heading in that direction. “see? i’m more compatible than you.” todoroki pls 😩

phase 3 - pact ??

um they care about you sm ?? both are super observant and will notice when something is wrong. by this phase, they’ve already gotten used to each pining for you. doesn’t mean they want the other to end up with you. it’s just that they want to focus on you and how you view them individually. one day maybe something was really bothering you or someone, and it was just affecting everything you did. isolating yourself, talking less, or even your quirk was acting up. you’d think no one would notice, but oh these two do. “hey bakugou. did you see y/n?” “course i fucking did. something’s off.” these simps are worried even if they show it in different ways. would work together to try and be there for you. would ask you if you wanna talk and if you don’t want to, the door is still open for whenever 🥺

phase 4 - bodyguards that simp for you

protective bois™️ whether you open up to them or not, they are both always watching out for you. “oi, prince zuko. some bastard is tryna pull something on y/n.” nooo not that nickname bakugou 😟 todoroki wouldn’t get it lol and just answer “on it.” this duo is there in 0.001 seconds and already threatening that person. “listen up dipshit. you wanna mess with somebody, we’re both here and ready.” hands already setting off sparks and fire. i would recommend they run for the hills tbh lol. if you get any romantic offers or attention, they’re both salty and pouty. together. “i wanna kick their ass.” “yeah, kinda has a punchable face.” they’re sulking and bonding ?? while you are focusing your attention on someone else. maybe obliviously or not intentionally but yeah they’re 🧂

final phase - me or him ??

we have made it to the final phase, finally lol. this is when they’ve finally gotten over the fact that the other has strong feelings for you and has built a connection with you. phase 1 started with bakugou and final phase will be started by todoroki. he would pull bakugou aside to have a mature conversation that he plans on eventually confessing to you. and that he felt that it would be fair to let him know before he does. “i want to tell y/n how i feel. if you want to do the same, i’m not gonna stop you.” this time it’s bakugou’s turn to be silent. “whatever.” expect confessions in different ways and at different times. todoroki’s would be really sweet + straightforward while bakugou would beat around the bush a bit until he gets frustrated and just blurts it out lol. the important thing is, who would you choose ?? 👀

why did i make this so long i’m sorry 😭

credits to me for the first gif. i had to make it since i really wanted that scene but couldn’t find a gif 😭

#bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #bakugou headcanons #todoroki headcanons #bakugou x reader #todoroki x reader #bakugou katsuki #todoroki shouto #bnha imagine #mha imagine #todoroki imagine #bakugou imagine

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sour--disposition · 4 years ago

Text

Take Me By The Hand

harry lewis x fem!reader

requested: Heyy, could you do the ‘take my hand’ concept that you did with JJ, but with Harry?? Love your writing sm! Xxx

please see my pinned post for masterlist and request info!

One taking the others hand to help them up

You were 4 when you first met Harry properly. You’d been running around the playground, chasing after one of your friends when you’d taken a tumble and ended up in a small heap on the floor. Harry had come trotting over, sticking out a hand to help you up.

“Is your knee okay?”, he asked you.

“I don’t think so. It’s bleeding”, you told him sadly.

Harry kept hold of your hand, dragging you over to where the teachers on duty were standing. “She hurt her knee”, Harry said bluntly, poking one of the adults and then pointing to your knee.

Harry followed you and the teacher inside, sitting next to you as you had your knee cleaned and a plaster stuck on. The teacher left to fill in the accident book and write a note for you to take home. “I’m Harry”, the boy said as soon as she’d left.

“I’m Y/N”, you told him with a bright grin.

“Shall we be best friends?”, Harry asked with a toothy smile.

“Yes!”.

Holding hands whilst one walks on a small wall

You and Harry had stayed best friends from that day forward. There wasn’t anything that you didn’t do together. Harry would always be the first person you’d turn to whenever anything was wrong. He held your hand through every trip you took to the first aid room in your primary school and he shouldered his way through to sit next to you whenever you were in a classroom together.

Harry asked you out on your first date when you were both 15. You’d gone to his house after school, pestering him until he did his homework before you let him outside. He’d been pacing around the lawn in front of you, completely distracted from his kickaround with Josh, as you sat on the deck with Rosie.

“What’s wrong with him?”, she asked from beside you.

“I have no idea”, you told her. “You know what he’s like though”, you dismissed, all the while worrying about your best friend.

Rosie and Josh ran inside 20 minutes later to help set the table for dinner, leaving you and Harry alone in the back garden. “Are you gonna tell me what’s up with you?”, you asked him.

“Do you wanna go on a date?”, Harry blurted, leaving you stunned. The two of you were wide-eyed in surprise, both with words caught in your throat that you were desperately trying to say.

“Yeah”, you smiled.

A week later you met Harry by the beach. You’d seen each other through the week during school and spending the evenings after school together, but this evening felt different. This evening would be the one that potentially changed yours and Harry’s relationship forever.

You walked side by side down to the sea front, stopping and sitting on a small wall there. The two of you talked for hours, like you always did. Harry telling you about his family, about what happened in the few classes that you didn’t share together, telling you about his day and you returning the favour. You laughed well into the sunset, a soft silence falling over you as you watched the sun dip beneath the Guernsey horizon.

“It’s getting dark, and it’s cold. Let’s head back”, Harry suggested. As soon as you’d stood up, you stepped up onto the wall you’d just been sitting on, making you ever so slightly taller than Harry. With your arms held out for balance, you took a few tentative steps.

Harry reached out, grabbing your hand to keep you steady. You looked over to him, a shy smile on his face that you soon mirrored, paired with a rosy blush. Harry kept your hands entwined as you walked along the wall, matching his pace with yours so he didn’t rush you and cause you to stumble.

When you reached the end of the wall and jumped down, your hand didn’t leave Harry’s.

Holding hands whilst driving

Harry had never let whatever Youtube success he was gaining get in the way of the two of you. He always made time for you, always made you feel important. As soon as he’d learnt to drive and got a car, you and Harry would spend hours traversing the coastline, wind pouring into the window and billowing through your hair as you watched the cliffs and waves pass you by.

If you were in his car, Harry would insist on you being in the passenger seat, no matter who else was joining you. His hand would always rest on your thigh as he drove, only ever moving to change gear before quickly returning to its place.

Your fingers were wrapped loosely in his, making sure he was able to let go and reach for the gear stick whenever he needed to. The roads along the coastline were fairly straight, only ever bending slightly and no sharp turns in sight.

With the road empty bar from the two of you, Harry snuck a glance over to you. Your face was illuminated by the soft glow of the sun, hair windswept against the headrest and over your shoulders.

“I love you”, Harry said simply. It was no massive declaration, it didn’t have to be. You and Harry had been friends for 13 years, together for nearly 2. He’d loved you for as long as he could remember.

“I love you, too”.

Possessive hand holding

The first time you visited Harry in London was quite the nerve wracking experience. Aside from helping him move his stuff into his flat with Lux and Freezy, you’d barely seen him since he’d left the small island you both called home.

You waited by baggage claim, leg shaking with restless, nervous energy. It was just your luck that your suitcase was one of the last to make its way through and round the conveyor belt, the hall almost empty by the time you’d got your belongings.

Harry was waiting for you just outside arrivals, just as restless and nervous as you were. His eyes had been glued to the door from the minute you’d text him to let you know you’d reached baggage claim. Every person that walked out of the sliding doors that wasn’t you irritated him even further. It had only been a few weeks since he’d last seen you, and he was going mad.

At last, you trudged through the doors, looking a little worse for wear and incredibly pissed off. But you were there.

Harry wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight against his chest. “I’ve missed you so much”, he whispered into your hair. “The guys are already at my place, I hope that’s alright”, he told you. “They’re really excited to meet you”.

At Harry’s apartment building, he kept a tight hold on your hand as he led you upstairs. “Harry, it’s okay”, you assured him, squeezing his hand.

“Just nervous”, he told you.

Harry led you into the apartment, pausing for a second so you could drop your case by the door and kick your shoes off. His deathly tight grip on your hand never waned, like he was scared you were going to escape.

“Lads, Y/N”, Harry said awkwardly as he led you through the doorway. “Y/N, both of the Cals, Ethan, JJ, Simon, Josh, Tobi and Vik”, he introduced, pointing to each man in turn as he said their names.

“Nice to meet you”, you smiled happily.

You sat next to Harry on the sofa, squeezed up against his side. His hand was still gripping onto yours, squeezing tighter whenever any of the guys started to talk to you. “Harry”, you whispered, wiggling your fingers in his grip. “What’s wrong?”.

“Someone looks a little jealous if you ask me”, Freezy poked, wicked grin shooting across the living room.

“Oh, give over”, you scoffed, flicking Harry in the chest. “You buffoon. There’s nothing to worry about. Now ease up, you’re cutting off blood flow to my fingers”, you teased.

Rubbing their thumb over the other’s hand

“I don’t wanna leave”, you sighed, leaning further into Harry’s chest. “I miss you too much”, you whispered.

“I miss you, too”, he told you, wrapping both arms around your body and pulling you closer.

Harry watched over your shoulder as you opened your phone and pulled up flight times for a few weeks time, scrolling through them to find the cheapest option. Seeing Harry as often as possible was taking its toll on your finances and Harry knew you’d only accept so much help from him.

“What if this was the last time you flew home?”, Harry asked into your hair.

“What do you mean?”, you asked, thumb pausing over the screen.

“I spoke to Cal about it the other day, before you came”, Harry started. “How would you feel about moving to London?”, he asked.

You turned in his arms, facing Harry. “Are you being serious?”, you asked, a blossoming grin eager to bloom over your face.

“As I’ve ever been”, he whispered.

3 weeks later, you waited at the gate in Guernsey airport, surrounded by your family. “I’m so happy for you”, your mum whispered as she pulled you in for a tight hug. When she pulled back, you were both laughing through the tears that had begun to shed. “You and Harry deserve to be happy”, she told you.

They watched and waved as you walked towards the flight bridge, knowing that this would be the last time they’d see you for a while. You sat in your seat, watching as Guernsey got smaller and smaller below you. Although leaving home was never going to be an easy thing, you knew that you could build a home wherever Harry was.

You’d already shipped a lot of your stuff over to Harry, leaving you only to bring a large suitcase with you on your flight. You had no idea what to expect when you arrived, whether your stuff would be in Harry’s room or boxes strewn into whatever corner of the apartment they could fit into.

“Here”, Harry said as you sat in the car in the car park outside of the apartment building. He handed you a key on a keyring. “House keys”, he told you.

“Thank you”, you smiled

Harry pulled your case behind you as you walked up to the apartment. You stilled in front of the door, Harry pulling to a stop next to you. “Are you okay?”, Harry asked, voice filled with concern.

“Yeah”, you assured him quietly. “It’s just a lot, y’know”, you murmured.

“I know”. Harry’s thumb skimmed across the back of your hand in a soft, repetitive, soothing pattern. “I love you”, he reminded you, thumb never halting its soft reassurance against your skin.

“I know”, you smiled up at him. “But I love you more”.

Unconsciously searching for the other’s hand whilst asleep

If you were to ask Harry when he knew you’d be in his life forever, he’d have told you when the two of you were 5. Teasing from the other kids about you being best friends with each other was almost never-ending, but you and Harry always found a way to make light of it.

It wasn’t uncommon to see you and Harry playing with the dolls amongst the other little girls or racing around through the mud with the other boys. Everyone quickly learnt that where Harry went, you went and where you went, Harry went.

Harry knew you were going to be his bestest friend forever when he’d sat down on the grass to play and realised that there were no toys left. You’d come and sat down next to him and you’d played in the mud together, making daisy chains and mud pies and potions that you stirred with sticks, never caring about the dirt coating your pretty pinafore dress.

If you were to ask Harry when he knew that your relationship was meant to last, he would fumble and stumble over his words, not really knowing what to say. It was something that brought his friends great joy, asking what he saw in the future for the two of you. After all, you had been together since you were 15.

The night Harry realised you were his one great love was rather anti-climatic. There was no fireworks or mind-blowing kiss or Earth shattering sex. In fact, you were curled up asleep next to Harry, hair piled on top of your head and the hem of one of his Sidemen Clothing shirts riding up on your thigh.

He’d shut his computer down and gotten ready for bed, sliding in next to you as quietly as possible. Whilst he was lounging in bed next to you, attention focused on the screen of his phone, you’d started shifting beside him. Harry laid stock still, not wanting to wake you up with any movements.

