#u will notice that i cannot decide what tense to write in

[eddiethehunted]

I'm asking about ooga booga and beep bop because I'm a menace and exist to humiliate you >:) (but also if you genuinely don't want to talk about them pls don't it's ok mwah I love you)

ok i know i marked beep bop as nsfw but i actually haven't. written the smut yet. so. anyway it's based on a RP gwen and i did forever ago that is still living in my head and just bc i adore u i will also put ooga booga under the cut. that one is uh. definitely very nsfw.

beep bop (post-vol 2, vamp eddie)

He strained his ears, his breath coming shallow and quick. It was quiet outside, except for the soft rustling of the leaves in the gentle evening breeze. No other noises came, and he breathed in deep, letting it out slow, trying to calm his heart rate down.

“Just an animal,” Steve whispered to himself. He was trembling from head to toe. “Just a squirrel or a raccoon. It’s fine.” 

He managed to relax his shoulders, the hysteria blurring the fringes of his vision receding slightly. Fuck but he was on edge. He knew a good night’s sleep would help, but how was he supposed to sleep when every little thing sent him into a panic attack?

Swallowing a frantic laugh, he turned back to his bed to grab another cigarette. He’d smoke the whole fucking pack tonight, probably. As he grabbed his lighter, he made the mistake of lifting his gaze to the window, and his heart stopped in his chest.

There was something looking back at him. Watching him. He could see it there, in the tree right outside his window. 

ooga booga (im sorry but saying this right before i post some smut is so funny) also eddie has a tongue piercing

“stay still,” eddie orders, letting it come out a bit mean because he knows what it does to steve. sure enough, a glance up shows steve shutting his eyes as they roll back. for good measure, he adds with a dry chuckle, “you’re so fucking easy, steve. it’s been like one minute."

“fuck,” it’s punched out of him, “please, please, i’ll stay still, i promise."

cute.

with steve’s whiny please ringing in his ears, eddie dives back in, taking as much as he can at once without choking again. a rough tug on his hair makes him groan, earning a frantic gasp from steve as the sound vibrates through his mouth. steve's hips twitch forward but he stills them quickly, clenching his jaw tight. 

it’s fucking crazy, eddie thinks vaguely, breathing deeply through his nose as he works to bury his face in steve’s happy trail. the fact that he can just tell steve what to do and steve listens like he’s made for it. it’s insane. 

steve can hardly keep his eyes open, shuddering with each bob of eddie’s head, thighs trembling on either side of his shoulders. eddie grips his hips harder, pressing him hard into the couch, letting his spit drip from the corners of his mouth as he hollows his cheeks again, suckling hard around the tip, flicking at the slit with the tip of his tongue, letting his piercing drag over it roughly. it must hurt a little, but he knows steve gets off on it, loves tempting the thin line between pleasure and pain. 

“fuck, fuck fuck, eddie, yes,” steve babbles, free hand coming up to grab his own hair, one leg kicking out in his effort to stay still. eddie shoots a watery look up to watch him, unable to quell the moan that shudders up his throat at the sight. steve’s throat bobs as he swallows a whine, the sharp angle of his jaw softened as his mouth falls open on another moan.

[voxmortuus]

Consequences

PAIRING: Dom!Hannibal x Sub!Fem!Reader(they have a relationship)

UNIVERSE: Hannibal

WORDS: 2K

SUMMARY/PROMPT: Prompt from @coraline-scarlet: Ok ok, listen, Hannibal punish the reader for being a brat by teasing him all day, daddy kink, degradation, asphyxia kink, begging kink, bondage and suspension kink, impact/spanking play, hand kink, nipple play, and orgasm denial. (If it is not too much aftercare I will understand if u don't wanna write this for not feeling comfortable with something :)

TW: Angst | Language | Daddy Kink | Brat | Punishment | Degradation Kink | Asphyxia Kink | Rough Oral (Male receiving) | Vaginial Penetration (Unprotected) | Begging Kink | Praise Kink | Bondage Kink | Suspension Kink | Impact/Spanking | Nipple Play | Orgasm Denial | Aftercare

IMAGE CREDIT: Google I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP OF THESE IMAGES. If these are yours or you know who the creator is please INBOX me and let me know. Thank you.

My Masterlist | Taglist | REQUESTS ARE ALWAYS OPEN

Today was one thing after another with your attitude. Brat didn't even begin to cover it, but at the same time, that's precisely what it was. Brat mode was on full blast today. Between being super picky, not doing as you were told, to just being an all-over pain in Hannibal's ass. But you were doing it for a reason. You wanted him to get worked up, you wanted to test his patience, and you wanted him to correct you. You loved pushing his buttons because he always had the best follow-through. On top of being a brat, you had been teasing him all day. Using clothing and suggestive body language to get further under his skin.

"You have to go get ready for dinner. I would like to have dinner on the table by 6:45 at the latest." He stated.

With a smirk and a slightly exaggerated sway of your hips, you stood up, bending over, pressing your breasts together, kissing his cheek you smirk. "Yes, Daddy." Heading for the stairs, you make your way to the bedroom and throw on nothing but a mesh dress and make your way downstairs. Standing in the kitchen, you smirk and look at him. "Will this work for dinner?" You knew exactly what you were doing.

He clenched his jaw and looked over you; licking his lips, he put down his knife and shook his head. "Go get changed."

"No. I want to wear this."

"That is not dinner-appropriate."

"Then maybe have me for dinner." you taunt.

After he turns off the stove and oven, he walks over to you and grabs your wrist and looks you in the eyes, and shakes his head. "You haven't deserved that." He sneers.

He shakes his head, and with a firm grip on your wrist, he brings you to the back of the house. You knew exactly what this meant, and you couldn't help but mentally giggle like a little girl. As you trailed behind him as he dragged you by your wrist, forcing you to keep up with him, he turns and closes the door behind you. Looking up at him, you give him this devious grin. He looks over your face and shakes his head.

With his grip still firm on your wrists, he places you in the middle of the room. "Strip down. Fold your clothes neatly, lay them on the table." He tells you, his tone stern.

Nodding your head, you do just as you were told. You strip down, fold them neatly, and lay them on the table. You move back to standing in front of him, your hands at your side, and look over his face. Licking your bottom lip slightly, you bite on it. Taking in a deep breath, you watch as he moves to grab red silk rope.

You watch his hands closely and with great intent as he starts to wrap the rope around you, tying knots and intricately placing the silk against your skin. You watch as his fingers move in specific ways. You've always loved his hands, how they moved, how they would cut, grip, grasp, glide, how each little fiber moved. You were always watching them day in and day out. The rope felt good; it was tight, yet not too snug that it was uncomfortable. Once he had you bound in a way that you could not fuss about, he decided to reach up and grab the hooks above and grabbed a small remote; pressing the button, you start lifting off the ground just enough to become eye to eye with Hannibal.

Looking over his work, noting the rope that was strategically placed started to do its job. But the pressure of it all felt just right; he always knew just what to do and how to do it. Walking around, he grabbed a few things. After a few moments, Hannibal approaches you and looks you in the eyes before clamping your nipples. The pinch and sudden shock of slight pain gave you goose flesh.

With a riding crop in hand, he reached behind you and placed it against the flesh of your backside. Looking over your face, and leans in and gives you a whack, the sting caused your body to jerk, and you let out a soft whimper.

"Do you know why I am doing this?" He asked you.

Whack!

"Because I was sassy." Your tone was breathy.

Whack!

"And, why else?"

Whack!

"And because I didn't listen." You let out another breathy response.

Whack!

"And?"

Whack!

"Because I was teasing." You had a slight moan in your voice.

Whack!

"Exactly."

Whack!

"And you were a naughty brat." He added.

Whack!

With each whack, your body quivered, your body shivered, the gooseflesh on your skin caused the clamps on your nipples to tighten, which caused your pussy to convulse mildly. Biting your lip, you watch as Hannibal moves away from you. Noticing your body's reaction, he smirks.

"You're a little pain slut aren't you?" He smirks.

WHACK!

"Yes." You reply, biting your lip. You loved when he got like this.

WHACK!

"Yes, what slut? Look at this. You're all wet like a needy little whore." His tone was more intense.

WHACK!

"Yes, Daddy." You whimper.

WHACK!

"Oh, try again."

WHACK!

"Yes, Sir." You correct yourself.

WHACK!

"That's a good whore."

WHACK!

He moves, feeling how wet you had become during this time and 14 whacks later. He licks his lip and shakes his head. Looking over your body, he feels himself get excited, watching your cunt drip because of his actions, watching you quiver to his words, watching you react like this was something he always enjoyed.

"Now look at this, you're a dripping wet needy little whore who can't seem to grasp the idea of being well mannered and doing as she's told." He points out with a smirk on his face.

"Yes, Sir. I am a needy whore. But only for you."

He walks around you and grips at your throat, his fingers molding around your neck in a tight grip before he shakes his head. "I didn't ask you to talk whore." He adds.

You lick your lips, feeling the tight grip on your throat. Looking over your face, Hannibal tilts his head and licks his lips a moment, and moves to grab another hook, hooking you, so you are now vertical and lowers you. He undoes his belt and unzips his pants, and releases his erect cock, and with a firm grip around your throat from above, his fingers crossing over your windpipe, his grip firm, he pulls you forward, and you take his cock into your mouth.

With a whimper and a soft moan, you take him into your mouth willingly. Your tongue flat against the bottom of his cock, as he shoves himself further and deeper into your mouth, pushing past your gag reflex. You jerk your body, but his grip around your neck becomes tighter, holding you in place as he thrusts into your mouth, pushing himself further down your throat until your face is flush with his body.

You feel yourself tighten between your legs, you feel your body tremble and your nipples tingle, you feel yourself getting wetter as he uses your mouth to please himself.

"Such a good whore." He groans. "Such a mindless slut. My warm fuckhole." He groans again as he thrusts harder into you.

Using your suspension to his advantage, his grip on your throat firm as he uses you. Moving your entire body back and forth, slamming his cock into your throat harder, he feels himself coming close to a finish, but he wasn't ready just yet.

Moving behind you, he spreads your legs further and shoves his throbbing cock into your dripping wet cunt, and begins to thrust deep into you. You let out a gasp and a loud moan as he grips at your waist tightly, his fingers driving into your skin pressing against your hips.

The harder he thrusts into you, the more you whimper, the louder you moan, and the more you want to be that mindless whore for him. As he pushes into you, your body tenses around his cock, feeling every inch.

"Oh Sir, you feel so good." You whimper.

"Tell me how good my cock feels, whore." He growls.

"Oh Sir, your cock is perfect. It feels so amazing, your cock is my favorite, Sir. I love how your cock fills me." You whine as he thrusts harder into you. Your words turning him on even more. Pushing him to get rougher with you. As he uses your body, he feels himself getting closer.

"You want my cum whore?" He asks you.

"Oh yes, Sir."

"Beg for it. Beg for me to fill your cunt whore." He growls as he slams his cock into you harder.

"Please, Sir, please cum in me, fill my holes. Use me as your cum dump. Use my whore holes for your pleasure, Sir. Cum in me, please. Please, Sir. cum for me. Can I cum too Sir? Please? Please can I cum with you?" You beg.

"No, no, you cannot. This isn't for you. Whore's don't get to cum."

"Please, Sir. Please. Cum in my cunt, Sir. Cum deep inside me." You beg more.

That begging was enough to send him over the edge. With a loud growl, he slams his cock deep inside you, holding you close flush against his skin as he cums inside you. You let out a scream as your body shakes, wanting to finish; you were so close, but like a good girl, you kept yourself from a finish as hard as it was.

He slowly pulls from you, and his fluids drip from you- he smirks watching, a moment as he begins to untie you and catches you in his arms as you slowly start to tremble, falling to the floor. Picking you up, he looks over you and smiles. He brushes your hair away from your face and kisses you softly.

"Such a good girl. You did so well, I am so proud of you." He smiles, kissing you softly again.

"Thank you, Daddy." You whisper softly, resting your head against his shoulder looking over his face.

He carries you up the stairs and starts a hot bath. Stripping down, he climbs in with you. You reach forward and hand him some bubble bath, and he adds it in for you. Leaning back against him, you close your eyes, resting as he begins washing you. His strokes careful, delicate, and caring. Paying attention to every little detail, every curve, and every inch of you, wiping your back, your legs, and your breasts. You watch his hands; you lean against him and smile.

When he finishes bathing you, he holds you close. Taking his hand in yours, your fingers trace over his hand, and you kiss each fingertip; smiling softly, you begin to hum softly.

"Daddy?" You ask.

"Yes, Sweetheart?"

"I'm hungry."

"Okay, Sweetheart. Let's go find something to eat shall we?" He chuckles.

Getting out of the tub, he lifts you out of the tub and dries you off, sticking you in your favorite nightshirt and your favorite fluffy robe. He holds you close, drying off your hair and brushing your hair. He smiles, getting himself dressed, and heads downstairs with your hand in his. Once you get to the bottom of the stairs, he reaches around the corner and hands you your stuffed teddy bear, and makes his way to the kitchen.

You climb onto the stool and sit at the counter, watching him work a moment. "What do you want, Sweetheart?" He askes you with a smile on his face.

"A grilled cheese and tomato soup." You smile wide, holding onto your stuffy.

Nodding his head, he smiles. "Coming right up." He grins as he hands you a cup of juice. "Two hands, you don't want to spill." He smirks. Nodding your head, you take a sip and smile, wiggling about in the chair, holding onto your stuffie as you place the cup down on the counter.

[astro-pioneer]

Bon j o u rr

If it's alright, can i request albedo neglecting his s/o (not in a horrible way- but like, attention wise. S/o is still alive and well ajshs)

And when albedo finally like, pays attention to his s/o he can Notice a difference in them?? But they're just their usual self but?? More??? Quite/duller???? And they wont admit in order to not hurt him? Idk i just want a n g s t

Female or gender neutral s/o is up to u!!!

Cessation of Adoration 『Albedo』

They missed his fleeting touches and the feeling of his skin every night. But their heart was fragile, and couldn't bear to tell him. | Angst with no comfort

Hello to you as well my friend! Your brain is so big oml I love this request. I know you said either gn or female but I decided to stick with gn if that's okay! Also I accidentally directed it more towards snappy instead of dull since it became an argument (all verbal though!!!), apologies if that's not what you wanted. Sorry for the long wait (and thanks for your patience and understanding!) but I'm back to writing now!

For an alchemist whose knowledge passes the boundaries of others, Albedo is rather dull and inexperienced in relationships and what's needed to show your partner that yes, I do care about you. And so he buried himself in work, only passing thoughts of his lover being the only evidence of him remembering them. I wonder how (Y/N) is or I wonder what they're doing today. And yet never once has he went to talk to them.

They laid in a cold bed every night, not even the fire being able to make up for Albedo's warmth. The shadows that licked the corners of the bedroom were the only witnesses of their pain - the sobs and muttered apologies that made no sense. They thought it was their fault they have been forgotten.

But (Y/N) wouldn't be able to let their heartbreaking emotions show freely anymore - Sucrose was nice enough to notify her through a letter that Albedo was almost finished with his experiments and will be coming back soon. It only took a few months, they couldn't help but spitefully think. No, no - they couldn't think like that. Alchemy was the blond's passion, after all.

Albedo came home to (Y/N) waiting outside for him, swaying side to side in boredom. He saw nothing wrong with them from a distance; their posture and actions the same as what he remembered. When they locked eyes, two smiles were sent. Albedo's was small but was filled with warmth and met his eyes. (Y/N)'s was strained, kind of like ones sent to random strangers you pass by. The greeting wasn't filled with any enthusiasm.

He didn't interact with them for the rest of the day.

When the moon gazed into the linen-covered panes of their bedroom, Albedo's teal eyes just observed. There was something wrong; their movements weren't as fluid and natural with him here. Before anything else, he was an alchemist, which grew his ability to memorize details most don't.

"You're uncomfortable with me being home."

"No." He hummed, obviously not believing their curt answer.

"Your shoulders are tense, you're fidgeting more after almost not when around me, I've been avoided, and you've been so on edge that you didn't light the candle you pestered Marjorie about like you do every time you get ready for the night." The glare filled with denial that was sent didn't stop him from pointing everything out. "Would you like for me to give more examples?"

(Y/N) couldn't even argue with him even though they desperately wanted to. So they stayed in a state of denial. "Maybe your memory isn't as great as you think it is."

"Perhaps, if you wish to think like that. However, I refuse to allow you to say that I forgot how you act."

"Really? I feel honoured. I'm glad to know you only remembered me before you left and not during your trip. Even one letter would've been lovely."

"I've realized that when I first saw you today, but I cannot go back in time and change that. What I can do is make it up to you. But it's obvious you don't want to argue with me anymore, so if you want, we can talk it through tomorrow." The shuffle of the covers answered him.

"Don't forget the light."

"Baby Blue, please-!"

"Goodnight Albedo." They could see him wince even in the dim candlelight, making them roll over as to not look at him. He sighed and have up.

Albedo woke up significantly later than usual, (Y/N)'s side not even having a hint of lingering body heat. He didn't find a note when getting dressed despite looking everywhere for one. Kaeya stood in his lab when Albedo got there, an unnatural grim look on his face. "(Y/N) left at the break of dawn. They didn't tell me much when I saw them, only that there's a small chance they'll come back and try again with you. Here." The painful wheeze escaped his chest involuntarily. The personalized piece of jewelry he gifted them for an anniversary didn't even glisten in the bright light of the sun.

[ac3id]

Hawk’s eye| 18+

pairings: hawks [keigo tamaki] x female! reader

summary: hawks is in his rut, desperate for some relief. his annoying secretary won’t stop irritating him so he decides to take his pent up frustrations on her.       ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

+

anonymous said:

hi!! so while the requests are still open, could you write some headcannons for Hawks x reader when he's in rut? maybe the reader is a bit clueless and doesn't even know he goes through stuff like that? dirty details are welcome 👀❤️

this was high-key inspired by @tainted-wine​‘s this fic. (i hope u like my take on it !! 💓) 

a/n: aaaa this took so much longer than i thought it would take 😭, also thanks @the-grimm-writer  for proof reading this! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) also this is porn w plot so if u just was to skip to da porn. skip to this ‘◌’ bhai 

ALSO THANKYOU FOR 900 FOLLOWERS LMAO WTF FOR REAL 😭

tagging: @lady-tokugawa-of-mikawa​, @koiibito​, @reinawritesbnha​, @shorkbrian​

warnings: noncon, hate fucking, one slap, she bites his dick at some point, scumbag hawks.

word count:  5862

navigation

The sound of your phone buzzing on the side table with a loud, irritating noise jolts you awake. You roll around on the bed, your fingers reaching to turn the vibrating device off. Groaning, you sit up straight. The warm mattress under you threatens to lull you back to sleep but you shove the thought away instead choosing to stretch your arms over your head and yawn endlessly. You were tired, so goddamn tired. Rubbing your temples lazily you start thinking about the dreadful day you have ahead of yourself. You think about your boss: Hawks, the man who makes you hate your life and job. He has trapped you into a never-ending nightmare which starts the second you open your eyes till the moment you fall asleep and even then he still manages to haunt you in your dreams. 

Cleaning up after his messes, obeying his ever so pliantly. He has turned you into his little pet slave. He says that it’s your job as you are his assistant, his little helper there to make his job a little less hectic. You must listen to his needs and wants and to some degree, you do agree with him: it is your job, it’s what you signed up for after all but you can also sense him misusing his title when he is with you. He never listens to your suggestions which results in him calling you late after work hours to help with his problems knowing damn well you had already warned him beforehand. And, oh his flirty, suggestive comments which borderline sexual harassment. Hawks is a difficult man to work with and you often find yourself wondering how much calmer your life would be if you never worked for him but you do not have that luxury of leaving the job. It pays ridiculously well and you have bills to pay, your family to support. No, you cannot afford to lose this job. So you sit through his torment and hope for the best.

Seconds later after you have gathered your will to live you start scrolling through your phone, skimming through the morning news lazily. Your eyebrows furrow and eyes turn into angry slits as you glance upon a displeasing, astonishing article.

 ‘No. 2 Hero Hawks spotted partying with strippers–’

Your heart stops for a moment.

What the fuck was this? 

You hesitantly read through the article, your heartbeat increasing every second that your eyes focus on the led screen, reading the details of the damned article. Eyes widening as panic settles in your nerves, you realize the gravity of the situation you had found yourself under as Hawks’ manager. Hawks had been spotted partying with strippers in a nightclub with a bunch of celebrities. The crazy stalker who had managed to follow him succeeded in capturing exclusive pictures of Hawks dressed in an expensive suit, his hair styled to perfection dancing under the dim lights of the club with women in basically their underwear shamelessly grinding upon him. You honestly couldn’t have given a single fuck about what Hawks did in his free time but since he had managed to get a paparazzi to tail him and now that his career was at risk; it became your problem. Your first and foremost instinct was to call Hawks and ask him what the hell he was thinking. Not being careful enough, he had managed to taint his entire reputation. The people of Japan now probably viewed him as a reckless party animal rather than the No. 2 Hero! 

Before you could call him, your phone’s screen lights up illuminating a contact you dread. ‘Hero Commission’ it’s written in bold letters, your face drops. Your fingers shake, filled with anxiety as you accept the call. Inhaling and exhaling, you try to calm your nerves. If it is a call from the Commission, you know it’s bad. Bad. 