Instead, you reached a hand across the bed, seemingly searching for something. When you couldn’t find whatever it was you were looking for, a frown settled itself onto your face. Harry was sure you were dreaming, but couldn’t resist closing the gap between your fingers and his.

The minute Harry hooked his fingers around yours, the frown on your face disappeared, replaced by a soft, blissful smile. Harry had known you long enough and knew you well enough to know that you were still fast asleep, the gentle sighs falling from your mouth being a dead giveaway.

So, if you asked Harry when he knew that your love was meant to last, he’d tell anyone that listened that it was the moment he realised you loved him even in your dreams.

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stopeatingwhales · 3 years ago

Text

football hysteria x damon albarn

I LOVED THIS SM LMAO !!!!!!!! football obsessed damon is so cute

Pairing: 90s damon albarn x reader

Warnings: noneeee

Word count: 2.281

Requested by anon <3

༉‧₊˚✧

"Who you supporting?" Graham asked me, handing me a beer as he sat himself beside me on the couch next to me in the middle, Damon sat on the opposing side. Damon had dragged me over to Graham's house to watch the Man City and Chelsea game tonight, and knowing just how competitive Damon came to football, I knew it was better that I simply went along with things rather than moan about how much I really didn't want to spend two hours watching two teams pass around a ball for entertainment.

"Erm, Man City." I replied, quickly flicking the can open to taste the bittersweet barley flavouring of the heineken beer as it embellished the walls of my mouth.

"You don't support Chelsea?" Damon questioned, his eyebrows furrowed.

A small chuckle left my mouth. “Of course I don't, they're shit." I sneered, aware of the havoc that my statement was going to cause. Immediately, Damon's mouth fell agape; stunned by my malevolence, as well as partial shock from the new-found information surrounding my opinions on football.

Graham's laughter rang through the room and my ears as my eyes continued to burn into Damon's piercing gaze, him just as amused as I was. Nobody was as big a football fan as Damon had become. "They're anything but shit," he continued, eyebrows now raised as he scoffed. "You're telling me that you support Man City? Gallagher-brother-Man-City?"

"Okay I'm going to sit between you both,'' Graham announced, swiftly standing up, shoving my body to the side he had just accompanied, placing his body between me and Damon, a blockade to prevent either of us going at each other's throats. "Just so we can all be alive by the end of it."

“Well I wouldn't have fucking invited her over if I knew she supported those manic twats, Graham."

"Piss right off Damon, we're in Graham's flat, not yours." I bit back, completely unphased by his childlike behaviour. It had been made quite apparent to the media that Chelsea were indeed the band dominated by the south, as well as Blur, and Man City were celebrated in the north by Oasis. However, it was quite comical noticing the immediate flush of anger that filled Damon's face after my sly comment. Leaning back into the loveseat, my back adorned the soft feel of the cushion behind me. "Graham, who do you support?" I asked, curiosity laced in my words as the football pitch came into view on the television screen - initiating the beginning of the match.

My eyes were focused on Graham as I watched him toss his glasses onto the coffee table in front of us, which had been cascading with countless bags of crisps and other treats to keep us stuffed as the ninety-minute match played through. "In all honesty, I'm not that phased with football," he began, reaching over to open a bag of crisps. "It's Damon here who's completely obsessed with it."

As the match began, tensions were already built to a high degree between the three of us. Small but meaningless comments had been thrown into the atmosphere of the apartment, merely portraying our silliness and how neither of us had seemingly outgrown the competitive side of our personalities, something that would be more apparent during teenage years. Unfortunately however, very early into the game, Damon's supporting team had decided to skillfully snatch the ball from one of the players, eventually managing to get it into the goal - portraying the first goal scored subsequent to the game's start.

Damon instantaneously rose at the goal, shouting loud enough for the neighbours to hear every single word that rumbled out of his throat. "Told you we were bett-" he said, smugness intertwined between his words so effortlessly, though shamefully his words had been cut off by the sound of the cushion, once placed behind me, now hitting his face. I couldn't help but allow a tiny smirk to illustrate itself on my facial features as I admired his face dripping in absolute bewilderment towards my actions. “What the fuck was that for?” he scoffed, falling back into his side of the sofa, as I sustained the grin on my face, watching him. The atmosphere that was once overflowing with hostility was now completely serenaded with Damon's egocentric giggles, forcing my body to hunch into a sulk at how quickly my team had been warranting for a loss so early into the match.

Mid-way through the game, Graham had decided to go to the corner shop by his apartment to get more beers for us to share, due to us having run out to share between the three of us. I dreaded being alone in the room with the game ongoing with Damon present, full-well knowing that his upbeat jolliness would attempt to torment me upon the fact that he was winning, which, to my demise, was exactly what had occured. The air fell still in the room once the sound of the door slamming etched through the flat walls, my gaze focused entirely on the match following on the screen, attempting to focus my mind on anything but the room that I was currently occupied in - though my peripheral noticed Damon's head almost instantly turned to look in my direction once it was made evident that Graham wasn’t inside the flat anymore. As if reading my mind, he decided to shift his body weight, which was once adorned to the other armrest of the burgundy couch, right next to me, where he attempted to wrap his arm around my shoulders, warming me into an embrace. In spite of this, I could feel his intense stare on my features. Using all my strength to avoid connecting eyes with him, I wasn’t going to admit defeat so easily, my stubbornness proving a point.

Once Damon realised, he carried on watching the game, however his body had continued it's embrace with mine. At one point, I was thinking that the match was going to be a lost cause from the performance shown by Chelsea, However, things began to turn around, and Man City managed to score a goal, to Damon's consternation. The sudden win resulted in me lunging from my seat, swiftly detaching myself from Damon, my whole body cheering towards the goal as it replayed on the screen. What was amusing was that, after I had finished my applause, I noticed that Damon had moved back into his seat by the side of the couch, distancing himself from me. "Aw, you don't want to sit with me anymore?" I sarcastically questioned, not waiting for an answer as a small smile crept on my lips. It was very amusing, pissing Damon off. I must say, watching his ego deflate into nothing but a simple sulk at the corner of a room was really the sight.

"What did I miss?" The sound of graham's voice sounded through the room, paired with the clank of multiple beer bottles as he reached into the plastic carrier bag to place them on the table. Each and every one had an individual water-streak pattern, indicating that they had just been chilled - when they taste best.

"Man City scored!" I exclaimed, reaching out for one of the glass bottles as I got the bottle opener to unfasten it from its metal clasp, promptly taking a swig from the beverage. The intent was, of course, to provide Graham with the extra knowledge upon the events that occurred during the match whilst he was absent, however knowing myself, I had also wanted to remind Damon of said occurrences, to surge him to the edge of his frustration. Exclaiming it at the top of my lungs held just enough power to do just that.

A chuckle immediately left Graham's mouth from my enthusiasm. "Need me to sit between you both again?" He jokingly asked, yet an element of seriousness was laced between his words.

“Depends if Damon's gonna stop sulking or not.” I replied, focusing my view on the game playing on the screen.

"You're the one who was fucking throwing the cushions!" Damon shouted, reaching over to grab himself a beer.

"Because you were pissing me off!" I answered, shifting my gaze onto Damon, who was, to my surprise, staring directly at me. There was a certain look of annoyance glazed on his features, though the agitation seemed to subside as soon as we locked stares, as if he was longing for my eyes to bear their sight toward him, as if it was an examination, an analysation to confirm whether we were still on good terms or not; of course we were, while conflicting preferences drew evident tears between us during that moment in particular. After a few seconds had passed, Damon leaned back into the cushion, carrying on watching the game unfold, satisfied with his response from my eyes. Switching my gaze over to Graham, I took notice of a look of question illustrated on his features, to which I decided to mime that it was alright, in order to move myself next to Damon once again. It would've been a lie, and a mere understatement, to say that I hadn't missed his arms around me.

Bunching up next to him, enough space was made to allow graham to sit himself down next to me, though that thought was the last passing my mind; my body was shivering from nervousness, the close proximity between us, regardless of our romantic acquaintance, never failed to bloom butterflies at the pit of my stomach. Due to my body's weight pressing down onto the cushion next to him, it was obvious that he was aware that I moved to sit next to him - but at a cause of his stubbornness, him averting all his attention onto me, admiring me as if I was the only living being in the apartment, a home that hadn't even belonged to me, would never happen - it would take much more to result in his feign of irritation to melt away. Placing my arm around his shoulder, I granted my hand to reach up to his beautiful head of hair, my fingers caressing his strands gently as I brushed any parts that were sticking out on the sides of his head. His arms were wrapped around one another, like a child encompassed in an angry stupor at their parent due to them not allowing them a packet of sweets from the grocery store, though I was playing at his heartstrings, aware of just how much he adored me playing with his dirty blonde locks.

For a short sum of time, we both sat there, my hands never halting their actions. The next few minutes of the game played out of continuous dribbling and passing to other teammates, oftentimes resulting in the other team taking hold of the ball and running around with it for a while until their attempt to score. Randomly, Damon's arm had released itself from its shared embrace with the other, engulfing my body with his as he encased his left arm around my shoulders. We were in a sense of comfort with one another, though from Damon's avoidance of my stare it was made obvious that he was still in the least carrying a small element of annoyance, nevertheless, as I allowed my eyes to linger onto his delicate, paradisiacal features, holding back a grin was seen much easier said than done, a small curvature sneaking itself on his lips.

"Look who's won." Graham mumbled, his voice detaching me out of my trance that I was enamoured in.

A laugh rang itself out of my throat as I admired the lengthy team cheering as they enveloped one another in a massive embrace. "Told you they were better!" I grinned as I diverted my gaze onto Damon, the same look of frustration painted on his demeanour, still avoiding his eyes on me. "You want a kiss?" I asked, tilting my head in order to make sure I was the main thing in his sight, knowing he wouldn't be able to keep up his facade so easily. "Kiss kiss?"

I continued until his eyes met mine. It was as if, for a short segment of time we were frozen in place, momentary seconds passing of us merely marvelling at the view illustrated forth one another, my hands snaking their way around his neck as I leaned in slightly, noticing his blue orbs fall onto my lips, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as his mind wandered through fields of appraisal. It was then where I couldn’t hold resistance for any longer, and I doubted that Damon could, bringing my head forward as I let my lips latch onto his, allowing time to flow as they lingered still before he kissed me back with gentle force, enough to notify me of his desire that encompassed him just as much as me. The kiss held innocence, portrayed adoration in its true beauty, nevertheless, also embodying eagerness, a yearning of lust.

"I'm going to be honest," I mumbled, removing my lips away from his, panting as I attempted to recollect my breath. "I don't actually support Man City."

"Of course you fucking don't." Damon laughed, our lips connecting once again as he perched his head forward, intoxicating me with the very thing that I desired most in that significant moment.

"If you're gonna shag, please go home." Graham groaned, causing our bodies to jolt at the sudden awareness that we weren’t alone together. Pulling away instantly, a wave of embarrassment covered my cheeks as we looked at one another, infatuation the single thing flowing out of our eyes.

“Sorry Graham.”

#i loved this so much please #damon albarn x reader #damon albarn #90s #blur band #britpop #graham coxon #imagines #band imagines

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wandsandwheezes · 4 years ago

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Inconspicuous | G.W

T/W // Ouid content, kissing and suggestive content but no actual smut it doesn’t even really get too spicy

Summary // 2.5k // Reader is Ron’s best friend and George is absolutely 100% in love with her and has been crushing for a while, Ron attempts to be inconspicuous and get inside info from his best friend for his brother but we all know how Ron is.

A/N - big surprise i’ve simped again and i’ve written yet ANOTHER George fic. massive thank you to @witch-and-a-half for her ADORBS request bc she has inspired me not only to write ouid content but ron content so i luvvv her sm🧡🧡

taglist; @weasleysflowr�� @theweasleysredhair @whiz-bangs78 @hufflepuffgirly @sarcasticallywitty15

If there was one thing that Ron wasn't good at, it would have to be subtlety. It was painfully obvious how much he liked Hermione to everyone else before he'd even come to terms with it himself. This all ran through George's head as he toyed with the idea of trying to get his baby brother to set him up. 'This is a terrible idea' he thought, but the words had already started spilling before he could stop himself.

George watched you teaching his twin and Ginny how to play a muggle card game, something that you were disturbingly good at, so good that George was convinced you were using a charmed deck whenever you would play with friends or whenever you showed a card trick. The aspect of teaching a wizard to do a magicians trick was what made you love cards so much. "She's great isn't she." George mused.

"I'd say so, just don't let her convince you that she hasn't charmed the deck," Ron laughs as he works on polishing his and Harry's broomsticks ready for the return of quidditch season. George's eyes snapped back to his brother, out of his trance. "Yeah, I'm surprised someone as great as her is still single." He hoped Ron would catch his drift but the ever oblivious boy shoved off the comment. "I know why she's single, She's great, a catch even and she's my best friend but, bloody hell, the guys she dates are such pricks."

"oh…" George's heart sank a little, He knew this was a long shot trying to get his brother to set him up, because you and Ron were the closest thing to twins, besides sharing a womb. He thought maybe he could just grow a pair and ask you out himself but that seemed like such a bad idea to the poor boy. "Well, hypothetically, If she were to date someone who you already knew, say quite well, I'm sure you'd be happy for her, no?"

Ron laughed a little, "I see you, trying to be Fred's wingman, test the waters and see how I'd react." George punches his brother's arm, shaking his head before dropping his voice to a whisper. "No, you blind bat, I mean me. I like her."

"why didn't you lead with that?" Ron goes to walk over to her, but George stops him in his tracks, pulling him back so they're standing in front of each other. "No, wait, wait, stop. You can't make it obvious like that." Ron sighs, rolling his eyes, "what do you suppose I do then?"

"I'm not asking you to set us up or anything, just, I don't know? See if she's interested." Ron looks over to you, catching your eye, you smile over to the boys, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before instructing fred on a good game move. "I think you'd be good for her, looking at it."

"what do you mean by that?" he was prying now, "Her last relationship was, well, not brilliant. Ravenclaw guy, really stuck up and super uptight about everything, I swear he was a lousy git and didn't take care of her, but she was infatuated with him, god knows why."

"I see, you know, I've had a crush on her since I was like 14 right?" Ron's jaw dropped, looking at his brother quizzically, "wow, I wouldn't have known." God, he was blind, if not blind, just blissfully unaware if what's going on around him. "Well, leave it to me, big brother!"

There's been things George would do over the last few years, that to you were just small acts of kindness from someone you'd known your whole life; Picking up things you'd dropped, reaching top shelves, helping with hard potions papers, him teaching you how to smoke - but to him he's been flirting with you non stop. He'd never seen anyone or anything compare to your beauty.

Later on in the evening George passed by you in the kitchen, hand pressed to the small of your back, he looked down at you with a smile, his whole stomach felt like it was filled with butterflies. You both stayed there a moment longer than usual. George's scent was heavenly, and you'd never admit it but it was a smell you knew you could get drunk off of.

Ron noticed the interaction between you two, watching as George exited the room, to head out to join his twin in the shed for the evening's activities "Hey, Y/N mind helping me with the snacks, that is if you're joining George, Fred and I tonight ." you giggled, walking around the long table to join him, "Of course, I wouldn't miss it for the world, Ronniekins. What do you need me to do?"

He instructed you in what snacks needed grabbing, packing them into a bag, ready for the night, making sure to grab some water and the blankets from the airing cupboard. "So, uh… How's things with Marc was it? Or Marv?" you rolled your eyes, "Let's not, god we haven't spoken at all this summer. At this point I think you'd make a better boyfriend than he ever will."

He laughed, swinging the bag over his shoulder picking up the bottles, "Well, I may be unavailable romantically-" he starts, before you cut him off "and Emotionally." Ron rolls his eyes, with a huff, "Riiiight, however, George and Percy are always available." His eyes were scanning your face for a reaction, "Oh, Percy, my favourite!" you giggle, the sarcasm evident in your tone, you're gathering the blankets into your arms before you ponder on it. "Well, Not that you'd like to know, because he is your brother - but my god George smells amazing, I definitely would if I had the chance."

"Blimey, Really, Y/N? That's fantastic!" Ron slips up slightly, he's fucked it, it's so obvious now and he tries to cover it up, but you're just as oblivious as he is most of the time. "Fantastic?" you prod, Ron was your best friend after all and you sensed something was up. "Oh, well you know how I feel about your taste in Men, I think George would be good for you, like you said, he is my brother I could always strangle him if he's a dick." You head out towards the shed, the bitter cold from outside making you glad you'd brought the blankets. "Like George would ever want to date me, Ron!" you laugh, pulling the blankets close to your chest. Ron laughs along with you, nervously but glad he hadn't blown his Brother's cover.

"Evening Boys!" you chirp, closing the door to the shed quickly to try and salvage some warmth. "We come bringing gifts." Ron adds, swinging the bag down off his shoulder and onto the floor, "Actually, damn, I left the good shit in our room, George." Ron widens his eyes, seizing the opportunity to give you and George a moment together, "I'll come with you Fred, I want to grab my hoodie." you speak up, grabbing Ron's wrist before he leaves, "Can I borrow one please?" you pout up at him, he laughs shaking his head, jokingly brushing you off with a "No…" smiling a fake smile.

Ron looks over to George, mouthing a 'she likes you' behind your back praying that you don't notice, pointing at you and making a heart with his hands before pointing then at George, like some really piss poor attempt at charades. George however takes the hint, moving a couple of the pillows on the sofa he's sat on so that you can join him.

It wasn't as if it was awkward between you and George but, now you were alone together, you felt the new tension. A part of you had to admit that you were attracted to him, after all he looked incredible, muscly biceps, veiny forearms and big hands, his hair was still long, with an effortless wave to it. You already craved his scent, but did you crave him too?

His eyes were on you, he couldn't help but fall a little harder every time he saw you in blue, it was his favourite on you. "You look beautiful," He spoke up, smiling at you "Blue really suits you." He tried to act casual but awkwardness seemed to be taking over, he was hardly able to express himself. "You know, you're not too bad looking yourself, George. What I would do for a man like you." you sigh, reminding yourself that you're returning to hogwarts single after yet another failed relationship.

"Why want someone like me when you could always have the real deal." He joked, you scooted a little closer to him looking into his eyes, his hand rested on your knee as you moved in closer to him, his eyes were flicking between your lips and your eyes and for a moment you felt it. The Spark. He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a quick kiss.

It was enough for you to realise why Ron had been acting so weird and suddenly you'd realised just how hard you'd been crushing on the twin in front if you. He was truly phenomenal, you were about to lean in for a second kiss when the door swung open again. Ron and Fred return, the former, tosses a hoodie at you, "I couldn't find another one so Fred grabbed this off George's bed."

"You don't mind, do you, Georgie?" you spoke innocently, looking into his eyes. The use of the nickname as it rolled off your lips, was enough for his stomach to be in knots, "Of course not, angel." He smiled softly, of course it had to be the navy one, he was growing frustrated but nevertheless he was playing into the innocence. Ron had told Fred about the plan to get you two together tonight, to which the older twin was elated, ready to see his brother shut up about being so lonely.

You'd started the night early, meaning that by 11:30 you were all absolutely stoned, you'd ended up with your legs tangled with George's, and his thumb rubbing circles onto your thigh. You'd been pouting, asking him to help you with the bong. He was already whipped. The higher you both got, the less you both seemed to care that you weren't alone, George finally presses another a kiss to your lips. The small, gentle kisses, had turned into delicate touches, Ron notices just how close you both were to each other, oddly recognising that same feeling when he saw Dean kissing Ginny, but he wasn't sure if it was you or George he was meant to be protective of.

You'd dozed off on George's chest, his fingers playing delicately with the ends of your hair, "I think we'll leave you two here then. I'm baked and ready for bed, what about you, Fred?" Ron looks over to his older brother who is taking a final hit, inhaling and exhaling deeply. "Mmm, yeah I could do with some alone time to work on some products." he adds, the two boys gathering their things and heading swiftly out of the room, not before Fred winks at is twin, causing George to flip him off with a small laugh.

You looked like an angel, asleep on his chest, he truly was In love with you, even if you weren't with him. He started to overthink, about what a life with you would be like, how beautiful you'd look underneath him, how you would take his breath away as you walked down the isle. He was more than head over heels, his full body was falling deeply in love with you, and yet a life with you was so close, he could taste it.

Only in your dreams did you ever imagine falling asleep on George's chest. Your fantasies of him being a gentle caring boyfriend, overwhelmed you. You hadn't really ever thought about how much you craved the smell, the touch and now the taste of a boy you'd known your whole life. You'd been searching for something perfect but it was always there for you at home, waiting for a moment with you.

When you found yourself awake again, you'd noticed the other two boys had left, leaving you and George cuddled on the sofa, you didn't want to leave. He had you, hook, like and sinker and all he'd done is kiss you. "hello, sleepyhead," he joked, his hand rubbing small circles on your lower back. You smiled wide "Hi, Georgie," you murmured, still waking yourself up, you realise you're still quite high and looking into his bloodshot eyes you knew he was too.

He drew you in for another kiss, but this time, he didn't hold back, his hand was pressed against your jaw, inticing you in more. Small pecks turned to longer kisses, causing you to swing your leg over his thighs so that you were straddling his hips. One of his hands were now on the small of your back, while the other had tangled in your hair, this move had meant that the kisses had now turned to a full make out session. The way you'd kissed each other was full of passion, and Merlin was George good with his lips, it was the best kisses you'd ever had.

When things started to heat up, he stopped himself, he didn't want to treat you like a fling, something that happened when you were both high. "Wait, Y/N, I don't want this to be a one night thing. I want all of you, for well, as long as you want me."

Your heart sank when he'd pulled away and you thought that maybe he'd regretted doing this with you, you went to apologise before his words actually set in, did he actually want you? "You want to be with me?" you ask softly, your forehead pressed against his, hands still running through the hair at the back of his head. "More than you'll ever know," he admitted. "finding someone like you makes me the luckiest man alive."

You giggle, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose. "Who would've known you were such a sappy man?" his arms wrap around your waist, flipping you over so that he was hovering over you, causing a laugh to rip through your vocal chords. "I can do less sappy and a bit rougher if you'd prefer" he murmurs suggestively, pressing kisses along your jaw, his hands traveling up your arms until your hands are pressed against each others, fingers lacing together.

This morning when you woke up, kissing George was the last thing on your mind, now it's the only thing you can think of doing. He said he was the lucky one but truly you felt luckier, you had someone who would do anything for you, and to think it was all Ron's (very capable) doing.

On your wedding day, six or so years later, Ron thought it would be a good idea for his Man of Honour speech, to tell everyone the story of how he set up his best friend with his brother. The speech ended with you both in tears at how now his best friend was his Sister In law and that he was glad you finally found a decent taste in men.

#george weasley fic #george weasley #george weasley x reader #fred and george #ron weasley x reader #ron weasley #weasley twins #harry potter #harry potter fic

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tacticaldiary · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! Can I request for Osamu.. maybe angst to fluff type? Surprise me ❤ thank you sm!

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Here ya go! @asdfghjkl7things

Quality Time

Pairing: Reader x Osamu Miya

A relationship requires one to see both perspectives, and a lack of communication inevitably leads to arguments. Osamu learns this the hard way.

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“For the fifth time, I’m busy.”

“You were the one who asked me to come over!”

“Well, I didn’t think you’d be this much of a distraction.” Osamu turns the page of his textbook over, pausing to jot down something into his notebook.

Huffing, Y/N gets up from her chair at the table next to him and goes over to the couch, flopping down on it. She just wanted to spend some time with her boyfriend, after he called her over to ‘hang out’. It wasn’t fair. Blowing a stray strand of hair from her face, she starts scrolling through her phone boredly, occasionally glancing back at Osamu, who was engrossed as ever in his textbook.

A few minutes pass in silence, before her phone is plucked out of her hand. Frowning, she sits up and is met with the grinning face of Atsumu.

“Whatcha doing?” he smirks, rolling his eyes when Y/N lays back down.

“Sulking.”

“I don’t blame you, having to deal with ‘Samu all the time.” he teases, starting to scroll through her feed.

Y/N didn’t mind. Over the past two years of dating Osamu, she had grown close with his slightly-more annoying brother. It was inevitable, really. She had nothing to hide either, so she wasn’t worried. It was the loss of her distraction that bothered her. Peeking her head over the back of the couch, she spots Osamu, still reading, but now munching on a couple of pretzel sticks. He seemed completely engrossed in the material.

Atsumu drops Y/N’s phone, opting to check his own instead. Grinning at the recent notification, he looks up at her. Seeing her look at his brother that longingly made him feel a twinge of annoyance towards his twin.

“Alright, you’re done moping around.” He stands suddenly and stretches his arms over his head. After a few satisfying pops, he grabs Y/N’s hand and yanks her off the couch, snickering when she loses her balance and falls to the ground instead. “Whoops.”

“Asshole.” she groans rubbing the back of her head, before standing up. “What are you talking about.”