You pick up the phone and instantly regret it, “What were you doing?” an angry, masculine voice snarls through the screen. You open your mouth to answer but are not given a chance too. “How did you let him go to a strip club during patrol hours?” you bite your lip thinking of an acceptable excuse, “He had to go there for work! It’s a misunderstanding. He went down to the strip club undercover to meet up with a crook to get some intel– that’s what he told me. This is a misunderstanding, I–” your explanation was cut short as the person on the other end of the call deemed it enough. “Whatever it is, fix it and never let this happen again.” he sneers a warning before cutting the call. It wasn’t a complete lie, Hawks did tell you that he was investigating a case on his own and that he would be gaining information from shady people but you did not expect him to go to a strip club out of all places. The worst part: he never even told you in detail anything about this case neither did he notice the paparazzi tailing his back. You sigh in frustration, rubbing your forehead, you quickly ring up his number only for it be sent right to voicemail. You almost scream. Where the fuck was this bastard?

Managing Hawks was not a walk in the park. The hero commission had sent you down especially to be Hawks’ secretary. You had a reputation: you were known to be responsible, diligent, and punctual. You were one of their best, entrusted with the responsibility to manage Hawks and you did a good job but it was Hawks who just made the job so hard. 

Creating problems he could never solve by himself; on lucky days you would get a call from him at three in the morning, him begging you to come to help him. You want to say no, deny him any help. Let him suffer by himself but you cannot do that. If he screws up and you are not there to fix it. You lose your job, you can’t afford that. You give your 100%, you do but it’s Hawks. He has a problem with you, well, he has a problem with everyone in the commission but projects it mainly at you. He does not respect you. 

He chooses to ignore your decisions and suggestions, diminishing them with a cruel chuckle, “Look, I need you but just not now.” He would say with an apologetic smile, “just let me work at my own pace, I will call when I will need you. After all, I love seeing your cute face.” You would always have to force yourself from not slapping his smug face before he took off into the bright, blue sky.

The truth untold, it wasn’t his fault completely either. He was just so fast. It was hard for anyone to keep up with him and since he did his job right; bringing peace to the nation you could not deem him worthless. But it still was a bother at times like this when you were left completely in the dark while Hawks ruined his hard-earned reputation. 

You got into the building earlier that morning to wait for Hawks in his office, you needed to talk to him. This was not his first mishap. Not long ago, another article about him shamelessly flirting with a fan had been published. It had said the fan was visibly uncomfortable with him but Hawks didn’t seem to care, he kept presting. You had managed to cover it up as the two being close friends who were publicly joking around, there was no real harm done. It was a lie though, you had to pay the fan a large check to keep her mouth shut. She accepted the money and the story was lost and forgotten but you had no idea how you were going to cover this hell up.

The clock struck nine as the day began, people rushing into the building all tensed but there was no sign of Hawks. You tried calling him on his number but the call directed to voicemail yet again. You were growing impatient, did something happen to him? Sure Hawks fucked things over sometimes but he never disappeared like this. It got you genuinely worried. Something horrible could have happened to him. After all, he was on a case. 

You waited for another thirty minutes and there was yet no sign of him. His sidekicks came knocking on his office door only to be surprised to see you there instead of their boss. You told them to continue with their day and not worry about Hawks, he was just awfully late. Not a big deal, he will be here soon. Soon. 

Another hour passed by, no sign of Hawks and about now your phone was blowing up with angry calls from his sponsors and business partners, screaming at the top of their lungs frowning upon the scandal. Heck, even Endeavor called you after he couldn’t reach Hawks himself. The call made you nervous as anxiety crept in yet again. Hawks wasn’t answering to Endeavour something bad must have happened. Getting tired of the wait, you make up your mind to drop by his penthouse and to go see him for yourself. His silence was driving you crazy and worried at the same time, you just hoped he would be there well and safe. You could not imagine the ruckus that would create if something were to happen to him. 

You walked out of his office after waiting for an hour. Rushing down to the basement you got into your car and before driving away to his house. Just before leaving, you decided to test your luck by calling him. Hoping, praying he would answer this time and luckily he did .

“Hawks!” you cried, a wave of relief washing over you, “Where are you? What are you doing?” you began pestering him with questions, not letting him answer even once. Hawks, tired of waiting,  interrupted your monologue of questions with a chuckle. “Aw, you’re worried about me, baby?” his tone was low and mischievous, the sentence slurring almost into a moan at the last word. You rolled your eyes and clenched your fists in irritation, you weren’t new to his teasing. Hawks thought it was appropriate for him to casually flirt with his secretary. Send unasked comments about your figure, perverted implications about what he would do to a ‘cute little thing like you’ which made you very uncomfortable being around him at times. But it wasn’t that what made him get on your last nerves. It was the fact that he could even think about joking at a time like this which made you furious. 

You screamed into the phone, giving him a piece of your mind. Degrading him for not taking care of himself, complaining about how he had managed to put you in such a tight spot. 

“Once again I am asking, where the fuck are you. Hawks?” you ended your speech with spite in your words. Hawks sighed, “I am in the office,” he says your name with an edge in his voice, instantly shutting you down, “Where the hell are you?” The smugness in his tone remains and you can tell he is smirking on the other side of the screen as if he’s won. You hang up abruptly before walking out of your car and into the building, hurriedly making your way towards Hawk’s office. 

You slam the door open glaring upon hawks as he sits behind his table. Dirty boots resting pliantly on the shiny, polished wood. His wings out, stretched to their fullest, filling up the room standing on high alert. They have a deeper hue to them, they look darker– a darker red. How did that happen? You find yourself wondering. Is he on drugs? His face is tilted upwards, facing the ceiling. Eyes screwed shut. They open as he hears you enter and walk towards him, his wings falling back behind him calm and collected. 

“You’re late,” he says with a smirk, you bang your fist on the table beside where his feet rest, making him flinch and bring them down instinctively. His eyes widened in shock, he was not expecting you to be this furious. Sure, he knew he knew he had gotten you mad but he was not expecting you to be this angry. Without any hesitation, you start scolding him again. He watches you ramble in ominous glee. A poker face masking his expression, he watches you trot about how much trouble he is in. His job is to protect meek and weak citizens who cannot fight for themselves, what he was doing in a strip in the name of business is something you cannot grasp your head around. You repeat your lecture which you had already tortured him over the phone while the entire time Hawks drums his fingers underneath the table, waiting for you to get over with your dumb speech. His eyes trail on your lips, watching it move. Plump, pillow-like features tinted dark red ramble on about how much of an irresponsible person he was. Complaining about how much trouble he puts you through daily. Honestly, he doesn’t quite catch what you were saying. His mind busy imaging you shutting the fuck and letting him get through the day– or better yet how pathetic you would look underneath him while he shoves his dick down your throat. The thought makes his cock throb. His eyes change from an unbothered, bored look to something sinister as they start trailing all over your body. His eyebrows slightly furrow as he catches up on the few degrading terms you throw at him. 

You talked too much. Way too much, do you realize how much better you would look if you keep your pretty, little mouth shut? The entire time, it’s always: Hawks don’t do this, Hawks don’t do that. Don’t you ever get tired? He wonders whether your dumb little brain had any thoughts other than the ones which tell you to irritate him all the time. You should shut up, really stop talking. He might do something bad, he’s already stressed enough as it is being in his rut and having no way to relieve himself, he is going through a rough time here. The other night he escaped to a strip club in hopes of relieving some stress and it had worked but it had also brought along a mind splitting scandal.

The entire morning, Hawks was busy avoiding people. Whether it be his fans, reporters, or even someone he knew; he paid no mind to them trying to get to the office as soon as possible to deal with the mess he had created.

It wasn’t his fault entirely, he was in his rut and needed sexual relief which he was finding very hard to receive. With his work piling up and you breathing down his neck, he couldn’t even take represents as they slowed him down. He couldn’t risk falling asleep on duty. A stupid, little headline about what he does in his free time was much more favorable than a failed mission in which he would let countless innocent lives slip by his fingers. 

He watches you ramble, his eyes trailing over your body locking on your tits. He stares at them intensely, watching them bounce slowly every time you huff out of irritation and frustration. Your work shirt works him favors, the white almost translucent material shows off the slightest shadow of your black, lacy bra. It’s enough to get him going- imaging how your soft mounds would feel in his hands. How you would whimper under his touch as he tugs and pulls on your perky nipples, you probably wouldn’t sound as monstrous as you do right now. Your moans would be girlish, small whimpers would leave your lips as you would try your best to cover them up. You would try to hide your face under his assault but he wouldn’t let you, pinning you down instead and forcing himself on you while you cried for him to stop. Beg for his mercy. 

He can feel his jeans tighten. 

“So please, Hawks. Just be a little more responsible.” you finish, your voice turning into a plea. He hums and apologizes for his impulsive thinking, like always, he is not sorry. “Let's fix this mess, what do you say?” he asks with an apologetic grin, trying to be polite. You on the other hand don’t even spare him a glance, walking right out the door instead. It leaves him very offended. 

◌

“Ah! What a troublesome day it was,” Hawks chimes in walking into his office with you closely following behind, “It was all your fault.” you spit making hawks chuckle, “Whatever happens, happens for the good.” he says, a scoff leaves your lips, “What was good about that?” you ask annoyed. “I get to have you alone with me now~” Hawks winks at you making you roll your eyes dramatically. Both of you stand together in Hawks’ office after hours. The day is done, everyone in the agency building has taken their leave excluding the two of you. It had been a long day fixing up after Hawks. You were tired and all you wanted was a warm bath and some sleep. 

“Do you want to know why it happened?” Hawks asks out of the blue, “What happened?” you question, “Why was I at the strip club?” you sigh, “I don’t give two shits about your personal life, Hawks.” replying sternly. A look of disappointment arises on his face, “It’s actually more than that, really, I u-uh have this condition- it gets very hard to work during these times-”

 “What are you even talking about?” You interject confused and clueless. You turn to him, a glare evident on your face you stare at him sheepishly. What was he on about now?

“I am serious, I went into my rut, and that's why I went to the strip club-” “Into a what?” Hawks’ eyes widened, were you really that clueless? “A rut, [y/n],” he says like it is a matter of fact, something everybody is aware of. “A rut. You know like how some animals go into heat and they-” your face scrunches as he explains his rut to you, you visibly grow more and more repulsed. Hawks studies you face, his heart genuinely breaking at your expressions. “Why are you telling me this?” you screech, “jeez Hawks, I did not need to know any of that!” you continue. 

Hawks is hurt, he accepted a reaction which showed more concern. Maybe he went a bit too far imagining that you would offer him help but seeing you so disgusted by him shattered his heart and made him lose all his respect for you. You were a terrible human being, no different from those villains he put behind the bars every day. “I am telling you all of this because- this actually happens!  Many- fuck- millions of people like me actually suffer from this shit! You should be a little more emphatic.” he reasons. He accepts you to understand at least now but you gloriously manage to disappoint him yet again. A rude snarl leaves your lips followed by a scoff, “What are you really trying to tell me Hawks? That you don’t want to do your job and to justify your laziness; you are making lame excuses now?” you shove a finger to his chest, it pushes him off the edge. 

Something in his snaps, he looks down where your fingertip touches his chest. You are smaller than him, he’s at least a foot bigger than you. Where does your bratty, puny self get all this confidence from? His eyes darken as something sinister floats within him. He stares down at your finger, wanting to rip it off. He wants to see you cry. He wants to see you in pain and misery, suffering a great deal while nobody comes to help you. 

“Hawks, you know what? I am so done with your bullshit. I am leaving.” You turn away from him, heading to the door but before you could move a step. Hawks grabs you by writs, caging your delicate hand into a bone-crushing death grip, “What the fuck?” you question, “Hawks?” you continue. You wait for his response, turning to him. He is facing the floor, his hair scanning over his eyes making it impossible for you to read his expression, not that you could read what was going on with him normally but now; it’s even harder. “Are you going to let go?” you ask again only to be met by him squeezing your wrists even tighter. You bring your other hand over him to pry yourself free from his clutches but he doesn’t want to let go. 

“Hawks wha-” you don’t get to complete your statement as Hawks pushes you down on the floor making you fall on your butt. You let out a loud hiss. You frown, yelling out “What is wrong with you!?” You try to stand back up but his hands settle on your shoulder pushing you back down. You try fighting but it’s to no use. Did you forget he is the no. 2 Pro- Hero? He is much stronger than you, he brings down villains twice his size daily. What makes you think your weak kicks and punches will be enough to beat him? 

You keep struggling under him, screaming how you were going to report him and ruin his career, how he is going to be sorry for messing with you.

 “Shut. Up.” he finally speaks, he brings his gloved hand to your perfectly styled hair. Pulling tightly on your roots he stretches your face upwards, making it easier for him to look down on you while you cry in agony, “Stop crying.'' His voice is deep and raspy, much different from how he usually talks. You look up at him, fear swimming in your eyes as tears prick at the corners of your sockets, lips trembling. If you already weren’t terrified enough, your horror becomes tenth fold when you see his boner raging in his pants, “Come, on. Hawks..” your voice is small and weak, it's a broken cry. You know what he is going to make you do. He was going to violate you, break you beyond repair. 

This was so wrong. As much you hated Hawks, you never would have thought he would do something like this. Hawks was a hero. He is meant to fight for justice, punish evil. Why is he doing this? “Hawks no. Please. Was it something I said? I take it back I didn’t mean it-” 

“You know, y/n, you are not so different from those villains yourself,” if looks could kill, you would be dead. The pure, anger, and hatred he looks at you with bothers you. It makes you hate yourself, there is something sinister in his eyes which makes you sure about the fact that he is not afraid of hurting you. He has given up on you, after all, his polite gestures, generosity you always ignored- he’s fed up with your sheer ignorance and your ego. He hates you. He does and heck if he wasn’t in his rut; he would never bring his dick anywhere near you. He does not respect you as a human and in no way does he have any romantical attachment to you. All he ever saw was a walking alarm clock, bugging him every second, and now all he is going to see you as is his cocksleeve whom he can stuff his fat cock into whenever and however he seems fine. To him you are just a walking hole he can ruin whenever he wants to, you have managed to get on his bad side and he is going to show you his bad side.

He undoes his belt, his pants falling to his thighs displaying his expensive boxers and his growing hardness. His cock is throbbing within its confines, fighting desperately to come free. His free hand pulls his boxers down and his cock springs free, hitting his abdomen. It stands long and hard, the tip blushed red and angry, tiniest bit of pre-cum spilling sweetly from his slit. He pumps his cock in his hand before forcing it against your mouth, pressing it to your lips smearing his pre all over your lips. You whimper in protest, moving your head the littlest you can under his tight grip. “Bitch open up. You had this coming for a long time,” his dick slaps your cheek while his fingers try to pry open your mouth. Pushing his gloved digits forcefully into your mouth, the rough fabric feels disgusting on your tongue. His fingers capture the lower part of your jaw, tearing your mouth apart with deranged strength. A loud cry escapes from you as he stuffs your empty mouth full of his cock, “Yeah, that’s more like it. Fuck.” he bottoms out into your throat, his shaft hitting the back of your throat making you gag, “get on with it. A slut like you would have the experience, right?” he taunts you. You do as he says, puckering your lips firmly around his length, your hands resting on his exposed thighs while you stroke him with your tongue. You feel his chiseled thigh muscles flex under your fingers as he melts in pleasure, tiny moans leaving his lips shamelessly. 

As Hawks drowns in overwhelming pleasure, a criminal idea crosses your mind. Your eyes trail up to his face. His eyes are screwed close, he bites his lower lip softly. Carefully and slowly, you graze your teeth over his cock. Clamping down on it lightly, you hold your position. Your heart beats faster when Hawks stiffens and in a quick flash, he pushes you off his cock throwing you into the ground before backing up, squealing in pain.

 “YOU LITTLE BITCH!” he screams, you sprint to the door. Trembling fingers try to unlock the doorknob while Hawks cries in agony behind you. You can feel him loom behind you, ready to come for your neck. A part of you tells you that you will not make it but the adrenaline rushing in your veins calls to be hopeful. Just open the door and just run. 

Your cold, quivering fingers almost unlock the heavy wooden door but before you can push it open. Hawks appears right behind you, pushing his body onto your back. You feel his cock poking at your ass, his hand grabs your head pulling you, prying you off the door. You scream and cry trying to break free, grabbing his hand clawing on it to let you free. Hawks chooses to show no mercy as he drags you by your hair to his desk, your scalp hurts from his grip. You can feel tiny strands breakaway. He turns you around and slams your back to his wooden desk, you whimper at the contact. He stands in front of you, pressing his knee between your thighs. His hand reaches out to pull at your collar, forcing you to look at him. 

He is livid, eyebrows furrowed with a death glare his jaw clenched, and his eyes darker than you have ever seen before. He looks at you with murderous intent, you think he might as well kill you with his wings flared open. The feathers turning into knives, you beg for your life. 

Hawks observes your face. Broken, scared for your life your eyes are glassy, ridden in fear your makeup smeared all over your face. He thinks it's beautiful, he has finally got you begging for mercy, finally thinking of him as the man he is. He appreciates your submission but it does not erase the fact that you just bite oh his dick. You beg for mercy, your voice is small and broken. It comes barely above a whisper, “I am so sorry hawks, please don’t do this.” He doesn’t listen, staring at you head-on with his jaw clenched. He brings his free hand to the air, keeping it steady for a second before bringing it down with a horrendous force. You feel it before it happens; white, hot flashing pain erupts through your cheek stinging you hard. You cry out in agony as your face drops to the other side. The strike was powerful, it left you sore, you can still feel it sting your face. It leaves you swollen, you try to bring your hand up to your face lightly to carcasses you paining cheek but Hawks pushes your face on the wooden desk before you could, trapping your arms behind your back holding it with one hand. “You don’t realize your position, do you? You know what? I was going- planning to be gentle with you. I thought I would at least make you cum but now,” he pulls a feather out his wings preceding to tear open your pencil skirt with the sharp end. The ripped fabric falls to the ground leaving you in your panties and the pantyhose you always wear under your skirts, “There we go. I hope you are a pain slut, otherwise you would really not enjoy this.” he says with a small chuckle before ripping you out of your bottoms, leaving you in your panties completely vulnerable to him. He abandons his gloves, rubbing his fingers on your clothed cunt roughly trying to gather slickness from your dry hole. Pleasure shoots down your body as his digits find your clit, rubbing tight circles on the little pearl, “Does this feel good? You are getting wet.” a smirk scars his face, “Who gets off to being raped?” he says sharply. Your face scrunches up in disgust and embarrassment. A heavy lump forms in your throat and the waterworks that you had been holding off burst open. Big, fat tears roll down your cheeks as you cry for mercy. You didn't know why this was happening to you, for your entire life you had been a nice person: always helpful, sensitive, and kind. At least, that was what you thought yourself to be. Never in a million years could you- or anyone, in fact, could have ever thought that you would be crying pathetically while your boss: a person known to all as a Hero, the truest, most honest person to exist ever would be the one defiling you, tearing you down to nothing just for his pleasure. 

“Shut up, you like this.” He snarls at you, so sick of your loud wails he even shoves two fingers inside your mouth plunging them to the back of her throat, “Don’t you dare bite now, slut.” he warns. His fingers stop prodding at your clit when he notices the wet spot forming on your panties, he wastes no time shimming them down to your ankles, whistling when he sees your glistening pussy. You only wail louder pleading him not proceed any further. Hawks turns a blind eye to all your begging, “I should just shove it in, right?” he asks petting his finger over your hole, “but that won’t be fun,” he snickers. You feel his move away from your cunt and move higher. Panic settles, he couldn't be serious, “Hawks. Please no. Please don’t. I don-” finger rims along your asshole, inching to dip in, “What? Don’t want me to fuck your ass?” he spanks your ass hard making you flinch, “Please I’ve never-” you cry out hoping he would understand, “No one’s ever fucked you in the ass before?” you whine at the lewd words which shamelessly fall from his lips, “Guess there’s a first for everything.” he says with a scoff. 

His digits bury into your hole, stretching you out in a way you’ve never felt before. The stretch burns, filling a fresh set of tears rolling down your eyes, smudging your mascara and eyeliner You looked like a whore. He keeps hammering his fingers inside you without mercy, a loud whine leaves your lips as you feel a tingle of pleasure from him hitting the right spot. “Do you like that? Too bad, this isn’t for you.” he moves his fingers from you before lining his fat cock to your almost too tiny hole, “How will this fit?” he laughs to himself, pressing his engorged tip in slowly, “Will be a tight fit,” he continues to shove his cock into your hole, his face turns off one to ecstasy as your walls take him inch by inch. You scream in pain, his cock was much bigger than his fingers. It was stretching you out, numbing your mind and soul, you did not know how much more you could take. Salty tears fell from your eyes as Hawks bottomed himself in you, he waited for a moment before starting to thrust into you unforgivingly. Dragging his fat cock out and your walls pulling him right back in. As he kept ramming into you. Slowly, you start to pleasure tingle up your spine as his tip smashed against the right spots. Your cries of pain turn to pleasurable moans. Hawks wastes no time in teasing you, “Look at you moaning like a slut,” he spanks your ass with swift force sending your rear to sting. You feel unbearable pleasure starting to build up in your abdomen, a straining coil wanting to burst which each of Hawks’ strong thrusts yet it is left unfilled as the simulation is not enough to make you cum from all alone. Hawks notices this, the pitiful crying for him to touch your swollen little clit which was begging to be played with. He almost thought he would give it to you, after all, he was a good person. Almost. 

Hawks just snicker, his cruel, sadistic laugh echoing in the room, “No, no, no.” he teases, “no matter how much you cry, baby. I am not letting you cum. This is your punishment, you deserve this. You’ve been a bad girl.” Hawks couldn’t formulate how he was able to form complete sentences. The moment he had caught you, he had let himself go feral. Dragging you down like a predator, he finally had you under him. He kept grunting and breathing profanity down your ear along with shameful praises about how well your slutty ass takes him. He is glad he is finally getting his much-deserved relief but he is not done yet. He won’t be done until he is filling your vulnerable womb with his seed, he won’t be done until he hears you asking him to give you his children. He is not going to leave you be until he has destroyed you, balls deep in your tiny pussy. He is going to keep you here all night fucking you, he is going to stay there all night fucking you with hate which he has buried within himself for you over the years. He is going to melt you in his hand, break you until only he can build you up, and maybe he will not let you go even after that. Maybe he will keep you after all hawks mate for life. 

Just hope he lets you cum the next time. 

[futurewriter2000]

Taking a Risk

A/N: I think I just fell in love with Ron with this one. God, I love that man. Also ginger men should have more loving. I’m so glad I got this request because I enjoyed writing this every bit.

REQUEST by @tmrwriter​: I was wondering if you could write a imagine about the reader and Ron Weasley being really obvious that they have a crush on each other, but Harry and Hermione try to push them to get together? IDK but i <3 the work u do! Keep up the great work!!

XX

It takes a lot of strength and time for a person to admit their true emotions and if emotions weren’t complicated, maybe everything would be much easier. 

You tried to ignore the butterflies and the uncomfortable heat on your cheeks as you were in the same room as him. Harry was digging deep into his potion’s essay, as well as Hermione, who was reading so fast. Both you and Ron have been trying to write the assignment for Flitwick’s class. He was sitting next to you, pretending to read the instructions for the assignment. Harry and Hermione already finished theirs, thanks to the brilliant Hermione Granger, who likes to finishe everything ahead. They had partnered up immediately after Flitwick said that the assignment must be done in pairs. Ron and you have decided to partner up as well.

That was harder than it sounded. Every time he was close to you, your body would tense up, your hands would become clammy and your cheeks were in this nice rosey colour. Every time you would glance at him, he was already watching you. His piercing blue eyes were soft on you, always were. The way he admired every little feature on you. The lines at the corners of your mouth whenever you smiled, the blush on your cheeks and the tension between your eyebrows. Every single bone in his body was telling him that everything pointed to him- that the blush on your cheeks were caused by him. 

When you caught him staring it was his turn to blush. His freckles that matched his eyes so perfectly hid under the blush of his cheeks. Sometimes you could see it reach his ears that almost glowed in a red colour. Just like him, you thought that all the signs pointed at you- that maybe, just maybe, in a glimmer of hope, you were the cause of his frustration. 

You’d bump into him- just gently enough to shake him out of his thoughts. He’d look at you with a grin and stared into your eyes until you felt your stomach twist and turn inside of you. It made you uncomfortable but excited in a pleasing way. You smiled and turned your eyes away, back into the book that you had to focus on but to God’s will, you couldn’t do it with his knee touching yours and spreading all sorts of feelings through your body. 

Oh, he did it on purpase. He wasn’t the shy, awkward kid you had met in your First year. No, something happened during the summer that made him so much more confident in himself. He’d bump his knee continuously,  teasing you even. 

You’d smile through your blush. “What are you doing?” you asked and he’d turn away with a grin. 

“Looking.” he dragged the word out as he flipped through the pages. 

He looked up at Hermione, still grinning and it didn’t last any second longer to let Hermione know what that meant. She moved her elbow a bit too fast until it hit the mug of tea and spilled it all over Harry’s essay and his robes. 

“Hermione!” Harry glared at her, feeling the boiling water scorch his skin. “That’s my assig-”

“Oh, I’m so sorry Harry!” she quickly got up, catching all of your attention. “Here- let’s go to my dorm. I think I have a book that can fix all of this.” she pulled his sleeve but Harry pulled back.

“I have all of my stuff here. Can’t you bring your book here.” he started to calm down a bit yet a little bit of anger was still present in his tone. 

Hermione couldn’t believe his brain. “No, Harry. No, I cannot.”

“Why not?” Harry kept looking as she continued to spread her eyes widely at him, glancing over at the pair.

“Because-” she tried to come up with an excuse. “-it would be faster if you take the essay before it’s too late.” 

“What?” Harry furrowed his eyebrows. 

“Oh, for God’s sake Harry.” she grabbed his sleeve and started pulling him with him, grabbing the essay in as well. You could see and hear them whispering something to each other, Hermione gently hitting Harry over the head with the essay.

“What was that for?” he rubbed the back of his head.

“How dim-witted could you be, Harry?” you could hear as both of them turned around the corner and disappeared.

Both you and Ron laughed at their disappearance. 

“Tossers.” Ron chuckled under his breath, catching your attention and making your realize that you and him were completely alone in the common room. Not a soul left.

It caused the blush to creep back to your cheeks, even your ears but you tried to focus back on the book... the book that was on his side of the table. 

“Okay, so how about we finally finish this assignment today and-”

“Isn’t it due till the end of the week?” he furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“It is but don’t you want to finish it sooner?” you asked, completely oblivious to his intention.

His smile fell into a fading frown as he turned around to the book and kept looking at you. He was a bit frustrated if he was honest with himself. This assignment gave the two of you time to spend together and you just wanted to finish this. So did that mean that you didn’t have feelings for him... not even a little bit. 

You could see him hesitating in his answer, making you a bit more aware of the true meaning of your question. 

“I guess so.” he said, forcing a smile on his face as he looked at you. 

It took you his answer to realise that you wanted to hear the opposite of what he said. It took you his answer and his hesitation to realise that this assignment gave both of you time alone and that you had done nothing but love that time alone with him. 

“Afraid of losing your reputation?” you bumped into him, trying to lighten up the mood that you had apereantly ruined. 

“What reputation?” he furrowed his eyebrows, feeling your knee pressed against him and causing him to get a bit more flustered. 

Seeing his face glow red, you felt the adrenalin pump your heart and risk the chance of getting it broken. You were done waiting for answers. You wanted to know now and the adrenalin gave you an enormous amount of courage to do so. You leaned forward, face to face as he swallowed thickly. 

Everything told you to just go for it. Every single bone in your body but you chickened out, so you reached for the book on his side and backed away slowly. 

Your heart was thumping, not only in your chest but you could feel every vein in your body press against your skin. “The one where you do everything last minute. Imagine shocking Flitwick with giving him the assignment  a day early.” you let out a nervous laugh, flipping through the pages but not really knowing what you were looking for.

He was silent for a while, trying to gather his thoughts and his body funtion because suddenly, he couldn’t move a thing- not even his mouth. 

“Uhm-” he cleared his throat, smiling a bit awkwardly. “Yeah.” he let out a gentle laugh, staring at you.

What did you just do? You leaned forward, close enough to kiss him and he caught you staring at his lips but it took you a milisecond to change your mind and back away. 

Merlin, all he wanted was to kiss you- to touch you, to hold you so close but all he did was watch you from the end of his couch. 

He stared into the piece of parchment. There was nothing written on there. The two of you have been sitting here for an hour and there was literally not even a draft- not on his side and not on yours. What did the two of you do for the entire hour if not do the assignment? 

He furrowed his eyebrows and looked on your side of the desk, finding another piece of parchment completely empty. He found you flipping through the pages of a book but your eyes were directed somewhere at the floor and your thoughts somewhere at the clouds. 

He felt himself lick his lips. You were about to kiss him, weren’t you?

He felt his confidence come back from the shadows it hid. He put the book on the desk, seeing as you have noticed it with the flick of your eyes but decided to ignore him. You didn’t say a word, only pretended to read as fast as Hermione and flip a page. The funny problem was that nobody else could read as fast as Hermione.

He felt himself smile as he approached you, slowly sitting closer and closer to you. His large hand placed itself on the top of the book and you could see nice veins pop define the lines of his hands. His nails weren’t bitten like Harry’s were but they were nicely taken care of and healthy. He pulled the book away and closed it, then putting it gently on the desk. 

You didn’t dare to look into his eyes. You knew that the moment you do, you’d melt away into a puddle of emotions. 

Your heart was pumping so hard in your chest you thought it would burst. When his nicely large hands removed themselves from the book, they followed up to your thighs and up to your own hands. They were so small compared to his and you found your fingers wonder on every freckle they had.

He smiled at the wonderfully nice and gentle reaction he got from you. It only boosted his confidence. He came too far, he was not about to back down now. 

“(y/n).” he spoke softly and quietly. “Look at me.” he continued. “I have to tell you something.”

With all your might, you looked up into his blue eyes, feeling your soul catch on fire as you did. He was smiling at you with courage but you could see flashes of anxiety come and go. 

You wanted him to tell you, tell you now. Right now!

So, you took his hands into a firmer grip and pulled them a bit closer- watching him with eyes that almost pleaded him to tell you what you wanted to hear. 

He took a deep breath in and out. This felt so much harder that he ever imagined it to be. You were his best friend and now, you were looking him with eyes that expected something and all he could hope for was that he would exceed in your expectations. 

“I like you.” he seemed to spill out, softer than he intended to. Your grip tightened and he could feel his hands squeeze as if you were expecting more. “More than friends.” he continued, raising gaze from your hands up to your eyes, only to find them glimmering in joy. Your smile was sincere and gorgeous- just like the rest of you. “And I would really, desperately want to kiss you.” he started leaning forward, seeing as you nodded gently and moved in as well. 

He was so afraid yet eager to finally get the chance to kiss you- no, not the chance. To actually, finally kiss you. 

It was just a small touch of your lips and as soon as he felt them against his own, he slipped in his tongue and deepened the kiss. His hand removed itself from yours and went up to your jaw, pulling you closer. Both of your hands went up from his abdoment to his chest, gripping and twisting the shirt in your hands. He smiled as he had felt your urge to kiss him, to feel proud of himself risking his heart to tell you what he had felt because he had felt it for so long, he almost felt himself burst. 

He removed his hands your cheeks and slid them down to your waist, gripping you firmly and pulling you onto his lap. The two of you parted only for a moment, a second, to take a breath, to look each other into the eyes filled with joy and lust. He wanted to lean in but you pressed your thumb on his lips, dragging it down and brushing it all over his lower lip. He smiled at your touch yet he still wanted more. 

“I like you too.” you said and it took him by surprise to hear you say that. He didn’t know he needed to. He thought that the kiss was just enough to prove him that you shared the same feelings as he did but saying those words to him felt even better, like a conformation. 

“Good. Because this would have been awkward if you didn’t.” he smiled and you laughed, pulling him into another kiss. 

[natsukitakama]

Being in relationship with the weeping monk would include :

Author note : alright I know I promised to write about Merlin and the green knight and I will. I just couldn’t stop thinking about this . Also it’s been like three months since my last writing I hope I won’t disappoint you. I expect to work on my request as soon as possible ♡ Love u guys

 I'll definetly write a Merlin and Green knights’ part 

i do not own the gif credit to the owner 

Warning : some mention of smut but nothing too serious / mention of trauma / Spoiler 

A lot of patience, I cannot imagine how much trauma this man went through. Apparently he is the only survivor (or at least Ash are barely here anymore) from his species and believe during his whole life that he was damned, he should be ashamed about his true being. In addition he grew up into a fanatical church, so it might be difficult to get to know him especially if you are a fey 

Unlike his « father » he doesn’t hate fey but believe they need to expel their darkness such as him and that’s why he is working hard for the church so he could earn his freedom and soul. But then he realized they were barely followed their own rule, monk aren’t supposed to kill children but his father does. 

He felt betrayed and had no longer a place and a purpose to follow. I’m pretty sure he’ll follow squirrel since he does seem to like him. It will take time for him to trust you enough to even talk with you and it won’t help if you’re fey cause he won’t understand why you’re trying to be nice to him especially because of the killing he’s done for the church 

If you want to get close to him just take your time, the man can be harsh and he’ll be on the defensive since his background with the church. It will take time but he will be nicer with you eventually 

He tends to go nicer if you’re caring with him, always asking him how he is doing, if he is feeling well, proposing yourself to patch him or anything. He is a touch-starved adult man, and I believe he doesn’t have much love in his life neither from the church nor from his family (or barely since he was raised by Father) 

When he will finally feel confortable enough around you, he’ll talk a lot about you from specific things such as what are you working on, how’s your training doing, to banality : anything to make you talk honestly. He just loves your voice it just calm him down everytime. He loves your voice, he really loves it. 

He loves your smile too and would be jealous anytime he saw you smiling to anyone who isn’t him 

Cause here’s the thing, he is a monk, he shouldn’t be materialist or anything but he can’t help : if there is something to know about Lancelot is that he does not share. Not even you. 

Even if you’re not in relationship, he believes no one has the right to be next to you, he is working hard to earn that right so he’ll threaten ( sending death glare) anyone who’ll be too comfortable around you. I’m not joking about it this is man is possessive fight me on this. 

At this point you would ask me, how does he fall in love with us ? Easy one : One night after a huge fight he was sitting near of a camp fire, everyone was already asleep too sore to bother extinguish the flames, everyone but you and him. As you were walking into your bed for the night you catch him staring at the fire, he looked focused and lost at the same time as if he were asking  himself « what the hell i’m doing here ». You were wondering if he didn’t have a second thought, after all he joined you and squirrel not that long ago he might be still into the church’s philosophy. So you walked into his direction, determined to know what’s going on Lancelot’s mind. When you sat close to him he barely moves as if he was expecting you to do something like this. 

At first you said nothing not knowing what to say to hurt him. But seeing him focused, looking as lost as a  child, gave you strength to face him and his insecurities. So you asked him what’s wrong and if you could help in any way. 

He didn’t say anything, but judging by his expression you knew he was looking at his word carefully. 

« Do you think I am monster ? » 

« What ? »

« Y/N do you think i’m monster ? » 

« No of course not why would you say that ? » 

He didn’t answer back instead he just stared at the fire and then you realized what was behind his question 

« Lance’ look I can’t say that I know what you’re experiencing right know as much as I can’t say that I understand what you’re going through. But I know something Lance’ no matter what people would say about you, remember that me, Y/N do not see you as a monster quite contrary all I see right now is a broken man trying to find his path. » 

« How can you say that ? I-I murdered a lot of us » 

« But you’re trying to change, you did once to save squirrel and you’re trying again » 

« How can you be so sure about it ? I still believe on the power of the church » 

« Lance… Do you think I am monster ? Do I deserve to die ? » 

« What ? No ! Of course not » 

« See ? You’re changing and if you want another argument you never be so talkative before » 

Hearing him chuckled told you you were successful for now at least. You knew he needed to take time because of everything he’s been through. You never noticed, but that day he realized by his quick answer that you mean something to him. He knew by his reaction that he would never be able to hurt you. You put faith on him while he couldn’t even believe in him, you were genuine with him and he knew that you meant everything you told him that. 

That day the weeping monk decided that he’ll do everything in his power to make you happy even if he would need to stay away. 

I believe he’ll still follow his moral and would still respect most of the rule he learnt from the church. But the moment he realized that you were his everything and that you might feel the same, well let’s say he forgot couple of rules (especially the one who prohibited marriage) 

He is into marriage fight me on this 

Being in relationship with him implies helping him when he feels down especially when is questioning is whole being as a person. Cause he is truly fucked up, he believes he doesn’t deserve to live, the church was supposed to be the only way to save him from damnation. Now all he can do is to rely on you. 

He will need a tone of times 

He also needs attention, but be careful cause the man got reputation and is pretty awkward with all those things since I believe no one was very careful and kind with him. 

He is touch-starved meaning he would crave for attention, but he isn’t comfortable enough so there things he will tolerate in private while some things would be okay in public. 

For example he doesn’t mind holding you hand (he loves it your hand is so small and feel so sweet against his calloused one) even in public especially if notices someone starring at you 

He likes hug but don’t do frequently though. He was raised to become a monk, I believe he never received any mark of affection or barely so he is still a bit tense about you being physical with him. 

He is a monk but he is still a man and well he got urges and he can’t focus on stopping those kind of thought when you’re holding him tightly, pressing your chest against him. But there is time when he just can’t help but needing to have you against him. 

Same thing for kiss, it’s so intimate, so intoxicating it’s like you were the one in charge of his own body and mind. He is overwhelmed by way too many feelings at once, so kiss are only tolerated when you two are alone. 

At this point, you’ll understand that this man is a virgin baby 

And if we’re talking about sex well, he is a monk. Safe to say you would be his first and probably he is last. It will take a long time before he would even consider being intimate with you, it was one thing to betray the church but breaking his vows was quite another. 

Kissing you or hugging you doesn’t make him feel bad in the meaning it wasn’t for him as if he was breaking one of his vows. I’m not saying that he is asexual but I’m sure he can live without having sex with someone (even if sometimes he feels the need to have you right here and then, he can control it he does it all the time). 

If he feels like he could dedicate his whole life to you, well you feel it when you two would be intimate. 

Let’s say he counterbalances his lack of experience by skills and a tone of worship, I can’t explain how he could do that, but the man is a worshiper (no punt intended). 

He kisses and caresses a lot 

When you two are linked, he expects you to be on the top in every way (especially because he is aware of his lack of experience and also because he turned him on to see you being in charge, more than he would like to admit) 

During your first time he didn’t last as long as he expects to last, especially because he was overwhelmed by all the feelings and the love he could feel through you. 

He tends to last longer after that 

I didn’t underline it enough, but I think the man is pretty sensitive in all way. He may look like a cold soldier but he is doing a good job at internalize his feelings. Which could be a huge obstacle for a relationship cause he tends to not talk about his feeling hence the difficulty for you sometimes cause you don’t know what to do to make him feel comfortable enough to talk to you. 

Don’t worry just give him time, remind him that you’re here to help him, that he is not alone. Let him go to you when he feels like it. 

It will take time but it’ll be worth it : he is very carrying, he would love you in a way you would never expect someone to love you like this. He would be your friends, your lover, your protector. 

Yeah because he is overprotecting don’t ever try to protest that’s a battle you won’t win : you’re too precious. 

[kaekiro]

The Taste of Rainwater

Pairing: Eren/Mikasa II Rating: T II Words: 2654 II [AO3] Warnings: none A/N: Because ngl I was disappointed with the short story about EM taking shelter from the rain and also because I like writing first kisses/eren looking out for mikasa 😊

At first, she mistook the droplet that slid from her bangs to her cheek as her own sweat. She felt it run down to her jawline and watched it seep into the clearing of dirt at her boots, thinking nothing of it as she adjusted her grip on the wooden ax and swung it with precision. A slight sting at her palm made her pause to look at it, and she sighed, the red and irritated skin of her upper palm tender as she flexed her hand. Blisters would form if she didn’t stop soon. After setting the newly split logs onto the sizable pile she had going, she lifted a forearm and wiped away remnants of the droplet. As she stood to her full height to relax her arms and back, the pent up tension released and dissipated like steam, leaving behind the beginnings of sore muscles. It was relieving to feel the breeze in her hair, how it rustled the looser parts of her clothing and cooled her skin. But it suddenly got colder, stronger, carrying thicker droplets that splashed directly on the tip of her nose and exposed forearms. The tree branches swayed sporadically, warning her of the kind of storm that was coming but the distinct scent and sounds of thunder rumbling in the air were confirmation enough. She tried to move fast to gather a good amount of logs to keep dry for later, yet it was of little avail. Before she knew it, she was running through the rain with the ax in one hand and a pitiful number of logs clutched at her side. Though it would’ve been ideal to go inside the cabin where the wood was needed, the icy water that was beginning to soak her hair and seep through her clothes forced her to temporarily shelter in the stables housing the few horses they had. 

She had huffed out an irritable breath the moment she stepped beneath the old roof of the stables, both at her small dilemma and at the mix of dirt and rain that left a burning sensation in her eye. She promptly dropped the wood on the ground, trying to blink away the feeling when his voice nearly made her jump. 

She looked over her shoulder, relaxing as she recognized him and said his name in greeting. He stepped forward and pulled down the cloth covering the bottom half of his face, abandoning his broom alongside the pitchfork leaning against a splintered stud. Eren eyed the ax in her hand, then the logs at her feet as he removed his gloves and haphazardly pocketed them, meeting her gaze again when he was an arm’s length away and she turned to face him properly. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, I just… got caught in the heavy rain. I meant to go inside but…” 

She falters as the burning sensation at her eye persists, making her close it tight in a feeble attempt to get rid of it. She raises a hand, intending on using the back of her bandaged wrist to rub at it but he stops her before she can, using his grip to lower her wrist back at her side. 

“Your bandages and hands have dirt, don’t rub at your eye.”

“But—”

“Here, I’ll help you.” His clothes rustle, and he produces what looks like a handkerchief. 