“You, Aran and I are going out.” he pulls on his jacket and throws Y/N’s at her. She pulls it on, glancing back at Osamu, who hadn’t even looked up. She felt a little annoyed at that. He was the one who invited her over, refused to pay attention to her, and didn’t care if she left. She nods at Atsumu and grabs her things.

She had come to have fun, and that’s exactly what she was going to do, with or without her boyfriend.

Grinning at her agreeing, he pulls her towards the front door. “Oi, ‘Samu, I’m stealing your girlfriend. Have fun being lonely”

“Shut up.” he retorts, almost automatically. He doesn’t even glance up, too focused on his work.

Osamu only looks up when he hears the door close, frowning a little. He doesn't make a move to go see what was happening, opting to focus on his assignment instead. He just wanted to finish it quickly, so he could spend time with Y/N, but it was taking longer than he expected.

Laughing over Atsumu and Aran’s mindless bickering, with Aran mostly ignoring the twin, Y/N walks in between the two, caught in the line of fire, a shopping bag in hand. The three had spent the day at the shopping centre, even catching the latest action movie she had planned on watching soon. It was fun, to say the least, the two expertly distracting her from her sulky mood, but Y/N couldn’t help but miss Osamu, the person she really wanted to spend time with.

After saying goodbye to Aran, the two headed towards the twins' house, Y/N wanting to have a chance to say goodnight to Osamu at least once. As they approach the door and Atsumu rummages for the keys, Y/N speaks.

“Thanks for today.” she smiles genuinely.

“What would you do without me, honestly?” he smirks back, opening the door.

“Life would probably be much easier.”

“It’d be boring. You’d be bored to death without me, face it.”

Y/N is saved from responding when they spot a very frustrated Osamu on the couch. When he sees them enter, he stands quickly. “Where the hell were you? Are you alright?” he walks over to Y/N and scans her up and down. Upon finding her unharmed, he crosses his arm, waiting for an answer.

“I’m fine, thanks for asking.” Atsumu calls over his shoulder snarkily, moving to go up the stairs to put a few things away. His brother was clearly talking to Y/N.

“I was out with Atsumu and Aran? He told you.” she nods towards the stairs.

“No, he didn’t. I’ve been worried sick. I look away for a few seconds and you’re gone! And you won’t answer any of my calls or texts!”

Taking out her phone from her pocket, she finds that he did, indeed text and call her multiple times. “I must have forgotten to put my phone off silent after the movie.” she frowns and looks up at him, cursing the height difference. “And a few seconds? I thought you didn’t want to spend time with me. You were clearly ignoring me.”

“I was trying to finish my assignment so I could get back to you. Honestly, how hard is it to check your damn phone? You’re always on it, anyway.” he says, still very much angry.

Y/N never really saw this side of him much, given that Osamu was a pretty chill guy, much calmer than his brother, and it took a lot to rile him up like this.

“I wouldn’t have had to put my phone on silent if you just spent time with me like you said you would.” Y/N shoots back. She wasn’t at fault and he wasn’t justified to be mad at her.

“If you would have waited 10 minutes-” He clenches his jaw.

“I waited for two hours! Two whole hours that you called me over for, only to spend ignoring me.”

“I would’ve gotten done way sooner if you weren’t breathing down my neck the whole time.” he spits out, pissed. How the hell was this his fault? He was doing his best. “If you weren’t so goddamn clingy and desperate for attention all the time!”

His words stung, but she didn’t back down. “I'm not-...I left you alone, didn’t I? It’s not like you noticed till about two more hours later.” She shows him her call log. He had started calling after they had finished the movie, so about two and a half hours after Y/N had left.

“To spend the day we were supposed to have together with my brother?”

“Bullshit! I’m not the bad guy here! I came over just like you asked, only to be brushed off so excuse me if I actually decided to have fun with my friends instead of wasting my time with you!” She yells harshly.

A beat of silence that stretches on for a bit too long.

“Why don’t you go back to him then?” His voice is much quieter, somehow more heart-breaking than it would’ve been if he was yelling. “Since he obviously knows how to make you happy and since I’m just a waste of time.”

“I didn’t mean it like that, and you know it-” He cuts her off with a scoff, running a hand through his dyed hair.

She didn’t mean to have it go this way. Taking a step towards him, she grasps his arm. “Hey...you’re not...I didn’t-...” she struggles for second. They rarely ever fought, so this was a fairly new situation for her. He’s not facing her, so she shifts to stand in front of him. Osamu, after a few good seconds, shifts his gaze down towards her, staring at her coldly. Y/N can tell he was a hurt, even if he didn’t show it much.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that.” She says, taking a deep breath. “I don’t like arguing, but you’re not seeing things from my perspective.” She frowns little, feeling encouraged when he says nothing. “I came over, specifically because you asked me too, and you spent the whole time not saying a word to me.”

Taking the information in now that he was a lot calmer, it made a little more sense. Exhaling sharply, he looks away slightly. “...sorry.”

A little taken aback, because your boyfriend wasn’t one to admit he was wrong this quickly, Y/N nods slowly.

“I was worried. I didn’t mean anything. Sorry.”

Y/N sighs and pulls him into a hug. “We’re both in the wrong then.” she hums against his chest, feeling him hold her closer.

The pair stay like that for a while, before Osamu silently pulls her toward the couch, putting on a random movie. He pulls her towards him, and Y/N’s not complaining. Tucking her head into the crook of his neck, he wraps his arms around her securely. They lay in silence, taking the moment to let go of their anger and cool down in the presence of each other. The slightly tense and awkward atmosphere slowly dissipates over the course of the film, and before the second half, Y/N is fast asleep on top of him, her breath tickling his skin in steady puffs.

He sighs and brushes the hair off her forehead, giving her a small peck, before turning the volume down and settling down himself. He dozes off shortly after, and the two stay like that till the morning.

They’re woken up, rather rudely, by Atsumu yelling at them to ‘get a room’ from the kitchen.

Y/N’s face smiling softly up at him erases all thoughts of smacking his brother over the head.

Requests Are Open and Welcome

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vanserraseris · 4 years ago

Note

END OF PART V - This part sort of just gives a little insight into the Vanserra family dynamics, and they’re kind of a mess. The brothers probably aren’t as shit as they are supposed to be, though, but they’re still pretty bad. There are a few mentions of child abuse, Beron is literally the worst. It got a little longer than I’d first planned, but I hope you enjoy it (and big thanks to everyone who is reading)!!!

ahhhh i love it sm. love the brothers. fuck beron

Prince of Ashes. Part V.

masterlist.

Eris’s eyes snapped open, the incessant banging coming from the front of his cottage startling him out of a dreamless sleep. Despite having just woken up, Eris’s movements as he reached for the dagger he always kept on his nightstand were quick, controlled. Even in the dark of the room, Eris could see that there were no intruders. Not many people knew of his personal cottage, but that didn’t mean Eris never worried about being killed in his sleep while there.

“What is that?” Eris had nearly forgotten about Lucien. His youngest brother seemed to have fallen asleep curled up on the large cushioned chair by the stone fireplace again instead of going to the smaller room he’d claimed as his own. Eris didn’t know why, but when he took Lucien to his cottage, Lucien often preferred sleeping on one of the chairs in Eris’s bedroom. Lucien’s red hair was a mess and his shirt was wrinkled as he sat up, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his palms.

Eris grabbed the pair of old brown boots he had by the foot of his bed, wondering who in the hells was capable of getting past the wards he’d had Lagos put around his personal home. “Don’t worry, it’s just the door,” Eris answered, irritation lacing each word in the hopes that Lucien wouldn’t think anything was amiss.

Lucien didn’t seem worried in the slightest as he yawned before he asked, “Is Micah back? He left a bunch of scrolls on the table.”

“Micah has a key.” All three of his friends had a key, and the only other person he could think of that would be coming to see him so late at night was Rufus, but Rufus could easily winnow through the wards.

Eris snarled softly when he saw the wrinkles on his own shirt, briefly considering whether or not he should just put another one on, but decided not to when the banging started once more.

It was probably Beron. Eris figured he had absolutely nothing to worry about, his father was most likely just angry with him, and that was nothing new. Or perhaps Beron had come for Lucien. Eris ran a hand through his hair, his other hand still clutching his dagger as he tried to decide if it was Lucien his father wanted, what he might do. With a few large steps, Eris made his way across the room. He crouched down in front of Lucien’s chair, holding the dagger out to him, “Take this.”

Lucien straightened, suddenly looking a lot more troubled, but he didn’t reach out to take the dagger. “What’s happening?”

“Nothing,” Eris desperately hoped it was nothing. “Rufus probably just got drunk and forgot how to winnow again.”

“Eris,” russett eyes wide, Lucien grabbed onto the loose sleeve of Eris’s shirt, “Where are you going?”

“To open the door,” Eris flashed his brother a small smile, hoping that it would be enough to convince him that everything was alright. “Take this and stay here.” Lucien knew how to use a blade, most Autumn court children did.

Lucien was just a little older than half a decade, but despite his age, he knew all too well how dangerous the Autumn Court was, how cutthroat. Lucien took a deep breath, eyes now on the dagger in Eris’s outstretched hand.

The hilt of the dagger was ornate, golden, and fashioned to look like the head of a snake, green jewels that acted as the snake’s eyes glittered brightly as Lucien curled his small fingers around the weapon. Eris brought his now empty hand up to ruffle Lucien’s hair, “I’ll be back,” he promised.

Lucien nodded once, pulling his knees up to his chest, a look of pure determination on his young features as he watched Eris stand to his full height.

Eris regretted that he’d left all of his hounds at the kennel in the Forest House I’m his rush to leave. He’d have preferred at least Enya, his oldest hound and the alpha of the pack, to have watched over Lucien. Eris no longer had a weapon, but his magic would most likely be enough, so with one final glance at Lucien, Eris tore out of the room. As Eris walked with fast steps down the hall, the bronze sconces that lined the walls flared to life behind him.

The banging on the door hadn’t gotten any louder or any more frantic, and as Eris approached it, he lifted his nose in the air, taking a deep breath. The familiar scent of red apples lingered in the small foyer - not father - but it did nothing to ease Eris’s worries. His features schooled into a practiced look of irritation, Eris pulled the latch on the door, unlocking it before he yanked it open, “Cato.”

His brother smiled. To anyone else, it might have looked sincere, “Eris.” When Eris didn’t move to the side, Cato made a face that looked genuinely confused, his brows raising in a look of mock puzzlement, “Not going to invite me in?”

Eris didn’t move, he was taller than Cato, and while they were both lean, Eris’s shoulders were broader. He effectively blocked the entrance to his home as he asked, “Why are you here, Cato?”

His younger brother frowned, “Can’t I come say hello to my older brother?” He tilted his head a fraction, russett eyes widening slightly. “I only have one, you know.” Perhaps that was why Cato and Eris never really got along. Eris was the only obstacle to Cato’s place as High Lord, and they had never spent much time together while Cato was growing up - Eris had been sent to a war camp right after he’d been born.

They had almost no relationship, and yet, they still managed to fight over the smallest of things. Eris supposed that their non-existent brotherly bond meant that there would be no regret for Cato when he would inevitably end Eris’s life. Sending Eris away had been smart on Beron’s part, he’d practically ensured that his two eldest sons were always at each other’s throats.

Eris growled, “No. No, you cannot come say hello, especially not at the crack of dawn.”

“Did I wake little Lucien?” Cato’s voice dripped with such a convincing act of concern. Even Eris could admit that Cato was the best fucking courtier in all of Prythian, a snake in the grass in every sense.

“You woke me,” Eris spat.

Cato was no longer acting the part of the concerned younger brother as he practically shoved past Eris, “Don’t worry, I’m not here to cause any trouble.”

Eris bit the inside of his cheek so hard he drew blood. Slowly, Eris shut the door, mumbling a frustrated, “I doubt it,” under his breath.

When Eris finally turned to face Cato, he looked closely at his greatest rival. Not a single one of Cato’s deadly throwing knives was in sight, but that didn’t mean none were there. Cato’s eyes looked tired - troubled - and if Eris didn’t know any better, he'd have guessed that he looked a bit nervous.

He was holding himself up a little too straight, the sleeve of his shirt sloppily peaked out of his jacket, and a muscle in his jaw was working. Wonderful, Eris thought, Cato had finally decided to kill him. Eris took a breath, controlling his flames, getting ready for a fight.

“I know you favour the runt, Eris.”