“Try to keep still,” he quietly instructs, and though his voice is low, would have otherwise been inaudible beneath the sound of the pouring rain, she seizes up in a way that makes it hard to focus on anything else. He curls his fingers over her shoulder as a way to keep her steady, and through the thin cloth pressing against her face, she feels the paralyzing heat of his hand. Reflexively, she tenses as the cotton carefully swipes over the inner corner and just beneath her lash line, drying her watering eye as gently as possible until it finally soothed. She blinks a few times, relieved until she realizes how close he has leaned in, his bright eyes focused on hers. Involuntarily, her gaze flickers between his eyes and mouth.

“Better?” 

She swallows around the dryness in her throat, opting to stare down at the laces of his shirt and simply nod against the hand at her face, murmuring her thanks.  Seemingly unaware of the effect his proximity has on her, she feels him give a nod of his own. As Eren takes a step back, the bit of warmth she felt moves away with him and leaves her unable to help the slight shiver that goes through her body. 

“Are you also working alone today?” she asks as casually as she can manage, walking towards a stream of rainwater leaking through the roof to clean some of the dirt from her hands. The cold temperature of it hurts, but she bears with it, eventually moving back to her original spot near Eren when she’s done. Her arms cross and she loosely grips her biceps, rubbing them to try and keep warm. Both of them watch the rain come down. 

“I had Connie here with me. But he left a little while ago to grab other tools we needed to take care of the horses… he’s probably waiting out this downpour somewhere nearby.” 

“Oh,” is all she says, half distracted by the messy pile of logs. A lone log sits at her side and she nudges it back towards the rest with the tip of her boot. His snort startles her a bit, and he nods towards the wood when she gives him a questioning look. 

“I’m surprised. Is that all you were able to chop today?” 

She sighs. “No, I had more. But I couldn’t grab enough of them before it started pouring.” 

He does it again, breathing out a small laugh that she hasn’t heard in some time. He seems to be in a better mood for some reason, and she nearly points it out but quickly decides not to.  She didn’t want to make it seem like it was a strange thing to smile and laugh, or make him self-conscious about it. It felt better to just simply witness him act a bit more like he used to.

“I’m not trying to make fun of you, I just can’t believe that Mikasa Ackerman, one of humanity's strongest soldiers, lost a battle to some rain and logs.” 

She hums, amused. “Yeah… I barely made it out alive.” There’s a sense of accomplishment as her remark makes his grin broaden, but it falters completely when a flash of lightning draws their attention back to the storm outside. A gust of wind blows through the stables, causing the old structure to creak at its weakest points. Her eyes screw shut and she hugs herself tighter, fighting off the chill that worsens with her wet clothes. She breathes out shakily once it passes, focusing so much of her attention on trying to still her shivering hands that she doesn’t notice him taking off his hooded sweater. The long black material is wrapped securely around her shoulders and she touches it, looking up at him curiously. He scratches the back of his head. 

“I didn’t realize that you were cold until just now, sorry.” 

She smiles softly, choosing not to pose a question at the kind gesture. Instead, she shakes her head, pushing her arms through the sleeves and tugging the ends of his sweater tighter around her. “Thank you.” 

They lean on opposite sides of a post supporting the aged structure, one that stands just before the opening of the stables, and they talk. They share a few stories of things that happened while the other wasn’t present, talk of upcoming plans for the scouts, stuff they and Armin should do on their days off, make mentions of little unimportant things in between, and to her pleasant surprise, Eren cracks another small joke. They chuckle, and she decides that the sudden storm wasn’t a misfortune after all. She steps over to his side to respond once they quiet down, yet the sight of him struck something within her. This time, there’s nothing to keep him from smiling, and she knows it's completely genuine in the way it softens and lifts his features. The mere fact of it has her own smile widening. She stares at his smile adoringly, stares and wishes she could see it more often until she closes her eyes and notes how sweet it feels against her own lips. The sensation lasts for half a second though, because his initial reaction quickly alerts her of her mistake. His breath stutters and his body goes stiff at her sudden romantic gesture, causing her to drop the hand gripping the front of his shirt. She doesn’t even remember reaching for it. Their lips part and she blushes intensely at the sound. 

They look at one another with wide eyes, her fingers partially covering her mouth in shock. 

“U-um,” she begins clumsily, unsure of what exactly she intends to say or how to explain herself. Should she apologize? Why did she even do that? While she did feel more at ease and comfortable with him at that moment… that’s how she usually was when they spent time together. What was different this time that made it feel so natural to kiss him the way she did? And what was he thinking? Could it be that he was upset at her? 

“I don’t…” she says slowly, shrinking under his gaze. “I don’t know why I did that…” 

His lack of response is anything but reassuring, gives her all the more reason to leave with her pitiful pile of logs. Ashamed, she averts her eyes and takes a step backward, thinking it best to give him space and talk about it later, if he even wanted to see her later after what she just did. But he is quick to stop her by hooking his fingers into the hood just before she moves out of his reach, coaxing her to look at him by tugging on the crook of her elbow when she keeps her back to him. Hyper aware of the single touch between them, the firmness of his grip, she lifts her eyes from the ground and looks over her shoulder. 

“Did you mean it?” 

They do not react to the clap of thunder that begins to agitate the horses, or to the chilled gust of wind that threatens the old structure of the stables once more. She is uncomfortably warm as they simply stare at one another, and her heart beats louder in her ears when she finds that she cannot decipher his expression. He begins to pull, guiding her closer and, being as flighty as she is, she resists. He recoils slightly, hurt glinting in his eyes as he releases her arm. Through her addled thoughts, she realizes that she accidentally conveyed the wrong message. She mentally curses, feeling guiltier and looking even more helpless. His question echoes in her ears again. Yes, she thinks, yes I did mean it. But there is a disconnect between what she wants to say and what she actually does, which has her panicking a bit because she senses that something is beginning to slip away the longer she stays quiet. It’s enough to make her momentarily cast aside any reservations and the need for words, to boldly step out of her comfort zone and back into his personal space. Balancing on her toes, she pushes her lips against his, unmindful of her fierceness in her state of desperation and panic. She gives him a hard and rather quick kiss, immediately pulling back to gauge his reaction and perhaps apologize, but she doesn’t get the chance because his hands are suddenly hot on her face and bringing her back to back to him. 

Bit by bit, the tension within her unravels and she starts to relax, consciously leaning more into his touch and body. Eren thumbs away the trail of rainwater that dripped from her bangs to her face, pausing to comment how cold her nose and hands are before muffling her apology with his lips. He holds each kiss for a long second like he’s savoring them, eventually moving to trail his hands down the column of her neck and across her back. He clutches the dark material of his sweater and breathes shakily against her mouth when she fills the last bit of space between them. As they strike a rhythm, the intensity of their kiss increases as does her sensitivity to his touch, an airy sigh of his name escaping from her mindlessly. He grips her harder at the sound and she’s gasping, both in surprise and for breath. It’s almost too much, and yet she can’t help but reciprocate by slipping her fingers beneath the neckline of his shirt and wrapping an arm tight around his shoulders— 

A loud curse cuts through the air, followed by the noise of items falling into one another in equal volume. She and Eren jump apart, breathing heavily as a lone metal bucket that has fallen on its side rolls into the stables, coming to a stop between the two of them. An irritated Connie trudges in soon after with his arms full of miscellaneous tools and one side of his body completely coated in mud, the other drenched with rainwater. 

“Sorry I took so long, Eren, I was going to wait out the worst of the storm but the Captain noticed and —” he yelps and wobbles, nearly tripping over the logs she abandoned on the ground. He wonders aloud where they came from, kicking them in further agitation until his eyes land on her. All three of them freeze. 

“Mikasa?” 

She jolts slightly when he calls her name, mentally scrambling to find something to do or say to take his attention off of her. 

“Connie…” she starts, looking pointedly at his clothes and evening out her breath as subtly as she can. “What happened to you?” 

To her temporary relief, Connie remembers why he was upset and bitterly explains that he was running through the rain trying to come back, but slipped and fell into the puddle of mud just a few feet away. 

“Are you alright?” she responds, briefly wondering why Eren hasn’t spoken up yet. 

“Yeah, I’ll live. I just don’t know why the Captain is in such...” Connie’s grimace from pulling at his own clothes fades as he looks at her, finishing his sentence a bit absently, “a rush...”

She remembers that she’s wearing Eren’s sweater as Connie stares at it directly, and it takes everything to keep her expression neutral as she awkwardly slips it off her shoulders. She holds it out for Eren to take, and her composure nearly breaks at the sight of him. The tips of his ears are burning red, his mind clearly somewhere other than in the present and she has to push the sweater into his chest for him to finally snap out of it. 

“It’s uh, it’s probably because it’s getting late in the afternoon, Connie,” Eren manages after clearing his throat. “He… probably has other plans for us tomorrow, or something.”

Her heart races as their friend doesn’t reply and instead looks between the two of them with a weird expression. 

“I should probably get those logs inside,” she says aloud, more to herself and as an excuse to escape. It’s so uncomfortably silent between the three of them as she prepares to leave, and she struggles to ignore the weight of Eren’s and Connie’s eyes on her when she uncharacteristically fumbles with the logs and ax. Careful to avoid the puddle Connie slipped in, she eventually makes it back to the cabin, well aware that the speed of her breath and pulse has nothing to do with her running through the rain.

[gt-ridel]

Several hundred words of Half-Life Borrower!AU goodness

(Hi, this is Passportinspection!) Oooh goodness. I actually started writing this as an ask. I really thought what I had to say would fit into an ask. Since sending that anon about having 350 words of thoughts, I ended up getting distracted for a few hours, and then when I came back to this, I apparently had 400 more words to say. I just love rambling what-ifs about AUs. :’>

_

Hi Passportinspection!  Sorry it took so long to reply to this. I had more work than I thought yesterday. >__< I totally agree! Rambling about what-ifs is WAY more fun than actually writing a story. ;;>__> _

These are… not all A-list ideas, and I was very tempted to cut it down to the best bits, BUT I know that if someone said to me “I had 5 ideas for your au but only told you the 2 good ones” I would be extremely interested in hearing the 3 bad ones anyway, so… here it all is. This was written pretty stream-of-consciousness and then rearranged a bit to form my pinballing thoughts into something a little more linear, but, fair warning, it wasn’t edited much beyond that.

_ Ooo, I absolutely want to hear everything! All ideas, good and bad! Are you kidding? (Gets comfy) _

I keep thinking about the end of that “gordon takes borrower!barney with him through the events of HL1” scenario; Imagining gman’s speech at the end, I like the idea of him saying something like, “As for your.. /passenger/..” and both of their bloods running cold. I can’t decide if I’d rather barney actually go into stasis with gordon or not I think it could be an interesting/cute concept- the idea that gman/his employers figured barney was enough of a factor in gordon’s success that they thought it would be wise to keep them together for future “assignments.”

_ Bro I'll be honest, I hadn't gotten that far in the AU because I still haven't finished the game. My only reference for G-man is Mr. Coolatta. So I'll have to at least look the ending up on youtube before I'll be able to give my informed opinion.  But taking it as is?  That would be freaking terrifying. They've met some other scientists and security guards during their escape, but the HEV helmet was a perfect hiding place. None of them ever noticed that Gordon wasn't alone.  But somehow this reality bending creep knows, and it looks like he's not going to let Barney and Gordon just go home, which was basically what they were fighting for the whole time.  _

I’m also thinking about, like.. With Barney in Gordon’s helmet with him, Gordon must be able to feel him tense up and hear his breathing speed up whenever something particularly scary/dangerous happens, maybe even at times faintly feel the fluttering of his heart, and it strengthens his resolve to make it out of there bc it’s not just himself he’s saving. 🥺 Also Barney can provide running commentary, which perhaps soothes both of their nerves a little. Maybe he even helps with some puzzles. :> I also think it’s funny/convenient that that would work really well for an actual video game format. A friend that’s with you wherever you go that sees everything you see but can’t interact with the world but provides commentary and occasional helpful tips? That fits in nicely!

  _ Ha! Something I was thinking about was how Barney has spent his whole life living in the vents and such. He would probably be a perfect guide for Gordon. :3 As for Gordon feeling when Barney gets tense or scared and that fuling his drive to escape, that was ABSOLUTELY one of the reasons I wanted Barney in the helmet.  It would be uncomfortable, inconvenient, and down right dangerous sometimes. But you cannot deny the unique opportunities for deeper emotional exploration it would present. _

…But also, now that I think about it, maybe there are parts where the only way forward is for Barney to slip through a crack in a blockaded doorway and use a control panel that opens another door- that sort of thing. He gets to help with more than just talking sometimes! :> Oh, dang, imagine the part where gordon gets jumped and almost killed by the military. Poor Barney. D: Maybe a factor in Gordon escaping the trash compactor before it crushes him is Barney frantically trying to wake him up.

_ I was defo hyperfixating on what the whole beat down would be like from Barney's perspective a few days ago! Gordon would be at an extra disadvantage in the fight because he'd have to be careful not to accidentally bash Barney between his skull and the helmet while he's being smacked around.  Imagine Barney being tossed all over the small space, maybe ending up pinned when Gordon finally passes out. Noticing when a small stream of blood starts leaking from his friends mouth and soaking into his clothes. Gordon is completely helpless, and so is Barney as he hears the soldiers talking about what they're going to do with the body.  I just think that whole scene and the escape from the trash compactor would be so fun and exciting~ -

Also, unrelated, but I wonder how barney would wake up in city 17, if he did go into stasis with gordon. That is, since gordon is wearing a citizen outfit when he comes out of stasis, barney obviously can’t be in the helmet anymore. Maybe gman elects to move barney to a pocket somewhere instead lol. I’m imagining as soon as gordon is released from whatever effect gman had him under and he’s able to move again, he starts patting himself down looking for Barney (the same way one does when they forget which pocket their phone is in ), bc last he knew Barney was right up against his face and now he’s /not/, and that man SAID they’d be “hired” as a team so /where is he/ because Gordon needs to know he’s /okay/. As Barney is released from the same effect, he probably moves and makes himself apparent, so it’s only for like a second that Gordon is doing that.

_ Once again, I can't speak much to what would happen in a HL2 continuation of this story, but that sounds about right for an initial reaction scene.  Imagine Barney just coming out of it and being in some sort of... bag? being jostled around? He feels a giant hand pat over him from outside and he grunts in surprise. Then the hand rests against him and Barney realizes he's in a humans breast pocket, being held against someones chest as beside him a thundering heart slowly begins to calm. He figures this must be Gordon. He doesn't KNOW any other humans, and he can't imagine that man in the suit would be all that concerned about Barney's wellbeing.  _ 

Barney doesn’t know where they are/who else is out there at all ‘cause he can’t see from where he is, and Gordon can feel him shifting to lean out of the pocket and get a look, and he just puts a hand over the pocket, covering the opening in the process, and applies a gentle pressure for a couple moments, and Barney knows that means he needs to stay put because it’s not safe to come out yet. Thankfully Barney heard Gman talking to Gordon and addressing him by name, so he doesn’t have to worry about whose pocket he just woke up in. He would probably somewhat recognize Gordon’s gait/the feel of his hands at that point, too. As for how Gordon avoids boarding the train to Nova Prospekt without canon barney there to stop him, I have no idea.

  _ YEAAAH that is a good point. Barney is kind of vital for that role. Maybe we can slot a different character into his place. ^__^;; _

Oooh, going back a bit, maybe when the nihilanth is teleporting gordon around in the boss level, or from the very beginning when gordon jumps into the portal to Xen, they get teleported separately and end up in different places? (Ignoring for a moment the parts with portals in Black Mesa ^^;) That sure is an additional level of distress for the both of them during the Big Final Level(s). And then perhaps at the end, part of gman’s speech can be like, “As for your.. companion, you can rest assured he was recovered safe and sssound. After all, you two performed so well, together, it would be ideal to hire you as, a team.” Or whatever

_ Imagine Barney, stranded and alone on Xen, desperately trying to find Gordon, and having his OWN creepy G-man encounter. :U _

Our Barney AUs differ in some exciting ways and it’s fun to play in someone else’s sandbox for a while. :p I’ll probably cut my notes doc down into something readable and post it sometime in the near-ish future.. Either that or actually write the dang fic.

_ I would absolutely LOVE to hear about your AU too! So if you do either of those things, be sure to @ me!  Thank you so much for playing in this sandbox with me. I am ALWAY down to talk Borrower AU stuff. It's just so much dang fun! ^0^

[softrozene]

I Can Keep Complimenting You

Omg, I have not seen the whole movie, only bits and pieces but I loved that part! I adored writing this, so I hope you enjoy this lovely!

Oh, Reader and Shanks are fifteen like requested so that means this is right after Gol D. Roger’s execution!

Shanks x Female Reader

Warnings: Slight violence, fluff, comedy, I added a pinch of angst because why not, cringy common pick-up lines because I love them

Words: 1275

Shanks is a simple teenage boy. If he sees a pretty girl, he is of course going to flirt with her. It does not really matter to him since he had thought his face would be forgettable since Roger died. However, that turned out not to be the case when he went up to the prettiest girl he ever saw, you.

Before he can even utter the pick-up line that he has chosen for you, you give him the nastiest of glares and it freezes him to the spot. The first emotion he feels is confusion before he realizes he likes you glaring at him too because that means he got your attention.

Then when he gets the giddy feeling out of him and takes in the sight of your body, or more particularly, your outfit, he realizes why he got such a heated glare. You are a marine and from the looks of it a fresh one. He cannot just leave you alone. Something in his gut told him to make you look at him in a different light other than what the marines painted him and the Roger Pirates in, so he went for it.

As he gets closer to your tensing up figure, he makes that charming smile on his face grow and he says in a calm and slightly teasing tone.

“Do you have a name, or can I call you mine?”

He watches as your tense form shakes before slowly releasing all tension as a smile forms on your face. He can practically feel the heat radiate off your cheeks and it makes him feel proud. Even you can’t take him as a serious threat after that lame but cute pick-up line because you end up stifling your giggles.

“(Name). I already know you are Shanks,” You state.

(Name)? He thinks it suits you and he can’t help but pin it in his memory.

“Hey, ain’t you a little young to be a marine?” Shanks questions.

You seem his age and that means you are definitely a bit young to take on a role of a marine but it isn’t uncommon for teenagers to join, especially after a tragedy in family so that is what he assumes to be your case.

Your reply is quick and witty, “Ain’t you a little young to be a pirate?”

His grin widens more, and he can feel his heart hammering in his chest. Yes, he can that you are already seeing him in a different light.

“Touché. Hey, I know we just met but if I had to rate you out of 10, I’d rate you a 9… because I am the one that you are missing!” Shanks says his heart racing the more you try and fight that cute smile to get off your face.

You look around the busy street and avoid eye contact with him as you say, “You should go before I go get back up since you are a criminal.”

He can see through the lie. He knows he already charmed you and somehow you charmed him. With that goofy grin, he does heed your warning.

“I will leave for now but… Are you sure you are not the criminal? Because I swear, you just stole my heart from across the street,” He states.

This time you have to physically turn around so he can’t see your face, but it is too late. He saw it, the genuine smile, and he fell harder. Deciding not to push his luck anymore, he leaves but first promising you that he will be back.

Shanks does end up keeping his word. He hangs around the island, not much in a hurry either since he has no leads to find a crew to make, and since he seems smitten with you. It felt perfect since he just went through a terrible loss with Gol D. Roger.

He took his time with his visits since he did not wish to get you in trouble and in each visit, he would tease and flirt with you relentlessly. Your cute reactions filled him with life. It seems you like him as well since you put up with him, but he does feel you get tenser with each visit.

It is the sixth visit that he realizes that yes, something has changed. He has a good idea of what, but he does not dare bring it up. Instead, he does what he usually does and teases and flirts with you.

“Hey (Name), did you have lunch yet? Because if not I want to know what is on the menu? I am thinking Me-n-u,” Shanks says.

It is the third joke he had given this visit but instead of your usual stifled laugh or the hand over your face, he notices that your hand twitches to go over your pocket. He knows what is going to happen and he accepts it.

“Are you okay (Name)? I noticed you have looked off and if you are not okay, I know this great vitamin that can help you. Vitamin ME-“

Shanks is pushed to the ground with you on top of him and your knife to his neck. You look so conflicted as if you really do want to end him but at the same time it would kill you if you did that. He stays quiet as he takes in your appearance.

You speak up with a shaky voice, “Why? Why do you do this? It is so annoying the way you care for me when it is all going to be vain due to our different sides! Doesn’t that bother you? I should just end this here and now and save us the heartbreak.”

The knife against his throat feels cool to the touch but it is shaking badly to show how conflicted you are. You want him to show hatred at you for this act of betrayal you have done since he has been nothing but nice, but he does not hold an ounce of it in his eyes.

Instead, he gives you that goofy grin you love so much, and he says, “You’re so beautiful.”

You’re confused and it shows on your face. His smile widens and he laughs. “I can keep complimenting you. If you want to end this, that is up to you, but I have so many compliments to keep giving you that I feel my heart will burst.”

His stupid and genuine laugh causes tears to well up in your eyes and fast as the knife feels heavy in your hand now. You chuck it a few feet away from you and immediately bury your face into his chest. Shanks is fast to wrap his arms around you so he can sit up with you in his lap. He remains quiet as he rubs your back gently, allowing you to gather your thoughts.

“I do not wish to end this at all. You stole my heart too, idiot. The second you said that stupid pick-up line I liked you. I’m sorry,” You murmur.

His face grows warm at the confession and he feels like he just won the biggest treasure in the world.

“Nothing to apologize for. If we keep up on our paths, I do not mind a game of cat and mouse with you. You are the only marine I would let capture me though,” He jokes.

Yes, he did not take your harsh actions to heart because, at that moment when you wanted to cause him harm, he still found you beautiful. If it were you to bring an end to his life, he would not regret anything.

[syilcawrites]

yearning

Series: Fire Emblem Three Houses Type: One shot Main pairing: Dimileth (Dimitri & F!Byleth) Rated: T Genre: hurt/comfort, pre-ts Summary: An AU based on what happens after Jeralt's death (F!Byleth/Dimitri). Hope you enjoy!

“But the moment she walks out into the brisk cold air, the uncomfortable sensation seeps back into her veins, crawling up her chest. She’s surrounded by so many, yet…

She tilts her head up ever so slightly to see that no one is in front of her.”

A/N: Thanks for taking the time to read! This is my first FE3H fic, so I apologize if anyone is OOC. Just a self-indulgent variation of what happens after Jeralt's death! I'm weak for Dimileth ;-; 

(PS. i like to hc that the hug is parallel to when byleth hugs dimitri post ts after he holds her hand bc they would hug!!!)

You can also read this on ao3!

Yearning is a foreign concept, a concept that Byleth cannot grasp. It escapes through the crevices between her fingers like sand, dripping down into the darkness, disappearing.

She knew what it was when she saw it, years ago when it was just the two of them—just Byleth and Jeralt, Jeralt and Byleth. Trudging through mud and sludge during monsoon rains, through the dry, scorching hot desert heat, through the blissful warm dawn that peaked behind the vast mountains, they met all sorts of people.

When they stopped by a small village in the middle of winter, there was a woman who stood outside the door to her house, wrapped in a woolen shawl, staring out into the white abyss.

Her blue eyes were glassy, far away. Her lips pressed into a tight line as she hugged the shawl around her frail arms. She was so still, Byleth wasn’t sure if she was human or a statue. She couldn’t tear her eyes from her.

“What are you looking at, Byleth?” Jeralt asked, looking up briefly from his bowl of hot soup.

“That woman…” Byleth trailed off, pointing out the window. “What is she doing with her face?”

“What is she doing with her face?” Jeralt echoed back with confusion, leaning out toward the window now too. She heard him mutter a disapproval under his breath as he returned back to his seat. “She yearns for something to return.”

“Yearn?”

He paused for a moment, as he grasped to find an explanation that was as simple as it could be. “A desire, a want. Sometimes, it feels like a need.” Jeralt sighed, patting the seat next to him. “Come on and eat, Byleth. You’ll get winters’ chills from staying too close to the window.”

Byleth didn’t tear her gaze from the woman until Jeralt placed a hand on top of her head and turned it forward so that she was facing her warm bowl of soup. She had the urge to run out into the snow to give it to that woman.

And now years later, Byleth understands, as she holds Jeralt’s increasingly cold body in her arms.

At first, all she can do is let her tears drip onto his ashen face, as it mixes with the light drizzle of the rain.

Then came the emptiness that crept its way into her chest as his blood continued to spill onto the fabric of her clothes, soaking in his death.

“Professor?”

Byleth blinks, and instead of seeing Jeralt’s cold, decaying body in her arms, her student’s homework assignments are tucked snuggly in them.

“Yes, Dimitri?” Byleth hears herself say as she levels her eyes at his neck, finding herself unable to raise them.

“I… Are you… Have you eaten?” Dimitri fumbles with his words, his arms reach out toward her but retreat back just as fast.

“Maybe later.” Byleth steps to the side to walk past him, hugging the papers to her chest.

Rhea had told her to take the rest of the week off yesterday, but—

Byleth winces at the pressure building up in her head as she hurries back to her room. Several hushed whispers follow her trail, as if they’re chasing her, and the moment she shuts the door behind her the tears don’t hesitate to dribble down her cheeks. She clamps a hand over her mouth as sounds escape through her trembling lips, a sensation unfamiliar to the point where fear is etched into her heart.

“Rest if you must, child. Do not fight against what you are feeling.” Sothis’ soft voice soothes her increasingly jumbled thoughts.

Byleth wipes the back of her hand against her damp cheeks as she sets the papers down on her desk. Promptly after, she draws herself under her covers, staring out the window, as she watches the sky turn from blue to orange, then finally to darkness. The time lapse soothes her. She finds that focusing on the drifting clouds distracts her thoughts. Every once in a while though, steps shuffled to a stop at her door, but no one ever knocks.

Not until late into that night did a knock interrupt the silence in her room.

“Professor! It’s me, Annette…” Her voice trailed off at the end, quietly.

Byleth, stiff from staying in one position for hours, creakily raises herself from the bed, her joints pop from the stillness of her body. She can feel the flesh of her own self, but it feels like nothing in that moment.

Minutes must have passed, Byleth assumes, before she opens the door. It’s long enough to the point where Byleth wouldn’t have been surprised if Annette left, but she stands there, putting on her brightest smile.

“Mercedes and I have a gift for you!” Annette wrestles with the gigantic woolen blanket tangled up in her arms. “We were supposed to give this to you at the start of winter, but it became a lot bigger than we anticipated!” She smiles cheekily as she shuffles it into Byleth’s arms. “We noticed that your blankets are pretty thin…”

“Oh, thank you…” Byleth’s voice comes out raspy. She hugs it closer to her body, eating up the warmth. “…Do you have more?”

Annette’s hesitant eyes lit up.

The next morning, she wakes up extra early to prepare herself, to let the tears dribble down her cheek effortlessly as her face remains slack. The same unfamiliar emotion from the day before, when she came back from the classroom. One that was too hard to control, and so she decides it would be best to try to get rid of it before teaching class. Only two days have passed since his death, yet it feels like a lifetime without him.

It’s a simple plan to get her emotions in check, a plan that takes her three hours to overcome, and not even successfully at that. Redness rims the outlines of her eyes, apparent on her pale skin.

As she walks into the classroom, with her cheeks slightly flushed red from her constant rubbing, she feels the gaze of each and every student’s eyes on her. A heavy silence settles in the room as she sets down her paperwork.

The chattering and murmuring ceases as Byleth looks up toward her students. Her eyes are trained ahead of her as she feels their stares boring into her skin. She’s careful not to look directly at anyone. She has an inkling that nothing good would come out of it.

After what feels like grueling hours, a break from lessons is gifted upon her, and most of them shuffle out as quietly as they can. As they did so, the tenseness in her chest begins to rise once more at the realization of everyone leaving.

But one student lingers by the door with his fingers tapping the frame. The longer he stands there, the tighter her shoulders stiffen. The grip on her pencil becomes deathly as he takes a step back into the classroom, but the aching feeling in her chest pauses in growth.

“Professor?” His voice sounds careful, delicate.

It does nothing but anger her—the messy, tangled knots that had hung themselves inside her begin to tighten.

“Yes, Dimitri?” She says in a voice so strained that she notices he shudders slightly at the sharpness in her voice, but it doesn’t stop him from taking another step forward.

Whatever he’s about to say never comes forward, as his hesitance informs Byleth that he’s rethinking his initial thoughts.

“Will you look at me?”

She stops scribbling. She had stopped paying attention to what she was even writing the minute class ended. She sneaks a glance down at the paper. Sprawled on one of the student’s assignments is his name.

Jeralt.

Scribbled aimlessly, ripping through the thin material easily. She decimated someone’s assignment. And she could tell Dimitri had noticed it the moment she began writing once class ended.

Useless. All of this power stored within me and I was, am, still unable to do a simple thing.

She takes a moment to compose her thoughts, carefully placing them in areas where no one can seek them out, and averts her gaze from the paper to Dimitri.

Unlike Byleth, Dimitri is willing to display his emotions on his face—the way his lips form a thin line of concern, eyebrows scrunched up in worry, eyes…

His blue eyes, bright and brilliant, looking at her as if she is lost.

Byleth’s face grows warm from shame and she immediately glances back down at the torn paper. How can she, a mentor, a teacher, make a student feel the need to look at her with such worry? Was it pity?

Pity only reminds her of the newfound weakness that’s bloomed inside of her.

Just like the blood that bloomed on Jeralt’s waist, vibrant and displayed for all to see.

Could everyone see right through her? Fear pierces through her at the mere thought of being so naked.

“Perhaps another time, Dimitri.” Byleth closes her eyes as she stands up, forcing herself to let go of the pencil that’s choking from her deathly tight grip. “I have somewhere to attend, and I don’t want to be late—“ She swiftly gathers the assignments into her arms, keeping her eyes leveled just at his neck, like yesterday, to avoid his gaze.

As she passes by him, eager to get out, she’s stilled by the grip on her arm, his grip. Soft enough to break out of, if she wants to.

“Oh—! I apologize.” He immediately lets go, flustered. “I just—Professor, if you need to talk, I... we are here for you.”

“I’m fine, but thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She doesn’t hesitate to leave, and never once turns back to look at him.

But the moment she walks out into the brisk cold air, the uncomfortable sensation seeps back into her veins, crawling up her chest. She’s surrounded by so many, yet…

She tilts her head up ever so slightly to see that no one is in front of her.

Later in the evening, Rhea deeply reprimands Byleth after learning that she had taught class during the past two days, demanding that she rest. But Byleth doesn’t need rest—she doesn’t want—

She doesn’t want to be alone.

But she can’t tell Rhea that. The words get stuck in her throat, so she simply nods and walks away.

The memory of the pale lady standing in the snow resurfaces to the forefront of her mind, reminding her of the little warmth she harbored within herself.

Byleth scoops up the two woolen blankets that Annette had given her and buries herself within them, relaxing herself into the warmth. Even when she begins to sweat, even when the air becomes uncomfortably suffocating, Byleth does not move.

Loneliness creeps up behind her during the darkest hours of night, when the Monestary is silent and sleepy. She watches the last light flicker off, leaving the buildings, the grandness of it, hollow.

She wants to hold on to that last flickering light, she doesn’t want it to go out. But every night it did, and it sunk her deeper into the fog.

She doesn’t come out during the daytime, ever since Rhea advised her to rest. She doesn’t answer the door when someone knocks, unless it’s Annette bringing her more woolen blankets. On most days it’s Dimitri at her door. He begins by knocking courtesly, announcing his arrival, and asks politely if they can speak. But as time progresses, he stops such polite gestures, and at this point, almost begs her to speak to him, to them, to anyone.

But Byleth stays under the comfort of her woolen blankets, only coming out to eat when the peak hours of the day have been long gone, or to walk to Jeralt’s grave so she can lean against it, to stare at the stars above them.

At some point, she can tell who is who by the way their footsteps echo outside her door. Dimitri’s is distinct, although the softest. Her door creaks whenever he approaches, as if he’s leaning against it. The thought of someone on the other side helps her head bob above the wave of darkness.

“Do you truly wish to stay in your room any longer than this, child? I’m sure your students are awaiting your return.”

Sothis’ voice rings in her head, the only other reminder that Byleth is still here, present in time.

“I am no good to my students right now.” Byleth merely whispers into her pillow. Useless.

The unknown yearning grows deeper and uglier inside of her, conflicting with the rational thoughts that usually keep her mind neat and tidy. She desperately wants to be with others, to drink in their affection as if she is a starved beast, but another part of her doesn’t want a brush of someones skin on her own.

Her wants and needs become muddled in the yearning, and the nights grow ever colder.

By the middle of the third week, she crawls out of her cave of a room later than usual. It’s deathly quiet as Byleth treks her way to Jeralt’s grave.

She settles on the damp grass, placing another flower on it.

She opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. Nothing but emptiness escapes it. She grits her teeth as she clenches her fists. “I have nothing to say,” she manages to whisper out, staring hard at his name, engraved carefully on the stone. “All I wish for is your return. Nothing but emptiness and anger remains in me, and I’m afraid.” She’s afraid of becoming the ashen demon that follows her footsteps, it echoes throughout the Monestary, reminding her of who she is. It reminds her that no matter how much she tries tacking herself into this place, acting as if she can wriggle her way into an environment filled with such love and affection, she will never be able to understand such abstract emotions.

She makes her way to the other side of the gravestone, behind it, to lean against it.

The crunch of leaves behind her jolts her up from the depths of her mind. She flits her head around, her hand unconsciously hovers over the dagger attached to her hips.

An alarmed Dimitri stands not too far off from her with something in his arms--

One of Annette’s woolen blankets.

It almost drops as he awkwardly tries to adjust it so that it’s not threatening to hit the damp grass.

“I—“ He mutters something to himself as he fumbles with the blanket. “I was just about to give this to you, as I’ve heard you’ve been quite cold in your room recently. I also noticed that your room was slightly ajar… so I assumed… a-anyway! This is a gift from Annette, I heard you accept these whole heartedly.” He holds out the blanket toward her stiffly, covering his face.

“Did you think I’d open the door since you had one?” Byleth responds back, staring at the bundle in his arms. Her fists relax slightly as her attention focuses on Dimitri.

As he draws the blankets back to his chest, his face grows ten shades of red hotter than the last.

He flusters and stumbles over his words as he tries to come up with some believable excuse, but as he settles his gaze on Byleth’s blank, stoic expression, he lets out a sigh, his shoulders sagging.

“Actually, yes. Since she told me that you open the door whenever she’s there. Although she did say that you do close it immediately after accepting the blanket.” He tilts his head, offering a reluctant laugh. The simplicity of the act, for some reason, warms her. His laugh is something she hasn’t heard in a while.

Byleth casts her gaze to the ground. A silence ensues between them. “I do apologize for my actions the past couple of days.” She says slowly, unable to reach his eyes again. “Thank you for always stopping by. I’ve noticed you tend to sit by the door a couple hours every day.”

His face grows another shade deeper.

“You noticed?”

“The door creaks whenever you lean against it.”

He mutters another string of words that she can’t make out.

Byleth raises her view from his lips to his eyes, and they lock on immediately. “Would you like to sit with me?” He went out of his way to find her, this is the least she could offer.

For once, a small smile rests on her rather chapped lips.

His eyes brighten.

“Of course!” He smiles ever so slightly, draping the blanket in front of Byleth, who stiffens in surprise at his gesture.

“It’s a bit cold tonight, I wouldn’t want our dear professor catching a cold.” He plops down next to her, arms loosely around his knees.

She had forgotten that she’s still in her night wear when she went out. How unsightly…

But Dimitri is no better, since he’s also in his nightly attire as well. Byleth frowns at the thought of him getting sick due to her negligent attitude toward her students, and raises up an arm, holding the blanket open. “We wouldn’t want you catching a cold either.”

He blinks blankly, as if he’s unable to process what she’s offering. Byleth scoots closer to him and drapes the woolen blanket over the both of them.

“This seems a bit… snug?” Dimitri laughs, almost robotically as he stares at the ground. He does not meet her gaze as she stares at the side of his face.

“Even better. Now the heat will be more concentrated.” Byleth nods in approval as she leans against the back of the gravestone. They sit there in silence.

After a while, Dimitri relaxes his shoulders. “I’m sorry there was nothing I could do.” He says, his voice soft.

“Don’t apologize. It’s not your fault. It’s mine.” Byleth takes no hesitation in taking the blame.

“Professor, of course not—“

“I had the ability to save him.” Byleth’s voice quivers as she recounts the memory, staring at the starry sky above them. “I feel…” She pauses, closing her eyes. “Unlike myself recently. I find it hard to process… a variety of unfamiliar emotions that I am experiencing.” Even saying that makes Byleth feel strange and alien, talking about… her emotions. More so the lack of understanding them. She always had Jeralt to turn to for these types of issues, but now… she is alone.

“Of course I’ll help you—all of us will always try our best to help you out, Professor. You must believe that.” Any sense of nervousness that is in him is replaced with concern. “You have helped and saved us countless times, and no matter what the issue is, if possible, I hope I can offer the some consultation, even if it is small.”

Byleth, for the first time in weeks, truly gazes into Dimitri’s eyes—pure and blue like clearwater. “Thank you for your sincerity, Dimitri. As always, you’re empathy is boundless.” She can’t help but smile at him, but his expression confuses her. Yet another gaze unfamiliar to her, another emotion that she cannot pinpoint.

He simply stares at her with an expression that makes her feel relaxed and sleepy, as if time itself has paused, and she returns his wholly attention.

“Why do you look at me like that?” Byleth whispers, her eyes searching his face for answers. Pure curiosity is written into her own. Dimitri blinks, as if he’s snapped out of his trance, finally aware of the way he was staring at her.

“It must be late, that’s why I was so careless…” he mutters to himself quickly, rubbing an eye with the back of his fingers. He sneaks a glance over at Byleth, who is still staring at him with innocent curiosity. Redness creeps up his neck as he averts his gaze. “Despite how I may seem, I’m not very good at expressing my emotions either.” He clears his throat, straightening his back.

“Then maybe we can both learn from one another.” Byleth concludes, exhaling. She returns her gaze up at the endless starbound view above them, watching her breath flutter into the cold, night air. “I’m in your debt, since you are keeping me company so late at night.” Again, she closes her eyes, letting herself feel the coldness wash over her exposed skin.

“Think nothing of it, I’m simply happy that you are getting fresh air.” He says, leaning over her. She notices the shift in heat as he comes closer, and the shifting of the blanket on her end. His fingers graze against her bare thigh, a touch so slight, but it is enough to make her realize what she needs.

She immediately opens her eyes to see him pulling away, his face flushed and his own eyes wide as he realizes that she’s staring at him. Before he can pull away completely, she wraps her arms around his neck, drawing him against her. The blanket slips from her shoulders as she presses her head into the crook of his neck, soaking in the warmth that he provides.

He immediately stiffens upon contact, with one arm up in the air, and the other placed against the gravestone to avoid falling completely on top of her out of surprise. His left leg is fit snuggly between her own, the other bent up. Along with the blanket, they were a tangled mess of limbs and cloth.

But Byleth doesn’t care, for she appeased the yearning that ached in her chest since Jeralt’s death—to feel the warmth of another human being in her arms, to not have the last thing she had held in them that of someone who is long gone from this world.

Dimitri does not move a muscle—he is sure that if he did, he would ruin whatever it is that she discovered. But something warm and wet touches his neck. With the sniffles accompanied by it, he wraps his arms around her, melting into her embrace as her body trembles. The sound of her sobs are quiet against his skin.

[kiarcheo]

StepBother   

'I’d say that we have to thank Mary for the suggestion.’ ‘I’d rather die.’ The disgust on Kat’s face makes Cathy chuckle.

AKA

The one where Kat and Mary have an interesting relationship and Parrward get together.

A/N: Mary’s portrait in this fic is positive and totally ignores her doings as a queen but if it bothers you, you can skip to the Parrward part starting with Kat waiting at the cinema: Mary is mentioned but I think you can understand what is going on without having read the first part of the fic.

With that out of the way…I’m not sure exactly what this is or where it came from, but it started with 500 words of Mary&Kat banter (actually I know where that part came from, from Hidden Stories and their dynamic in the last chapter) and then ofc Parrward had to get involved and it got out of hand and now I have almost 4000 words??

This is 1/4 Mary&Kat and 3/4 Parrward, I guess. Also can read on Ao3 as usual.

When you’re a 16th-century queen living in the 21st century, things are bound to be confusing. From language to social conventions, the changes are endless, without even talking about the technological progress. Motion sensor technology, from bells ringing when you step into a shop to doors opening themselves, still catches them by surprise, especially when things start to move or turn off and on without any prompt.

Home is an oasis of familiarity and certainty, if they don’t dwell on why they and their children had been brought back, how, or even simpler questions like why they came back aged as they had. The order from older to younger goes: Catalina, Anna, Jane, Anne, Cathy, Kat. They had tried to figure it out, of course. Was it according to their original date of birth? No, because then Anne would have been the second oldest one. Was it according to their age when they died? No, because Jane would have been younger than Anne and Cathy. Their age at the time of their marriage to Henry? Catalina and Anna, at 24 and 25, had been the youngest besides Kat, so that made no sense either. The length of their reign? Pitiful as most of them had been, Cathy and Anne would have followed Catalina. The kids at least had come back in the order of their birth: Mary is still the oldest, followed by Elizabeth, Edward, and then toddler Mae. Everyone came back younger, with the notable exceptions of Katherine and Mae who returned at the same age they were when they died. Perhaps it was possible to make them younger but not older than they had ever been in their first lives?

Just small questions to ignore, right? But once they decided that their return was the work of an inscrutable higher power and they learnt how to use modern appliances, with their shared past, knowledge and experiences, home became an oasis of familiarity and certainty in a new, confusing world.

Except for one thing. Which was actually one of most baffling matters the queens had encountered… and that they kept seeing, right in the house they shared: the relationship between Katherine Howard and Mary Tudor.