Eris blinked. His brows furrowing slightly as he shook his head, “Cato—”

Cato raised a hand, “I don’t know why, but father’s given us orders to make his life as miserable as possible - probably to piss you off as much as because he’s just a horrible old bastard - and I’m not going to go against a direct order from the High Lord.”

Eris froze, “And you’ve come to tell me this because?”

Cato flashed him an adder’s grin, “I’m in a benevolent mood.”

Eris eyed him. Eris didn’t know if Cato had ever done him any favours, at least not in the last century. He sometimes wondered if Cato and him could have been close, knowing very well that it was much too late now. The resentment Cato had for his only older brother had been ingrained in his very young and impressionable mind by their father. Eris would be lying if he said he didn’t resent Cato as well.

Cato’s grin, faltered, turned into a frown, a seemingly real and true emotion Eris didn’t think he’d ever seen on his younger brother’s face. “It is an act I’ve done in good faith,” Cato wasn’t meeting Eris’s gaze, “Owain, Maddox, and Priam got the lecture, too.” Cato tugged on the cuff of his jacket sleeve, “I’m sure Rufus would have gotten the lecture if he’d been at the house, waste of father’s breath if you ask me - he only ever listens to you.”

Cato had gone out of his way to warn Eris, and while Eris was grateful, he couldn’t very well let almost all of his brothers turn on Lucien just because Beron had ordered it. “I’m going to say it once, Cato, don’t you dare lay a hand on him.”

Cato huffed a laugh, flames in his eyes, “I don’t follow your orders, brother, and if you're asking me, I’d say the little runt would benefit from having the rest of us beat on him as well.”

Eris wasn’t usually one for any sort of physical violence, but he was blinded by rage as he lunged at Cato, grabbing him roughly by the collar and shoving him back up against the wall. Eris snarled, teeth bared, “Don’t touch him.”

“I wasn’t being entirely serious,” Cato rolled his eyes, “But it’s fucking nice to know your weakness, Eris.”

Of course Cato would use their youngest brother against him. “I think all of us would benefit if I cut out that silver tongue.” Eris didn’t mean it, but it worked in Eris’s favour if Cato feared him just a bit.

Cato grinned again. “I’d be very careful, Eris, I’m not in the mood to gut you tonight, ” Eris hadn’t felt the point of the knife pressed up against his side until Cato applied just a little more pressure, “I’d hate to get blood all over my good jacket, but I’ll do it if I have to.”

Eris snarled, pressing Cato harder up against the wall, “You always manage to make my blood fucking boil, you know.”

“The feeling is mutual.” Eris thought he felt Cato’s knife cut through his shirt.

With one final growl, Eris loosened his hold on Cato’s jacket. He took a few small steps back, running a hand through his long hair.

Cato adjusted his jacket with one hand, in the other, he twirled the knife between his fingers, the simple silver blade flashing. “Be honest with me, Eris, just this once.” Eris would have asked him what the hell he was talking about, but Cato didn’t wait for a response before he asked, “What’s so very special about Lucien?”

Eris couldn’t actually tell him about the oath he’d taken, wouldn’t risk Cato using that against him, so he simply sneered, “Absolutely nothing.”

Cato scoffed, “I know you dislike it when precious little Lucien gets a beating, but I think you’re overreacting. Father’s hands aren’t as painful as the whips he was using on us at Lucien’s age.”

Eris set his jaw, opting to give his brother some of the honesty he’d asked for. “I want to protect him from that - maybe then he won’t end up like the rest of us.” Eris made a vague gesture with his hand.

There seemed to be a sort of understanding between the both of them when Cato met his eyes once more, a strange sort of openness that Eris couldn’t really read. Cato sounded a bit defeated as he spoke, “You cannot protect him forever.”

Eris knew he couldn’t, the vow he’d taken haunted him some nights, but that didn’t mean he wanted Cato to point it out. “I can try,” Eris snapped.

“I appreciate the honesty, truly, but let me tell you something, brother. Your efforts will have been for nothing if the outcome is no good.” Cato shook his head, “I reckon no one - not mother, not Rufus, definitely not Lucien - no one will remember that you tried.” His lip curled over his teeth at the last word like he was disgusted by it. “Father’s got it out for little Lucien, I don’t know why, so try and protect him if you must, but when it all goes to shit, just remember I warned you.”

Eris couldn’t even begin to guess why their father was acting this way so suddenly, but he dipped his chin at his brother. “Thank you, Cato,” Eris said with as much sincerity as he was able. Eris wasn’t very used to thanking anyone, and he didn’t think that Cato was very used to hearing any thanks, either. Eris could practically hear his father’s voice, see the sneer on Beron’s face, as he’d hissed at a young Eris that sons of Autumn never gave thanks.

Cauldron boil me, Eris thought, he was going fucking soft.

Cato’s russett eyes widened at the words before his genuine look of surprise was replaced by a scowl, the masks were back, it seemed. “You won’t be thanking me when I steal your crown, brother.”

“If you are feeling benevolent when you decide to kill me,” Cato flinched, but Eris continued, choosing to ignore it, “Do me a favour and make it quick.” The silence that dragged between them as they stared at each other was uncomfortable.

They looked so alike, very much like their mother. Long red hair, sharp cheekbones, elegant brows, the only difference was the russet colour of Cato’s eyes and the much softer lines of his face.

With a shake of his head, Cato moved past Eris, ensuring that their shoulders hit. He threw open the door, the heat of the room leaving as he stood in the doorway for a moment, as though he wanted to say something.

Cato stepped over the threshold of the door, the first few rays of the sun peaking over the horizon. “And not like you asked for my advice,” Cato picked at a thread on the sleeve of his shirt, turning to face Eris once more, “But you should stop spoiling the little runt, you’ll make him as useless as Rufus. And father is growing impatient with you and I’d rather not be dragged out of my duties to watch your flogging.”

Eris nodded once absently, his mind reeling, but nothing except irritation showed on his face. Perhaps Beron had learned in truth that Lucien was not his son. Perhaps Beron was no longer questioning the blood that ran through Lucien’s veins. Perhaps Eris would not be able to protect him, and Eris would rather tear out his own throat than let Beron harm his youngest brother. He’d made a vow, after all - he found he had to remind himself that was the only reason why.

Before he winnowed away, Cato called back to his older brother, “Be careful, Eris.” It could have been a warning or a threat, but Eris was choosing to believe that Cato might have actually been a bit worried for his well being.

Eris shut the door, turning and leaning against it with his eyes closed. He slowly slid to the floor, breathing in through his nose, wrapping his hands around his knees. He hadn’t felt this helpless since he was a child.

Eris felt dizzy as he thought about how he would have to find a way to get his father to pay even less attention to Lucien, and he wasn’t entirely sure how to go about it. He was also trying not to think too much about Cato. Cato had fucking warned him. The brother who he competed against, constantly fought with, never trusted - had warned him. Cato was young and ruthless and cruel, just as Eris was, and Eris knew they were more alike than they were different.

They were two-sides of the same tarnished coin. Eris took another breath, he didn’t like thinking about his brothers too much, it made his chest ache. Eris thumped his head a couple times on the door behind him. Perhaps if he hit it a little harder he’d knock some sense into himself. Eris could feel flames dancing on the tips of his fingers. He’d gotten much too emotional, all his actions driven by that stupid oath, and he’d lost his edge.

“Eris?”

Eris opened his eyes at the sound of Lucien’s worried voice. He was sure he hadn’t managed to control his magic, and he knew that there were wild flames flaring in his eyes. Eris was almost certain Lucien would flinch away from him, away from that all-too familiar and dangerous fire, a fire that reminded most people of his father. “I thought I told you to stay put.”

Lucien was no longer holding the dagger Eris had given him, but he took a small step towards where Eris sat. “Are you alright?”

In the light, Eris could clearly see just how terrible Lucien looked after Beron’s beating. It had taken all of Eris’s strength not to go after his father, and just like a coward, he’d done nothing but winnow Lucien away from that cauldron-damned house. Eris hadn’t been there to see Lucien’s punishment - he didn’t even know what Lucien might have been punished for - but Beron’s marks were all over his little brother.

Eris could barely look at the black eye, at the split skin near Lucien’s eyebrow, at the dark bruise on his cheekbone. Eris knew there were more bruises he couldn’t see.

“I’m fine.” Eris lied, willing the flames in his eyes to vanish.

Lucien took a few more small, slow steps towards Eris, like he was approaching a wounded animal. It must have been a shock for Lucien to see Eris in this way, but Eris was tired, and he didn’t think he had it in him to act alright even for Lucien’s sake.

Lucien sat right next to Eris, leaning up against the door, mirroring the way Eris was sitting. Eris knew he should perhaps be offering Lucien words of comfort, but he didn’t know what to say.

Lucien was the first to break the silence. “It’s light.”

“What?” Eris turned his head to face Lucien, confused.

Lucien looked up at him with a small smile, “What can fill a room, but takes up no space. Your riddle.”

Eris raised an auburn brow, “I’m going to have to start giving you harder ones.”

“I’ll solve those ones, too.”

Eris felt the corner of his mouth tilt up just a fraction, “I bet you will.”

Lucien turned away from Eris, moving so that he was leaning up against Eris’s side. “Don’t worry too much about whatever’s bothering you,” Lucien muttered, “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Eris took comfort in knowing that at least Lucien believed in him, and he figured that Lucien was probably right

Eris would figure something out, he always did.

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b0rista · 4 years ago

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lmfao i need an answer from the jean,marco, sasha, connie friend group ! 😭😭

does marco have freckles on his dick ? 👉👈💕

maybe a little scenario ? 💕

AHHHAHSHHDHD

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: through a continuance of my headcanon blog prior to this one, the hunt for marco's theorized freckled dick comes to a close.

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: okay but the only reason this took me so long to reply to was because i wrote tWo drafts of an actual drabble for this && i hated them both sm so i just ended up writing it out headcanon style for comedic effect 😭😭

also this is TECHNICALLY my first every request so i'm really happy rn, hi 🥺 when i read this i cackled PLEA

gn! reader.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: pretty inappropriate [nsfw]! to keep it short, there are descriptions of three jackasses drawing their friend's dick until they actually get to see it 😭

while it was tiresome, you and your crew (minus marco, who was supposedly at the dentist) had taken it upon yourselves one day to muster up whatever maturity you had left— you would stop pestering marco about your long lived quest to know whether or not his member bore as many freckles as his face. it's been two years, and none of you were going to be seeing it anytime soon.

with that being said, you would take manners into your own hands.

the four of you would work together to draw it.

literally, it took five or six hours of relentless scrapping and sketching until you'd all managed to piece together the final product (connie drew while you, jean, and sasha navigated).

connie's fingers were nearly swollen, and there was literally dozens of crumpled up failures lying about the entire basement floor. i'm talking over twenty-four scrapped dicks with tiny dots on them, sprawled out in random trails on the goddamn carpet.

it was really, really intense

connie was fucking sweating when he dramatically lunged the paper into the spotlight, making you all just revel in its beauty.

"is that the big dipper? on the shaft?"

"marco takes me as the type of guy whose freckles have personality. they tell a story, they're literal fuckin' constellations—"

"my god, it's beautiful."

y'all did,, not expect to see marco that day. so, once you all heard a disgustingly sweet voice echo from above the basement ceiling, it was instant panic mode. surprise surprise, the dentist rescheduled for tuesday, bitches!

eventually, the poor bby made his way downstairs, only to see his friends gawking at a piece of paper from across the room, above a shit ton of crumpled uP pieces of paper scattered along the floor.

"huh? what have you guys been up to?" literally AS he crouches down to pick one of the papers up, "what's with all of this paper?"

yeah, it was a crumpled up outline of his dick, that had his name etched into the top, and was decked out in freckles that were supposedly his

^ that was the face. right there.

"this is—"

"cRe E p Y—"

ten seconds later and you've got his face in your hAnds, he's literally petrified as you vigorously shake him because YOU'VE HAD ENOUGH

"TELLUSTHETRUTHNOW-"

he's scReeChing, jean has to pull you off :((

eventually, all of you are sat down, and the five of you have a heart to heart conversation on how you're all being literal hellspawns, and how it's time to stop with the freckled marco cock crusade. bitterly, you all agree to put an end to it, and marco is relieved.

and with that, he takes the time to go to the bathroom in peace.

the end.

lmao jk, he doesn't lock the door and connie assumes it's empty when he goes bArging in to the suicidal maniac taking a piss

"cONNIE-"

silence.