According to history books, that should have been Katherine’s most fraught relationship: unlike the first three queens, she didn’t have any issue with her predecessors or successor, Elizabeth and Edward had fond memories of her, and she had never even met little Mae. And if age had been a sore point between them – for Mary at least, who had been displeased at her father marrying someone several years younger than herself – them returning pretty much at the same age, seemed a recipe for disaster.

With time, most animosity among the queens had been squelched and scores had been settled, and the idea of them all living together had been put forward. It took a while, but they finally managed to find a suitable house to everyone’s liking. Still, being cordial during an occasional meeting was different than living together. So the queens had expected, if not explosive confrontations, at least tense interactions between the youngest queen and the oldest ‘kid’. But they never came. Instead, as they all moved in together, they were witnesses to a dynamic that they struggled to fully understand, but that seemed to work well for the two girls.

****

‘I think we can all agree-’

‘That I’m the ten among you threes?’ Kat interrupts her.

Mary glares at her. ‘That my father was an asshole.’

‘That too.’

Catherine raises an eyebrow at what she hears as she enters the room. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I didn’t really mean that, you know.’

‘Just curious. Trust me, not going to defend him.’ Nobody in their house would, and she thought Kat would know it.

‘No, I mean, you’re not a three. You’re totally a ten too.’

Catalina chuckles. ‘Aren’t you charming today?’

****

‘You’re lucky you got your mom’s looks.’

Cathy wonders if they realise she is the kitchen and if she should make her presence known. She doesn’t particularly wish to witness their flirting either.

‘Actually, my father was quite handsome in his youth.’

‘Wouldn’t know, he was like thrice my age and twice my size when I met him.’

‘Same.’ It slips out. Not really. She had been 31 when they got married and he had been twenty years her senior.  But Cathy understands the sentiment.

Mary looks from Kat to Cathy, apparently not at all put out by her overhearing them. ‘Fair enough.’

****

‘No offence to Anne but divorcing your mother should have been a sign that something was wrong with him.’

Hearing her name, Anne starts to pay attention as Kat continues. ‘I would have never done it.’

‘What?’ Mary echoes Anne’s thoughts.

‘If I had been married to Catalina, I would have never divorced her. RIP Henry but I’m different.’

‘I don’t know what’s more disturbing. That you find my mom attractive or that you would have been my stepmother.’

Kat chuckles. ‘I am your stepmother.’

‘Stepbother, that’s what you are.’

****

‘Ehi, Mary, do you call your mom mami?’

‘No?’

‘Can I?’

Mary gives a saccharine smile to Jane, who is looking between her and Kat confused. ‘Jane, we’re going to need one less seat at the table today. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got some murdering to do.’

***

‘Mary, Mary,’ Anna is ready to point out to Kat that there is no way Mary can hear her calling if she is whispering her name like that, when Kat yells. ‘MARY!’

‘You bellowed?

‘See? Call three times and she will appear; you don’t even need a mirror.’

‘I’m going to kill you.’

‘Not really helping your case.’

Anna chuckles. She doesn’t understand their relationship, but it certainly makes for some entertaining times.

***

The queens are in the living room when they hear the front door opening and the distinctive voices of Mary and Kat getting closer.

‘I said that objectively speaking.’

‘And then I’m going to tell her that you objectively think she is hot.’

‘Don’t you dare.’

‘Don’t be ashamed, Mary!’ Kat enters the living room, eyes on her phone. ‘Embrace the gay!’

She gets the wind knocked out of her by an unexpected hug. ‘What?’ Mary squeezes her more. ‘I’m doing as you said.’

‘Kat, are you gay?’

Everyone stops at Jane’s question.

‘Am I gay?’ Kat laughs. ‘I’m ecstatic!’

Mary can’t help to notice that Cathy is the only one chuckling at Kat’s quote.

 So. Yes. If asked about Kat and Mary’s relationship, the consensus is that they seem to live to bother each other. Mary lording being older over Kat and Kat constantly reminding Mary that she was and still is her stepmother as her marriage to Henry had never been annulled. Mary threatening bodily harm and Kat mentioning how much she likes Catalina. It’s just harmless flirting and Catalina finds it amusing as much as Mary finds it annoying. She knows perfectly well that Kat hits on her mom just to rile her up…and it works every single time.

 ‘You know, for once, you could actually focus your attention on the Catherine you actually like…’ Mary says once her mother leaves the room, eyes not leaving the sketchbook on her lap.

‘What? I do like your mom. I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Sure you don’t.’ Mary rolls her eyes. ‘You should have been Catherine with a C.’

‘What? Why?’ Kat asks genuinely confused.

‘Then your name would have fit you better.’  She raises the sketchbook to show it to her. A blank page with a single word in capital letters: C(h)oward. ‘Since you’re a coward.’

 Yet, for two people who loudly proclaim all the time that they cannot stand each other and whose contact name for the other is ‘stepbother’ (Mary claiming Kat had stolen it from her but it made no sense, Kat retorting that daughter and bother sound similar enough to make sense), they sure spend a lot of time together of their own volition.

That’s how Kat finds herself waiting outside the cinema for Mary. Who is late. Despite being the one who had wanted to see the movie – Kat still doesn’t know which one, but her and Mary have a similar enough taste that she usually trusts her choices – and had organised the outing. She looks at her phone again to check if Mary had replied to her text. Nothing. She doesn’t know why she even bothered to try since the phone didn’t buzz. She is slipping it back in her pocket when the awaited sound stops her. She opens the chat: Mary sent her the code of her ticket, telling her to start heading in. Seeing no reason for both to risk missing the movie, she does, but not before writing back that Mary better get some snacks when she arrives to make up for her lateness.  

She easily finds her assigned seat. She sits down and looks at the ticket stub again to double check. Portrait of a lady on fire. She contemplates whether looking it up online. She has never heard of it, but the way the girl at the till had smiled at her while handing her the ticket made her feel like she is missing something.

‘Look who decided to show u-’ she greets the person who just sat down next to her. ‘Cathy?’

‘Kat? Hi!’ Cathy sounds as surprised as she is to see her there. ‘I didn’t know Mary had invited you too.’

‘Mary?’

‘Yeah, she told me to go ahead and get in without waiting for her. Why?’

Kat shakes her head lightly. ‘She told me the same.’ She takes her phone out, quickly opening their chat. Her fingers hover over the screen. Should she stick with the evergreen ‘I’m going to kill you’ (she should really make a shortcut for it) or be more creative and get into details of how she is going to make her pay?

‘I feel slightly out of place.’

Kat looks at Cathy, who just juts her chin and tilts her head slightly. ‘Take a look around yourself.’ She adds very quietly.

Lots of small groups of elderly women. Or elderly couples. Kat doesn’t turn around to check the rows behind her, but from what she can see they are the youngest people in the room. Perhaps that’s the usual audience for a mid-week afternoon show?

‘It’s so nice to see some new faces!’ Apparently they are not the only ones who took notice. A lady is smiling at them, holding out a pamphlet. ‘In case you’re interested in more.’

Cathy takes it, thanking her. It’s a list of foreign movies with the details of the screenings.

‘How is your French?’

Kat takes a moment to think about it. ‘Rusty?’

She has never been as good as Anne, for obvious reasons. They had retained their language skills from the past which left her (and Jane) at disadvantage compared to the others. With five languages each, Cathy and Catalina are the polyglot queens, with the three older kids on par with them. It is actually a point of pride for the queens. They might be lacking some common general knowledge, but their household can speak English, French, German, Spanish, Italian and Greek, even if some slightly antiquate forms of them at times.

Kat knows that she will never be the most well-versed in languages in their group, but it doesn’t mean she is not going to take advantage of her multi-lingual family and learn as much as she can. But lately she might have been neglecting French a bit to focus on learning Spanish. Admittedly it had started as a way to annoy Mary by talking with Catalina in what Mary considered ‘their own private language’, despite most people at the house speaking it. But then it became the gateway for a better relationship with the first queen, replacing the cordial but distant one they had before.

Anne and Jane were family and family had been everything in the past, despite how crappy she had been treated by her own blood. She still values it above most things, so it gave her an instant connection to them, despite past experiences…or perhaps thanks to them. Surprise, surprise, their extended family had not been much nicer to her cousins than they had been to her, so there was bonding over terrible families. Anna was a friendly face from the past and they almost seamlessly picked up from where they had left. And Cathy…they had an immediate and quick connection. At first it was because they were the youngest queens in this new life and also the ones who could relate the most to each other about their past one. They had to put up with the same Henry. Anna’s married experience had been short before moving onto a cordial if not friendly relationship as the ‘King’s sister’ (and besides, Kat knew she still harboured guilty feelings about her divorce opening the way for Kat’s marriage and consequent death, so she tried to avoid the topic). Jane had supposedly been ‘the only one he truly loved’. And Catalina and Anne had known a younger Henry who was, apparently, quite a different man from the one the last two queens had been saddled with.

All in all, Catalina had been the queen Kat had struggled the most to connect with, and learning Spanish helped. But not in this occasion, with a French movie about to start.

‘It should have subtitles, right?’

 The credits end. The lights come up. They remain seated. Most of the audience does, almost if shell-shocked by the movie that just ended. Cathy nudges Kat’s elbow lightly, offering a tissue. Usually Kat would make a joke about her being such a mom (she has taken care of Mae enough to know that you can never be overprepared with a toddler), but she wordlessly accepts it. They both dry their eyes.

‘I think,’ Kat croaks out, ‘this is the best movie I’ve ever seen.’

She is not an expert cinephile, it goes without saying; none of them are. But they did look for lists of iconic movies and watched them. While their usual excuse of having grown up without a tv works relatively well when they need to explain their lack of pop culture knowledge, nobody likes to feel always left out. They still have movie family nights, usually with a ‘must-watch’ title, but by now everyone just watches what they like. In Kat’s case, she tends to stick to ‘light’ movies. She doesn’t care if it’s fantasy, comedy, action, animated…she just doesn’t want to be scared or cry too much. But sometimes the crying is worth it.

‘Yeah.’ Cathy agrees. It seems like she has been left speechless too.

Both lost in their thoughts, no words are exchanged until they are out of the cinema.

‘Want to go and eat something?’

‘What about Mae?’

Cathy smiles at Kat’s thoughtfulness. ‘Everyone but us is home.’ Perks of living all together. Built-in babysitter service basically 24/7 in case of need. ‘And Jane said that even if the others go out, she will stay.’

As they sit at a Chinese restaurant nearby, the conversation returns to the movie.

‘I mean, I wished the ending was different, you know? Happy. With them together. But…the more I think, the more I understand it, I think.’ Kat says, twirling her noodles with her fork, using chopsticks a skill she has yet to master properly. ‘I get it. Marriage being unescapable. Men intruding in women’s spaces and lives ruining everything…’

‘Oh?’

‘Not like that.’ She realises what Cathy thought she was implying. ‘Just…the happiest period of my life had been the first months as Anna’s maid of honour. Just being around her and the other ladies. And then of course Henry had to ruin everything…’ Kat shakes her head as to dispel the thought. ‘What about you?’

‘I think I still need sometime to fully process the movie. But I’d say that we have to thank Mary for the suggestion.’

‘I’d rather die.’ The disgust on Kat’s face makes Cathy chuckle. ‘How did that happen, anyway?’ She has never seen Mary and Cathy spend any significant amount of time together.

‘She texted me, something about wanting to taste,’ Kat starts choking, ‘which I assume was meant to be test, the waters. We’re not as close as the others, so I thought spending time together could be good…You okay?’

Kat, still coughing, waves her concern away. ‘Just a bit too spicy.’

‘Yeah, you look flushed.’

‘I’ll pop to the loo and splash some water on my face,’ she rasps out, standing up.

Cathy follows her with her eyes, making sure that she is okay, until she disappears behind the toilet door. Then she grabs the menu, wanting to check the desserts. Her eyes fall onto the noodles section and…Kat’s dish has no red chili pepper next to it.

A vibration distracts her from her thoughts. She immediately checks her phone in case the call is about Mae, before realising it comes from Kat’s phone, ‘Stepbother’ flashing on the screen. The vibrating stops. Then starts again, this time shorter ones. Instinctively she looks at it.

A notification pops up.

* Don’t be a K(h)oward like usual *

Others follow in quick succession.

* Tell her *

* You’re not going to like the next step of my plan *

* I will get you two together *

* So you stop hitting on my mom *

* Not because I want you to be happy *

* Ofc *

 ‘So…going back to Mary,’ Cathy starts once Kat is back. ‘Do you think she did it on purpose?’

Kat looks intently at the menu, shrugging.

‘Because that would be…going to some length.’ She continues. ‘Organising. Getting two separate tickets but for seats next to each other. Paying for them…Any idea why?’

Kat sighs. ‘Any chance you’re letting this go?’

‘Any chance Mary is going to let this go?’

Kat puts her elbows on the table, closed fists against her forehead. A groan is all Cathy gets.

‘I’m sure it’s not that bad.’

Kat rubs her eyes in frustration. Cathy is starting to think she won’t get a reply when the younger girl straightens up in her chair.

She takes a visibly deep breath and rushes out ‘She has been pushing me to ask you out for…’ she hesitates, ‘some time.’

‘How long if she had decided to take matters in her hands?’ She is teasing but also genuinely curious.

‘Not like she is known for her patience.’ Kat grumbles. Looking at Cathy she can see that she is not convinced, but she is thankful that she seems to let it go. And smiling. ‘You’re not upset?’

‘Why don’t we continue this outside?’ Cathy nods towards the exit. ‘But no,’ she adds before Kat could misinterpret it. ‘I’m not upset.’

As they go towards the till to pay, Cathy tries to order her thoughts. That was not what she had been expecting from today. Kat was interested in her. It’s not like she had never thought about it. They get along very well. Besides her godmother, Kat is the queen she feels the closest too. She is great with Mae. And she is undeniably beautiful.  

‘What are thinking?’

Cathy has not even realised they had left the restaurant. ‘Wait! I didn’t pay!’ She makes to go back inside but Kat grabs her arm.

‘I took care of it.’ Kat shrugs. ‘You were clearly out of it and it’s my fault.’ She jams her hands in her pockets, eyes downcast.

‘None of that,’ she bumps against her hip, trying to get a smile. ‘I was just surprised.’

Kat peeks at her, cautiously hopeful.  

‘I didn’t think you liked me. As more than a friend.’ Cathy specifies before Kat can say anything in that regard. ‘Well, maybe sometimes? But I sort of convinced myself that it was wishful thinking.’

Kat stops walking at that. ‘What?’ She hurries to catch up with Cathy.

‘I thought you and Mary…’

‘Eww. She is like…was going to say sister but that would make it really weird to hit on her mom.’

‘That’s the other thing.’

‘You didn’t really think I fancied Catalina, did you? I mean, she is a beautiful woman, but it has always been about annoying Mary.’

‘I really don’t get your relationship.’

Kat just shrugs. She is used to hearing that.

‘Hey! I know you!’ a loud voice interrupts them. ‘This a step-daughter too?’ The man takes a step closer to Kat.

Cathy doesn’t know what possesses her, but she puts her arm around Kat’s waist. ‘Actually I’m her girlfriend and we’re on a date.’

‘Is that so?’ The man looks between them.

‘Yes.’ Kat puts her arm around Cathy’s shoulder and Cathy snuggles into her side.

‘Freaks.’

‘What?’ Cathy tries to take step forward.

‘Don’t.’ Kat grasps her closer to her, keeping her still as the man walks away. ‘It’s not that.’

‘Then what was that?’ It clearly looked like that to Cathy.

‘So…sometimes when me and Mary are out, guys hit on us. Best way to shake them off? Even better than saying we’re girlfriends, since some dudes takes it as an invitation to ask for a threesome? Saying that I’m her stepmother. It tends to weird them out or at least throw them off long enough that we can get away.’

Cathy thinks about it. Mary and Kat are quite close in age and they look like it, so she can see what it would surprise people. ‘Wait…did he think…’

‘That you are Mary’s mom? That or that we’re in some role-play stuff, I guess. That’s why I stopped you from trying to beat him up.’ Kat chuckles at the idea of Cathy, who is even shorter than her, although not by much, squaring up with that guy. ‘It was not because of the gay thing. Also from the smell, he was not exactly sober. I didn’t want you to get hurt.’

‘Awww.’ Cathy coos softly. ‘Still can’t believe you and Mary do that.’

‘Don’t say it like that. You make it sound like something weird.’ Kat steps away, dropping her arm from around Cathy’s shoulder. They both immediately regret the move. ‘Besides it’s the truth. I didn’t lie.’

‘Wouldn’t want to make a liar out of you now, then.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Maybe we could make this a real date? We went to movie. We had dinner…’

‘Yes!’ Kat shouts enthusiastically. ‘Wait! No!’

‘What??’

‘We’re not going to have a first date organised by Mary.’ Cathy relaxes at Kat’s explanation. ‘She’s going to be unsufferable. What about tomorrow? Oh, wait. Creative writing class. Uhm…when do you prefer? I’m sure we could find someone to look after Mae.’

‘What about Wednesday?’

‘Oh, Pasta day at The Tucan! If you’d like it, I mean.’

‘It’s a date.’

They stare at each other smiling until a couple of tipsy girls walk into them.

‘Home?’

‘Yeah.’

They walk side by side, hands brushing against each other. Kat glances down after her hand knocks against Cathy’s harder than usual. ‘Can I…’ she extends her fingers, now lightly tickling the back of Cathy’s hand.

Cathy turns her hand over and takes Kat’s without saying a word. As they keep walking, she twists her hand a bit and entwines their fingers.

‘What?’ Cathy asks with a smile after hearing Kat giggling.

‘It’s just unreal.’ Kat looks at her, beaming with a giddy expression plastered on her face.

‘What? That we watched a breath-taking movie, had dinner together, agreed on a date and we’re now going back home together and all because we were set up by our shared stepdaughter?’

‘I was more thinking about holding your hand and you liking me back, but that too.’

[voidcat]

Intrusion

– 3: level 5 of friendship (wc: 1.8k)

prev ; next ; m.list

a/n: a filler-ish type of character. according to my ao3 a/n i kinda felt out of this chapter by the time i sat down to write so yea,,, + the text copy pasted from ao3 again so bolds and italics may be gone.

>[Hey I’ll go to the café a little earlier and sit around for a while. I’ll send you the address and you can meet me there.]

>[btw they don’t only serve pastry so if u r hungry after practice, you can eat there.]

>[k bye see ya]

You were up hours before you received a message from Iwaizumi. A simple “Good Morning.” blinking at you from the corner of your eye. Sending a short reply, you went back to your book. The house completely silent, save for your creaking footsteps; your parents have already left, typical as always.

It was odd for you to be up before your alarm. You brush the possibilities off, trying not think too much about it. The air feels nice and the chirping of birds isn’t exactly distracting, I might as well do some reading. That is how you decided to begin your day, pushing all your thoughts aside and entering a brand new world.

The heavy silence starting to weight on you after a while, you change your clothes, send these texts to Iwaizumi and head out.

Finding a good spot to sit by the window side, in case Iwaizumi cannot find the place, you order a drink as you pick your book up where you left off. You must’ve dozed off because you don’t realize him until he sits down.

“Hey.”

“Oh, hi. Glad you could make it.” It’s weird to see him without the school uniform now. The tshirt looks like he changed into it after practice. The jacket hanging from his seat and the bag by his side, both carrying the trademark colors for Aoba Johsai sports clubs indicating your assumption further. His face seems redder than usual, he must’ve left a short while ago.

You stare at one another for a moment. “So, how was practice?”

“As usual. We tried switching positions and had some 2-against-2 matches a little.”

“Ah, that… sounds good? I think. No, maybe a bit intense too? I’m not sure.” Shaking your head as you speak, you can hear him chuckle, probably at you.

“How about your morning?”

“As usual.”

“So you do wake up before noon on weekends, huh.” You can’t help but smile at that.

“Except for that part, then.” You look up to find him smiling at you warmly. This only makes your smile bigger.

One of the staff approaches your table and drops a single menu between the two of you. When will cafes stop assuming two people of the opposite sex as a couple and bring only one menu?..

Iwaizumi makes a gesture, signaling you to take a look and choose first.

“You go ahead, I have some inside information on their products.” You say with a smile as if you really are sharing a top secret. What’s up with the never ending smiles today? It couldn’t possibly be because of meeting with him, right? No way. And yet, the smiles appear before your face all natural, feeling familiar; so you let it keep happening. Change once in a while never killed anybody.

Eyes wandering around, examining each furniture, each plant, the expressions people wear; trying to distinct the source of each smell, guessing what it is, you wait for Iwaizumi to choose. The air is calm, no one is too loud and you can hear relaxing songs playing through the speakers. I hope the harmony of this place isn’t disturbed during the rush hours, you can’t help but think.

Getting tired of the pastel ambiance after a while, you divert your gaze back to Iwaizumi. Only to see a frustrated face staring at the menu he’s holding. He almost looks like it insulted him or better yet, attacked him. Your hand reaches to it before you can realize. You lower the menu a little.

“Need help?” He almost looks embarrassed to nod does it any way.

“Yeah, I’m torn between Americano and filter coffee… But what exactly is the difference between the two?” The excitement inside you hard to conceal, your hands jump into the air, digits spread wide.

“Oh, oh! I know this!” The look Iwaizumi gives you makes you stop. He seems… at ease. He has one of these small smiles you’ve witnessed before. There’s also a hint of something in his eyes, a gleam is there sure and a little bit of playfulness, but also something else you can’t put your finger on. Whatever it is, it suits him and you’d like to see him like this more often. You shake your head at your last thought.

“No, don’t give me that look. I only know about types of coffee because one of my friends is a caffeine addict.” And so you start to talk about different types of coffee, milk and espresso ratios, all in detail.

Five minutes into speedtalking about coffee and you give up at the look of defeat you are met with. “Just order Americano, you seem the type any way.”

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” You ignore the question.

A minute of waiting and awkward stare passes, then another minute of ordering is added to the pile. Iwaizumi, following your advice and ordering Americano, you asking for chai latte and the ‘cake of the day’. You two fall back into silence.

No conversation starters coming into mind, your eyes keep wandering around. Stealing glances at him once in a while, only for the both of you to make eye contact and immediately diverting your gazes, the unsettling silence starts to take its toll.

“I… I need to use the restroom.” You dash out before he can say anything, hoping the door you saw earlier does lead to the restroom. Splashing water to your face to calm your nerves, why would my nerves even be not calm in the first place??, you slowly head out and pray to whatever force out there that your orders have arrived.

You’re either lucky or you’ve used up your daily dose of luck because your prayers seem to be answered. The steam coming from your beverages is numbing and the cake looks heavenly to you. Light cream between the layers and on top, surrounded with fresh fruits and some jam spilled over the plate to make a twirling shape for a good presentation…

There are two sets of cutlery.

Because bringing a single menu was not enough and they just had to bring two sets of cutlery, still assuming you’re a couple. Not to worry, it’s not worth losing your cool over. You take a deep breath and sit as you breathe down, a not so genuine smile plastered on your face.

“So, how is the coffee?”

“Good. I suppose you were right about ‘my type’” he does air quotes as he speaks. Another smile breaks free of your mask.

“If it’s any consolation, I usually prefer coffee without sweeteners, so it is a little my type too.” A knowing nod at that.

“And the cake?..”

“Well, it looks good. You can try if you want, they did bring another fork anyway.” He doesn’t too eager at that. Cutting a part of the cake and putting it to one side of the plate, you shrug and start eating.

An easy flow of conversation comes after.

It starts with something that catches your eye in the street, starting to look through the window and creating fun little scenarios, the air around you gets warmer.

Excitingly pointing at a cat passing by, Iwaizumi learns how fond of cats you are, even so that you have one at home.

Inspecting the trees nearby and trying to guess what species, you find out he has an eye for it. He knows most of the trees and flowers out there.

He asks you your favorite genre to play on piano and in return you ask him his preferred sports drink. It goes like this. Beverages already drunk, cake long eaten, you two get lost in small things and what-nots.

The sun at the top, shining through and drowning the world under its golden light, everything seems to be at peace. Not a single customer around talking too loud, or maybe they do but you’re too out of it to notice… The temperature just right, your thoughts at bay, all harmless. Almost as if it’s a regular weekend day-out, the way it feels so familiar.

Feeling relaxed and loosened up, ready to doze off to sleep at any given moment, you slowly find yourself getting lost in pale green eyes, and vice versa.

Whatever unseen force that was holding the entire place, including you, in a calm trance, falls apart at the sudden sound of an unwelcome beep.

Both of you reaching out to your phones, you see a notification alert

Staring at your screen for a while, a sincere smile blooms on your face, giddy with excitement and happy, you feel unstoppable at that very moment.

“Good news I hope. Care to share?” Iwaizumi’s words reach your ears a few seconds too late. Still holding your phone with both hands grinning like an idiot now, you shake your head a little.

“You need to reach level 5 of friendship with me to access this story, sorry.” You can see him laughing lightly at the back of his hand.

“What’s so funny?”

“Oh nothing. It’s just… I expected at least a level 10.” It’s your turn to laugh now, and so it seems.

“You’ve listened to me playing the piano. That gives you a 5 level headstart already.”

“You’re really that secretive about that?” All that joy from a moment ago has died down and replaced with confusion. You avoid his eyes and focus on a spot near him again, just like the first time.

“Secretive is not the best choice of words. More like… insecure? I guess, I’m not sure.”

“Well, that’s just dumb.”

“I- What? Excuse me?!”

“I’ve said what I said. You already play well and only a fool wouldn’t notice the way you give your all as you play. There is no logical reason for you to be insecure about that.”

“Yes but- you see…” Words die out at your throat, hand hanging in the air.

Another thing you learn about Iwaizumi Hajime right then and there. He is honest and as harsh as truth can be.

You wonder if he is like that all the time, if he is as open when it comes to himself. Or does he hide behind a façade like the rest of the world.

Noticing how tense you are getting, Iwaizumi ends your misery at last, asking about the book you were reading and you two fall back into another quiet chatter of everything and nothing until you  call it a day.

[liquorisce]

decisions, decisions pt 2

Fandom : Bleach 

Pairings : Ichihime (ft. some ichi x ishi bickering which we love around here)

Rating : T

Part 1

A/N: A few months ago I wrote a post-tybw-karakura-gang-finishes-high-school kinda thing called ‘decisions, decisions’  ft career choice discussions and orihime thinking of leaving town for uni. I wanted to write some more of that stuff and more ichihime pining obvs, so here it is. also i hate myself for not being able to participate in ichihimeweek2020, i suck, but anyway, ‘nuff with the nonsense, here’s the fic: 

(ps: pls be nice to me and like/reblog/comment or whatevs and tell me what u think, ily thx)

...

It’s five minutes to two, and Ichigo fought to stifle a yawn. The menacing five hundred pages of English grammar exercises in front of him wasn’t helping. 

“... Unbelievable,” he curses, slamming the book shut, much to the annoyance of his bespectacled classmate sitting across him. “Why the hell can’t they just teach us proper English in school?! I’m absolutely fucking positive that Honda-sensei didn’t mention more than three tenses in her class. And what kind of English lesson takes place in Japanese anyway?!” 

“... Quit your whining, Kurosaki. Some of us are trying to study here.” 

Ichigo fumed. By ‘some of us,’ Ishida was pointedly referring to just himself and the long-haired beauty sitting right opposite him, who, judging by her giggling at his outburst, welcomed his distraction. The same giggling that was contributing to the problem, contributing to Ichigo’s immense distraction since after dinner. 

“You’re not even human, Ishida,” he says dismissively. “Keigo’s literally made his bed on my dad’s couch, you can hear his goddamn snores, and Mizuiro left to ‘watch the stars’ with some new girl thirty minutes ago.” 

“You’re the one who invited us over to your place for an all-nighter group study session and you’re calling it quits before the sun is up? As expected, you’re weak.” 

He was right, this had been Ichigo’s idea, Yuzu had offered to make them dinner and his dad had plans tonight, so they were guaranteed some peace and quiet. Despite the noise and the chaos of their group, he missed hanging out with his friends. Ever since the school had given them voluntary study holidays for the upcoming University Entrance Exams, he didn’t get to see much of everyone, as they were either studying or training for competitions. Even today, Tatsuki and Chad left after dinner because they had to get up early for practice and they had decided they wouldn’t be giving the exams anyway. 

Ignoring Ishida’s pointed attempts to rile him up, he turns his attention to Orihime, who despite enjoying their banter, was more focused on the cram book in front of her.  

“Inoue, how are you still so motivated and so… awake?,” he asks, exasperated. “It’s almost 2 am! And you’ve been scribbling away furiously for the last thirty minutes. What are you even studying?”  

“Mouuu, you’re right. I’m not able to solve this proof anyway. Maybe I should call it a night?”

“Electromagnetism?” Ishida asks, skimming the title of the chapter, “Oh, I’ve done this one, I can explain this to you if you want.”  

He doesn’t know what irritates him more, Ishida’s nerdiness, or the soft look in his eyes as he unfailingly offers to help Orihime out, as he’d been doing a lot more of late, ever since they had started studying for the entrance exams together. In fact, it’d been this way this entire evening, starting from when he took a seat right next to her at the table as if he fucking belonged there, leaning over into her notebook, whenever she needed help, his arm casually brushing against her long, silken locks, her answering smile bright and incredibly close to him, and - Ichigo forces that thought to a halt because it has him gritting his teeth.  “... For God’s sake, give her a break,” - 

“... Shut up, Kurosaki, not everyone is applying to study *English* in University”- 

“And what exactly do you mean by that, asshole?” Ichigo snarls, with more venom than needed, because despite having had enough with Ishida’s condescending attitude towards his study choices, his recent behaviour had Ichigo prickling under his skin.  

“... Err, Kurosaki-kun…” Orihime starts, because she’s used to Ichigo and Ishida arguing (they’re just being affectionate, she always insists), there’s a glint in Ichigo’s eyes that’s different.

“... Exactly what I said, some of us don’t have the luxury of skipping the math and science exams,” - 

“Ah, Kurosaki-kun is right! I think my brain really can’t function anymore tonight,” Orihime declares loudly, inserting herself in between them. “Kurosaki-kun, I think I will leave now. Thank you so much for hosting us today.” She bows, her formality annoying him even more, but still throwing him off guard.

As always, Orihime’s pleasant demeanour diffused the rising tempers… somewhat. With one last glare, Ishida grudgingly agreed, “Then I guess I will take my leave as well.” 

Ichigo wants to be polite and say something like, “we should do this more often,” but he’s pissed off, and couldn’t wait to be rid of Ishida’s arrogant mug, so instead he offers, “Inoue, can I walk you home?” 

He doesn’t notice the faint red on her cheeks or the hesitation on her face, when she mumbles, “If it doesn’t inconvenience you.” And he’s torn again - tearing his eyes away from the pretty blush dusting her cheeks unable to stop himself from wondering bitterly if she’d let Ishida walk her home without much protest.

“Ishida lives in the other direction and it would be out of his way, so I don’t mind.” 

“Well then,” Ishida says, looking at her with more fondness than Ichigo would have liked, “Your eyes are all red and puffy. Sleep well. Don’t strain yourself, okay?”

“Yes sir,” she gives him the salute, “... good night!” 

“... And text me that you got home safe. This idiot can’t be trusted with anything,”- 

“... for fuck’s sake, just go home already!” 

“Kurosaki-kun,” she whispers, amused, as she watches Ishida walk away with a cheeky grin on his face, “you’ll wake the neighbours with your angry yelling.”

“Ah, you’re right,” he mumbles, rubbing his neck sheepishly, as their footsteps fall into place beside each other, “I’m sorry for all the swearing, I don’t know why I let Ishida under my skin so much.”   

“Hmmm,” she says, “It’s kind of cute, your bickering. If this were a yaoi novel, I’d totally ship it!” 

“... what the hell?!” His face is red, not just because the thought of him… and Ishida… Ew. But also because this is coming from Orihime, the last person he’d ever expect to engage in fantasies of this sort.

Giggling, she quickly switches to a more somber note. “You seemed... on edge today. Did something happen between the two of you?” 

He doesn’t know how to answer that question. Truth be told, he’s barely able to understand it himself. Sure, there was the usual trading of insults that took place between the two of them, but it was different this time. His whole demeanour just pissed him off. The way he always seemed to know what Orihime was asking, the way he was always able to help her, the familiar way he spoke to her… and the revelation that they’d been studying together for weeks now! 

“I don’t know,” he sighs, because he can’t even explain what he is feeling, let alone the reason behind it, “... I guess it’s just the stress of the exam.” 

“Ugh, tell me about it,” she whines, “I’m so thankful Ishida-kun is giving the same exams as me, and we can share practice questions and tips. I really wouldn’t be able to do this alone.” 

He ignores her mention of him and the tick in his jaw in reaction. “But I don’t get it. You’re giving almost all the exams. Why?!? There’s surely no need.” 

She blushes, ashamed, “I know it sounds stupid, but I really haven’t decided what I want to study in University. I figured if I just gave all of the exams, I would have more options to choose from.” 

“... Come on,” - 

“... And I will also prefer to go wherever I get a scholarship.”  

His fist clenches, “... So you’re definitely applying outside of Karakura?” 

“Yeah, although I’m not sure if there’s any point. It’s so difficult to aim for the National Universities, I’ll never get through. But the counselor says it’s worth a shot for the scholarship.”

“... I thought your aunt was helping you with tuition?” 

“... Only till high school. And I cannot burden her anymore. I’ve received so much from her already.” 

Ichigo doesn’t miss the way her voice wavers at the end, the guilt evident in her words. And he can’t stand it. “... Cheer up,” he says softly, playfully elbowing her. “You’re one of the smartest kids in school. Rank #2 after all the shit we went through last year! If anyone can do it you can.” 

“... You think so?” she mumbles, looking up at him, her insecurities heartbreaking in the grey of her eyes.  

Everything about her is so honest, it hurts him a little bit because his first thought is to say no, to talk her out of it, because the revelation is too sudden, too jarring - he can’t bear  the thought of this town without her. But he nods, smiles encouragingly, because that’s just way too selfish.

Shaking his head out of these thoughts, he asks, “... what was the counselor’s recommendation, again? As a career path?” 

“Ah, Hirata-san said maybe I should just follow my love for baking,” she says, smiling. 

“... and? Why don’t you consider that? You wouldn’t have to give these blasted exams then.” 

He liked the idea of this, now more than before, momentarily regretting his role in convincing her to apply to university. Orihime working in the local bakery, coming around his house everyday to share the leftovers, staying back for dinner maybe… 

“... but Kurosaki-kun was the one who said I wouldn’t be very good at it!” She pouts, “You said I’d make too many things in weird flavours and nobody would want to buy them.” 

Crap. He truly felt like waltzing back in time and whacking the past version of him for saying something like that.  Because if it were anyone else shitting all over Orihime’s dream, he’d have sent the punk flying. Where were all these feelings coming from anyway?! 

“... Shit, I didn’t mean,” - 

“... it’s okay, you’re right. And besides I can work there part-time through University. I was thinking…” She took a deep breath. “Well, actually, it was Ishida-kun’s idea. Maybe I could study to become a doctor? My strength is in healing people anyway…” 

Ichigo rolled his eyes. "Well of course, he'd say that. He's going to study medicine too." And of course he would try to talk Orihime into it. The bastard had taken every opportunity to slither by her side - 

She laughs, a pretty sound, interrupting the profanity in his mind. "Yeah, he did say it would be nice to have some company… but I'm not sure." Sighing, she asks, "How did you decide on English Studies?" 

It wasn't too difficult for him honestly. It helped that he was fairly certain he didn't want to study math or science going forward. "... I like stories. And I want to be able to read and share stories in a global medium, so I decided to study English." 

He looks at her only to find her looking at him in fascination, "... Truth be told, I didn't spend too much time thinking about it. The career aptitude test returned similar results as well, so I just went with it." He shrugs, "I think I'll enjoy it. Let's see." 

"Ahh, you sound so optimistic about your studies, Kurosaki-kun. I wish I could be like that." 

They've reached her apartment building now and she turns to look at him, wistfully. He wishes he could do something for her, ease her anxieties in some way. 

"What about you?" He asks. 

She looks at him, puzzled.  

"... You've told me all about what everyone wants you to do. What do you want to do? I'm sure you must have some inkling." 

“... I,” she stops, opens her mouth again to say something, but nothing comes out. “... what I want… ah, you’ll probably think it’s silly.” She smiles wistfully to herself, because this wasn’t something that she’d ever admitted out loud.

He rolls his eyes, “... Try me.” Because she was many things, and yes, definitely silly sometimes in that unique way of hers, but he would never, could never, call her dreams silly. It’s a moment of realization for him, when he gets angry with the way she dismisses her own dreams that way, and he feels overwhelmed with the desire to pick them up, and keep them safe where no one can trample them, along with that spaced-out, wistful smile of hers. 

“Well,” she gulps, nervous, “I’ve never really thought too much about going to university. Sensei says I’m wasting my potential... but honestly, I think I’ll be happy working.” 

She looks at him unsurely, waiting for a reaction, an opinion, like everyone else. Everyone who’d been urging her to continue school and pursue all kinds of studies that she could possibly do, but… “I just - I want to build a simple life with someone I love. A family, maybe, someday.” 

It comes out so fast, she wishes she could grab the words and shove them back in her mouth. She chances a glance at him, her cheeks hot and furiously embarrassed. 

His expression is unreadable as he gazes down at her. She’s beautiful in the moonlight, he thinks, and it isn’t really a revelation to him, but the melancholy of her beauty is, the loneliness that he wishes he could extinguish as easily as he does hollows. “A simple life huh…” he murmurs. And he can almost picture it, Orihime, ten years from now, a child in her arms, a little boy maybe, with her wide brown eyes and - 

“Well, looks like you have planned it out better than any of us,” he manages hoarsely, unable to look her in the eye anymore. Not with all these… feelings simmering so close to the surface. And before he can help himself, “Do you already know who this mystery man is?” 

He’s come to realize how absolutely unequipped he is to hear the answer, but her unassuming statement has already taken residence inside him somehow, a burning sensation accompanying it. 

 His question jolts her into consciousness, and she notices they’re almost at her apartment. “Ah Kurosaki-kun is very curious today,” she laughs nervously, “only one confession per day! That’s the limit!” The fake cheer in her voice grates in her own ears but she hopes desperately it will steer him away because she’s this close to telling him sometimes, and this was one of those times. Especially in these rare moments when she feels an odd mixture of weakness and greed, where she wants to latch on to him and ask him to stay by her side, hoping selfishly that his kindness will make him say yes. But Orihime was practiced at hiding those feelings away. 

 “Is that right,” he smiles teasingly, albeit weakly, “... I didn’t know you were so mysterious, Inoue. Well goodnight, then.” 

And as he watches her climb up the stairs to her floor, and then lean over the railings to wave goodbye one more time, he can’t help but think of that image of her again, happy and in love and so beautifully fulfilled. And he thinks of the shadow of the man next to her, who will protect that dream and that smile, and his stomach clenches bitterly. 

“You deserve it,” he whispers to her retreating figure, “... You deserve all of it.”

- fin - 

A/N : The ending was cheesy, I KNOW UGH

[therainroguefanfiction]

💤 Trying Too Hard (Hiryuu Rin)

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Slice of Life

Word Count: 1,562

Pairing: Reader x Rin

World: Boku no Hero Academia

Prompt: [….] is concerned because Y/N isn’t sleeping.

Author’s Note: This was written for the BNHA Sanctuary SFW Collab! Make sure you check out the original post to find a list of everyone’s fics. Happy reading~ Also, xīngān is a chinese term of endearment. According to this site:

“…literally means ‘heart and liver.’ While that might sound a bit too bloody for Westerners, the term is used to recognize the most important person, without whom you cannot live without.”

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Being in the hero course could be pretty stressful at times, even more so in class A because everyone had their eyes on them. Even more stressful, however, was getting partnered up with the foul-mouthed, hot-headed Bakugo Katsuki. As if one assignment wasn’t bad enough, you had been paired up with him on two different assignments. Your friends made sure to offer their condolences for your bad luck, but you really wanted to try and make this work.

The first assignment was to write a short play in English and, being half-American and spending your childhood in America, this came easy to you. Bakugo himself wasn’t fluent in English, but knew enough to properly understand. There was a small argument about what the subject would be, but you conceded in order to placate his growing temper.

The play was going to be about the number one hero, LordXplosionMurder, and how he overthrew all of his enemies in order to reach the top.

The second assignment was a bit more complicated for you. Because heroes often have to work together, the assignment was to find a way where your quirks complimented one another, combining them to form a super move. The problem was that Bakugo was far superior in both physical combat and quirk control and he didn’t work well with others. He forced you into following his training regimen, threatening to beat your ass if you fell too far behind.

You had gone through a lot of training in order to successfully enter the hero course, but his regimen was just ridiculous and you were seriously struggling. Determined to keep up with the ash-blonde, thus proving yourself worthy and not getting your ass kicked by him, you decided it would be a good idea to forfeit sleep so you could dedicate more time to the training program he had given you. At first, your muscles just felt super sore and your body tired, but as the days slowly passed by, you really started to feel the effects.

The biggest change was how forgetful you were becoming, not remembering to do simple tasks that you were used to doing. You became moody, snapping at the smallest of provocations only to immediately apologize with teary eyes. You even fell down a couple of times, your tired brain unable to react in time to keep your balance.

To say that your friends were worried would be a massive understatement, but they knew how stubborn you could be and how badly you wanted to prove yourself to the ash-blonde, so they did they only thing they could think of that would help.

They told your boyfriend.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

You sat at the desk in your dorm room, staring down at the Hero Law textbook as you read the first paragraph again for the hundredth time, but your brain was simply incapable of processing a single word. You felt so sluggish, body in a state where you were so tired, you would be far too tired to actually sleep even if you tried. So, you could only sit and stare at the paragraph, hoping that the words would magically register in your brain.

You wanted nothing more than to stop looking at that damn paragraph, but your grades had begun to slip and Aizawa was not happy about it, so you had to force yourself to study, even if it wasn’t actually doing anything for you. At least you’re trying.

“Xīngān?” A concerned voice reached your ears and you felt a cool hand rest on your shoulder.

Your eyes widened in surprise, snapping up to meet his. You hadn’t even heard the door being opened. Did he knock? Why was he in class A’s dorm? They were off limits to anyone outside of the class and if Aizawa found out, he’d be pretty angry. “H-Hiryuu…?” The throbbing in your temple was getting worse, making your face tense up as you tried to suppress a wince of pain.