". . . ahh HhH HHHHH HHHHHHHHHHHH—"

"B I I I I G D I P P E R R R R R"

the story concludes with the four of you celebrating the knowledge of marco's profoundly freckled dick as the poor child falls apArt in the corner and succumbs to immediate despair

#attack on titan headcanons #attack on titan #aot scenario #aot #marco bodt #jean kirschtien #sasha braus #connie springer #aot x reader

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satuguro · 4 years ago

Text

tenshi | pt. 1

IN WHICH: your sudden return brings back tsukishima’s past emotions.

PAIRING(S): tsukishima kei x volleyball player! ukai! reader, possible kageyama tobio x volleyball player! ukai! reader

INSPIRED BY: sparks — coldplay, this side of paradise — coyote theory

WARNING(S): cursing, underaged drinking, angst, tsukki’s commitment issues

A/N: just to clarify, everyone’s in their 3rd year in this story! thank you all sm for the feedback <3

prologue, pt. 1, pt. 2

“this is the 17th voicemail i’ve sent.”

he was silent as he listened to you speak through the speaker of his phone. a shadow befell his face, hiding him from the guilt that was eating him up from the inside out.

“i’m sorry for not telling you about the probability of me leaving. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you sooner.”

his long fingers thrummed against his thigh as he sat with his head low. his glasses were seated next to him, lonely, perfectly clean, and unused. tsukishima didn’t need them for now.

“i miss you, you know. i miss you a lot,” your voice cracked, and tsukishima swallowed thickly at the sound. were you crying?

god, he missed you too. more than you’d ever know.

“i wish i was back home,” you spat, your words like venom against your tongue, “they’re terrible to me. i... i just wanna go home.” tsukishima listened to the sniffles that came from your end, struggling to keep his face as stoic as possible.

he wanted you to come home too.

tsukishima felt her intertwine her hand in his.

they weren’t together. to call it an official relationship would be a terrible mistake; frankly, tsukishima wasn’t sure what they were. tanaka, during one of his visits, called them “fuck buddies.”

sure. they were fuck buddies.

tsukishima removed his hand from her hold, instead sticking it in the pocket of his pants. “i need to go to practice,” he said bluntly, not even bothering to spare her another glance as he continued to walk.

why was she so touchy? they weren’t together— they both knew that.

he thought about her odd actions as he got ready. usually he avoided thinking about her unless they were meeting up later, but the unusual affection that she gave him worried him. was she getting feelings?

of course not. they had an agreement.

“what’re you thinking about?” yamaguchi asked as they walked to the gym. he was growing his hair out for third year, and his green hair was tied back into a neat half up half down that kept some of his hair back and away from his face. he walked alongside tsukishima, and could easily tell that he was acting iffy. there was a significantly less amount of snarky comments coming from him.

“suzuki’s just been weird,” tsukishima replied, and yamaguchi knew that was all he was willing to give him.

wordlessly, yamaguchi nodded. the familiar sound of squeaking shoes and yelling reached their ears as they neared the doors of the gym. the door was slightly open, and they coukd see the flashing silhouettes of their teammates inside.

it was a sudden yell that made yamaguchi perk up.

“tenshi, over here!”

tenshi.

“fly, tenshi!”

tsukishima leaned forward in his seat, eyes set on you as you readied yourself to jump. your arms swung behind you as your setter set the ball your way with a simple look of understanding.

his leg was bouncing anxiously as you jumped. tsukishima saw it all play out in front of him as if it was in slow motion.

your legs lifted you off of the ground, making you fly higher than anyone on the court. it was as if you were an angel with your white wings spread wide behind you.

your nickname was ‘tenshi,’ after all.

the ball was fast, almost too fast, he feared, but you were determined to make it. your hand raised and your eyes snapped to the one spot on the court that no one was blocking. one side of your lips twitched up to a smirk.

perfect.

your hand slammed down on the ball, and it cut across the court and hit the floor with a large snap. you landed on the ground, letting out a steady breath. you heard nothing but your thumping heart and the sound of your shoes hitting the floor. the last point of the last set.

and suddenly, the world came back.

“tenshi!” people screamed, and you were suddenly tackled by your team. you let out a laugh as you cheered with them, heart swelling in pride at the win.

you looked towards the bleachers, your beaming smile widening at the sight of the karasuno boys volleyball team cheering you on. your dad was screaming like a mad man, as was the rest of the team. but your eyes were fixated on one blonde, who was looking at you with the most genuine smile he had. tsukishima looked at you with pure pride as he clapped with the rest of the crowd, and your cheeks hurt from the grin you displayed.

tsukishima’s blood ran cold.

tenshi.

tsukishima briskly walked forward and pulled the door open. his eyes widened.

your legs were quick as you ran to the tempo your grandfather had taught you ever since you could walk.

your face matured. in a good way.

your hand was raised as the volleyball kageyama had set to you flew quickly towards you. your hair was flying mid air, and again, it was as if time slowed down. the sun hit your face perfectly, showcasing the familiar determined look you had every time you spiked. you looked ethereal; hell, tsukishima thought you didn’t even look real. you looked like an angel from a victorian painting.

but he’d never tell you that.

your hand slammed down onto the ball like a whip, and the ball zoomed down to the ground. hinta dove for it, only to miss it by centimeters. the ball bounced off of the floor and out of the court, and you let out a loud cheer as you raised both your hands up to kageyama.

tobio (who was smiling. since when did he smile?) paused for a second, keeping his hands up similarly to you did. it was you who hit his hands in a high-ten, and the setter winced at the strength you had.

you were back.

“y/n?!” yamaguchi asked, dumbfounded as he pinched himself for good measure. he couldn’t believe it.

“tadashi?” your head snapped his way, and tsukishima avoided your longing gaze as he simply turned away. you tried to ignore the guilt as you ran up to yamaguchi, practically tackling into a hug that he quickly reciprocated.

“you didn’t— since when— how?” yamaguchi stuttered as he hugged you tight, making you laugh into his chest as he gently lifted you off of your feet.

“since this morning!” you lifted your head to look up at the freckled boy. he placed you down softly, and you grinned as you took in the new look tadashi was sporting. “dude, you look good,” you commented, making the green haired boy blush.

“you think so?”

“i know so.” you ignored the protective look your dad gave you as you turned your attention to tsukishima, whose back was to you as he pretended to pay attention to hinata and kageyama’s arguing.

but you knew him better than that. of course you did— 3 years of friendship didn’t just go away.

“it’s good to see you, kei—“

“don’t call me that.” tsukishima barely glanced your way before he stalked over to one of the newer teammates, as if he wanted to talk to them. his teammate looked terrified that tsukishima even approached him.

you watched him walk away from you, teeth biting your bottom lip harshly. of course he was still mad— he had every right to be.

“y/n...” tadashi murmured, looking at your sorrowful face. he knew that tsukishima was pissed at you (he had been for two years), but he also knew that you leaving ruined him more than he wanted to admit.

“what is wrong with you?”

“there’s nothing wrong,” tsukishima replied, voice eerily calm as he held the cup of alcohol in his hand.

the party was playing out behind them; one of tanaka’s. now that he was a third year, he had been hosting more and more parties. not that anyone really minded; they were usually a lot of fun.

the booming bass was muffled behind them as they sat out in the curb. yamaguchi had dragged tsukishima’s buzzed ass out of the crowd the moment he scoffed at the sound of you over the facetime. nishinoya called you, and while you didn’t see him, tsukishima was practically livid at the sound of your voice.

“don’t— don’t bullshit me!” yamaguchi was practically fuming; tsukishima hadn’t seen him this angry since first year. he was staring at the blond with a deathly glare, but his eyes were wavering with worry. “how many times has she tried to contact you?”

tsukishima stayed silent. the silence was uncomfortable. “i don’t know,” he responded quietly.

“it’s a lot, isn’t it?” yamaguchi stared at him, and it was as if his eyes looked right through him. as if he knew everything. “do you know how hurt she is?”

silence.

tadashi blinked. “you didn’t get to tell her, huh?”

“tell her what?” kei’s eyes refused to meet his. tadashi knew. how did he know? maybe it was the alcohol that was making tsukishima such a bad liar. maybe it was the alcohol that was making him want to spill his guts out, both through words and vomit.

“that you loved her. you didn’t get to tell her.” tadashi’s voice was firm. confident. nothing like his usual timidness; he must’ve been really serious.

“so what if it is?” tsukishima growled, unable to control his emotions as he gripped his plastic cup harder. he didn’t even know how he was feeling.

“she left. it doesn’t matter anymore.”

┈┈ 𑁍༅ཾ༚ ┈┈

A/N: thank you for reading! any kind of feedback is greatly appreciated <3

TAGLIST: @grapesauze , @neijiwave , @whothefuckstolemykeds , @sugakuns , @lexysclubhouse , @bakibakini

prologue, pt. 1, pt. 2

#tsukishima imagines #tsukishima headcanons #haikyuu tsukishima #tsukishima angst #tsukishima kei #tsukishima x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu!!#kageyama imagines #kageyama smut #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #tsukishima smut

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f1nalboys · 4 years ago

Text

Anon asked:

Hi I was wondering if you could do headcannons for the slashers finding child reader and seeing some marks on their bodies that means they've been abused by their guardian or parent? And maybe slashers being the reader's new guardian and parent? You can add fluff in this if you like.

Hi, thank you sm for the request! I had such a good time writing this lol, just imagining some of them as parents was *chefs kiss* I hope you enjoy this! (And, if you or anyone reading this is dealing with abuse, please call or text the hotline * and remember you are strong, brave, and do not deserve what is happening. <3 )

*This hoteline is only for the U.S states and Canada, but please don’t be afraid to search up the hotline for where you are or to tell someone you trust!

WARNINGS: implication of abuse

MICHAEL (RZ)

‘What is this gremlin and why are they around me?’

Honestly would be treating you like a pest as a first instinct, he doesn't really get why you're around him in the first place like where are your parents…

I mean once he loses you he's gonna follow you around because he needs to know who you belong to lol

During his little stalking hours he starts to recognise his own behavior that he exhibited in his childhood to yours and he gets this sick feeling in his stomach

When he sees your guardian he is immediately filled with rage because he knows exactly why you're doing the things you were

He is killing whoever it is that very night he doesnt care whos around of the chances of him being caught

There’s a 50/50 chance of him taking you in himself. I really think it’ll depend on your age and how you act, you know? Michael isn’t going to want to or be able to take care of a toddler or kid in a way he sees fit so he's just going to drop you off at a neighbors house

Now if you’re older and more reserved/independent he might be more willing to watch over you but I still think it would be really hard for him to do so

As long as you’re in Haddonfield though he’ll be checking in on you and just making sure you're alright and safe

Boogieman got your back basically

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher

‘Why is this unattended child out at night and why are they hanging out around us?’

They’re psychopaths not assholes, they’re gonna try and help you lol

They’re surprisingly good with kids, especially Stu, so you’re immediately comfortable around them

Billy is the first to notice your behavior and any bruises and immediately connects the dots. He’s had his fair share of bruises and knows exactly how you got them

Once he starts asking questions, Stu will catch on and get just as mad as Billy, if not more so.

They both have already come to the same conclusion: whoever did it to you is not going to be surviving the night

Take you to Stu’s parents house (who welcome you with open arms and doted on you) and leave for an ‘errand’

Gone for a few hours and when they come back (they made sure to stop and get you some snacks) they let you know that you're safe now

When they take you to the police station in the morning they promise to make sure you’re alright and Stus parents offer to foster you (they’re going to adopt you don’t worry)

Big brother Stu and Uncle Billy :,)

Thomas Hewitt

Personally I think they have a strict no children policy (they’ll kill them if need be but they try to make sure it never comes to that) but Tommy and Luda Mae are very strict enforcers of this rule because if Hoyt had his way it wouldn’t matter what age you were; food is food

The moment Thomas sees you being hurt in any capacity he is going straight to his mother to tell her and lets just say Luda Mae is pissed

Thomas becomes a protective older brother to you, Luda Mae is acting like your mom, and Hoyts your weird Uncle but Tommy make sure he isn’t too harsh on you lol

Your abuser is staying alive until Thomas knows exactly what they did to you because he’s going to return it tenfold

Hoyt would bug you about getting revenge but Tommy really wouldn't want you to do so because you’re a kid, you shouldnt be exposed to that sort of thing (he knows eventually you’ll have to learn about the family business but he wants to stop that from happening for as long as possible)

If you say you want to, though, he’ll be with you every step of the way

He is going to teach you sign language you don’t know it because he wants to talk to you and let you know everything is alright now

Found family at its core babey

Sinclair Brothers

Lesters the first one who notices. He saw what happened with Bo growing up and seeing how you were acting when you were in the car, shrinking into yourself, he got angry

And when Lester is angry, he is angry… the man is hard to piss off so when Bo sees him pull into town with you in there and sees his face he knows something happened

God, speaking of Bo, he was furious. It took so much willpower to not kill your abuser right then and there

Bo is good with kids, i don't care what anyone says, he’s cracking jokes and letting them look at the car’s engine with him, stuff like that

Made sure you didn’t see or hear what happened with your abuser but will introduce you to Vincent (who might be more inclined to show you his face if you think his mask is scary) and he lets Vincent know that these people aren’t to become statues under any circumstance

He tells you the people you were with left and that they apologized for what they did and he doesn’t think you believe him but you seemed so relieved he didn’t want to tell you the truth

Most likely to take you to the next town over to the police station to get you somewhere safe because he and Vincent agreed that it wouldn't be safe for you in Ambrose

But if you begged enough to stay Vincent would convince Bo that it’d be alright

No matter how much Bo grumbles about you being there, eating him out of house and home, he’s actually pretty happy you're around because he can be a father figure to you (even if it scares him half to death)

Vincent will teach you how to sculpt (obviously not with humans, maybe when you're older if they ever tell you (or when you inevitably find out))

Cool Uncle Lester teaches you about bones and lets you ride around in the truck with him

Jason Voorhees

Witnesses it during his daily rounds around the camp and neither he (or Mrs. Voorhees) is happy

Kills them then and there; there is 0 hesitation, he lowkey forgets you're even there and that you’re witnessing it

When he notices you he feels so bad and actually feels worse when you seem to be happy they’re gone

Is afraid you're going to be scared of him because all he wanted to do was protect you but he’ll try and explain to you through sign language or through writing into the dirt with a stick

Actually wants you to stay in the camp with him so he can watch over you but has no hard feelings about you going back to civilization (he doesn’t even know how he’d be as a father)

Obviously he can't go and drop you off somewhere because he’s literally s zombie lol but he will go as far as he can to make sure you get somewhere safely

Worries about you even weeks after you’ve left, like how are you doing? Are you with someone trustworthy? Do you remember him?

If you stay, however, he is gonna be the best god damn dad ever, if not a bit overprotective

You’re not allowed to leave the designated area he’s ropped off outside of the cabin because god forbid some campers stumble across you

Tiffany Valentine

We all know my wife has no qualms about killing kids but she’s way too sympathetic once she figures out what's going on with you

Meet your new goth mom! She’s great!

She is the most qualified out of all of the slashers to take care of a kid regardless of the age (I mean, remember Glen/Glenda and how accepting she was? How much she cares for her kid?)

She’s killing your abuser without a single care in the world, she’s not wasting any time either. She lets you know you’re safe with her and that nothing will ever hurt you again

Get ready to be pampered; she is treating you to everything you could ever want. You won’t be spoiled, of course, but you’re going to be comfortable

You will be the most well-adjusted kid being taken care of by a slasher (maybe losing to Billy and Stu but that’s just because of Stu’s parents) so congrats for that!

#slashers #slasher headcanons #child!reader #jason voorhees #michael myers #billy loomis #stu macher #tiffany valentine #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #vincent sinclair #found family lets go #horror movies #horror movie villians #s1mping4slashers works #s1mping4slashers writing #s1mping4slashers masterlist #anon req

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palbabor-writes · 4 years ago

Text

So, uh, I got excited with this ask

Anonymous said:

so what if, and I’m just spitballin’ here, you wrote a little something for Tomura, a jealous!reader x Tomura, perhaps? Ik there probably wouldn’t be an actual situation where somebody would try to steal him away or anything but just a little something on the reader seeing something that wasn’t what it looked like and Shiggy kind of reassuring her in his own special way? 😌 pls &thank you sm in advance, but you of course absolutely don’t have to write it if you don’t want to (: love your work!

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x Gen!Reader

Warnings: Adult language, angst, jealous feelings, mentions of past relationship and heavy petting, mm, imma say it’s rated T, for the teens and upper betweens

Word Count: 4387

Notes: Lol. I’m pretty sure this was meant to be like, a drabble or head cannon in your mind nonnie. Me, being me, I stretched it out into a freaking fic. I can’t shut uppppp sometimes. First time trying for a Gen!Reader, so hopefully it’s a thumbs up. Not beta edited, so any mistakes are mine, and mine alone.

“O, beware, my lord, of jealousy; It is the green-ey'd monster, which doth mock The meat it feeds on.” ― William Shakespeare, Othello

It’s been two months, two freaking months and you’ve hardly gotten two texts strung together, let alone a call, from Tomura.

While he’s never been what anyone would call a frequent texter, your last message has sat, unread, on his phone for the last 3 days. You know he’s busy, you know he said he’s got shit to take care of, but you can’t help the angry pit of worry that simmers in your gut. He could at least tell you something. Like, hey, I’ll be out of touch for a few days, talk soon. Is that too much to ask?

Apparently it is.

The two of you have always been a quiet item. Most of the League knows, or at least, heavily, heavily suspects. It’s not like you tried to keep it a secret, it’s just the way you both are. Besides, you usually liked how the arrangement worked.

You’d met him through your job. You worked with Giran as a courier of sorts. Sometimes you’d lug shipments back and forth, sometimes you’d make deliveries. It was one of these deliveries that introduced you to Tomura. He was quiet, sulking toward the back of the bar, but you’d managed to strike up a conversation with him as Compress double checked his requested items.

He was waspish, sharp. At first, you worried that your questions had only managed to pissed him off. But then, just as you started to chat with another guy in the bar, a snarky fellow, who was covered in some serious, serious burns, Tomura tugs your attention back to him with a pointed question.

“Can you tell Giran that you’re only one who’s permitted to transport the deliveries to the bar?”

That one query had started a landslide.

You were summoned to the hideout frequently, practically on the daily after that. Giran just shook his head and asked you not to fall too deep. You didn’t know what he meant then. Two months later you understood his meaning perfectly.

How could you not fall head over heels for this guy? Fuck, he was so desperate, so wanting, so fucking needy for you. God, you missed it now that you didn’t have it. After the Kamino incident, he’d called on you even more and you loved that you could help him. He honestly seemed, in his own, gruff way, appreciative.

But, then he’d said he needed to leave the city.

At first, your contact with each other had maintained some semblance of normalcy. You would text and he would reply. You could call and he would answer. Often, he sounded tired, strained, but every once in a while you could pull a laugh from him and all would feel right with the world.

Now?

Now nothing feels right and the only link you have to him is Dabi. He’s the only person in the League that’s responding to your emails or texts. Even Giran isn’t answering anything. That’s not normal either because Giran always, always answers. What the fuck is going on?

It’s starting to feel like you’ll never know. This is mainly due to the fact that Dabi is a shitty, shitty font of information. At first, you’d eagerly taken his calls and texts. In lieu of a tip, you asked him about this mission Tomura was on. He fed you vague, flippant, answers.

“Tch, this again? I already told you, they’re all fighting this giant. It’s some pet of the doctors.”

“And like I said the last, oh, I don’t know, twelve times, giant makes no sense to me. Can you expand on that a little bit? Like, what the hell does that mean? They’re fighting a fucking giant. Is that supposed to be some kinda bizarro hint? Cuz’ it sounds like you’re giving me shoddy information to get me off your back,” you snap, placing your foot on his box of requested medical kit supplies.

Dabi practically keeps you on standby now. The guy has gotten more aggressive in the last month, and the heavy price his fire quirk extorts on his body meant he needs a steady flow of burn cream, meds, stitches and pain relievers.

“Fuck, look, I don’t know how else to explain that fucker. I didn’t give a shit about boss man’s little mission to tame him, so the doctor and I worked out something else for me to do. I’m not around those guys right now, I’ve got other things I’m working on. Now give me my shit and get out of my face. Ask Toga about your little fuck buddy, I could give two shits about his well being.”

“Why follow him if you hate him so much?” God, this asshole is such a prick.

Dabi considers you for a long moment, his vibrant blue eyes lingering on your scowling face. “He’s a means to an end. I’m just here to see this society fall to its knees. Boss wants the same thing, so, for now, this arrangement works for both of us. Now, if I have to ask you to give me my fucking shit one more time, I’m gonna’ singe you where you stand.”

Sucking your teeth, you kick the box toward him and turn on your heel, slamming his door behind you. If he’s not going to be useful to you, why be useful to him? We’ll see how he likes it when you accidentally miss some of his shipment deadlines.

You pace out into the night, shrugging your jacket up on your shoulders. If they’re so far out, if they’re fighting something that sounds like an impossibility, why not ask you to bring them some supplies? Why haven’t they reached out to you?

As you wait for your train, you pull your phone from your pocket, your cold fingers resting against the glass. There’s a missed call from another contact, but no other notifications. You swipe over to your messages from Tomura. Your last text sits, still unopened, unread, uncared for, in his box. It’s not fair, you think, sliding your phone back and pressing your hands into the meager warmth of your pockets.

Tomura used to confide in you and you felt close to him. And not just in a physical sense. At first, the relationship between the two of you was just that, something that eased an itch. But you kept asking him things, liking the soft tone his voice could take on when he lost some of that anger.

Then, he started to wordlessly ask you to stay a little longer, his arms wrapping around your bare form, holding you against his warmth. It was nice. It was so, so satisfying and now it’s gone. Is this his way of moving on from you? You would have thought that he would have said something. He’s never struck you as someone who hides from a confrontation. So why the radio silence?

Another week passes and Dabi keeps calling. He’s practically got your entire schedule blacked out now with deliveries, upcoming shipments and transports. What. The. Fuck. It’s gotten so frustrating that you’ve started to waffle on picking up his calls, sending him straight to voicemail.

“What kinda courier leaves their fucking name on their voicemail? Stop ignoring my calls, (Y/N).”

Yeah, he’s a real charmer. At least he answers your messages though. It’s better than nothing, you keep telling yourself, trying to ignore the gnawing, munching feeling of bitterness that keeps rising. Yeah, Dabi’s gotten to be such a constant in your life that your phone keeps recommending him as a new favorite.

Would you like to add the contact: Dabi, to your favorites list? No, no you would not.

Then, suddenly, out of the blue, Dabi’s not answering you either. Your first, gut instinct, tells you that he’s likely annoyed with your spotty replies or he’s busy with...”Dabi things”. He’s always reminding you about the oh, so important “Dabi things”. ‘Don’t pester me with your shit, (Y/N). I’ve got something big I’m working on.’

But now? Fuck, now you’d kill to hear from him.

There’s absolutely nothing. No response from Toga, Compress, Spinner, Dabi and most important of all, Tomura.

He’d finally read your text. After two whole days had passed from the sent time stamp, he’d read it, and then opted to not respond. It stung. You can still feel that tightening emotion of dread, of abject hurt, that had radiated from your chest when you saw that he’d finally looked at your message and then just decided you weren’t worth his time.

Yeah, after seeing that, the last few days have been nothing but a full tilt boogie of emotions for you.

This must be a planned thing. Why else would they all coordinate their ghosting. He must have wanted to leave you behind and now, this distance has made it possible.

He’s been changing a lot lately.

Even before he left for this, whatever it was, he’d grown in confidence and skill. Fuck, he’d taken on a Yakuza boss and won. He’s becoming a leader, a competent force to be reckoned with. He doesn’t need you to bounce ideas off of anymore. A courier picked up at the start of his career isn’t a necessary piece to add to his collection.

Yeah, chances are, he’s moved on. He’s out of your reach now and you can’t help the thoughts that rise in the back of your mind. What if he’s found someone else? What if he just got bored with you? Did you put too much thought into this relationship? Well, that question has kinda answered itself. You put way too much into this. You had planned for things, hoped for…

Your phone rings and the noise startles you out of your head. You fumble for your vibrating device and lift the screen up before swiping to answer the call. Oh, it’s Toga. Fingers shaking, you lift the phone to your ear and are so happy to hear her babbling voice.

She tells you that she’s been meaning to call you, but, gosh, everything has gotten in the way. Plus, she took a bad hit in a fight. Oh, she’s ok, but it’s been a crazy week for her.

As she chatters about some random series of events that you can’t string together, you let out a long sigh. That coiling that’s been building in your stomach loosens and you’ve never been so relieved in your life. There’s still a chance. Maybe he hasn’t decided to leave you in the dust. Maybe...whoops, Toga asked you something.

“Deka City? No, I’ve never been there.”

“Oh good, well, I wouldn’t try and go now. Tomura sorta, mmm, crumbled it to bits.”