Rin huffed, hands moving to his hips as his dark eyes shimmered with concern. “What are you doing to yourself, xīngān? Why haven’t you been sleeping? Do you know how dangerous that is?”

Your shoulders sagged at his scolding tone, tears pricking at your eyes. Because the two of you were in different classes and had different schedules, you didn’t get to see each other nearly as much as you’d like to and yet… he still found out about your poor life choices. He was upset with you, rightfully so, and that filled you with guilt because you hated it when he was upset. “I’m so-sorry,” you cried, desperately trying to wipe away the tears but they kept falling.

Rin’s expression softened and he didn’t hesitate to pull you into his arms, fingers combing through your hair as he whispered sweet nothings to you in Chinese, something he had learned early on to be a comfort to you. You clutched onto his shirt for dear life, stuffing your face into his chest. His heartbeat against your forehead was a major comfort to you, even if it was beating a bit faster than normal.

He shifted so he could bring his arms under your body, lifting you against his chest before bringing you over to the bed. It felt exceptionally soft beneath your exhausted body. After settling down beside you, keeping you protectively caged within his arms, he softly questioned you. “Will you tell me why you have stopped sleeping?”

Taking a shaky breath, you began to express how you were feeling and, once the words started to tumble from your lips, they refused to stop, falling quickly and without pause. Mixing this with your hiccups made it difficult for him to process, but he got the gist of it – Bakugo was the cause, pushing you way too far past your limits. Anger coursed throughout his body, but it wasn’t just aimed toward the ash-blonde. Part of the blame, he decided, fell on himself.

You were his partner, the person he loved more than life itself, but he hadn’t noticed how much you had been struggling the past week. Granted, he had only been able to see you once and that was only in passing during lunch, but he should have made more of an effort to check in on you. He wouldn’t make that mistake anymore.

His arms tightened around your body, feeling you slowly start to relax against him. His thumb gently brushed away the leftover tears beneath your eye, his skin cool against your own heated skin.

“I’m sorry…” you mumbled, eyes heavy as you struggled against the sleep that was rapidly claiming you.

“Rest now, xīngān. We can talk more in the morning, okay?” His lips were soft against the top of your head and, for the first time in a week, the smile that came to your lips was genuine.

“I love you,” you whispered before sleep finally claimed you, your breathing evening out as the tension left your body.

Rin’s heart soared at the declaration, unable to stop the wide grin spreading across his face. He leaned down, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, hoping that his words would reach you within your dreams. “Wǒ ài nǐ, forever and always, Y/N.”

━━━━━━༻B O N U S༺━━━━━━

Bakugo’s vermilion eyes shifted over when Rin approached him before class, standing beside the ash-blonde’s desk with a determined expression upon his face. The other students exchanged worried looks, their bodies tensed as they prepared to intervene if necessary.

“The fuck do you -”

“Stop being so damn hard on Y/N.” Rin ordered, not missing the anger that flashed through his eyes. While he was prepared to defend himself if necessary, he didn’t come here to fight with Bakugo. “They are doing their absolute best to please you because they’re scared of you!”

Something indistinguishable flashed through his eyes, but it was gone as quick as it came. “It’s not my damn fault they’re so weak!”

“Weak?” Rin echoed in disbelief. “Just because someone isn’t as strong as you does not make them weak! Y/N is very strong and they work their ass off with both their training and studies! Not only that, but they are kind and humble. Maybe you should takes notes from them.”

“What did you just say, you damned extra?!” Bakugo jumped to his feet, small explosions going off in his palm – an intimidation tactic that was lost on Rin.

“I said -”

“Hiryuu?” You appeared in the doorway, glancing between the two tense males with a frown. “What’s going on?”

Rin shot the ash-blonde a warning look before turning on his heel and closing the distance with a soft smile. “I was just thanking your classmates for looking after you when I’m not around.” His cool hands rested on your upper arms. “Are you sure you’re up to class? If you need more rest, I am sure Aizawa-sensei will understand.”

His concern made your heart flutter and you smiled happily. “I’ll take it easy today, I promise.”

“You better,” he mumbled teasingly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips just as the warning bell chimed throughout the school. “I’ll come pick you up at lunch, xīngān.”

“Okay~” You chirped happily, leaning closer to take one more soft kiss from his lips before he headed to his own class down the hall.

━━━━━━༻🌧️༺━━━━━━

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[rainywritingsx]

just rewatched the scene where Shinsou is scoping out class 1A &thought this. Could I please request a scenario of that scene where Shinsou is your bf but class 1A is always so busy no one noticed. So basically when he is saying how disappointed he is in the class u try to stop him nicely but also defend bakugou &the class. Bakugou has a crush on you & when he barges out through the crowd he hears someone say you’re Shinsou’s gf &He tenses up. Shinsou notices his reaction & u can finish however

Ah I really liked this idea tbh. And,,,, I kinda want to write a part 2 to this? But idk if anyone wants it as well lol, so if you’ve enjoyed this and want a part 2 please let me know ^^ have fun reading!

Also, reminder that requests are closed!

Words: 825

Warnings: slight cursing ish? Bakugou is in it lol

A small frown appeared on y/n’s face as soon as they realised that their boyfriend, Shinsou, hadn’t entered class yet. He was never late, did something happen?

“Dude! You have to come here, Shinsou-kun is totally burning class 1-A to the ground!”

“No way! I never thought anyone would do that!” Y/n looked at the two boys who were talking about their boyfriend. Was it true? Why was he at class 1-A’s classroom?

Y/n sighed softly. They weren’t sure if they should believe, since sometimes rumors spread like wildfire. But checking wouldn’t hurt anyone, right?

They decided to get up and leave the classroom, walking towards where class 1-A was. Their eyes widened upon noticing a crowd standing around the distance. As y/n got closer, they heard their boyfriend’s voice and from his tone they could tell he definitely wasn’t happy. Their pace quickly fastened and somehow they managed to get through the mass.

Small bits of what sounded like an argument were heard, but y/n wasn’t able to make out what exactly was said. It didn’t sound too happy...

They stopped in their tracks when they saw their boyfriend, who was glaring daggers at a student of class 1-A was it Bakugou Katsuki?

Neither of them were saying a word at the moment, but y/n could tell there was a lot of tension and their conversation most likely wasn’t exactly pleasant.

Shinsou was about to open his mouth again when he felt a small hand on his arm. He turned and realised it was his s/o, y/n. Upon seeing them he relaxed a little bit, but still not fully.

“Hey babe, how about we leave them alone and get some lunch together?” Y/n asked sweetly, trying to calm down their boyfriend. Shinsou sighed and looked back at Bakugou and 1-A before glancing back at his s/o.

“Come on babe, you cannot expect 1-A to be perfect. We’re all students here which means we’re here to learn something. We aren’t perfect either and then being at the top class doesn’t mean they have to be flawless.” He sighed yet again at this and grabbed y/n’s hand before walking off with them.

While all of this was happening, Bakugou was observing quietly. He didn’t really take notice of y/n’s attitude towards Shinsou but more of just them. He had been crushing on y/n for a while but didn’t tell anyone, as he thought it would go away after a while.

But it didn’t.

He’d see them with their friends and get this weird feeling in his stomach, when they were about to leave the school and stayed to watch his class train he’d feel like he had to show off more and whenever he saw that they had forgot money for lunch yet again, he had this urge to get them something. But something in him held him back and it annoyed him.

Bakugou grumbled some incoherent words before walking away through the crowd, attempting to ignore the mumbled and whispers of those ‘Damn extras’.

“Woah, Shinsou just left like that? I thought he was going to insult 1-A even more.”

“Yeah, but y/n was also right though. It’s good that they stopped it.”

“Well they’re just s/o, of course they can calm him down. They’re such a great couple!” Bakugou stopped walking and slightly tended up, muttering a “what?”

Shinsou took notice of this and turned around, which made y/n stumble since they were still walking.

Bakugou looked at the two before gazing at your intertwined hands. When he looked back at Shinsou he had an annoyed look on his face.

“You got a problem, Bakugou?” He asked, pulling the oblivious y/n slightly closer to himself.

Bakugo thought to himself. He could tell Shinsou wanted a reaction out of him, which was why he was trying to do the exact opposite.

“Hey, just let him be, okay Shinsou? Let’s go to the cafetaria, I finally brought money for once.” Y/n said, giggling at the last sentence. They could tell the tension was back again but they had no idea why this was the case.

Shinsou didn’t say a word as he turned back around and walked off with you. When the two were gone Bakugou’s hands formed into fists, and he had to really stop himself from getting too angry or he would use his quirk.

He didn’t know how to feel. Was he sad? Angry? Annoyed? Anything else?

He scoffed before walking away.

“Why did they choose that bastard? I bet I can treat them better.” He muttered to himself. Some would give up, but Bakugou wouldn’t. He was going to wait, he’d wait until his time came and when that time arrived he’d show y/n he can treat them better than that jackass or anyone else.

[lorei-writes]

Masamune x Polish!MC

Thanks a lot to @datenoriko​ for suggesting this and for @nad-zeta​ for writing hers (VERY INSPIRING, SERIOUSLY, GO CHECK THOSE OUT) headcanons :D Here’s my version. I wrote for Polish MC in particular, because I didn’t want to be disrespectful and there’s a lot of historical nuance that I could butcher otherwise.

[Note from future Lorei: This is honestly very stupid and I cannot believe I didn’t write it when I was 15, geez.]

Content Warnings: profanities, kidnapping, pain, injuries

Background information & notes:

Polish-Lithuanian commonwealth was partitioned by Habsburg Austria, Kingdom of Prussia and Russian Empire. As the result of annexations, the country disappeared from the world maps for 123 years. I will not go into detail about how the situation of Polish people was different in each of the parts, since that’s besides the point, but well - keep in mind that it did differ greatly. One can argue that the marks of it are still visible today, both in infrastructure, architecture and language. 

I was born in the South-Eastern region of Poland and as such, that’s where I’d like my MC to be brought up. 

MC is in no way representative of how each and every woman from Poland is. I tried to write her based on the women of my family, my friends, classmates, basically - the people I’ve seen and spent my time with. 

I will not include anything religion-related, although it is a thing that’s present in lives of everybody (even atheists) here (to be more precise, Catholicism). Why? Because it is a very controversial topic, one of huge complexity.

... There will be profanities, because I love my Polish swearwords - and CURSE YOU ENGLISH. WHEN I YELL THE CURSE I WANT TO SOUND LIKE A FREAKING FERAL ANIMAL

Broken English in italics = broken Japanese.

There will be a dictionary at the end, so don’t worry. 

Masamune

Upon meeting her, he did not understand anything she said - well, none of them did. However, she did rescue lord Nobunaga - a funnily dressed foreigner that seemingly didn’t speak Japanese couldn’t be that bad, could she?

Yet she still was thrown into the dungeon. In his mind, that was the perfect opportunity to investigate on his own. 

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Masamune sneaked into her cell. Soon, his blade was on her throat.  “ Who are...?” he started, but was instantly cut off by her yelling: “ Czy was tu wszystkich kurwa do reszty pojebało?!” He stood there, staring at her. Seeing his confusion, she pointed at him and then tapped on her temple a couple of times, an unimpressed look on her face. 

Was she suggesting that he was insane? Hah, that certainly was some lass. He laughed loudly and gestured for her to follow him.

Well, it certainly took some explaining, but in the end, she got a job as one of the maids. After all, you hardly need to understand language to sweep the floors and do the cleaning. 

However, she... Didn’t exactly fit in. Not just because of her weird mother tongue - she was taller than most women and not exactly petite. Appearance wise, she resembled the Portuguese missionaries, but that wasn’t exactly this either. 

Masamune came around to “bother” her at times. To his surprise, she started to picking up the basic words by herself. Sometimes, she’d point an object, say something (presumably the name of it in her language) and wait for him to do so as well.

 One day, she did just that while cleaning the floor of a veranda.  “ Chrząszcz.” It took a second to register. Was that really a word? “ Chrząszcz,” she repeated, staring at him. Right, he had to reply, otherwise she’d never stop. “ A beetle.” 

Later that day, he tried to pronounce the word. He couldn’t do it. Actually, he started thinking that she was making it all up. 

That, however, changed once he heard her sing. Unaware of his presence, she continued working, the song filling the air: “Gdy swe oczy otworzyłem Wielki żal ogarnął mnie Po policzkach łzy spłynęły Zrozumiałem wtedy, że Czarny chleb i czarna kawa Opętani samotnością Myślą swą szukają szczęścia Które zwie się wolnością”

To his delight, she started speaking broken Japanese within a couple of months of her stay at Azuchi. Finally, he could satiate his curiosity - or at least he planned to. 

She went out to do the shopping in the afternoon, but didn’t return after the dusk. Thinking something bad must have happened to her, Nobunaga issued a search. Masamune volunteered to lead it. 

She woke up with a start, her head throbbing. She looked around - where was she? It seemed to be a tiny hut of sorts. She got up, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever was happening outside through the crack in the door. A man was guarding it. Did she hear a river? Whinny of horses? She had to escape - she search for cracks in the walls, until she found one. She recognized that armour. They were looking for her! She had to make some noise! 

She yanked at the door, but it didn’t want to give out. She banged at it with her fists, yelling: “ Tutaj! Ratunku!”

The kidnapper didn’t understand the weird language, so he didn’t react at first. However, once the heard the approaching horses, he decided he had to silence her. He got inside the hut and gripped her by the wrists, telling her to shut up.

To his surprise, she struggled against him, breaking free of his hold on her.

He pinned her arms to the wall of the hut, threatening to hurt her if she even squeaked.  “ A weźże ty mnie kurwa w nos pocałuj!” she yelled, before headbutting him. 

Surprised, the man didn’t react instantly. Taking advantage of the opportunity, she kicked him hard.

It didn’t exactly work, though. Infuriated, the man wanted to punch her - yet, he didn’t notice the rescue that had just arrived. Masamune stopped his fist in the air. 

Masamune didn’t see her in the couple of the following days, as they all worked to find out who was the person behind her kidnapping - and why was she even considered a target in the first place. 

When he finally met her, he was stunned. Her entire forearms were covered in bruises in the shade of deep purple, almost black. He lifted her hands up, saying: “ I’ll check you up for wounds. Wounds. Check. You.” To his surprise, she shook her head and smiled brightly. “ Boli, znaczy że żyje. Hurt mean alive.”

It dawned on him then - he never really saw her smile before. They were complete strangers, but he wanted to know more.

With the language barier in place, it wasn’t exactly an easy task. Granted, she could understand simple sentences - yet, it wasn’t enough. Masamune was up to the challenge and so, he asked her to teach him her language. 

Given the grammatical cases that influenced form of both nouns, adjectives and numerals, he soon started regretting his choice. The nouns had gender? Two future tenses? And what was up with all those ch-h, rz-ż, u-ó pairs that sounded exactly the same, but somehow weren’t interchangeable? Not to mention how some words seemed to consists exclusively of consonants. Rybołówstwo? -wstwo? 

“ Okay. Your turn.  Na wyścigach wyścigowych wyścigówek wyścigowych wyścigówka wyścigowa wyścignęła wyścigówkę wyścigową numer sześć.” Masamune blinked fast.  “ It was the same word over and over again, right?�� “ Nope. Maybe  w Szczebrzeszynie chrząszcz brzmi w trzcinie?”

It seemed she tried to torture him. Though, having her laugh, even if at him, made him feel warm. 

 One day, he was taking a stroll and heard her voice. This time, however, he understood the words she hummed to herself.  “ Raz i dwa, raz i dwa, Dziewczynka Wojenka na imię ma. Trzy i cztery, trzy i cztery, Dziwne ona ma maniery. Pięć i sześć, pięć i sześć, Wcale lodów nie chce jeść. Siedem, osiem, siedem, osiem, Wciąż o kości tylko prosi. “

“Where do you come from, if you sign about war like that?” he asked. “ Can’t tell you. You’ll think I’m mad.” “ Try it either way.” “ You see, future. But I can’t say wars aren’t a thing anymore. Sadly.”

After that, they spoke for a while. Apparently, her grandparents were both in partisan army. She grew up hearing their stories - or much rather, what little was said about the horrors of the war. What surprised him, though, was her request.

“ Will you teach me how to use a sword?” “ A sword? Why?” “ I can’t be helpless. I have to adapt.” “ That’s the spirit,” he laughed. 

She certainly was a curious creature, one with a will to survive. She was amusing... Although sometimes she did find a way to get on his nerves. 

“ I am NOT cute.” “ You are. You have lisp and can’t say “r” like little child that can’t speak good yet.”

Dictionary & Notes:

“ Czy was tu wszystkich kurwa do reszty pojebało?!” - “Are you all fucked in the damn head here?”, although not exactly. The Polish version doesn’t entail anything that could indicate any connection to psychological disorder or madness. Both “kurwa” and “pojebało”(pojebać) are swear words that would be translated to “fuck”. Recently those words lost a bit of their shocking effect, but if you ask me - you still don’t want your mother to hear you saying those. Under any circumstances. Direct translation would be “Are you all fucking fucked up here?”

“Chrząszcz” - a beetle. However, can we appreciate the nasal “ą” sound and the fact that it’s the only vowel in the entire word? Apparently, it’s hard to pronounce for foreigners :D 

“Gdy swe oczy otworzyłem /Wielki żal ogarnął mnie /Po policzkach łzy spłynęły /Zrozumiałem wtedy, że //Czarny chleb i czarna kawa /Opętani samotnością / Myślą swą szukają szczęścia /Które zwie się wolnością”  - lyrics from song, you can listen to it here. “ When I opened my eyes/ a grief overwhelmed me /Tears run down my cheeks/ Then I understood that // Black bread and black coffee / Possessed by loneliness / Keep searching with their thoughts for happiness/ name of which is freedom” (excuse the translation, I wrote it myself). I don’t listen much to Polish music, but this was somewhere around ever since I remember - I think many people would recognize it? Plus, the theme of freedom seems to be rather common one.

“ Tutaj! Ratunku!”  - “Here! Rescue me!”

“ A weźże ty mnie kurwa w nos pocałuj!” - “ Fuck, kiss my nose.”; There’s another version of with, “pocałuj mnie w dupę” (kiss my ass). This one is more polite? Less crude? Either way, it means “I’m fed up with your bullshit.” Note: weźże is an verb derived from “weź” (to take) by adding a particle “że” at the end. Said particle indicated irritation and frustration. Construction weź + do something (weź idź na spacer - go on a walk!) is basically an order/ a request said with some level of irritation. 

“ Boli, znaczy że żyje. “ - “If it hurts, it’s alive.”/ “If you’re hurting, you’re alive.” ; that one isn’t exactly universal, but it was a huge one for me. I always heard it from my grandparents and aunts. 

Rybołówstwo - ... Fishing. When pronounced, it’s “rybołóstwo” - we still have a cluster of consonants here, but it’s easier to deal with. 

“ Na wyścigach wyścigowych wyścigówek wyścigowych wyścigówka wyścigowa wyścignęła wyścigówkę wyścigową numer sześć. “ - “During the racing event the racing car got ahead of the racing car number six.”; tongue-twister If you were wondering,the adjectives are in bold. The crossed out word is the predicate of the sentence (the verb).

  w Szczebrzeszynie chrząszcz brzmi w trzcinie  - in Szczebrzeszyn a beetle can be heard from the reed; tongue-twister. 

“ Raz i dwa, raz i dwa, /Dziewczynka Wojenka na imię ma. /Trzy i cztery, trzy i cztery, /Dziwne ona ma maniery. /Pięć i sześć, pięć i sześć, /Wcale lodów nie chce jeść. /Siedem, osiem, siedem, osiem, /Wciąż o kości tylko prosi. “ - song lyrics you can listen to here. Lao Che is a band that I think plenty of younger people interested in rock music will know. “One and two, one and two / The girls is named little war / Three and four, three and four / Strange are her manners / Five and six, five and six / She doesn’t want to eat ice-cream at all / Seven, eight, seven, eight/ She just keeps begging for bones.” ; All the songs from this particular album (Dzieciom - For Children; yes, it’s for adults that used to be children) are stylized to resemble a rhyme for children - at least in the lyrics and at first glance. 

A note: Japanese and Polish “r” are extremely different. Japanese “r” resembles Polish “l” sound a lot - and many children can’t pronounce “r” at first, exchanging it for the “l” sound. In other words, Masamune speaking Polish would have a really hard time due to his slight lisp... And he’d sound like a little child that tries, but fails. :) IT WOULD BE SO CUTE! 

When MC says her grandparents were in partisan army, she means they were part of AK - Armia Krajowa, during WWII. Whether that’s a good or a bad thing, I’ll let you decide for yourself. I don’t want to make this post any longer. 

“ Seeing his confusion, she pointed at him and then tapped on her temple a couple of times, an unimpressed look on her face. “ -  That’s basically how I’d show somebody another Polish saying “A puknij się w głowę” (Tap yourself on the head), which means “are you nuts”. 

O, yeah. I don’t know if you can find the translation of the entire lyrics online, but if you were curious... You know, hit me up. I can translate them.

... I got too excited.  Would you be mad if I wrote another one of those? I kinda want to... 

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