“What?”

“Oooh, and we’re part of a bigger group now…”

She tells you about something called Gigamantia and their new connections. Apparently, Tomura’s made another step up in the world. Now he’s leading something called Meta Liberation? What is that? It sounds kinda familiar, but where have you heard it?

Toga is winding down her conversation, her voice smoothing out. She promises she’ll answer your other texts soon and emails you a set of coordinates, saying they’ll see you there and clicks off.

You lower your phone to your lap, biting back the grin that won’t stop spreading across your face. Ok, so, maybe you’re not as abandoned as you thought. Maybe they, no, maybe he still needs you.

******

You found the building alright. It was impossible to miss. This place is massive, fit for an army. The security is tight, so tight that you’d even been screened by a guard at the door. Once they confirm that you are who you say you are, and you know who you say you know, you’re permitted entrance.

Who are all these people?

As you enter the “meeting room,” which is really a space that looks like a concert area, complete with a well lit stage, you’re pressed into the mass of bodies. There must be hundreds of people here and there’s some hulking creature, dozing in the corner.

Is this that giant Dabi mentioned? You totally thought he was making that shit up. And, wait, wait, is that a pro hero a few spaces away? What is this? Where is the League?

The overhead lights dim and your attention is drawn back to the sage. People are bustling around the elevated area and a plush chair is placed in the center. Looks like the show is about to start.

A loud, booming voice announces the arrival of a man called Redestro. He must be that long faced guy in the motorized chair and, oh, there he is.

He walks up slowly, it looks like he’s leaning on something, but you can’t see clearly. The crowd shifts around you and an inordinately tall man is blocking your view. Huffing out a sigh, you try to maneuver yourself to a better vantage place.

He’s seated now, his long legs spread out in front of him. Fuck, he looks both wonderful and terrible, at the same time. Wonderful because it’s Tomura, terrible because he’s covered in bandages and he’s got a brace on his leg. What happened to him?

Your eyes can’t stop roving over him, trying to drink in everything. He looks like he’s on edge, his fingers clutching at a small slip of paper, as his good leg jiggles against the chair. Why...ah, he’s being introduced. Wait. He’s being introduced as the leader of the Paranormal Liberation Front? So...so all these people...this entire organization...is his to command?

He clears his throat and you hear his voice for the first time in months. He’s halting at first, but as he continues his speech his tone deepens, strengthens, losing that early hesitation. He sounds good, powerful and confident.

You tear your eyes away from him and give the crowd a quick glance. They’re enraptured. A few paces away you can hear people whispering to each other, their voices low, awed.

“He took down Redestro…”

“He’s so young.”

“He’s kinda...I don’t know...handsome.”

“You’re right, he looks regal.”

That coiling, trembling feeling is making a strong comeback. It’s an ugly return and it makes your flesh prickle and cool. He’s left you in the lurch for months and now he’s become some sort of leader, of an entire, what is this...a cult? An organization? An army? How the fuck, would you know? No one, least of all Tomura, has told you anything, about any of this.

When the address and introductions (the League had made a, uh, flashy entrance) are over, someone comes up and taps you on your shoulder. It’s another one of those security guards. She says you’ve been requested, the League wants to see you.

She takes you past the stage and down a long hallway. It’s quiet back here and the silence doesn’t soothe your frayed nerves. You’re pointed to a large set of doors and you bite your lip before pushing them open.

Another large room greets you. This one is filled with plush couches, elegantly carved tables and multiple chairs. There’s so much to look at, you don’t even see them at first. No, you hear him before you see him. He’s talking with a tall woman, who is writing down what he dictates, her pen moving rapidly across her paper.

Fuck, you’ve missed his voice.

It’s quiet now, a little hoarse from his speech and you want to step closer. He’s standing next to some large windows, his back turned to you. He hasn’t even noticed you. What were you thinking? He’s this...God, leader now. What are you? Just a nobody he met when he was still pounding the pavement, looking for anyone who could help their cause, their mission. There’s nothing for you here, he’s…

“(Y/N).”

Your eyes snap up to his. Tomura has turned, one arm braced heavily on his crutch, and is looking right at you. His eyes are hooded, dark, you can’t get a read on him from here. You want to step closer, but that sickening feeling is falling, like a stone, into your gut. Despite your turbulent emotions, you can’t stop staring at him.

The thick bandages are off and his hair is longer, the white strands hang close to his collarbone now, gleaming and pearlescent. He looks, damn, he looks tired and...what’s that? There’s something dark on his hand, it’s black and it covers three of his fingers. Why is he wearing that half glove, oh, oh no. It’s not a glove you realize, horrified, it's a prosthetic. He’s lost some of his fingers.

“It took you long enough, come here, (Y/N).”

His voice has dropped an octave, lingering in that distant tone that he would use when he dragged his lips across your neck, rumbling and murmuring against your skin. He knew that you liked that, he knew that it would make you so desperate for him, your hands pawing at his shoulders, pulling...

No. He’s ignored you for weeks, no, months. You’re not about to just fall to pieces at his feet, crawling and begging for him to want you. Your eyes latch onto his and you minutely shake your head at his request, fingers squeezing into your palms.

The woman, noting the tension that’s suddenly entered the room, looks between the two of you, and abruptly makes herself scarce, her heels tapping against the floor as she walks to the door. Once you hear it close behind her you unstick your mouth, your tongue heavy against your teeth.

“Who was that?” you ask, your voice croaking, thick with disuse. You can’t help the question. It tumbles from your mouth before you can stop it. You’d meant to ask him something else, but the query just, pops out, angry and trembling.

“I don’t know. One of Redestro’s cronies. Why-” His face scrunches abruptly and a wince of pain passes of his features. “Why does it matter?” He finishes, his hand gripping a little tighter against his cane.

“You didn’t have to send for me, you know. It looks like you’ve upgraded everything else, why not me too?”

A scowl echoes across his lips. “What-”

You won’t let him finish his question, you can’t stand it anymore. You also can’t seem to stop. All of the emotions, the anger, the betrayal, the fucking, God, jealous thoughts that you’d slip into, alone in your cold bed. No, you’re not going to back down.

“You didn’t call, you didn’t text, and when you did, finally, manage to remember that I exist, the texts were so far and few between...fuck, sending a letter would have been faster. The only link I had to you was Dabi-”

“What?” He snaps, repeating his question, his red eyes, flashing, gleaming, glaring. “What does he have to do with anything?” His face is set in a deep snarl, his scar lifting along his white teeth. His fingers coil into his crutch, one digit arched away, and he begins the long journey to where you’re stubbornly standing.

You watch him on bated breath. The sheer excitement of his renewed presence is making you shake. The warring feelings that are rising inside you are too much. It’s too much, it’s, oh...he’s right in front of you now.

“Answer me, (Y/N). What the fuck does Dabi have to do with anything?”

You gulp. Tomura has never, ever liked you interacting with Dabi. It was that first subtle flirtation between you and the flame user that had set Tomura off in the first place. He had barely given you a second glance that first time you met him, but once your attention wandered over to Dabi, suddenly he was all ears. That animosity grew as time wore on.

If anything, Dabi took advantage of it. He liked to press you, corner you, it was one of the many things you disliked about him. He was a selfish ass, only manipulating things for his own, twisted amusement.

It’s a low blow for you to land on Tomura, to play up his own jealousies, but turnabout is fair play, right?

“He’s the only person I could reach. You want to know who my phone keeps asking me to favorite now? Fucking Dabi. I kept asking him about you, about what was going on, but he never knew.

So, then I tried reaching out to you, directly. But then you decided to conveniently lose my fucking number, or something. You didn’t answer a single thing after that last text I sent you, what, two weeks ago? You didn't call. You didn’t even act like I exist, it-”

“I told you it would be a while.”

“Yeah, a while doesn’t typically mean two months. And how do you come back to me? With a broken leg and, fuck, three missing fingers? What is going on Tomura? You’re a different person now. Do you even want me anymore? You don’t have to ghost me. You could have just told me that you were moving onto bigger and better things.

Congratulations, by the way. You’re the leader of a cult. Now, you can cut off all those lousy loose ends, like me-”

“You’re jealous.”

His voice has dipped into that low octave again, rasping, deep, and oh, fuck. You sputter at his assessment, your hands clenching into your pants. You need something to tether you, to keep you from reaching for him. You’re angry, remember? He’s left you, all alone, so alone and...

He’s shifted to lean into you, the warmth of him rolling over you in waves. You can hear his breathing, if you move a little bit closer you could feel it, too. He knows what he’s doing. He’s used this tactic on you before. It’s very effective. His crutch taps him nearer. He’s practically flush against your heaving chest and your eyes flick up to his.

The red is dark, tempered, and that swirling agitation has left him. He looks…

No, no, he left you for months, he can’t look at you like that. You shake your head, your eyes wincing shut, blocking him from view.

“I’m not...I-I’m not jealous, I was just-”

“Come here, (Y/N). Don’t make me ask you again.”

His new, half prosthetic hand reaches for your neck and traces over your trembling throat, ghosting over you, forcing you to press toward him. Once he’s satisfied you’re not going to reject his touch, he lets the digits tap onto you, gently, slowly, like he’s coaxing you out of your temper. The contrast of cool metal and warm skin makes you gasp, your eyes fluttering open.

He’s curved over your lips, his white hair drifting softly around your face. Unthinkingly, unquestioningly, you reach for him. Your fingers lace into the silken tendrils and he lets a slow exhale wash over your face. His verdant eyes are so close. They’re fixated on yours, refusing to let you slip from his gaze again.

You can’t breathe. There’s something else you want to scold him for, but...but his lips are so close. His nose bumps against yours and you bite your lower lip. He’s so warm. He smells nice too. It’s a rich smell, earthy, thick with some enticing aroma that’s all him. It floods your senses and you’re downing, distracted and lost.

Tomura’s won this little stand-off because you reach for him first. Your fingertips urge him to you, one thumb dragging a familiar trail across the mole on his chin. His lips are chapped, rough, but oh, oh you’ve missed this.

He lets you lead him, your lips pressing and lifting, planting feather light caresses against him. Your tongue swipes across his lower lip and he groans. It’s a husky, broken sound and it makes you yank at his clothes. His new suit crumples under your hands. You’d almost feel bad, if he hadn’t been such a neglectful ass to you. You’re nipping at him now, your kisses losing that sweet vulnerability.

Tomura approves of this frantic pace and one arm cages against your back, lifting you closer and dragging you against his front. His crutch clatters to the floor, but neither of you have the wherewithal to care.

Besides, you think happily, you can be his crutch now.

He’s biting and sucking, his teeth drifting from your trembling lips and pressing into your pulse. One particularly hard nip has you arching into him, a gasping whimper on your lips. His tongue laves over the hurt, lulling the nip.

Your hips instinctually lean into the his and you moan when you feel the hardness that is waiting for you there. Tomura presses back, dipping his nose into the juncture of your shoulder, his lips distractedly kissing against your skin. Your fingers trace down his front again and one hand goes lower still, running along his pants until you find what you’re searching for.

He growls when you apply just the right amount of pressure and he’s pulling your lips back to his, demanding more. You’re skirting your other hand to the clasp of his belt when someone barges in the door.

Gasping, you start to pull away, trying to turn, but Tomura holds you to him, lifting his chin until it’s resting against your shoulder. He’s glaring out at whomever the fuck is standing in the doorway, but his fingertips are moving against you, pressing and soothing down your fevered skin.

“Hey boss- ah…” Dabi is brought up short by the sight that greets him and you can hear the sneer that he must have thrown Tomura’s way.

Tomura, for his part, is quiet, content to silently stare down the man who stupidly interrupted him. He turns his head a fraction of an inch, but it’s enough room for him to drag his rough lips against your neck. You quake at the stimulation and hear Dabi let out a barking laugh.

“Ew, well this is fucking disgusting. Looks like the two of you can go back to fucking normal, eh (Y/N)? You and boss man can bone and get all that pent up insecurity out of your-”

“Get the fuck out,” you and Tomura say in unison.

You hear another scoffing chuckle and then the door slams shut.

Notes: The Dabi bits miiiight be in there because I finally got my belated birthday present of his Banpresto figure in today ԅ(≖◡��ԅ)

Tags: @spicy-skull, @xwildskullx, @yixxes, @ghstmthr, @evesmores

*I think that’s everyone for now. If you wanna be added to a list just drop me a line & I’ll get you on the Google Doc: Shigaraki works, Dabi works, Hawks works, BNHA works, All works...works, works. There’s likely more to come, but that’s what I got for now. k byeeee.

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